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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Love Me Little, Love Me Long, by Charles Reade
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Love Me Little, Love Me Long
+
+Author: Charles Reade
+
+
+Release Date: November, 2003 [Etext #4607]
+This file was first posted on February 18, 2002
+Last Updated: March 5, 2018
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LOVE ME LITTLE, LOVE ME LONG ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by James Rusk
+
+
+
+
+
+
+LOVE ME LITTLE, LOVE ME LONG
+
+By Charles Reade
+
+
+
+
+PREFACE
+
+SHOULD these characters, imbedded in carpet incidents, interest the
+public at all, they will probably reappear in more potent scenes. This
+design, which I may never live to execute, is, I fear, the only excuse
+I can at present offer for some pages, forming the twelfth chapter of
+this volume.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+NEARLY a quarter of a century ago, Lucy Fountain, a young lady of
+beauty and distinction, was, by the death of her mother, her sole
+surviving parent, left in the hands of her two trustees, Edward
+Fountain, Esq., of Font Abbey, and Mr. Bazalgette, a merchant whose
+wife was Mrs. Fountain's half-sister.
+
+They agreed to lighten the burden by dividing it. She should spend
+half the year with each trustee in turn, until marriage should take
+her off their hands.
+
+Our mild tale begins in Mr. Bazalgette's own house, two years after
+the date of that arrangement.
+
+The chit-chat must be your main clue to the characters. In life it is
+the same. Men and women won't come to you ticketed, or explanation in
+hand.
+
+“Lucy, you are a great comfort in a house; it is so nice to have some
+one to pour out one's heart to; my husband is no use at all.”
+
+“Aunt Bazalgette!”
+
+“In that way. You listen to my faded illusions, to the aspirations of
+a nature too finely organized, ah! to find its happiness in this
+rough, selfish world. When I open my bosom to him, what does he do?
+Guess now--whistles.”
+
+“Then I call that rude.”
+
+“So do I; and then he whistles more and more.”
+
+“Yes; but, aunt, if any serious trouble or grief fell upon you, you
+would find Mr. Bazalgette a much greater comfort and a better stay
+than poor spiritless me.”
+
+“Oh, if the house took fire and fell about our ears, he would come out
+of his shell, no doubt; or if the children all died one after another,
+poor dear little souls; but those great troubles only come in stories.
+Give me a friend that can sympathize with the real hourly
+mortifications of a too susceptible nature; sit on this ottoman, and
+let me go on. Where was I when Jones came and interrupted us? They
+always do just at the interesting point.”
+
+Miss Fountain's face promptly wreathed itself into an expectant smile.
+She abandoned her hand and her ear, and leaned her graceful person
+toward her aunt, while that lady murmured to her in low and thrilling
+tones--his eyes, his long hair, his imaginative expressions, his
+romantic projects of frugal love; how her harsh papa had warned Adonis
+off the premises; how Adonis went without a word (as pale as death,
+love), and soon after, in his despair, flung himself--to an ugly
+heiress; and how this disappointment had darkened her whole life, and
+so on.
+
+Perhaps, if Adonis had stood before her now, rolling his eyes, and his
+phrases hot from the annuals, the flourishing matron might have sent
+him to the servants' hall with a wave of her white and jeweled hand.
+But the melody disarms this sort of brutal criticism--a woman's voice
+relating love's young dream; and then the picture--a matron still
+handsome pouring into a lovely virgin's ear the last thing she ought;
+the young beauty's eyes mimicking sympathy; the ripe beauty's soft,
+delicious accents--purr! purr! purr!
+
+Crash overhead! a window smashed aie! aie! clatter! clatter! screams
+of infantine rage and feminine remonstrance, feet pattering, and a
+general hullabaloo, cut the soft recital in two. The ladies clasped
+hands, like guilty things surprised.
+
+Lucy sprang to her feet; the oppressed one sank slowly and gracefully
+back, inch by inch, on the ottoman, with a sigh of ostentatious
+resignation, and gazed, martyr-like, on the chandelier.
+
+“Will you not go up to the nursery?” cried Lucy, in a flutter.
+
+“No, dear,” replied the other, faintly, but as cool as a marble slab;
+“you go; cast some of your oil upon those ever-troubled waters and
+then come back and let us try once more.”
+
+Miss Fountain heard but half this sentence; she was already gliding up
+the stairs. She opened the nursery door, and there stood in the middle
+of the room “Original Sin.” Its name after the flesh was Master
+Reginald. It was half-past six, had been baptized in church, after
+which every child becomes, according to polemic divines of the day, “a
+little soul of Christian fire” until it goes to a public school. And
+there it straddled, two scarlet cheeks puffed out with rage, soft
+flaxen hair streaming, cerulean eyes glowing, the poker grasped in two
+chubby fists. It had poked a window in vague ire, and now threatened
+two females with extinction if they riled it any more.
+
+The two grown-up women were discovered, erect, but flat, in distant
+corners, avoiding the bayonet and trusting to their artillery.
+
+     “Wicked boy!”
+      “Naughty boy!” (grape.)
+     “Little ruffian!” etc.
+
+And hints as to the ultimate destination of so sanguinary a soul
+(round shot).
+
+“Ah! here's miss. Oh, miss, we are so glad you are come up; don't go
+anigh him, miss; he is a tiger.”
+
+Miss Fountain smiled, and went gracefully on one knee beside him. This
+brought her angelic face level with the fallen cherub's. “What is the
+matter, dear?” asked she, in a tone of soft pity.
+
+The tiger was not prepared for this: he dropped his poker and flung
+his little arm round his cousin's neck.
+
+“I love YOU. Oh! oh! oh!”
+
+“Yes, dear; then tell me, now--what is the matter? What have you been
+doing?”
+
+“Noth--noth--nothing--it's th--them been na--a--agging me!”
+
+“Nagging you?” and she smiled at the word and a tiger's horror of it.
+
+“Who has been nagging you, love?”
+
+“Th--those--bit--bit--it.” The word was unfortunately lost in a sob.
+It was followed by red faces and two simultaneous yells of
+remonstrance and objurgation.
+
+“I must ask you to be silent a minute,” said Miss Fountain, quietly.
+“Reginald, what do you mean by--by--nagging?”
+
+Reginald explained. “By nagging he meant--why--nagging.”
+
+“Well, then, what had they been doing to him?”
+
+No; poor Reginald was not analytical, dialectical and critical, like
+certain pedanticules who figure in story as children. He was a
+terrible infant, not a horrible one.
+
+“They won't fight and they won't make it up, and they keep nagging,”
+ was all could be got out of him.
+
+“Come with me, dear,” said Lucy, gravely.
+
+“Yes,” assented the tiger, softly, and went out awestruck, holding her
+hand, and paddling three steps to each of her serpentine glides.
+
+Seated in her own room, tiger at knee, she tried topics of admonition.
+During these his eyes wandered about the room in search of matter more
+amusing, so she was obliged to bring up her reserve.
+
+“And no young lady will ever marry you.”
+
+“I don't want them to, cousin; I wouldn't let them; you will marry me,
+because you promised.”
+
+“Did I?”
+
+“Why, you know you did--upon your honor; and no lady or gentleman ever
+breaks their word when they say that; you told me so yourself,” added
+he of the inconvenient memory.
+
+“Ah! but there is another rule that I forgot to tell you.”
+
+“What is that?”
+
+“That no lady ever marries a gentleman who has a violent temper.”
+
+“Oh, don't they?”
+
+“No; they would be afraid. If you had a wife, and took up the poker,
+she would faint away, and die--perhaps!”
+
+“Oh, dear!”
+
+“I should.”
+
+“But, cousin, you would not _want_ the poker taken to you; you
+never nag.”
+
+“Perhaps that is because we are not married yet.”
+
+“What, then, when we are, shall you turn like the others?”
+
+“Impossible to say.”
+
+“Well, then” (after a moment's hesitation), “I'll marry you all the
+same.”
+
+“No! you forget; I shall be afraid until your temper mends.”
+
+“I'll mend it. It is mended now. See how good I am now,” added he,
+with self-admiration and a shade of surprise.
+
+“I don't call this mending it, for I am not the one that offended you;
+mending it is promising me never, never to call naughty names again.
+How would you like to be called a dog?”
+
+“I'd kill 'em.”
+
+“There, you see--then how can you expect poor nurse to like it?”
+
+“You don't understand, cousin--Tom said to George the groom that Mrs.
+Jones was an--old--stingy--b--”
+
+“I don't want to hear anything about Tom.”
+
+“He is such a clever fellow, cousin. So I think, if Jones is an old
+one, those two that keep nagging me must be young ones. What do you
+think yourself?” asked Reginald, appealing suddenly to her candor.
+
+“And no doubt it was Tom that taught you this other vulgar word
+'nagging,'” was the evasive reply.
+
+“No, that was mamma.”
+
+Lucy colored, wheeled quickly, and demanded severely of the terrible
+infant: “Who is this Tom?”
+
+“What! don't you know Tom?” Reginald began to lose a grain of his
+respect for her. “Why, he helps in the stables; oh, cousin, he is such
+a nice fellow!”
+
+“Reginald, I shall never marry you if you keep company with grooms,
+and speak their language.”
+
+“Well!” sighed the victim, “I'll give up Tom sooner than you.”
+
+“Thank you, dear; now I _am_ flattered. One struggle more; we
+must go together and ask the nurses' pardon.”
+
+“Must we? ugh!”
+
+“Yes--and kiss them--and make it up.”
+
+Reginald made a wry face; but, after a pause of solemn reflection, he
+consented, on condition that Lucy would keep near him, and kiss him
+directly afterward.
+
+“I shall be sure to do that, because you will be a good boy then.”
+
+Outside the door Reginald paused: “I have a favor to ask you,
+cousin--a great favor. You see I am so very little, and you are so
+big; now the husband ought to be the biggest.”
+
+“Quite my own opinion, Reggy.”
+
+“Well, dear, now if you would be so kind as not to grow any older till
+I catch you up, I shall be so very, very, very much obliged to you,
+dear.”
+
+“I will try, Reggy. Nineteen is a very good age. I will stay there as
+long as my friends will let me.”
+
+“Thank you, cousin.”
+
+“But that is not what we have in hand.”
+
+The nurses were just agreeing what a shame it was of miss to take that
+little vagabond's part against them, when she opened the door. “Nurse,
+here is a penitent--a young gentleman who is never going to use rude
+words, or be violent and naughty again.”
+
+“La! miss, why, it is witchcraft--the dear child--soon up and soon
+down, as a boy should.”
+
+“Beg par'n, nurse--beg par'n, Kitty,” recited the dear child, late
+tiger, and kissed them both hastily; and, this double formula gone
+through, ran to Miss Fountain and kissed her with warmth, while the
+nurses were reciting “little angel,” “all heart,” etc.
+
+“To take the taste out of my mouth,” explained the penitent, and was
+left with his propitiated females; and didn't they nag him at short
+intervals until sunset! But, strong in the contemplation of his future
+union with Cousin Lucy, this great heart in a little body despised the
+pins and needles that had goaded him to fury before.
+
+Lucy went down to the drawing-room. She found Mrs. Bazalgette leaning
+with one elbow on the table, her hand shading her high, polished
+forehead; her grave face reflecting great mental power taxed to the
+uttermost. So Newton looked, solving Nature.
+
+Miss Fountain came in full of the nursery business, but, catching
+sight of so much mind in labor, approached it with silent curiosity.
+
+The oracle looked up with an absorbed air, and delivered itself very
+slowly, with eye turned inward.
+
+“I am afraid--I don't think--I quite like my new dress.”
+
+“That _is_ unfortunate.”
+
+“That would not matter; I never like anything till I have altered it;
+but here is Baldwin has just sent me word that her mother is dying,
+and she can't undertake any work for a week. Provoking! could not the
+woman die just as well after the ball?”
+
+“Oh, aunt!”
+
+“And my maid has no more taste than an owl. What on earth am I to do?”
+
+“Wear another dress.”
+
+“What other can I?”
+
+“Nothing can be prettier than your white mousseline de soie with the
+tartan trimming.”
+
+“No, I have worn that at four balls already; I won't be known by my
+colors, like a bird. I have made up my mind to wear the jaune, and I
+will, in spite of them all; that is, if I can find anybody who cares
+enough for me to try it on, and tell me what it wants.” Lucy offered
+at once to go with her to her room and try it on.
+
+“No--no--it is so cold there; we will do it here by the fire. You will
+find it in the large wardrobe, dear. Mind how you carry it. Lucy! lots
+of pins.”
+
+Mrs. Bazalgette then rang the bell, and told the servant to say she
+was out if anyone called, no matter who.
+
+Meantime Lucy, impressed with the gravity of her office, took the
+dress carefully down from the pegs; and as it would have been death to
+crease it, and destruction to let its hem sweep against any of the
+inferior forms of matter, she came down the stairs and into the room
+holding this female weapon of destruction as high above her head as
+Judith waves the sword of Holofernes in Etty's immortal picture.
+
+The other had just found time to loosen her dress and lock one of the
+doors. She now locked the other, and the rites began. Well!!??
+
+“It fits you like a glove.”
+
+“Really? tell the truth now; it is a sin to tell a story--about a new
+gown. What a nuisance one can't see behind one!”
+
+“I could fetch another glass, but you may trust my word, aunt. This
+point behind is very becoming; it gives distinction to the waist.”
+
+“Yes, Baldwin cuts these bodies better than Olivier; but the worst of
+her is, when it comes to the trimming you have to think for yourself.
+The woman has no mind; she is a pair of hands, and there is an end of
+her.”
+
+“I must confess it is a little plain, for one thing,” said Lucy.
+
+“Why, you little goose, you don't think I am going to wear it like
+this. No. I thought of having down a wreath and bouquet from Foster's
+of violets and heart's-ease--the bosom and sleeves covered with blond,
+you know, and caught up here and there with a small bunch of the
+flowers. Then, in the center heart's-ease of the bosom, I meant to
+have had two of my largest diamonds set--hush!”
+
+The door-handle worked viciously; then came rap! rap! rap! rap!
+
+“Tic--tic--tic; this is always the way. Who is there? Go away; you
+can't come here.”
+
+“But I want to speak to you. What the deuce are you doing?” said
+through the keyhole the wretch that owned the room in a mere legal
+sense.
+
+“We are trying a dress. Come again in an hour.”
+
+“Confound your dresses! Who is we?”
+
+“Lucy has got a new dress.”
+
+“Aunt!” whispered Lucy, in a tone of piteous expostulation.
+
+“Oh, if it is Lucy. Well, good-by, ladies. I am obliged to go to
+London at a moment's notice for a couple of days. You will have done
+by when I come back, perhaps,” and off went Bazalgette whistling, but
+not best pleased. He had told his wife more than once that the
+drawing-rooms and dining-rooms of a house are the public rooms, and
+the bedrooms the private ones.
+
+Lucy colored with mortification. It was death to her to annoy anyone;
+so her aunt had thrust her into a cruel position.
+
+“Poor Mr. Bazalgette!” sighed she.
+
+“Fiddle de dee. Let him go, and come back in a better temper--set
+transparent; so then, backed by the violet, you know, they will
+imitate dewdrops to the life.”
+
+“Charming! Why not let Olivier do it for you, as poor Baldwin cannot?”
+
+“Because Olivier works for the Claytons, and we should have that Emily
+Clayton out as my double; and as we visit the same houses--”
+
+“And as she is extremely pretty--aunt, what a generalissima you are!”
+
+“Pretty! Snub-nosed little toad. No, she is not pretty. But she is
+eighteen; so I can't afford to dress her. No. I see I shall have to
+moderate my views for this gown, and buy another dress for the flowers
+and diamonds. There, take it off, and let us think it calmly over. I
+never act in a hurry but I am sorry for it afterward--I mean in things
+of real importance.” The gown was taken off in silence, broken only by
+occasional sighs from the sufferer, in whose heart a dozen projects
+battled fiercely for the mastery, and worried and sore perplexed her,
+and rent her inmost soul fiercely divers ways.
+
+“Black lace, dear,” suggested Lucy, soothingly.
+
+Mrs. B. curled her arm lovingly round Lucy's waist. “Just what I was
+beginning to think,” said she, warmly. “And we can't both be mistaken,
+can we? But where can I get enough?” and her countenance, that the
+cheering coincidence had rendered seraphic, was once more clouded with
+doubt.
+
+“Why, you have yards of it.”
+
+“Yes, but mine is all made up in some form or other, and it musses
+one's things so to pick them to pieces.”
+
+“So it does, dear,” replied Lucy, with gentle but genuine feeling.
+
+“It would only be for one night, Lucy--I should not hurt it, love--you
+would not like to fetch down your Brussels point scarf, and see how it
+would look, would you? We need not cut the lace, dear; we could tack
+it on again the next morning; you are not so particular as I am--you
+look well in anything.”
+
+Lucy was soon seated denuding herself and embellishing her aunt. The
+latter reclined with grace, and furthered the work by smile and
+gesture.
+
+“You don't ask me about the skirmish in the nursery.”
+
+“Their squabbles bore me, dear; but you can tell me who was the most
+in fault, if you think it worth while.”
+
+“Reginald, then, I am afraid; but it is not the poor boy; it is the
+influence of the stable-yard; and I do advise and entreat you to keep
+him out of it.”
+
+“Impossible, my dear; you don't know boys. The stable is their
+paradise. When he grows older his father must interfere; meantime, let
+us talk of something more agreeable.”
+
+“Yes; you shall go on with your story. You had got to his look of
+despair when your papa came in that morning.”
+
+“Oh, I have no time for anybody's despair just now; I can think of
+nothing but this detestable gown. Lucy, I suspect I almost wish I had
+made them put another breadth into the skirt.”
+
+“Luncheon, ma'am.”
+
+Lucy begged her aunt to go down alone; she would stay and work.
+
+“No, you must come to luncheon; there is a dish on purpose for
+you--stewed eels.”
+
+“Eels; why, I abhor them; I think they are water-serpents.”
+
+“Who is it that is so fond of them, then?”
+
+“It is you, aunt.”
+
+“So it is. I thought it had been you. Come, you must come down,
+whether you eat anything or not. I like somebody to talk to me while I
+am eating, and I had an idea just now--it is gone--but perhaps it will
+come back to me: it was about this abominable gown. O! how I wish
+there was not such a thing as dress in the world!!!”
+
+While Mrs. Bazalgette was munching water-snakes with delicate zeal,
+and Lucy nibbling cake, came a letter. Mrs. Bazalgette read it with
+heightening color, laid it down, cast a pitying glance on Lucy, and
+said, with a sigh, “Poor girl!”
+
+Lucy turned a little pale. “Has anything happened?” she faltered.
+
+“Something is going to happen; you are to be torn away from here,
+where you are so happy--where we all love you, dear. It is from that
+selfish old bachelor. Listen: 'Dear madam, my niece Lucy has been due
+here three days. I have waited to see whether you would part with her
+without being dunned. My curiosity on that point is satisfied, and I
+have now only my affection to consult, which I do by requesting you to
+put her and her maid into a carriage that will be waiting for her at
+your door twenty-four hours after you receive this note. I have the
+honor to be, madam,' an old brute!!”
+
+“And you can smile; but that is you all over; you don't care a straw
+whether you are happy or miserable.”
+
+“Don't I?”
+
+“Not you; you will leave this, where you are a little queen, and go
+and bury yourself three months with that old bachelor, and nobody will
+ever gather from your face that you are bored to death; and here we
+are asked to the Cavendishes' next Wednesday, and the Hunts' ball on
+Friday--you are such a lucky girl--our best invitations always drop in
+while you are with us--we go out three times as often during your
+months as at other times; it is your good fortune, or the weather, or
+something.”
+
+“Dear aunt, this was your own arrangement with Uncle Fountain. I used
+to be six months with each in turn till you insisted on its being
+three. You make me almost laugh, both you and Uncle Fountain; what
+_do_ you see in me worth quarreling for?”
+
+“I will tell you what _he_ sees--a good little spiritless
+thing--”
+
+“I am larger than you, dear.”
+
+“Yes, in body--that he can make a slave of--always ready to nurse him
+and his foe, or to put down your work and to take up his--to play at
+his vile backgammon.”
+
+“Piquet, please.”
+
+“Where is the difference?--to share his desolation, and take half his
+blue devils on your own shoulders, till he will hyp you so that to get
+away you will consent to marry into his set--the county set--some
+beggarly old family that came down from the Conquest, and has been
+going down ever since; so then he will let you fly--with a string: you
+must vegetate two miles from him; so then he can have you in to
+Backquette and write his letters: he will settle four hundred a year
+on you, and you will be miserable for life.”
+
+“Poor Uncle Fountain, what a schemer he turns out!”
+
+“Men all turn out schemers when you know them, Miss Impertinence.
+Well, dear, I have no selfish views for you. I love my few friends too
+single-heartedly for that; but I _am_ sad when I see you leaving
+us to go where you are not prized.”
+
+“Indeed, aunt, I am prized at Font Abbey. I am overrated there as I am
+here. They all receive me with open arms.”
+
+“So is a hare when it comes into a trap,” said Mrs. Bazalgette,
+sharply, drawing upon a limited knowledge of grammar and field-sports.
+
+“No--Uncle Fountain really loves me.”
+
+“As much as I do?” asked the lady, with a treacherous smile.
+
+“Very nearly,” was the young courtier's reply. She went on to console
+her aunt's unselfish solicitude, by assuring her that Font Abbey was
+not a solitude; that dinners and balls abounded, and her uncle was
+invited to them all.
+
+“You little goose, don't you see? all those invitations are for your
+sake, not his. If we could look in on him now we should find him
+literally in single cursedness. Those county folks are not without
+cunning. They say beauty has come to stay with the beast; we must ask
+the beast to dinner, so then beauty will come along with him.
+
+“What other pleasure awaits you at Font Abbey?”
+
+“The pleasure of giving pleasure,” replied Lucy, apologetically.
+
+“Ah! that is your weakness, Lucy. It is all very well with those who
+won't take advantage; but it is the wrong game to play with all the
+world. You will be made a tool of, and a slave of, and use of. I speak
+from experience. You know how I sacrifice myself to those I love;
+luckily, they are not many.”
+
+“Not so many as love you, dear.”
+
+“Heaven forbid! but you are at the head of them all, and I am going to
+prove it--by deeds, not words.”
+
+Lucy looked up at this additional feature in her aunt's affection.
+
+“You must go to the great bear's den for three months, but it shall be
+the last time!” Lucy said nothing.
+
+“You will return never to quit us, or, at all events, not the
+neighborhood.”
+
+“That--would be nice,” said the courtier warmly, but hesitatingly;
+“but how will you gain uncle's consent?”
+
+“By dispensing with it.”
+
+“Yes; but the means, aunt?”
+
+“A husband!”
+
+Lucy started and colored all over, and looked askant at her aunt with
+opening eyes, like a thoroughbred filly just going to start all across
+the road. Mrs. Bazalgette laid a loving hand on her shoulder, and
+whispered knowingly in her ear: “Trust to me; I'll have one ready for
+you against you come back this time.”
+
+“No, please don't! pray don't!” cried Lucy, clasping her hands in
+feeble-minded distress.
+
+“In this neighborhood--one of the right sort.”
+
+“I am so happy as I am.”
+
+“You will be happier when you are quite a slave, and so I shall save
+you from being snapped up by some country wiseacre, and marry you into
+our own set.”
+
+“Merchant princes,” suggested Lucy, demurely, having just recovered
+her breath and what little sauce there was in her.
+
+“Yes, merchant princes--the men of the age--the men who could buy all
+the acres in the country without feeling it--the men who make this
+little island great, and a woman happy, by letting her have everything
+her heart can desire.”
+
+“You mean everything that money can buy.”
+
+“Of course. I said so, didn't I?”
+
+“So, then, you are tired of me in the house?” remonstrated Lucy,
+sadly.
+
+“No, ingrate; but you will be sure to marry soon or late.”
+
+“No, I will not, if I can possibly help it.”
+
+“But you can't help it; you are not the character to help it. The
+first man that comes to you and says: 'I know you rather dislike me'
+(you could not hate anybody, Lucy,) 'but if you don't take me I shall
+die of a broken fiddlestick,' you will whine out, 'Oh, dear! shall
+you? Well, then, sooner than disoblige you, here--take me!'”
+
+“Am I so weak as this?” asked Lucy, coloring, and the water coming
+into her eyes.
+
+“Don't be offended,” said the other, coolly; “we won't call it
+weakness, but excess of complaisance; you can't say no to anybody.”
+
+“Yet I have said it,” replied Lucy, thoughtfully.
+
+“Have you? When? Oh, to me. Yes; where I am concerned you have
+sometimes a will of your own, and a pretty stout one; but never with
+anybody else.”
+
+The aunt then inquired of the niece, “frankly, now, between
+ourselves,” whether she had no wish to be married. The niece informed
+her in confidence that she had not, and was puzzled to conceive how
+the bare idea of marriage came to be so tempting to her sex. Of
+course, she could understand a lady wishing to marry, if she loved a
+gentleman who was determined to be unhappy without her; but that women
+should look about for some hunter to catch instead of waiting quietly
+till the hunter caught them, this puzzled her; and as for the
+superstitious love of females for the marriage rite in cases when it
+took away their liberty and gave them nothing amiable in return, it
+amazed her. “So, aunt,” she concluded, “if you really love me, driving
+me to the altar will be an unfortunate way of showing it.”
+
+While listening to this tirade, which the young lady delivered with
+great serenity, and concluded with a little yawn, Mrs. Bazalgette had
+two thoughts. The first was: “This girl is not flesh and blood; she is
+made of curds and whey, or something else;” the second was: “No, she
+is a shade hypocriticaler than other girls--before they are married,
+that is all;” and, acting on this latter conviction, she smiled a
+lofty incredulity, and fell to counting on her fingers all the moneyed
+bachelors for miles.
+
+At this Lucy winced with sensitive modesty, and for once a shade of
+vexation showed itself on her lovely features. The quick-sighted,
+keen-witted matron caught it, and instantly made a masterly move of
+feigned retreat. “No,” cried she, “I will not tease you anymore, love;
+just promise me not to receive any gentleman's addresses at Font
+Abbey, and I will never drive you from my arms to the altar.”
+
+“I promise that,” cried Lucy, eagerly.
+
+“Upon your honor?”
+
+“Upon my honor.”
+
+“Kiss me, dear. I know you won't deceive me now you have pledged your
+honor. This solemn promise consoles me more than you can conceive.”
+
+“I am so glad; but if you knew how little it costs me.”
+
+“All the better; you will be more likely to keep it,” was the dry
+reply.
+
+The conversation then took a more tender turn. “And so to-morrow you
+go! How dull the house will be without you! and who is to keep my
+brats in order now I have no idea. Well, there is nothing but meeting
+and parting in this world; it does not do to love people, does it?
+(ah!) Don't cry, love, or I shall give way; my desolate heart already
+brims over--no--now don't cry” (a little sharply); “the servants will
+be coming in to take away the things.”
+
+“Will you c--c--come and h--help me pack, dear?”
+
+“Me, love? oh no! I could not bear the sight of your things put out to
+go away. I promised to call on Mrs. Hunt this afternoon; and you must
+not stop in all day yourself--I cannot let your health be sacrificed;
+you had better take a brisk walk, and pack afterward.”
+
+“Thank you, aunt. I will go and finish my drawing of Harrowden Church
+to take with me.”
+
+“No, don't go there; the meadows are wet. Walk upon the Hatton road;
+it is all gravel.”
+
+“Yes; only it is so ugly, and I have nothing to do that way.”
+
+“But I'll give you something to do,” said Mrs. Bazalgette, obligingly.
+“You know where old Sarah and her daughter live--the last cottages on
+that road; I don't like the shape of the last two collars they made
+me; you can take them back, if you like, and lend them one of yours I
+admire so for a pattern.”
+
+“That I will, with pleasure.”
+
+“Shall you come back through the garden? If you don't--never mind;
+but, if you do, you may choose me a bouquet. The servants are
+incapable of a bouquet.”
+
+“I will; thank you, dear. How kind and thoughtful of you to give me
+something to occupy me now that I am a little sad.” Mrs. Bazalgette
+accepted this tribute with a benignant smile, and the ladies parted.
+
+
+The next morning a traveling-carriage, with four smoking post-horses,
+came wheeling round the gravel to the front door. Uncle Fountain's
+factotum got down from the dicky, packed Lucy's imperial on the roof,
+and slung a box below the dicky; stowed her maid away aft, arranged
+the foot-cushion and a shawl or two inside, and, half obsequiously,
+half bumptiously, awaited the descent of his fair charge.
+
+Then, upstairs, came a sudden simultaneous attack of ardent lips, and
+a long, clinging embrace that would have graced the most glorious,
+passionate, antique love. Sculpture outdone, the young lady went down,
+and was handed into the carriage. Her ardent aunt followed presently,
+and fired many glowing phrases in at the window; and, just as the
+carriage moved, she uttered a single word quite quietly, as much as to
+say, Now, this I mean. This genuine word, the last Aunt Bazalgette
+spoke, had been, two hundred years before, the last word of Charles
+the First. Note the coincidences of history.
+
+The two postboys lifted their whips level to their eyes by one
+instinct, the horses tightened the traces, the wheels ground the
+gravel, and Lucy was whirled away with that quiet, emphatic post-dict
+ringing in her ears,
+
+Remember!
+
+
+Font Hill was sixty miles off: they reached it in less than six hours.
+There was Uncle Fountain on the hall steps to receive her, and the
+comely housekeeper, Mrs. Brown, ducking and smiling in the background.
+While the servants were unpacking the carriage, Mr. Fountain took Lucy
+to her bedroom. Mrs. Brown had gone on before to see for the third
+time whether all was comfortable. There was a huge fire, all red; and
+on the table a gigantic nosegay of spring flowers, with smell to them
+all.
+
+“Oh how nice, after a journey!” said Lucy, mowing down Uncle Fountain
+and Mrs. Brown with one comprehensive smile.
+
+Mrs. Brown flamed with complacency.
+
+“What!” cried her uncle; “I suppose you expected a black fire and
+impertinent apologies by way of substitute for warmth; a stuffy room,
+and damp sheets, roasted, like a woodcock, twenty minutes before use.”
+
+“No, uncle, dear, I expected every comfort at Font Abbey.” Brown
+retired with a courtesy.
+
+“Aha! What! you have found out that it is all humbug about old
+bachelors not knowing comfort? Do bachelors ever put their friends
+into damp sheets? No; that is the women's trick with their household
+science. Your sex have killed more men with damp sheets than ever fell
+by the sword.”
+
+“Yet nobody erects monuments to us,” put in Lucy, slyly.
+
+She missed fire. Uncle Fountain, like most Englishmen, could take in a
+pun by the ear, but wit only by the eye. “Do you remember when Mrs.
+Bazalgette put you into the linen sponge, and killed you?”
+
+“Killed me?”
+
+“Certainly, as far as in her lay. We can but do our best; well, she
+did hers, and went the right way to work.”
+
+“You see I survive.”
+
+“By a miracle. Dinner is at six.”
+
+“Very well, dear.”
+
+“Yes; but six in this house means sixty minutes after five and sixty
+minutes before seven. I mention this the first day because you are
+just come from a place where it means twenty minutes to seven; also
+let me observe that I think I have noticed soup and potatoes eat
+better hot than cold, and meat tastes nicer done to a turn than--”
+
+“To a cinder?”
+
+“Ha! ha! and come with an appetite, please.”
+
+“Uncle, no tyranny, I beg.”
+
+“Tyranny? you know this is Liberty Hall; only when I eat I expect my
+companion to-eat too; besides, there is nothing to be gained by humbug
+to-day. There will be only us two at dinner; and when I see young
+ladies fiddling with an asparagus head instead of eating their dinner,
+it don't fall into the greenhorn's notion--exquisite creature! all
+soul! no stomach! feeds on air, ideas, and quadrille music--no; what
+do you think I say?”
+
+“Something flattering, I feel sure.”
+
+“On the contrary, something true. I say hypocrite! Been grubbing like
+a pig all day, so can't eat like a Christian at meal time; you can't
+humbug me.”
+
+“Alas! so I see. That decides me to be candid--and hungry.”
+
+“Well, I am off; I don't stick to my friends and bore them with my
+affairs like that egotistical hussy, Jane Bazalgette. I amuse myself,
+and leave them to amuse themselves; that is my notion of politeness. I
+am going to see my pigs fed, then into the village. I am building a
+new blacksmith's shop there (you must come and look at it the first
+thing to-morrow); and at six, if you want to find me--”
+
+“I shall peep behind the soup-tureen.”
+
+“And there I shall be, if I am alive.” At dinner the old boy threw
+himself into the work with such zeal that soon after the cloth was
+removed, from fatigue and repletion, he dropped asleep, with his
+shoulder toward Lucy, but his face instinctively turned toward the
+fire. Lucy crept away on tiptoe, not to disturb him.
+
+In about an hour he bustled into the drawing-room, ordered tea, blew
+up the footman because the cook had not water boiling that moment,
+drank three cups, then brightened up, rubbed his hands, and with a
+cheerful, benevolent manner, “Now, Lucy,” cried he, “come and help me
+puzzle out this tiresome genealogy.”
+
+A smile of warm assent from Lucy, and the old bachelor and the
+blooming Hebe were soon seated with a mountain of parchments by their
+side, and a tree spreading before them.
+
+It was not a finite tree like an elm or an oak; no, it was a banyan
+tree; covered an acre, and from its boughs little suckers dropped to
+earth, and turned to little trees, and had suckers in their turn, and
+“confounded the confusion.”
+
+Uncle Fountain's happiness depended, _pro tem,_ on proving that
+he was a sucker from the great bough of the Fontaines of Melton; and
+why? Because, this effected, he had only to go along that bough by an
+established pedigree to the great trunk of the Funteyns of Salle, and
+the first Funteyn of Salle was said to be (and this he hoped to prove
+true) great-grandson of Robert de Fontibus, son of John de Fonte.
+
+Now Uncle Fountain could prove himself the shoot of George his father
+(a step at which so many pedigrees halt), who was the shoot of
+William, who was the shoot of Richard; but here came a gap of eighty
+years between him and that Fountain, younger son of Melton, to whom he
+wanted to hook on. Now the logic of women, children, and criticasters
+is a thing of gaps; they reason as marches a kangaroo; but to
+mathematicians, logicians, and genealogists, a link wanting is a chain
+broken. This blank then made Uncle Fountain miserable, and he cried
+out for help. Lucy came with her young eyes, her woman's patience, and
+her own complaisance. A great ditch yawned between a crocheteer and a
+rotten branch he coveted. Our Quinta Curtia flung herself, her
+eyesight, and her time into that ditch.
+
+Twelve o'clock came, and found them still wallowing in modern
+antiquity.
+
+“Bless me!” cried Mr. Fountain when John brought up the bed-candles,
+“how time flies when one is really employed.”
+
+“Yes, indeed, uncle;” and by a gymnastic of courtesy she first crushed
+and then so molded a yawn that it glided into society a smile.
+
+“We have spent a delightful evening, Lucy.”
+
+“Thanks to you, uncle.”
+
+“I hope you will sleep well, child.”
+
+“I am sure I shall, dear,” said she, sweetly and inadvertently.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+A LARGE aspiration is a rarity; but who has not some small ambition,
+none the less keen for being narrow--keener, perhaps? Mrs. Bazalgette
+burned to be great by dress; Mr. Fountain, member of a sex with higher
+aims, aspired to be great in the county.
+
+Unluckily, his main property was in the funds. He had acres
+in ----shire; but so few that, some years ago, its lord lieutenant
+declined to make him an injustice of the peace. That functionary died,
+and on his death the mortified aspirant bought a coppice, christened
+it Springwood, and under cover of this fringe to his three meadows,
+applied to the new lord lieutenant as M'Duff approached M'Beth. The
+new man made him a magistrate; so now he aspired to be a deputy
+lieutenant, and attended all the boards of magistrates, and turnpike
+trusts, etc., and brought up votes and beer-barrels at each election,
+and, in, short, played all the cards in his pack, Lucy included, to
+earn that distinction.
+
+We may as well confess that there lurked in him a half-unconscious
+hope that some day or other, in some strange collision or combination
+of parties, a man profound in county business, zealous in county
+interests, personally obnoxious to nobody, might drop into the seat of
+county member; and, if this should be, would not he have the sense to
+hold his tongue upon the noisy questions that waste Parliament's time,
+and the nation's; but, on the first of those periodical attacks to
+which the wretched landowner is subject, wouldn't he speak, and show
+the difference between a mere member of the Commons and a member for
+the county?
+
+If anyone had asked this man plump which is the most important,
+England or ----shire, he would have certainly told you England; but
+our opinions are not the notions we repeat, and can defend by reasons
+or even by facts: our opinions are the notions we feel and act on.
+
+Could you have looked inside Mr. Fountain's head, you would have seen
+ideas corresponding to the following diagrams:
+
+[drawing]
+
+Mr. Fountain courted the stomach of the county.
+
+Without this, he knew, an angel could not reach its heart; and here
+one of his eccentricities broke out. He drew a line, in his
+dictatorial way, between dinner and feeding parties. “A dinner party
+is two rubbers. Four gentlemen and four ladies sit round a circular
+table; then each can hear what anyone says, and need not twist the
+neck at every word. Foraging parties are from fourteen to thirty, set
+up and down a plank, each separated from those he could talk to as
+effectually as if the ocean rolled between, and bawling into one
+person's ear amid the din of knives, forks, and multitude. I go to
+those long strings of noisy duets because I must, but I give
+_society_ at home.”
+
+The county people had just strength of mind to like the old boy's
+sociable dinners, though not to imitate them, and an invitation from
+him was very rarely declined when Lucy was with him.
+
+And she was in her glory. She could carry complaisance such a long way
+at Font Abbey--she was mistress of the house.
+
+She listened with a wonderful appearance of interest to county
+matters, i.e., to minute scandal and infinitesimal politics; to
+the county cricket match and archery meeting; to the past ball and the
+ball to come. In the drawing-room, when a cold fit fell on the
+coterie, she would glide to one egotist after another, find out the
+monotope, and set the critter Peter's, the Place de Concorde, the
+Square of St. Mark, Versailles, the Alhambra, the Apollo Belvidere,
+the Madonna of the Chair, and all the glories of nature and the feats
+of art could not warm. So, then, the fine gentleman began to act--to
+walk himself out as a person who had seen and could give details about
+anything, but was exalted far above admiring anything _(quel grand
+homme! rien ne peut lui plaire);_ and on this, while the women were
+gazing sweetly on him, and revering his superiority to all great
+impressions, and the men envying, rather hating, but secretly admiring
+him too, she who had launched him bent on him a look of soft pity, and
+abandoned him to admiration.
+
+“Poor Mr. Talboys,” thought she, “I fear I have done him an ill turn
+by drawing him out;” and she glided to her uncle, who was sitting
+apart, and nobody talking to him.
+
+Mr. Talboys, started by Lucy, ambled out his high-pacing
+_nil admirantem_ character, and derived a little quiet
+self-satisfaction. This was the highest happiness he was capable of;
+so he was not ungrateful to Miss Fountain, who had procured it him,
+and partly for this, partly because he had been kind to her and lent
+her a pony, he shook hands with her somewhat cordially at parting. As
+it happened, he was the last guest.
+
+“You have won that, man's heart, Lucy,” cried Mr. Fountain, with a
+mixture of surprise and pride.
+
+Lucy made no reply. She looked quickly into his face to see if he was
+jesting.
+
+
+“Writing, Lucy--so late?”
+
+“Only a few lines, uncle. You shall see them; I note the more
+remarkable phenomena of society. I am recalling a conversation between
+three of our guests this evening, and shall be grateful for your
+opinion on it. There! Read it out, please.”
+
+
+Mrs. Luttrell. “We missed you at the archery meeting--ha! ha! ha!”
+
+Mrs. Willis. “Mr. Willis would not let me go--he! he! he!”
+
+Mrs. James. “Well, at all events--he! he!--you will come to the flower
+show.”
+
+Mrs. Willis. “Oh yes!--he! he!--I am so fond of flowers--ha! ha!”
+
+Mrs. Luttrell. “So am I. I adore them--he! he!”
+
+Mrs. Willis. “How sweetly Miss Malcolm sings--he! he!”
+
+Mrs. Luttrell. “Yes, she shakes like a bird--ha! ha!”
+
+Mrs. James. “A little Scotch accent though--he! he!”
+
+Mrs. Luttrell. “She is Scotch--he! he!” (To John offering her tea.)
+“No more, thank you--he! he!”
+
+Mrs. James. “Shall you go the Assize sermon?--ha! ha!”
+
+Mrs. Willis. “Oh, yes--he! he!--the last was very dry--he! he! Who
+preaches it this term?--he!”
+
+Mrs. James. “The Bishop--he! he!”
+
+Mrs. Willis. “Then I shall certainly go; he is such a dear
+preacher--he! he!”
+
+
+“Just tell me what is the precise meaning of 'ha! ha!' and what of
+'he! he!'”
+
+“The precise meaning? There you puzzle me, uncle.”
+
+“I mean, what do you mean by them?”
+
+“Oh, I put 'ha! ha!' when they giggle, and 'he! he!' when they only
+chuckle.”
+
+“Then this is a caricature, my lady?”
+
+“No, dear, you know I have no satire in me; it is taken down to the
+letter, and I fear I must trouble you for the solution.”
+
+“Well, the solution is, they are three fools.”
+
+“No, uncle, begging your pardon, they are not,” replied Lucy, politely
+but firmly.
+
+“Well, then, three d--d fools.”
+
+Lucy winced at the participle, but was two polite to lecture her
+elder. “They have not that excuse,” said she; “they are all sensible
+women, who discharge the duties of life with discretion except
+society; and they can discriminate between grave and gay whenever they
+are not at a party; and as for Mrs. Luttrell, when she is alone with
+me she is a sweet, natural love.”
+
+“They cackled--at every word--like that--the whole evening!!??”
+
+“Except when you told that funny story about the Irish corporal who
+was attacked by a mastiff, and killed him with his halberd, and, when
+he was reproached by his captain for not being content to repel so
+valuable an animal with the butt end of his lance, answered--ha! ha!”
+
+“So, then, he answered 'Haw! haw!' did he?”
+
+“Now, uncle! No; he answered, 'So I would, your arnr, if he had run at
+me with his tail!' Now, that was genuine wit, mixed with quite enough
+fun to make an intelligent person laugh; and then you told it so
+drolly--ha! ha!”
+
+“They did not laugh at _that?”_
+
+“Sat as grave as judges.”
+
+“And you tell me they are not fools.”
+
+“I must repeat, they have not that excuse. Perhaps their risibility
+had been exhausted. After laughing three hours _a propos de
+rien,_ it is time to be serious out of place. I will tell you what
+they _did_ laugh at, though. Miss Malcolm sang a song with a
+title I dare not attempt. There were two lines in it which I am going
+to mispronounce; but you are not Scotch, so I don't care for
+_you,_ uncle, darling.
+
+      “'He had but a saxpence; he break it in twa,
+        And he gave me the half o't when he gaed awa.'
+
+“They laughed at that; a general giggle went round.”
+
+“Well, I must confess, I don't see much to laugh at in that, Lucy.”
+
+“It would be odd if you did, uncle, dear; why, it is pathetic.”
+
+“Pathetic? Oh, is it?”
+
+“You naughty, cunning uncle, you know it is; it is pathetic, and
+almost heroic. Consider, dear: in a world where the very newspapers
+show how mercenary we all are, a poor young man is parted from his
+love. He has but one coin to go through the world with, and what does
+he do with it? Scheme to make the sixpence a crown, and to make the
+crown a pound? No; he breaks this one treasure in two, that both the
+poor things may have a silver token of love and a pledge of his
+return. I am sure, if the poet had been here, he would have been quite
+angry with us for laughing at that line.”
+
+“Keep your temper. Why, this is new from you, Lucy; but you women of
+sugar can all cauterize your own sex; the theme inspires you.”
+
+“Uncle, how dare you! Are you not afraid I shall be angry one of these
+days, dear!!? The gentlemen were equally concerned in this last
+enormity. Poor Jemmy, or Jammy, with his devotion and tenderness that
+soothed, and his high spirit that supported the weaker vessel, was as
+funny to our male as to our female guests--so there. I saw but one
+that understood him, and did not laugh at him.”
+
+“Talboys, for a pound.”
+
+“Mr. Talboys? no! _You,_ dear uncle; you did not laugh; I noticed
+it with all a niece's pride.”
+
+“Of course I didn't. Can I hear a word these ladies mew? can I tell in
+what language even they are whining and miauling? I have given up
+trying this twenty years and more.”
+
+“I return to my question,” said Lucy hastily.
+
+“And I to my solution; your three graces are three d--d fools. If you
+can account for it in any other way, do.”
+
+“No, uncle dear. If you had happened to agree with me beforehand, I
+would; but as you do not, I beg to be excused. But keep the paper, and
+the next time listen to the talk and unmeaning laughter; you will find
+I have not exaggerated, and some day, dear, I will tell you how my
+mamma used to account for similar monstrosities in society.”
+
+“Here is a mysterious little toad. Well, Lucy, for all this you
+enjoyed yourself. I never saw you in better spirits.”
+
+“I am glad you saw that,” said Lucy, with a languid smile.
+
+“And how Talboys came out.”
+
+“He did,” sighed Lucy.
+
+Here the young lady lighted softly on an ottoman, and sank gracefully
+back with a weary-o'-the-world air; and when she had settled down like
+so much floss silk, fixing her eye on the ceiling, and doling her
+words out languidly yet thoughtfully--just above a whisper, “Uncle,
+darling,” inquired she, “where are the men we have all heard of?”
+
+“How should I know? What men?”
+
+“Where are the men of sentiment, that can understand a woman, and win
+her to reveal her real heart, the best treasure she has, uncle dear?”
+ She paused for a reply; none coming, she continued with decreasing
+energy:
+
+“Where are the men of spirit? the men of action? the upright,
+downright men, that Heaven sends to cure us of our disingenuousness?
+Where are the heroes and the wits?” (an infinitesimal yawn); “where
+are the real men? And where are the women to whom such men can do
+homage without degrading themselves? where are the men who elevate a
+woman without making her masculine, and the women who can brighten and
+polish, and yet not soften the steel of manhood--tell me, tell me
+instantly,” said she, with still greater languor and want of
+earnestness, and her eyes remained fixed on the ceiling in deep
+abstraction.
+
+“They are all in this house at this moment,” said Mr. Fountain,
+coolly.
+
+“Who, dear? I fear I was not attending to you. How rude!!”
+
+“Horrid. I say the men and women you inquire for are all in this house
+of mine;” and the old gentleman's eyes twinkled.
+
+“Uncle! Heaven forgive you, and--oh, fie!”
+
+“They are, upon my soul.”
+
+“Then they must be in some part of it I have not visited. Are they in
+the kitchen?” (with a little saucy sneer.)
+
+“No, they are in the library.”
+
+“In the lib--Ah! _le malin!”_
+
+“They were never seen in the drawing-room, and never will be.”
+
+“Yet surely they must have lived in nature before they were embalmed
+in print,” said Lucy, interrogating the ceiling again.
+
+“The nearest approach you will meet to these paragons is Reginald
+Talboys,” said Fountain, stoutly.
+
+“Uncle, I do love you;” and Lucy rose with Juno-like slowness and
+dignity, and, leaning over the old boy, kissed him with sudden small
+fury.
+
+“Why?” asked he, eagerly, connecting this majestic squirt of affection
+with his last speech.
+
+“Because you are such a nice, dear, _sarcastic_ thing. Let us
+drink tea in the library to-morrow, then that will be an approach
+to--”
+
+With this illegitimate full stop the conversation ended, and Miss
+Fountain took a candle and sauntered to bed.
+
+
+In church next Sunday Lucy observed a young lady with a beaming face,
+who eyed her by stealth in all the interstices of devotion. She asked
+her uncle who was that pretty girl with a _nez retrousse._
+
+“A cocked nose? It must be my little friend, Eve Dodd. I didn't know
+she was come back.”
+
+“What a pretty face to be in such--such a--such an impossible bonnet.
+It has come down from another epoch.” This not maliciously, but with a
+sort of tender, womanly concern for beauty set off to the most
+disadvantage.
+
+“O, hang her bonnet! She is full of fun; she shall drink tea with us;
+she is a great favorite of mine.”
+
+They quickened their pace, and caught Eve Dodd just as she took a
+flying leap over some water that lay in her path, and showed a
+charming ankle. In those days female dress committed two errors that
+are disappearing: it revealed the whole foot by day, and hid a section
+of the bosom at night.
+
+After the usual greetings, Mr. Fountain asked Eve if she would come
+over and drink tea with him and his niece.
+
+Miss Dodd colored and cast a glance of undisguised admiration at Miss
+Fountain, but she said: “Thank you, sir; I am much obliged, but I am
+afraid I can't come. My brother would miss me.”
+
+“What--the sailor? Is he at home?”
+
+“Yes, sir; came home last night”; and she clapped her hands by way of
+comment. “He has been with my mother all church-time; so now it is my
+turn, and I don't know how to let him out of my sight yet awhile.” And
+she gave a glance at Miss Fountain, as much as to say, “You
+understand.”
+
+“Well, Eve,” said Mr. Fountain good-humoredly, “we must not separate
+brother and sister,” and he was turning to go.
+
+“Perhaps, uncle,” said Lucy, looking not at Mr. Fountain, but at
+Eve--“Mr.--Mr.--”
+
+“David Dodd is my brother's name,” said Eve, quickly.
+
+“Mr. David Dodd might be persuaded to give us the pleasure of his
+company too.”
+
+“Oh yes, if I may bring dear David with me,” burst out the child of
+nature, coloring again with pleasure.
+
+“It will add to the obligation,” said Lucy, finishing the sentence in
+character.
+
+“So that is settled,” said Mr. Fountain, somewhat dryly.
+
+As they were walking home together, the courtier asked her uncle
+rather coldly, “Who are these we have invited, dear?”
+
+“Who are they? A pretty girl and a man she wouldn't come without.”
+
+“And who is the gentleman? What is he?”
+
+“A marine animal--first mate of a ship.”
+
+“First mate? mate? Is that what in the novels is called boatswain's
+mate?”
+
+“Haw! haw! haw! I say, Lucy, ask him when he comes if he is the
+bosen's mate. How little Eve will blaze!”
+
+“Then I shall ask him nothing of the kind. Do tell me! I know
+admirals--they swear--and captains, and, I think, lieutenants, and,
+_above all,_ those little loves of midshipmen, strutting with
+their dirks and cocked hats, like warlike bantams, but I never met
+'mates.' Mates?”
+
+“That is because you have only been introduced to the Royal Navy; but
+there is another navy not so ornamental, but quite as useful, called
+the East India Company's.”
+
+“I am ashamed to say I never heard of it.”
+
+“I dare say not. Well, in this navy there are only two kinds of
+superior officers--the mates and the captain. There are five or six
+mates. Young Dodd has been first mate some time, so I suppose he will
+soon be a captain.”
+
+“Uncle!”
+
+“Well.”
+
+“Will this--mate--swear?”
+
+“Clearly.”
+
+“There, now. I do not like swearing on a Sunday. That wicked old
+admiral used to make me shudder.”
+
+“Oh,” said Mr. Fountain, playing upon innocence, “he swore by the
+Supreme Being, 'I bet sixpence.'”
+
+“Yes,” said Lucy, in a low, soft voice of angelic regret.
+
+“Ah! he was in the Royal Navy. But this is a merchantman; you don't
+think he will presume to break into the monopoly of the superior
+branch. He will only swear by the wind and weather. Thunder and
+squalls! Donner and blitzen! Handspikes and halyards! these are the
+innocent execrations of the merchant service--he! he! ho!”
+
+“Uncle, can you be serious?” asked Lucy, somewhat coldly; “if so, be
+so good as to tell me, is this gentleman--a--gentleman?”
+
+“Well,” replied the other, coolly, “he is what I call a nondescript;
+like an attorney, or a surgeon, or a civil engineer, or a banker, or a
+stock-broker, and all that sort of people. He can be a gentleman if he
+is thoroughly bent on it; you would in his place, and so should I; but
+these skippers don't turn their mind that way. Old families don't go
+into the merchant service. Indeed, it would not answer. There they
+rise by--by--mere maritime considerations.”
+
+“Then, uncle,” began Lucy, with dignified severity, “permit me to say
+that, in inviting a nondescript, you showed--less consideration for me
+than--you--are in the habit--of doing, dearest.”
+
+“Well, have a headache, and can't come down.”
+
+“So I certainly should; but, most unfortunately, I have an objection
+to tell fibs on a Sunday.”
+
+“You are quite right; we should rest from our usual employments one
+day-ha! ha! and so go at it fresher to-morrow--haw! ho! Come, Lucy,
+don't you be so exclusive. Eve Dodd is a merry girl. She comes and
+amuses me when you are not here, and David, by all accounts, is a fine
+young fellow, and as modest as a girl of fifteen; they will make me
+laugh, especially Eve, and it would be hard at my age, I think, if I
+might not ask whom I like--to tea.”
+
+“So it would,” put in Lucy, hastily; she added, coaxing, “it shall
+have its own way--it shall have what makes it laugh.”
+
+
+Long before eight o'clock the Fountains had forgotten that they had
+invited the Dodds.
+
+Not so Eve. She was all in a flutter, and hesitated between two
+dresses, and by some blessed inspiration decided for the plainest; but
+her principal anxiety was, not about herself, but about David's
+deportment before the Queen of Fashion, for such report proclaimed
+Miss Fountain. “And those fine ladies are so satirical,” said Eve to
+herself; “but I will lecture him going along.”
+
+Dinner time, and, by consequence, tea time, came earlier in those
+days; so, about eight o'clock, a tall, square-shouldered young fellow
+was walking in the moonlight toward Font Abbey, Eve holding his hand,
+and tripping by his side, and lecturing him on deportment very gravely
+while dancing around him and pulling him all manner of ways, like your
+solid tune with your gamboling accompaniment, a combination now in
+vogue. All of a sudden, without with your leave or by your leave, the
+said David caught this light fantastic object up in his arms, and
+carried it on one shoulder.
+
+On this she gave a little squeak; then, without a moment's interval,
+continued her lecture as if nothing had happened. She looked down from
+her perch like a hen from a ladder, and laid down the law to David
+with seriousness and asperity.
+
+“And just please to remember that they are people a long way above
+us--at least above what we are now, since father fell into trouble; so
+don't you make too free; and Miss Fountain is the finest of all the
+fine ladies in the county.”
+
+“Then I am sorry we are going.”
+
+“No, you are not; she is a beautiful girl.”
+
+“That alters the case.”
+
+“No, it does not. Don't chatter so, David, interrupting forever, but
+listen and mind what I say, or I'll never take you anywhere again.”
+
+“Are you sure you are taking me now?” asked David, dryly.
+
+“Why not, Mr. David?” retorted Eve, from his shoulder. “Didn't I hear
+you tell how you took the _Combermere_ out of harbor, and how you
+brought her into port; she didn't take you out and bring you home,
+eh?”
+
+“Had me there, though.”
+
+“Yes; and, what is more, you are not skipper of the _Combermere_
+yet, and never will be; but I am skipper of you.”
+
+“Ashore--not a doubt of it,” said David, with cool indifference. He
+despised terrestrial distinction, courting only such as was marine.
+
+“Then I command you to let me down this instant. Do you hear, crew!”
+
+“No,” objected David; “if I put you overboard you can't command the
+vessel, and ten to one if the craft does not founder for want of
+seawomanship on the quarterdeck. However,” added he, in a relenting
+tone, “wait till we get to that puddle shining on ahead, and then I'll
+disembark you.”
+
+“No, David, do let me down, that's a good soul. I am tired,” added
+she, peevishly.
+
+“Tired! of what?”
+
+“Of doing nothing, stupid; there, let me down, dear; won't you,
+darling! then take that, love” (a box of the ear).
+
+“Well, I've got it,” said David, dryly.
+
+“Keep it, then, till the next. No, he won't let me down. He has got
+both my hands in one of his paws, and he will carry me every foot of
+the way now--I know the obstinate pig.”
+
+“We all have our little characters, Eve. Well, I have got your wrists,
+but you have got your tongue, and that is the stronger weapon of the
+two, you know; and you are on the poop, so give your orders, and the
+ship shall be worked accordingly; likewise, I will enter all your
+remarks on good-breeding into my log.”
+
+Here, unluckily, David tapped his forehead to signify that the log in
+question was a metaphorical one, the log of memory. Eve had him again
+directly. She freed a claw. “So this is your log, is it?” cried she,
+tapping it as hard as she could; “well, it does sound like wood of
+some sort. Well, then, David, dear--you wretch, I mean--promise me not
+to laugh loud.”
+
+“Well, I will not; it is odds if I laugh at all. I wish we were to
+moor alongside mother, instead of running into this strange port.”
+
+“Stuff! think of Miss Fountain's figure-head--nor tell too many
+stories--and, above all, for heaven's sake, do keep the poor dear old
+sea out of sight for once.”
+
+“Ay, ay, that stands to reason.”
+
+By this time they were at Font Abbey, and David deposited his fair
+burden gently on the stone steps of the door. She opened it without
+ceremony, and bustled into the dining-room, crying, “I have brought
+David, sir; and here he is;” and she accompanied David's bow with a
+corresponding movement of her hand, the knuckles downward.
+
+The old gentleman awoke with a start, rubbed his eyes, shook hands
+with the pair, and proposed to go up to Lucy in the drawing-room.
+
+Now, it happened unluckily that Miss Fountain had been to the library
+and taken down one or two of those men and women who, according to her
+uncle, exist only on paper, and certain it is she was in charming
+company when she heard her visitors' steps and voices coming up the
+stairs. Had those visitors seen the vexed expression of her face as
+she laid down the book they would have instantly 'bout ship and home
+again; but that sour look dissolved away as they came through the open
+door.
+
+On coming in they saw a young lady seated on a sofa.
+
+Apparently she did not see them enter. Her face _happened_ to be
+averted; but, ere they had taken three steps, she turned her face, saw
+them, rose, and took two steps to meet them, all beaming with
+courtesy, kindness and quiet satisfaction at their arrival.
+
+She gave her hand to Eve.
+
+“This is my brother, Miss Fountain.”
+
+Miss Fountain instantly swept David a courtesy with such a grace and
+flow, coupled with an engaging smile, that the sailor was fascinated,
+and gazed instead of bowing.
+
+Eve had her finger ready to poke him, when he recovered himself and
+bowed low.
+
+Eve played the accompaniment with her hand, knuckles down.
+
+They sat down. Cups of tea, etc., were brought round to each by John.
+It was bad tea, made out of the room. Catch a human being making good
+tea in which it is not to share.
+
+Mr. Fountain was only half awake.
+
+Eve was more or less awed by Lucy. David, tutored by Eve, held his
+tongue altogether, or gave short answers.
+
+“This must be what the novels call a sea-cub!” thought Miss Fountain.
+
+The friends, Propriety and Restraint, presided over the innocent
+banquet, and a dismal evening set in.
+
+The first infraction of this polite tranquillity came, I blush to say,
+from the descendant of John de Fonte. He exploded in a yawn of
+magnitude; to cover this, the young lady began hastily to play her old
+game of setting people astride their topic, and she selected David
+Dodd for the experiment. She put on a warm curiosity about the sea,
+and ships, and the countries men visit in them. Then occurred a droll
+phenomenon: David flashed with animation, and began full and
+intelligent answers; then, catching his sister's eye, came to
+unnatural full stops; and so warmly and skillfully was he pressed that
+it cost him a gigantic effort to avoid giving much amusement and
+instruction. The courtier saw this hesitation, and the vivid flashes
+of intelligence, and would not lose her prey. She drew him with all a
+woman's tact, and with a warmth so well feigned that it set him on
+real fire. His instinct of politeness would not let him go on all
+night giving short answers to inquiring beauty. He turned his eye,
+which glowed now like a live coal, toward that enticing voice, and
+presently, like a ship that has been hanging over the water ever so
+long on the last rollers, with one gallant glide he took the sea, and
+towed them all like little cockle-boats in his wake. From sea to sea,
+from port to port, from tribe to tribe, from peril to peril, from feat
+to feat, David whirled his wonderstruck hearers, and held them panting
+by the quadruple magic of a tuneful voice, a changing eye, an ardent
+soul, and truth at first-hand.
+
+They sat thrilled and surprised, most of all Miss Fountain. To her,
+things great and real had up to that moment been mere vague outlines
+seen through a mist. Moreover, her habitual courtesy had hitherto
+drawn out pumps; but now, when least expected, all in a moment, as a
+spark fires powder, it let off a man.
+
+A sailor is a live book of travels. Check your own vanity (if you
+possibly can) and set him talking, you shall find him full of curious
+and profitable matter.
+
+The Fountains did not know this, and, even if they had, Dodd would
+have taken them by surprise; for, besides being a sailor and a
+sea-enthusiast, he was a fellow of great capacity and mental vigor.
+
+He had not skimmed so many books as we have, but I fear he had sucked
+more. However, his main strength did not lie there. He was not a paper
+man, and this--oh! men of paper and oh! C. R. in particular--gave him
+a tremendous advantage over you that Sunday evening.
+
+The man whose knowledge all comes from reading accumulates a great
+number of what?--facts? No, of the shadows of facts; shadows often so
+thin, indistinct and featureless, that, when one of the facts
+themselves runs against him in real life, he does not know his old
+friend, round about which he has written a smart leader in a journal
+and a ponderous trifle in the Polysyllabic Review.
+
+But this sailor had stowed into his mental hold not fact-shadows, but
+the glowing facts all alive, O. For thirteen years, man and boy, he
+had beat about the globe, with real eyes, real ears, and real brains
+ever at work. He had drunk living knowledge like a fish, and at
+fountainheads.
+
+Yet, to utter intellectual wealth nobly, two things more are
+indispensable the gift of language and a tunable voice, which last
+does not always come by talking with tempests.
+
+Well, David Dodd had sucked in a good deal of language from books and
+tongues; not, indeed, the Norman-French and demi-Latin and jargon of
+the schools, printed for English in impotent old trimestrials for the
+further fogification of cliques, but he had laid by a fair store of
+the best--of the monosyllables--the Saxon--the soul and vestal fire of
+the great English tongue.
+
+So he was never at a loss for words, simple, clear, strong, like
+blasts of a horn.
+
+His voice at this period was mellow and flexible. He was a mimic, too;
+the brighter things he had seen, whether glories of nature or acts of
+man, had turned to pictures in this man's mind. He flashed these
+pictures one after another upon the trio; he peopled the soft and
+cushioned drawing-room with twenty different tribes and varieties of
+man, barbarous, semi-barbarous, and civilized; their curious customs,
+their songs and chants, and dances, and struts, and actual postures.
+
+The aspect of famous shores from the sea, glittering coasts, dark
+straits, volcanic rocks defying sea and sky, and warm, delicious
+islands clothed with green, that burst on the mariner's sight after
+rugged places and scowling skies.
+
+The adventures of one unlucky ship, the _Connemara,_ on a single
+whaling cruise on the coast of Peru. The first slight signs of a gale,
+seen only by the careful skipper. The hasty preparations for it: all
+hands to shorten sail; then the moaning of the wind high up in the
+sky. All hands to reef sail now--the whirl and whoo of the gale as it
+came down on them. The ship careening as it caught her, the
+speaking-trumpet--the captain howling his orders through it amid the
+tumult.
+
+The floating icebergs--the ship among them, picking her way in and out
+a hundred deaths. Baffled by the unyielding wind off Cape Horn,
+sailing six weeks on opposite tacks, and ending just where they began,
+weather-bound in sight of the gloomy Horn. Then the terrors of a
+land-locked bay, and a lee shore; the ship tacking, writhing,
+twisting, to weather one jutting promontory; the sea and safety is on
+the other side of it; land and destruction on this--the attempt, the
+hope, the failure; then the stout-hearted, skillful captain would try
+one rare maneuver to save the ship, cargo, and crew. He would
+club-haul her, “and if that fails, my lads, there is nothing but up
+mainsail, up helm, run her slap ashore, and lay her bones on the
+softest bit of rock we can pick.”
+
+Long ere this the poor ship had become a live thing to all these four,
+and they hung breathless on her fate.
+
+Then he showed how a ship is club-hauled, and told how nobly
+the old _Connemara_ behaved (ships are apt to when well
+handled--double-barreled guns ditto), and how the wind blew fiercer,
+and the rocks seemed to open their mouths for her, and how she hung
+and vibrated between safety and destruction, and at last how she
+writhed and slipped between Death's lips, yet escaped his teeth, and
+tossed and tumbled in triumph on the great but fair fighting sea; and
+how they got at last to the whaling ground, and could not find a whale
+for many a weary day, and the novices said: “They were all killed
+before we sailed;” and how, as uncommon ill luck is apt to be balanced
+by uncommon good luck, one fine evening they fell in with a whole
+shoal of whales at play, jumping clean into the air sixty feet long,
+and coming down each with a splash like thunder; even the captain had
+never seen such a game; and how the crew were for lowering the boats
+and going at them, but the captain would not let them; a hundred
+playful mountains of fish, the smallest weighing thirty ton, flopping
+down happy-go-lucky, he did not like the looks of it.
+
+“The boat will be at the mercy of chance among all those tails, and we
+are not lucky enough to throw at random. No; since the beggars have
+taken to dancing, for a change, let them dance all night; to-morrow
+they shall pay the piper.” How, at peep of day, the man at the
+mast-head saw ten whales about two leagues off on the weather-bow; how
+the ship tacked and stood toward them; how she weathered on one of
+monstrous size, and how he and the other youngsters were mad to lower
+the boat and go after it, and how the captain said: “Ye lubbers, can't
+ye see that is a right whale, and not worth a button? Look here away
+over the quarter at this whale. See how low she spouts. She is a sperm
+whale, and worth seven hundred pounds if she was only dead and towed
+alongside.”
+
+“'That she shall be in about a minute,' cried one; and, indeed, we
+were all in a flame; the boat was lowered, and didn't I worship the
+skipper when he told me off to be one of her crew!
+
+“I was that eager to be in at that whale's death, I didn't recollect
+there might be smaller brutes in danger.
+
+“Just before the oars fell into the water, the skipper looked down
+over the bulwarks, and says he to one of us that had charge of the
+rope that is fast to the boat at one end and to the harpoon at the
+other, 'Now, Jack you are a new hand; mind all I told you last night,
+or your mother will see me come ashore without you, and that will vex
+her; and, my lads, remember, if there is a single lubberly hitch in
+that line, you will none of you come up the ship's side again.'
+
+“'All right, captain,' says Jack, and we pulled off singing,
+
+     “'And spring to your oars, and, make your boat fly,
+       And when you come near her beware of her eye,'
+
+till the coxswain bade us hold our lubberly tongues, and not frighten
+the whales; however, we soon found we wanted all our breath for our
+work, and more too.” Then David painted the furious race after the
+whale, and how the boat gradually gained, and how at last, as he was
+grinding his teeth and pulling like mad, he heard a sound ahead like a
+hundred elephants wallowing; and now he hoped to see the harpooner
+leave his oar, and rise and fling his weapon; “but that instant, up
+flukes, a tower of fish was seen a moment in the air, with a tail-fin
+at the top of it just about the size of this room we are sitting in,
+ladies, and down the whale sounded; then it was pull on again in her
+wake, according as she headed in sounding; pull for the dear life; and
+after a while the oarsmen saw the steerman's eyes, prying over the
+sea, turn like hot coals. The men caught fire at this, and put their
+very backbones into each stroke, and the boat skimmed and flew.
+Suddenly the steersman cried out fiercely, 'Stand up, harpoon! Up rose
+the harpooner, _his_ eye like a hot coal now. The men saw
+nothing; they must pull fiercer than ever. The harpooner balanced his
+iron, swayed his body lightly, and the harpoon hissed from him. A soft
+thud--then a heaving of the water all round, a slap that sounded like
+a church tower falling flat upon an acre of boards, and drenched, and
+blinded, and half smothered us all in spray, and at the same moment
+away whirled the boat, dancing and kicking in the whale's foaming,
+bubbling wake, and we holding on like grim death by the thwarts, not
+to be spun out into the sea.”
+
+“Delightful!” cried Miss Fountain; “the waves bounded beneath you like
+a steed that knows its rider. Pray continue.”
+
+“Yes, Miss Fountain. Now of course you can see that, if the line ran
+out too easy, the whale would leave us astern altogether, and if it
+jammed or ran too hard, she would tow us under water.”
+
+“Of course we see,” said Eve, ironically; “we understand everything by
+instinct. Hang explanations when I'm excited; go ahead, do!”
+
+“Then I won't explain how it is or why it is, but I'll just let you
+know that two or three hundred fathom of line are passed round the
+boat from stem to stern and back, and carried in and out between the
+oarsmen as they sit. Well, it was all new to me then; but when the
+boat began jumping and rocking, and the line began whizzing in and
+out, and screaming and smoking like--there now, fancy a machine, a
+complicated one, made of poisonous serpents, the steam on, and you
+sitting in the middle of the works, with not an inch to spare, on the
+crankest, rockingest, jumpingest, bumpingest, rollingest cradle that
+ever--”
+
+“David!” said Eve, solemnly.
+
+“Hallo!” sang out David.
+
+“Don't!”
+
+“Oh, yes, do!” cried Lucy, slightly clasping her hands.
+
+“If this little black ugly line was to catch you, it would spin you
+out of the boat like a shuttlecock; if it held you, it would cut you
+in two, or hang you to death, or drown you all at one time; and if it
+got jammed against anything alive or dead that could stand the strain,
+it would take the boat and crew down to the coral before you could
+wink twice.”
+
+“Oh, dear!” said Lucy; “then I don't think I like it now; it is too
+terrible. Pray go on, Mr.--Mr.--”
+
+“Well, Miss Fountain, when a novice like me saw this black serpent
+twisting and twirling, and smoking and hissing in and out among us, I
+remembered the skipper's words, and I hailed Jack--it was he had laid
+the line--he was in the bow.
+
+“'Jack,' said I.
+
+“'Hallo!” said he.
+
+“'For God's sake, are there any hitches in the line?' said I.
+
+“'Not as I _knows_ on,' says he, much cooler than you sit there;
+and that is a sailor all over. Well, she towed us about a mile, and
+then she was blown, and we hauled up on the line, and came up with
+her, and drove lances into her, till she spouted blood instead of salt
+water, and went into her flurry, and rolled suddenly over our way
+dead, and was within a foot of smashing us to atoms; but if she had it
+would only have been an accident, for she was past malice, poor thing.
+Then we took possession, planted our flagstaff in her spouting-hole,
+you know, and pulled back to the ship, and she came down and anchored
+to the whale, and then, for the first time, I saw the blubber stripped
+off a whale and hoisted by tackles into the ship's hold, which is as
+curious as any part of the business, but a dirtyish job, and not fit
+for the present company, and I dare say that is enough about whales.”
+
+“No! no! no!”
+
+“Well, then, shall I tell you how one old whale knocked our boat clean
+into the air, bottom uppermost, and how we swam round her and managed
+to right her?”
+
+“And went back to the ship and had your tea in bed and your clothes
+dried?”
+
+“No, Eve,” replied David, with the utmost simplicity; “we got in and
+to work again, and killed the whale in less than half an hour, and
+planted our flag on her, and away after another.”
+
+Then he told them how they harpooned one right whale, and by good luck
+were able to make her fast to the stern of the ship. “And, if you
+will believe me, Miss Fountain, though there was just a breath on and
+off right aft, and the foresail, jib and mizzen all set to catch it,
+she towed the ship astern a good cable's length, and the last thing
+was she broke the harpoon shaft just below the line, and away she swam
+right in the wind's eye.”
+
+“And there was an end of her and your nasty, cruel, harpoon, and--oh,
+I'm so pleased!”
+
+“No, there wasn't, Eve; we heard of both fish and harpoon again, but
+not for a good many years.”
+
+“Mr. Dodd!”
+
+“Yes, Miss Fountain. It is curious, like many things that fall out at
+sea, but not so wonderful as her towing a ship of four hundred tons,
+with the foresail, mizzen, and jib all aback. Well, sir, did you ever
+hear of Nantucket? It is a port in the United States; and our
+harpooner happened to be there full four years after we lost this
+whale. Some Yankee whalers were treating him to the best of grog, and
+it was brag Briton, brag Yankee, according to custom whenever these
+two met. Well, our man had no more invention than a stone; so he was
+getting the worst of it till he bethought him of this whale; so he up
+and told how he had struck a right whale in the Pacific, and she had
+towed the ship with her sails aback, at least her foresail, mizzen,
+and jib, only he didn't tell it short like me, but as long as the Red
+Sea, with the day and the hour, the latitude (within four or five
+degrees, I take it), and what we had done a week before, and what we
+had not done, all by way of prologue, and for fear of weathering the
+horn--tic, tic--the point of the story too soon. When he had done
+there was a general howl of laughter, and they began to cap lies with
+him, and so they bantered him most cruelly, by all accounts; but at
+last a long silent chap, weather-beaten to the color of rosewood, put
+in his word.
+
+“'What was the ship's name, mate?'
+
+“'The _Connemara_,' says he.
+
+“'And what is your name?' So he told him, 'Jem Green.'
+
+“The other brings a great mutton fist down on the table, and makes all
+the glasses dance. 'You stay at your moorings till I come back,' says
+he. 'I have got something belonging to you, Jem Green,' and he sheered
+off. The others lay to and passed the grog. Presently the long
+one comes back with a harpoon steel in his hand; there was
+_Connemara_ stamped on it, and also 'James Green' graved with a
+knife. 'Is that yours?' 'Is my hand mine?' says Jem; 'but wasn't there
+a broken shaft to it!”
+
+“'There was,' says the Yankee harpooner; 'I cut it out.'
+
+“'Well!' says Jem, 'that is the harpoon we were fast by to this very
+whale. Where did you kill her?'
+
+“'In the Greenland seas.' And he whips out his private log. 'Here you
+are,' says he; 'March 25, 1820, latitude so and so, killed a right
+whale; lost half the blubber, owing to the carcass sinking; cut an
+English harpoon out of her.'
+
+“'Avast there, mate!' cried Jem, and he whips, out _his_ log;
+'overhaul that.' The other harpooner overhauled it. 'Mates, look,
+here,' says he; 'I reckon we hain't fathomed the critters yet. The
+Britisher struck her in the Pacific on the 5th of March, and we killed
+her off Greenland on the 25th, five thousand miles of water by the
+lowest reckoning.' By this time there were a dozen heads jammed
+together, like bees swarming, over the two logs. 'She got a wound in
+the Pacific! “Hallo!” says she; “this is no sea for a lady to live
+in;” so she up helm, and right away across the pole into the Atlantic,
+and met her death.'”
+
+“Your story has an interest you little suspect, young gentleman. If
+this is true, the northwest passage is proved.”
+
+“That has been proved a hundred times, sir, and in a hundred ways; the
+only riddle is to find it. The man that tells you there is not a
+northwest passage is no sailor, and the fish that can't find it is not
+a whale; for there is not a young suckling no bigger than this room
+that does not know that passage as well as a mid on his first voyage
+knows the way to the mizzen-top through lubber's hole. How tired you
+must be of whales, ladies?”
+
+“Oh no.”
+
+“Kill us one more, David. I love bloodshed--to hear of.”
+
+“Well, now, I don't think that can be Miss Fountain's taste, to look
+at her.”
+
+Then David told them how he had fallen in with a sperm whale, dead of
+disease, floating as high as a frigate; how, with a very light breeze,
+the skipper had crept down toward her; how, at half a mile distance
+the stench of her was severe, but, as they neared her, awful; then so
+intolerable that the skipper gave the crew leave to go below and close
+the lee ports. So there were but two men left on the brig's deck, and
+a ship's company that a hurricane would not have driven from their
+duty skulked before a foul smell; but such a smell! a smell that
+struck a chill and a loathing to the heart, and soul, and marrow-bone;
+a smell like the gases in a foul mine; “it would have suffocated us in
+a few moments if we had been shut up along with it.” Then he told how
+the skipper and he stuffed their noses and ears with cotton steeped in
+aromatic vinegar, and their mouths with pig-tail (by which, as it
+subsequently appeared, Lucy understood pork or bacon in some form
+unknown to her narrow experience), and lighted short pipes, and
+breached the brig upon the putrescent monster, and grappled to it, and
+then the skipper jumped on it, a basket slung to his back, and a rope
+fast under his shoulders in case of accident, and drove his spade in
+behind the whale's side-fin.”
+
+“His spade, Mr. Dodd?”
+
+“His whale-spade; it is as sharp as a razor;” and how the skipper dug
+a hole in the whale as big as a well and four feet deep, and, after a
+long search, gave a shout of triumph, and picked out some stuff that
+looked like Gloucester cheese; and, when he had nearly filled his
+basket with this stuff, he slacked the grappling-iron, and David
+hauled him on board, and the carcass dropped astern, and the captain
+sang out for rum, and drank a small tumbler neat, and would have
+fainted away, spite of his precautions, but for the rum, and how a
+heavenly perfume was now on deck fighting with that horrid odor; and
+how the crew smelled it, and crept timidly up one by one, and how “the
+Glo'ster cheese was a great favorite of yours, ladies. It was the king
+of perfumes--amber-gas; there is some of it in all your richest
+scents; and the knowing skipper had made a hundred guineas in the turn
+of the hand. So knowledge is wealth, you see, and the sweet can be got
+out of the sour by such as study nature.”
+
+“Don't preach, David, especially after just telling a fib. A hundred
+guineas!”
+
+“I am wrong,”' said David.
+
+“Very wrong, indeed.”
+
+“There were eight pounds; and he sold it at a guinea the ounce to a
+wholesale chemist, so that looks to me like 128 pounds.”
+
+Then David left the whales, and encouraged by bright eyes and winning
+smiles, and warm questions, sang higher strains.
+
+Ships in dire distress at sea, yet saved by God's mercy, and the cool,
+invincible courage of captain and crew--great ships run ashore--the
+waves breaking them up--the rigging black with the despairing crew,
+eying the watery death that tumbled and gaped and roared for them
+below; and then little shore boats, manned by daring hearts, launched
+into the surf, and going out to the great ship and her peril, risking
+more life for the chance of saving life. And he did not present the
+bare skeletons of daring acts; those grand morgues, the journals, do
+that. There lie the dry bones of giant epics waiting Genius's hand to
+make them live. He gave them not only the broad outward facts--the
+bones; but those smaller touches that are the body and soul of a
+story, true or false, wanting which the deeds of heroes sound an
+almanac; above all, he gave them glimpses, not only of what men acted,
+but what they felt: what passed in the hearts of men perishing at sea,
+in sight of land, houses, fires on the hearth, and outstretched hands,
+and in the hearts of the heroes that ran their boats into the surf and
+Death's maw to save them, and of the lookers on, admiring, fearing,
+shivering, glowing, and of the women that sobbed and prayed ashore
+with their backs to the sea, just able to risk lover, husband, and son
+for the honor of manhood and the love of Christ, but not able to look
+on at their own flesh and blood diving so deep, and lost so long in
+cockle-shells between the hills of waves.
+
+Such great acts, great feelings, great perils, and the gushes that
+crowned all of holy triumph when the boats came in with the dripping
+and saved, and man for a moment looked greater than the sea and the
+wind and death, this seaman poured hot from his own manly heart into
+quick and womanly bosoms, that heaved visibly, and glowed with
+admiring sympathy, and fluttered with gentle fear.
+
+And after a while, though not at first, David's yarns began to contain
+a double interest to one of the party--Miss Fountain. Those who live
+to please get to read character at sight, and David, though in these
+more noble histories he scarcely named himself, was laying a
+full-length picture of his own mind bare to these keen feminine eyes.
+As for old Fountain, he was charmed, and saw nothing more than David
+showed him outright. But the women sat flashing secret intelligence
+backward and forward from eye to eye after the manner of their sex.
+
+“Do you see?” said one lady's eyes.
+
+“Yes,” replied the other. “He was concerned in this feat, though he
+does not say so.”
+
+“Oh, you agree with me? Then we are right,” replied the first pair of
+speakers.
+
+“There again: look; this sailor, whom he describes as a fellow that
+happened to be ashore at that foreign port with nothing better to do,
+and who went out with the English smugglers to save the brig when the
+natives durst not launch a boat?”
+
+“Himself! not a doubt of it.”
+
+And so the blue and hazel lightning went dancing to and fro; ay, even
+when the tale took a sorrowful turn, and dimmed these bright orbs of
+intelligence, the lightning struggled through the dew, and David was
+read and discussed by gleams, and glances, and flashes, without a word
+spoken. And he, all unconscious that he sat between a pair of
+telegraphs, and heating more and more under his great recollections
+and his hearers' sympathy, inthralled them with his tuneful voice, his
+glowing face, his lion eye, and his breathing, burning histories.
+Heart to dare and do, yet heart to feel, and brain and tongue to tell
+a deed well, are rare allies, yet here they met.
+
+He mastered his hearers, and played on their breasts as David played
+the harp, and perhaps Achilles; Bochsa never, nor any of his tribe. He
+made the old man forget his genealogies, his small ambition, his gout,
+his years, and be a boy again an hour or two in thought, and blood,
+and early fire. He made the women's bosoms pant and swell, and seem to
+aspire to be the nests and cradles of heroes, and their eyes flash and
+glisten, and their cheeks flush and grow pale by turns; and the four
+little papered walls that confined them seemed to fall without noise,
+and they were away in thought out of a carpeted temple of wax, small
+talk, nonentity, and nonentities, away to sea-breezes that they almost
+felt in their hair and round their temples as their hearts rose and
+fell upon a broad swell of passion, perils, waves, male men,
+realities. The spell was at its height, when the sea-wizard's eye fell
+on the mantel-piece. Died in a moment his noble ardor: “Why, it is
+eight bells,” said he, servilely; then, doggedly, “time to turn in.”
+
+“Hang that clock!” shouted Mr. Fountain; “I'll have it turned out of
+the room.”
+
+Said Lucy, with gentle enthusiasm, “It must be beautiful to be a
+sailor, and to have seen the real world, and, above all, to be brave
+and strong like Mr. ----,. must it not, uncle?” and she looked askant
+at David's square shoulders and lion eye, and for the first time in
+her life there crossed her an undefined instinct that this gentleman
+must be the male of her species.
+
+“As for his courage,” said Eve, “that we have only his own word for.”
+
+David grinned.
+
+“Not even that,” replied Lucy, “for I observed he spoke but little of
+himself.”
+
+“I did not notice that,” said Eve, pertly; “but as for his strength,
+he certainly is as strong as a great bear, and as rude. What do you
+think? my lord carried me all the way from the top of the green lane
+to your house, and I am no feather.”
+
+“No, a skein of silk,” put in David.
+
+“I asked the gentleman politely to put me down, and he wouldn't, so
+then I boxed his ears.”
+
+“Oh, how could you?”
+
+“Oh, bless you, he never hits me again; he is too great a coward. And
+the great mule carried me all the more--carried me to your very door.”
+
+“I almost think--I believe I could guess why he carried you, if you
+will not be offended at my assuming the interpreter,” said Lucy,
+looking at Eve and speaking at David. “You have thin shoes on, Miss
+Dodd; now I remember the gravel ends at green lane, and the grass
+begins; so, from what we know of Mr. Dodd, perhaps he carried you that
+you might not have damp feet.”
+
+“Nothing of the kind--yes, it was, though, by his coloring up. La!
+David, dear boy!”
+
+“What is a man alongside for but to keep a girl out of mischief?” said
+David, bruskly.
+
+“Pray convert all your sex to that view,” laughed Lucy.
+
+So now they were going. Then Mr. Fountain thanked David for the
+pleasant evening he had given them; then David blushed and stammered.
+He had a veneration for old age--another of his superstitions.
+
+Her uncle's lead gave Lucy an opportunity she instantly seized. “Mr.
+Dodd, you have taken us into a new world of knowledge; we never were
+so interested in our lives.” At this pointblank praise David blushed,
+and was anything but comfortable, and began to back out of it all with
+a curt bow. Then, as the ladies can advance when a man of merit
+retreats, Lucy went the length of putting out her hand with a sweet,
+grateful smile; so he took it, and, in the ardor of encouraging so
+much spirit and modesty, she unconsciously pressed it. On this
+delicious pressure, light as it was, he raised his full brown eye, and
+gave her such a straightforward look of manly admiration and pleasure
+that she blushed faintly and drew back a little in her turn.
+
+
+“Well, Davy, dear, how do you like the Fountains?”
+
+“Eve, she is a clipper!”
+
+“And the old gentleman?”
+
+“He was very friendly. What do _you_ think of her?”
+
+“She is an out-and-out woman of the world, and very agreeable, as
+insincere people generally are. I like her because she was so polite
+to you.”
+
+“Oh, that is your reading of her, is it?”
+
+The rest of the walk passed almost in silence.
+
+
+“Uncle, I am not sleepy to-night.”
+
+“Who is? that young rascal has set me on fire with his yarns. Who
+would have thought that awkward cub had so much in him?”
+
+“Awkward, but not a cub; say rather a black swan; and you know, uncle,
+a swan is an awkward thing on land, but when it takes the water it is
+glorious, and that man was glorious; but--Da--vid Do--dd.”
+
+“I don't know whether he was glorious, but I know he amused me, and
+I'll have him to tea three times a week while he lasts.”
+
+“Uncle, do you believe such an unfortunate combination of sounds is
+his real name?” asked Lucy, gravely.
+
+“Why, who would be mad enough to feign such a name?”
+
+“That is true; but now tell me--if he should ever, think of marrying
+with such a name?”
+
+“Then there will be two David Dodd's in the world, Mr. and Mrs.”
+
+“I don't think so; he will be merciful, and take her name instead of
+she his; he is so good-natured.”
+
+“Ordinary sponsors would have been content with Samuel or Nathan; but
+no, this one's must, call in 'apt alliteration's artful aid,' and have
+the two 'd's.'”
+
+Lucy assented with a smile, and so, being no longer under the spell of
+the enthusiast and the male, the genealogist and the fine lady took
+the rise out of what Miss Fountain was pleased to call his impossible
+title,
+
+Da--vid Dodd.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+LUCY was not called on to write any more formal invitations to Mr.
+Talboys. Her uncle used merely to say to her: “Talboys dines with us
+to-day.” She made no remark; she respected her uncle's preference;
+besides--the pony! Of these trios Mr. Fountain was the true soul. He
+had to blow the coals of conversation right and left. It is very good
+of me not to compare him to the Tropic between two frigid zones. At
+first he took his nap as usual; for he said to himself: “Now I have
+started them they can go on.” Besides, he had seen pictures in the
+shop windows of an old fellow dozing and then the young ones
+“popping.”
+
+Dozing off with this idea uppermost, he used to wake with his eyes
+shut and his ears wide open; but it was to hear drowsy monosyllables
+dropping out at intervals like minute-guns, or to find Lucy gone and
+Talboys reading the coals. Then the schemer sighed, and took to strong
+coffee soon after dinner, and gave up his nap, and its loss impaired
+his temper the rest of the evening.
+
+He indemnified himself for these sleepless dinners by asking David
+Dodd and his sister to tea thrice a week on the off-nights; this
+joyous pair amused the old gentleman, and he was not the man to deny
+himself a pleasure without a powerful motive.
+
+“What, again so soon?” hazarded Lucy, one day that he bade her invite
+them. “I hardly know how to word my invitation; I have exhausted the
+forms.”
+
+“If you say another word, I'll make them come every night. Am I to
+have no amusement?” he added, in a deep tone of reproach; “they make
+me laugh.”
+
+“Ah! I forgot; forgive me.”
+
+“Little hypocrite; don't they you too, pray? Why, you are as dull as
+ditchwater the other evenings.”
+
+“Me, dear, dull with you?”
+
+“Yes, Miss Crocodile, dull with a pattern uncle and his friend--and
+your admirer.” He watched her to see how she would take this last
+word. Catch her taking it at all. “I am never dull with you, dear
+uncle,” said she; “but a third person, however estimable, is a certain
+restraint, and when that person is not very lively--” Here the
+explanation came quietly to an untimely end, like those old tunes that
+finish in the middle or thereabouts.
+
+“But that is the very thing; what do I ask them for to-night but to
+thaw Talboys?”
+
+“To thaw Talboys? he! he!”
+
+Lucy seemed so tickled by this expression that the old gentleman was
+sorry he had used it.
+
+“I mean, they will make him laugh.” Then, to turn it off, he said
+hastily, “And don't forget the fiddle, Lucy.”
+
+“Oh, yes, dear, please let me forget that, and then perhaps they may
+forget to bring it.”
+
+“Why, you pressed him to bring it; I heard you.”
+
+“Did I?” said Lucy, ruefully.
+
+“I am sure I thought you were mad after a fiddle, you seconded Eve so
+warmly; so that was only your extravagant politeness after all. I am
+glad you are caught. I like a fiddle, so there is no harm done.”
+
+Yes, reader, you have hit it. Eve, who openly quizzed her brother, but
+secretly adored him, and loved to display all his accomplishments, had
+egged on Mr. Fountain to ask David to bring his violin next time. Lucy
+had shivered internally. “Now, of all the screeching, whining things
+that I dislike, a violin!”--and thus thinking, gushed out, “Oh, pray
+do, Mr. Dodd,” with a gentle warmth that settled the matter and
+imposed on all around.
+
+This evening, then, the Dodds came to tea.
+
+They found Lucy alone in the drawing-room, and Eve engaged her
+directly in sprightly conversation, into which they soon drew David,
+and, interchanging a secret signal, plied him with a few artful
+questions, and--launched him. But the one sketch I gave of his manner
+and matter must serve again and again. Were I to retail to the reader
+all the droll, the spirited, the exciting things he told his hearers,
+there would be no room for my own little story; and we are all so
+egotistical! Suffice it to say, the living book of travels was
+inexhaustible; his observation and memory were really marvelous, and
+his enthusiasm, coupled with his accuracy of detail, had still the
+power to inthrall his hearers.
+
+“Mr. Dodd,” said Lucy, “now I see why Eastern kings have a
+story-teller always about them--a live story-teller. Would not you
+have one, Miss Dodd, if you were Queen of Persia?”
+
+“Me? I'd have a couple--one to make me laugh; one miserable.”
+
+“One would be enough if his resources were equal to your brother's.
+Pray go on, Mr. Dodd. It was madness to interrupt you with small
+talk.”
+
+David hung his head for a moment, then lifted it with a smile, and
+sailed in the spirit into the China seas, and there told them how the
+Chinamen used to slip on board his ship and steal with supernatural
+dexterity, and the sailors catch them by the tails, which they
+observing, came ever with their tails soaped like pigs at a village
+feast; and how some foolhardy sailors would venture into the town at
+the risk of their lives; and how one day they had to run for it, and
+when they got to the shore their boat was stolen, and they had to
+'bout ship and fight it out, and one fellow who knew the natives
+had loaded the sailors' guns with currant jelly. Make
+ready--present--fire! In a moment the troops of the Celestial Empire
+smarted, and were spattered with seeming gore, and fled yelling.
+
+Then he told how a poor comrade of his was nabbed and clapped in
+prison, and his hands and feet were to be cut off at sunrise; himself
+at noon. It was midnight, and strict orders from the quarterdeck had
+been issued that no man should leave the ship: what was to be done? It
+was a moonlight night. They met, silent as death, between
+decks--daren't speak above a whisper, for fear the officers should
+hear them. His messmate was crying like a child. One proposed one
+thing, one another; but it was all nonsense, and we knew it was, and
+at sunrise poor Tom must die.
+
+At last up jumps one fellow, and cries, “Messmates, I've got it; Tom
+isn't dead yet.”
+
+This was the moment Mr. Fountain and Mr. Talboys chose for coming into
+the drawing-room, of course. Mr. Fountain, with a shade of hesitation
+and awkwardness, introduced the Dodds to Mr. Talboys: he bowed a
+little stiffly, and there was a pause. Eve could not repress a little
+movement of nervous impatience. “David is telling us one of his
+nonsensical stories, sir,” said she to Mr. Fountain, “and it is so
+interesting; go on, David.”
+
+“Well, but,” said David, modestly, “it isn't everybody that likes
+these sea-yarns as you do, Eve. No, I'll belay, and let my betters get
+a word in now.”
+
+“You are more merciful than most story-tellers, sir,” said Talboys.
+
+Eve tossed her head and looked at Lucy, who with a word could have the
+story go on again. That young lady's face expressed general
+complacency, politeness, and _tout m'est egal._ Eve could have
+beat her for not taking David's part. “Doubleface!” thought she. She
+then devoted herself with the sly determination of her sex to trotting
+David out and making him the principal figure in spite of the
+new-corner.
+
+But, as fast as she heated him, Talboys cooled him. We are all great
+at something or other, small or great. Talboys was a first-rate
+freezer. He was one of those men who cannot shine, but can eclipse.
+They darken all but a vain man by casting a dark shadow of trite
+sentences on each luminary. The vain man insults them directly, and so
+gets rid of them.
+
+Talboys kept coming across honest enthusiastic David with little
+remarks, each skillfully discordant with the rising sentiment. Was he
+droll, Talboys did a bit of polite gravity on him; was he warm in
+praise of some gallant action, chill irony trickled on him from T.
+
+His flashes of romance were extinguished by neat little dicta,
+embodying sordid and false, but current views of life. The gauze wings
+of eloquence, unsteeled by vanity, will not bear this repeated dabbing
+with prose glue, so David collapsed and Talboys conquered--“spell”
+ benumbed “charm.” The sea-wizard yielded to the petrifier, and “could
+no more,” as the poets say. Talboys smiled superior. But, as his art
+was a purely destructive one, it ended with its victim; not having an
+idea of his own in his skull, the commentator, in silencing his text,
+silenced himself and brought the society to a standstill. Eve sat with
+flashing eyes; Lucy's twinkled with sly fun: this made Eve angrier.
+She tried another tack.
+
+“You asked David to bring his fiddle,” said she, sharply, “but I
+suppose now--”
+
+“Has he brought it?” asked Mr. Fountain, eagerly.
+
+“Yes, he has; I made him” (with a glance of defiance at Talboys).
+
+Mr. Fountain rang the bell directly and sent for the fiddle. It came.
+David took it and tuned it, and made it discourse. Lucy leaned a
+little back in her chair, wore her “_tout m'est egal_ face,” and
+Eve watched her like a cat. First her eyes opened with a mild
+astonishment, then her lips parted in a smile; after a while a faint
+color came and went, and her eyes deepened and deepened in color, and
+glistened with the dewy light of sensibility.
+
+A fiddle wrought this, or rather genius, in whose hand a jews-harp is
+the lyre of Orpheus, a fiddle the harp of David, a chisel a hewer of
+heroic forms, a brush or a pen the scepter of souls, and, alas! a nail
+a picklock.
+
+Inside every fiddle is a soul, but a coy one. The nine hundred and
+ninety-nine never win it. They play rapid tunes, but the soul of
+beautiful gayety is not there; slow tunes, very slow ones, wherein the
+spirit of whining is mighty, but the sweet soul of pathos is absent;
+doleful, not nice and tearful. Then comes the Heaven-born fiddler,*
+who can make himself cry with his own fiddle. David had a touch of
+this witchcraft. Though a sound musician and reasonably master of his
+instrument, he could not fly in a second up and down it, tickling the
+fingerboard and scratching the strings without an atom of tone, as the
+mechanical monkeys do that boobies call fine players.
+
+     * This is a definition of the Heaven-born fiddler by Pate
+     Bailey, a gypsy tinker and celestial violinist. Being asked
+     for a test of proficiency on that instrument, he replied
+     that no man is a fiddler “till he can gar himsel greet wi a
+     feddle.”
+
+     “Great Orpheus played so well he moved Old Nick,
+      But these move nothing but their fiddlestick.” *
+
+     * See how unjust satire is! Don't they move their finger-
+     nails?
+
+But he could make you laugh and crow with his fiddle, and could make
+you jump up, aetat. 60, and snap your fingers at old age and
+propriety, and propose a jig to two bishops and one master of the
+rolls, and, they declining, pity them without a shade of anger, and
+substitute three chairs; then sit unabashed and smiling at the past;
+and the next minute he could make you cry, or near it. In a word he
+could evoke the soul of that wonderful wooden shell, and bid it
+discourse with the souls and hearts of his hearers.
+
+Meantime Lucy Fountain's face would have interested a subtle student
+of her sex.
+
+Her sensibility to music was great, and the feeling strains stole into
+her nature, and stirred the treasures of the deep to the surface. Eve,
+a keen if not a profound observer, was struck by the rising beauty of
+this countenance, over which so many moods chased one another. She
+said to herself: “Well, David is right, after all; she is a lovely
+girl. Her features are nothing out of the way. Her nose is neither one
+thing nor the other, but her expression is beautiful. None of your
+wooden faces for me. And, dear heart, how her neck rises! La! how her
+color comes and goes! Well, I do love the fiddle myself dearly; and
+now, if her eyes are not brimming; I could kiss her! La! David,” cried
+she, bursting the bounds of silence, “that is enough of the tune the
+old cow died of; take and play something to keep our hearts up--do.”
+
+Eve's good-humor and mirth were restored by David's success, and now
+nothing would serve her turn but a duet, pianoforte and violin. Miss
+Fountain objected, “Why spoil the violin?” David objected too, “I had
+hoped to hear the piano-forte, and how can I with a fiddle sounding
+under my chin?” Eve overruled both peremptorily.
+
+“Well, Miss Dodd, what shall we select? But it does not matter; I feel
+sure Mr. Dodd can play _a livre ouvert.”_
+
+“Not he,” said Eve, hypocritically, being secretly convinced he could.
+“Can you play 'a leevre ouvert,' David?”
+
+“Who is it by, Miss Fountain?” Lucy never moved a muscle.
+
+After a rummage a duet was found that looked promising, and the
+performance began. In the middle David stopped.
+
+“Ha! ha! David's broke down,” shrieked Eve, concealing her uneasiness
+under fictitious gayety. “I thought he would.”
+
+“I beg your pardon,” explained David to Miss Fountain, “but you are
+out of time.”
+
+“Am I?” said Lucy, composedly.
+
+“And have been, more or less, all through.”
+
+“David, you forget yourself.”
+
+“No, no; set me right, by all means, Mr. Dodd. I am not a hardened
+offender.”
+
+“Is it not just possible the violin may be the instrument that is out
+of time?” suggested Talboys, insidiously.
+
+“No,” said David, simply, “I was right enough.”
+
+“Let us try again, Mr. Dodd. Play me a few bars first in exact time.
+Thank you. Now.”
+
+“All went merry as a marriage bell” for a page and a half; then David,
+fiddling away, cried out, “You are getting too fast; 'ri tum tiddy,
+iddy ri tum ti;” then, by stamping and accenting very strongly, he
+kept the piano from overflowing its bounds. The piece ended. Eve
+rubbed her hands. “Now you'll catch it, Mr. David!”
+
+“I am afraid I gave you a great deal of trouble, Mr. Dodd.”
+
+_“En revanche,_ you gave us a great deal of pleasure,” put in Mr.
+Talboys.
+
+Lucy turned her head and smiled graciously. “But piano-forte players
+play so much by themselves, they really forget the awful importance of
+time.”
+
+“I profit by your confession that they do sometimes play by
+themselves,” said Mr. Talboys. “Be merciful, and let us hear you by
+yourself.”' Eve turned as red as fire.
+
+David backed the request sincerely.
+
+Lucy played a piece composed expressly for the piano by a pianist of
+the day. David sat on her left hand and watched intently how she did
+it.
+
+When it was over, Talboys did a bit of rapture; Eve another.
+
+“That is playing.”
+
+“I would not have believed it if I had not seen it done,” said David.
+“Eve, you should have seen her beautiful fingers thread in and out
+among the keys; it was like white fire dancing; and as for her hand,
+it is not troubled with joints like ours, I should say.”
+
+“The music, Mr. Dodd,” said Lucy, severely.
+
+“Oh, the music! Well, I could hardly take on me to say. You see I
+heard it by the eye, and that was all in its favor; but I should say
+the music wasn't worth a button.”
+
+“David!”
+
+“How you run off with one's words, Eve! I mean, played by anybody but
+her. Why, what was it, when you come to think? Up and down the gamut,
+and then down and up. No more sense in it than _a b c_--a
+scramble to the main-masthead for nothing, and back to no good. I'd as
+lief see you play on the table, Miss Fountain.”
+
+“Poor Moscheles!” said Lucy, dryly.
+
+“Revenge is in your power,” said Talboys; “play no more; punish us all
+for this one heretic.”
+
+Lucy reflected a moment; she then took from the canterbury a thick old
+book. “This was my mother's. Her taste was pure in music, as in
+everything. I shall be sorry if you do not _all_ like this,”
+ added she, softly.
+
+It was an old mass; full, magnificent chords in long succession,
+strung together on a clear but delicate melody. She played it to
+perfection: her lovely hands seemed to grasp the chords. No fumbling
+in the base; no gelatinizing in the treble. Her touch, firm and
+masterly, yet feminine, evoked the soul of her instrument, as David
+had of his, and she thought of her mother as she played. These were
+those golden strains from which all mortal dross seems purged. Hearing
+them so played, you could not realize that he who writ them had ever
+eaten, drunk, smoked, snuffed, and hated the composer next door. She
+who played them felt their majesty and purity. She lifted her beaming
+eye to heaven as she played, and the color receded from her cheek; and
+when her enchantment ended she was silent, and all were silent, and
+their ears ached for the departed charm.
+
+Then she looked round a mute inquiry.
+
+Talboys applauded loudly.
+
+But the tear stood in David's eye, and he said nothing.
+
+“Well, David,” said Eve, reproachfully, “I'm sure if that does not
+please you--”
+
+“Please me,” cried David, a little fretfully; “more shame for me if it
+does not. Please is not the word. It is angel music, I call it--ah!”
+
+“Well, you need not break your heart for that: he is going to cry--ha!
+ha!”
+
+“I'm no such thing,” cried David, indignantly, and blew his
+nose--promptly, with a vague air of explanation and defiance.
+
+But why the male of my species blows its nose to hide its sensibility
+a deeper than I must decide.
+
+Mr. Talboys for some time had not been at his ease. He had been
+playing too, and an instrument he hated--second fiddle. He rose and
+joined Mr. Fountain, who was sitting half awake on a distant sofa.
+
+“Aha!” thought Eve, exulting, “we have driven him away.”
+
+Judge her mortification when Lucy, after shutting the piano, joined
+her uncle and Mr. Talboys. Eve whispered David: “Gone to smooth him
+down: the high and mighty gentleman wasn't made enough of.”
+
+“Every one in their turn,” said David, calmly; “that is manners. Look!
+it is the old gentleman she is being kind to. She could not be unkind
+to anyone, however.”
+
+Eve put her lips to David's ear: “She will be unkind to you if you are
+ever mad enough to let her see what I see,” said she, in a cutting
+whisper.
+
+“What do you see? More than there is to see, I'll wager,” said David,
+looking down.
+
+“Ah! that is the way with young men, the moment they take a fancy;
+their sister is nothing to them, their best friend loses their
+confidence.”
+
+“Don't ye say that, Eve--now don't say that!”
+
+“No, no, David, never mind me. I am cross. And if you saw a sore heart
+in store for anyone you had a regard for, wouldn't you be cross? Young
+men are so stupid, they can't read a girl no more than Hebrew. If she
+is civil and affable to them, oh, they are the man directly, when,
+instead of that, if it was so, she would more likely be shy and half
+afraid to come near them. David, you are in a fool's paradise. In
+company, and even in flirtation, all sorts meet and part again; but it
+isn't so with marriage. There 'it is beasts of a kind that in one are
+joined, and birds of a feather that came together.' Like to like,
+David. She is a fine lady and she will marry a fine gentleman, and
+nothing else, with a large income. If she knew what has been in your
+head this month past, she would open her eyes and ask if the man was
+mad.”
+
+“She has a right to look down on me, I know,” murmured David, humbly;
+“but” (his eye glowing with sudden rapture) “she doesn't--she
+doesn't.”
+
+“Look down on you! You are better company than she is, or anyone she
+can get in this-out-of-the-way place; it is her interest to be civil
+to you. I am too hard upon her. She is a lady--a perfect lady--and
+that is why she is above giving herself airs. No, David, she is not
+the one to treat us with disrespect, if we don't forget ourselves. But
+if ever you let her see that you are in love with her, you will get an
+affront that will make your cheek burn and my heart smart--so I tell
+you.”
+
+“Hush! I never told you I was in love with her.”
+
+“Never told me? Never told me? Who asked you to tell me? I have eyes,
+if you have none.”
+
+“Eve,” said David imploringly, “I don't hear of any lover that she
+has. Do you?”
+
+“No,” said Eve carelessly. “But who knows? She passes half the year a
+hundred miles from this, and there are young men everywhere. If she
+was a milkmaid, they'd turn to look at her with such a face and figure
+as that, much more a young lady with every grace and every charm. She
+has more than one after her that we never see, take my word.”
+
+Eve had no sooner said this than she regretted it, for David's face
+quivered, and he sighed like one trying to recover his breath after a
+terrible blow.
+
+What made this and the succeeding conversation the more trying and
+peculiar was, that the presence of other persons in the room, though
+at a considerable distance, compelled both brother and sister, though
+anything but calm, to speak _sotto voce._ But in the history of
+mankind more strange and incongruous matter has been dealt with in an
+undertone, and with artificial and forced calmness.
+
+“My poor David!” said Eve sorrowfully; “you who used to be so proud,
+so high-spirited, be a man! Don't throw away such a treasure as your
+affection. For my sake, dear David, your sister's sake, who does love
+you so very, very dearly!”
+
+“And I love you, Eve. Thank you. It was hard lines. Ah! But it is
+wholesome, no doubt, like most bitters. Yes. Thank you, Eve. I do
+admire her v-very much,” and his voice faltered a little. “But I am a
+man for all that, and I'll stand to my own words. I'll never be any
+woman's slave.”
+
+“That is right, David.”
+
+“I will not give hot for cold, nor my heart for a smile
+or two. I can't help admiring her, and I do hope she will
+be--happy--ah!--whoever she fancies. But, if I am never to command
+her, I won't carry a willow at my mast-head, and drift away from
+reason and manhood, and my duty to you, and mother, and myself.”
+
+“Ah! David, if you could see how noble you look now. Is it a promise,
+David? for I know you will keep your word if once you pass it.”
+
+“There is my hand on it, Eve.”
+
+The brother and sister grasped hands, and when David was about to
+withdraw his, Eve's soft but vigorous little hand closed tighter and
+kept it firmer, and so they sat in silence.
+
+“Eve.”
+
+“My dear!”
+
+“Now don't you be cross.”
+
+“No, dear. Eve is sad, not cross; what is it?
+
+“Well, Eve--dear Eve.”
+
+“Don't be afraid to speak your mind to me--why should you?”
+
+“Well, then, Eve, now, if she had not some little kindness for me,
+would she be so pleased with these thundering yarns I keep spinning
+her, as old as Adam, and as stale as bilge-water? You that are so
+keen, how comes it you don't notice her eyes at these times? I feel
+them shine on me like a couple of suns. They would make a statue pay
+the yarn out. Who ever fancied my chat as she does?”
+
+“David,” said Eve, quietly, “I have thought of all this; but I am
+convinced now there is nothing in it. You see, David, mother and I are
+used to your yarns, and so we take them as a matter of course; but the
+real fact is, they are very interesting and very enticing, and you
+tell them like a book. You came all fresh to this lady, and, as she is
+very quick, she had the wit to see the merit of your descriptions
+directly. I can see it myself _now._ All young women like to be
+amused, David, and, above all, _excited;_ and your stories are
+very exciting; that is the charm; that is what makes her eyes fire;
+but if that puppy there, or that book-shelf yonder, could tell her
+your stories, she would look at either the puppy or the book-stand
+with just the same eyes she looks on you with, my poor David.”
+
+“Don't say so, Eve. Let me think there is some little feeling for me
+inside those sweet eyes, that look so kind on me--”
+
+“And on me, and on everybody. It is her manner. I tell you she is so
+to all the world. She isn't the first I've met. Trust me to read a
+woman, David; what can you know?”
+
+“I know nothing; but they tell me you can fathom one another better
+than any man ever could,” said David, sorrowfully.
+
+“'David, just now you were telling as interesting a story as ever was.
+You had just got to the thrilling part.”
+
+“Oh, had I? What was I saying?”
+
+“I can't tell you to the very word; I am not your sweetheart any more
+than she is; but one of the sailors was in danger of his life, and so
+on. You never told me the story before; I was not worth it. Well, just
+then does not that affected puppy choose his time to come meandering
+in?”
+
+“Puppy! I call him a fine gentleman.”
+
+“Well, there isn't so much odds. In he comes; your story is broken off
+directly. Does she care? No, she has got one of her own set; he is not
+a very bright one; he is next door to a fool. No matter; before he
+came, to judge by her crocodile eyes, she was hot after your story;
+the moment he did come, she didn't care a pin for you _nor_ your
+story. I gave her more than one opening to bring it on again; not she.
+I tell you, you are nothing but a _pass_ time;* you suit her turn
+so long as none of her own set are to be had. If she would leave you
+for such a jackanapes as that, what would she do for a real gentleman?
+such a man as she is a woman, for instance, and as if there weren't
+plenty such in her own set--oh, you goose!”
+
+     * I write this word as the lady thought proper to pronounce
+     it.
+
+David interrupted her. “I have been a vain fool, and it is lucky no
+one has seen it but you,” and he hid his face in his hands a moment;
+then, suddenly remembering where he was, and that this was an attitude
+to attract attention, he tried to laugh--a piteous effort; then he
+ground his teeth and said: “Let us go home. All I want now is to get
+out of the house. It would have been better for me if I had never set
+foot in it.”
+
+“Hush! be calm, David, for Heaven's sake. I am only waiting to catch
+her eye, and then we'll bid them good-evening.”
+
+“Very well, I'll wait”; and David fixed his eyes sadly and doggedly on
+the ground. “I won't look at her if I can help it,” said he,
+resolutely, but very sadly, and turned his head away.
+
+“Now, David,” whispered Eve.
+
+David rose mechanically and moved with his sister toward the other
+group. Miss Fountain turned at their approach. Somewhat to David's
+surprise, Eve retreated as quickly as she had advanced.
+
+“We are to stay.”
+
+“What for?”
+
+“She made me a signal.”
+
+“Not that I saw,” said David, incredulously.
+
+“What! didn't you see her give me a look?”
+
+“Yes, I did. But what has that to do with it?”
+
+“That look was as much as to say, Please stay a little longer; I have
+something to say to you.”
+
+“Good Heavens!”
+
+“I think it is about a bonnet, David. I asked her to put me in the way
+of getting one made like hers. She does wear heavenly bonnets.”
+
+“Ay. I did well to listen to you, Eve; you see I can't even read her
+face, much less her heart. I saw her look up, but that was all. How is
+a poor fellow to make out such craft as these, that can signal one
+another a whole page with a flash of the eye? Ah!”
+
+“There, David, he is going. Was I right?”
+
+Mr. Talboys was, in fact, taking leave of Miss Fountain. The old
+gentleman convoyed his friend. As the door closed on them Miss
+Fountain's face seemed to catch fire. Her sweet complacency gave way
+to a half-joyous, half-irritated small energy. She came gliding
+swiftly, though not hurriedly, up to Eve. “Thank you for seeing.” Then
+she settled softly and gradually on an ottoman, saying, “Now, Mr.
+Dodd.”
+
+David looked puzzled. “What is it?” and he turned to his interpreter,
+Eve.
+
+But it was Lucy who replied: “'His messmate was crying like a child.
+At sunrise poor Tom must die. Then up rose one fellow' (we have not
+any idea who one fellow means in these narratives--have we, Miss
+Dodd?) 'and cried, “I have it, messmates. Tom isn't dead yet.”' Now,
+Mr. Dodd, between that sentence and the one that is to follow all that
+has happened in this room was a hideous dream. On that understanding
+we have put up with it. It is now happily dispersed, and we--go ahead
+again.”
+
+“I see, Eve, she thinks she would like some more of that China yarn.”
+
+“Her sentiments are not so tame. She longs for it, thirsts for it, and
+must and will have it--if you will be so very obliging, Mr. Dodd.” The
+contrast between all this singular vivacity of Miss Fountain and the
+sudden return to her native character and manner in the last sentence
+struck the sister as very droll--seemed to the brother so winning,
+that, scarcely master of himself, he burst out: “You shan't ask me
+twice for that, or anything I can give you;” and it was with burning
+cheeks and happy eyes he resumed his tale of bold adventure and skill
+on one side, of numbers, danger and difficulty on the other. He told
+it now like one inspired, and both the young ladies hung panting and
+glowing on his words.
+
+David and Eve went home together.
+
+David was in a triumphant state, but waited for Eve to congratulate
+him. Eve was silent.
+
+At last David could refrain no longer. “Why, you say nothing.”
+
+“No. Common sense is too good to be wasted; don't go so fast.”
+
+“No. There--I heave to for convoy to close up. Would it be wasted on
+me? ha! ha!”
+
+“To-night. There you go pelting on again.”
+
+“Eve, I can't help it. I feel all canvas, with a cargo of angels'
+feathers and sunshine for ballast.”
+
+“Moonshine.”
+
+“Sun, moon, and stars, and all that is bright by night or day. I'll
+tell you what to do; you keep your head free, and come on under easy
+sail; I'll stand across your bows with every rag set and drawing, so
+then I shall be always within hail.”
+
+This sober-minded maneuver was actually carried out. The little
+corvette sailed steadily down the middle of the lane; the great
+merchantman went pitching and rolling across her bows; thus they kept
+together, though their rates of sailing were so different.
+
+Merry Eve never laughed once, but she smiled, and then sighed.
+
+David did not heed her. All of a moment his heart vented itself in a
+sea-ditty so loud, and clear, and mellow, that windows opened, and out
+came nightcapped heads to hear him carol the lusty stave, making night
+jolly.
+
+Meantime, the weather being balmy, Mr. Fountain had walked slowly with
+Mr. Talboys in another direction. Mr. Talboys inquired, “Who were
+these people?”
+
+“Oh, only two humble neighbors,” was the reply.
+
+“I never met them anywhere. They are received in the neighborhood?”
+
+“Not in society, of course.”
+
+“I don't understand you. Have not I just met them here?”
+
+“That is not the way to put it,” said the old gentleman, a little
+confused. “You did not meet them; you did me and my niece the honor to
+dine with us, and the Dodds dropped in to tea--quite another matter.”
+
+“Oh, is it?”
+
+“Is it not? I see you have been so long out of England you have
+forgotten these little distinctions; society would go to the deuce
+without them. We ask our friends, and persons of our own class, to
+dinner, but we ask who we like to tea in this county. Don't you like
+her? She is the prettiest girl in the village.”
+
+“Pretty and pert.”
+
+“Ha! ha! that is true. She is saucy enough, and amusing in
+proportion.”
+
+“It is the man I alluded to.”
+
+“What, David? ay, a very worthy lad. He is a downright modest,
+well-informed young man.”
+
+“I don't doubt his general merits, but let me ask you a serious
+question: his evident admiration of Miss Fountain?”
+
+“His ad-mi-ration of Miss Fountain?”
+
+“Is it agreeable to you?”
+
+“It is a matter of consummate indifference to me.”
+
+“But not, I think, to her. She showed a submission to the cub's
+impertinence, and a desire to please instead of putting him down, that
+made me suspect. Do you often ask Mr. Dodd--what a name!--to tea?”
+
+“My dear friend, I see that, with all your accomplishments, you have
+something to learn. You want insight into female character. Now I, who
+must go to school to you on most points, can be of use to you here.”
+ Then, seeing that Talboys was mortified at being told thus gently
+there was a department of learning he had not fathomed, he added: “At
+all events, I can interpret my own niece to you. I have known her much
+longer than you have.”
+
+Mr. Talboys requested the interpreter to explain the pleasure his
+niece took in Mr. Dodd's fiddle.
+
+“Part politeness, part sham. Why, she wanted not to ask them this
+evening, the fiddle especially. I'll give you the clue to Lucy; she is
+a female Chesterfield, and the droll thing is she is polite at heart
+as well. Takes it from her mother: she was something between an angel
+and a duchess.”
+
+“Politeness does not account for the sort of partiality she showed for
+these Dodds while I was in the room.”
+
+“Pure imagination, my dear friend. I was there; and had so monstrous a
+phenomenon occurred I must have seen it. If you think she could really
+prefer their society to yours, you are as unjust to her as yourself.
+She may have concealed her real preference out of _finesse,_ or
+perhaps she has observed that our inferiors are touchy, and ready to
+fancy we slight them for those of our own rank.”
+
+Talboys shrugged his shoulders; he was but half convinced. “Her
+enthusiasm when the cub scraped the fiddle went beyond mere
+politeness.”
+
+“Beyond other people's, you mean. Nothing on earth ever went beyond
+hers--ha! ha! ha! To-morrow night, if you like, we will have my
+gardener, Jack Absolom, in to tea.”
+
+“No, I thank you. I have no wish to go beyond Mr. and Miss Dodd.”
+
+“Oh, only for an experiment. The first minute Jack will be wretched,
+and want to sink through the floor; but in five minutes you will fancy
+Lucy will have made Jack Absolom at home in my drawing-room. He will
+be laying down the law about Jonquilles, and she all sweetness,
+curiosity, and enthusiasm outside--_ennui_ in.”
+
+“Can her eyes glisten out of politeness?” inquired Talboys, with a
+subdued sneer.
+
+“Why not?”
+
+“They could shed tears, perhaps, for the same motive?” said Talboys,
+with crushing irony.
+
+“Well! Hum! I'd back them at four to seven.”
+
+Mr. Talboys was silent, and his manner showed that he was a little
+mortified at a subject turning to joke which he had commenced
+seriously. He must stop this annoyance. He said severely, “It is time
+to come to an understanding with you.”
+
+At these words, and, above all, at their solemn tone, the senior
+pricked his ears and prepared his social diplomacy.
+
+“I have visited very frequently at your house, Mr. Fountain.”
+
+“Never without being welcome, my dear sir.”
+
+“You have, I think, divined one reason of my very frequent visits
+here.”
+
+“I have not been vain enough to attribute them entirely to my own
+attractions.”
+
+“You approve the homage I render to that other attraction?”
+
+“Unfeignedly.”
+
+“Am I so fortunate as to have her suffrage, too?”
+
+“I have no better means of knowing than you have.”
+
+“Indeed! I was in hopes you might have sounded her inclinations.”
+
+“I have scrupulously avoided it,” replied the veteran. “I had no right
+to compromise you upon mere conjecture, however reasonable. I awaited
+your authority to take any move in so delicate a matter. Can you blame
+me? On one side my friend's dignity, on the other a young lady's peace
+of mind, and that young lady my brother's daughter.”
+
+“You were right, my dear sir; I see and appreciate your reserve, your
+delicacy, though I am about to remove its cause. I declare myself to
+you your niece's admirer; have I your permission to address her?”
+
+“You have, and my warmest wishes for your success.”
+
+“Thank you. I think I may hope to succeed, provided I have a fair
+chance afforded me.”
+
+“I will take care you shall have that.”
+
+“I should prefer not to have others buzzing about the lady whose
+affection I am just beginning to gain.”
+
+“You pay this poor sailor an amazing compliment,” said Mr. Fountain, a
+little testily; “if he admires Lucy it can only be as a puppy is
+struck with the moon above. The moon does not respond to all this
+wonder by descending into the whelp's jaws--no more will my niece. But
+that is neither here nor there; you are now her declared suitor, and
+you have a right to stipulate; in short, you have only to say the
+word, and 'exeunt Dodds,' as the play-books say.”
+
+“Dodds? I have no objection to the lady. Would it not be possible to
+invite her to tea alone?”
+
+“Quite possible, but useless. She would not stir out without her
+brother.”
+
+“She seems a little person likely to give herself airs. Well, then, in
+that case, though as you say I am no doubt raising Mr. Dodd to a false
+importance, still--”
+
+“Say no more; we should indulge the whims of our friends, not attack
+them with reasons. You will see the Dodds no more in my house.”
+
+“Oh, as to that, just as you please. Perhaps they would be as well out
+of it,” said Talboys, with a sudden affectation of carelessness. “I
+must not take you too far. Good-night.”
+
+“Go-o-d night!”
+
+Poor David. He was to learn how little real hold upon society has the
+man who can only instruct and delight it.
+
+Mr. Fountain bustled home, rubbing his hands with delight. “Aha!”
+ thought he; “jealous! actually jealous! absurdly jealous! That is a
+good sign. Who would have thought so proud a man could be jealous of a
+sailor? I have found out your vulnerable point, my friend. I'll tell
+Lucy; how she will laugh. David Dodd! Now we know how to manage him,
+Lucy and I. If he freezes back again, we have but to send for David
+Dodd and his fiddle.” He bustled home, and up into the drawing-room to
+tell Lucy Mr. Talboys had at last declared himself. His heart felt
+warm. He would settle six thousand pounds on Mrs. Talboys during his
+life and his whole fortune after his death.
+
+He found the drawing-room empty. He rang the bell. “Where is Miss
+Fountain?” John didn't know, but supposed she had gone to her room.
+
+“You don't know? You never know anything. Send her maid to me.”
+
+The maid came and courtesied demurely at the door.
+
+“Tell your mistress I want to speak to her directly--before she
+undresses.”
+
+The maid went out, and soon returned to say that her mistress had
+retired to rest; but that, if he pleased, she would rise, and just
+make a demi-toilet, and come to him. This smooth and fair-sounding
+proposal was not, I grieve to say, so graciously received as offered.
+“Much obliged,” snapped old Fountain. “Her _demi-toilette_ will
+keep me another hour out of my bed, and I get no sleep after dinner
+now _among you._ Tell her to-morrow at breakfast time will do.”
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+DAVID DODD was so radiant and happy for a day or two that Eve had not
+the heart to throw cold water on him again.
+
+Three days elapsed, and no invitation to Font Abbey; on this his
+happiness cooled of itself. But when day after day rolled by, and no
+Font Abbey, he was dashed, uneasy, and, above all, perplexed. What
+could be the reason? Had he, with his rough ways, offended her? Had
+she been too dignified to resent it at the time? Was he never to go to
+Font Abbey again? Eve's first feeling was unmixed satisfaction. We
+have seen already that she expected no good from this rash attachment.
+For a single moment her influence and reasons had seemed to wean David
+from it; but his violent agitation and joy at two words of kindly
+curiosity from Miss Fountain, and the instant unreasonable revival of
+love and hope, showed the strange power she had acquired over him. It
+made Eve tremble.
+
+But now the Fountains were aiding her to cure this folly. She had read
+them right, had described them to David aright. A wind of caprice had
+carried him and her into Font Abbey; another such wind was carrying
+them out. No event had happened. Mr. and Miss Fountain had been seen
+more than once in the village of late. “They have dropped us, and
+thank Heaven!” said Eve, in her idiomatic way.
+
+She pitied David deeply, and was kinder and kinder to him now, to show
+him she felt for him; but she never mentioned the Font Abbey people to
+him either to praise or blame them, though it was all she could do to
+suppress her satisfaction at the turn their insolent caprice had
+taken.
+
+That satisfaction was soon clouded. This time, instead of rousing
+himself and his pride, David sank into a moody despondency; varied by
+occasional fretfulness. His appetite went, and his bright color, and
+his elastic step. This silent sadness was so new in him, such a
+contrast to his natural temperature, large, genial, and ever cheerful,
+that Eve could not bear it. “I must shake him out of this, at all
+hazards,” thought she: yet she put off the experiment, and put it off,
+partly in hopes that David would speak first, partly because she saw
+the wound she would probe was deep, and she winced beforehand for her
+patient.
+
+Meantime, prolonged doubt and suspense now goaded with their
+intolerable stings the active spirit that chill misgivings had at
+first benumbed. Spurred into action by these torments, David had
+already watched several days in the neighborhood of Font Abbey,
+determined to speak to Miss Fountain, and find out whether he had
+given her offense; for this was still his uppermost idea. Having
+failed in this attempt at an interview with her, he was now meditating
+a more resolute course, and he paced the little gravel-walk at home
+debating in himself the pros and cons. Raising his head suddenly, he
+saw his sister walking slowly at the other end of the path. She was
+coming toward him, but her eyes were bent thoughtfully on the ground.
+David slipped behind some bushes, not to have his unhappiness and his
+meditations interrupted. The lover and the lunatic have points in
+common.
+
+He had been there some time when a grave little voice spoke quietly to
+him from the lawn. “David, I want to speak to you.” David came out.
+
+“Here am I.”
+
+“Oh, I knew where you were. Don't do that again, sir, please, or
+you'll catch it.”
+
+“Oh, I didn't think you saw me,” said David, somewhat confusedly.
+
+“What has that to do with it, stupid? David,” continued she, assuming
+a benevolent, cheerful, and somewhat magnificent nonchalance, “I
+sometimes wonder you don't come to me with your troubles. I might
+advise you as well as here and there one. But perhaps you think now,
+because I am naturally gay, I am not sensible. You mustn't go by that
+altogether. Manner is very deceiving. The most foolishly conducted men
+and women ever I met were as grave as judges, and as demure as cats
+after cream. Bless you, there is folly in every heart. Your slow ones
+bottle it up for use against the day wisdom shall be most needed. My
+sort let it fizz out at their mouths in their daily talk, and keep
+their good sense for great occasions, like the present.”
+
+“Have we drifted among the proverbs of Solomon?” inquired David,
+dryly. “No need to make so many tacks, Eve. Haven't I seen your sense
+and profited by it--I and one or two more? Who but you has steered the
+house this ten years, and commanded the lubberly crew?” *
+
+     * The reader must not be misled by the familiar phraseology
+     of these two speakers to suppose that anything the least
+     droll or humorous was intended by either of them at any part
+     of this singular dialogue. Their hearts were sad and their
+     faces grave.
+
+“And then again, David, where the heart is concerned, young women are
+naturally in advance of young men.”
+
+“God knows. He made them both. I don't.”
+
+“Why, all the world knows it. And then, besides, I am five years older
+than you.
+
+“So mother says; but I don't know how to believe it. No one would say
+so to look at you.”
+
+“I'll tell you, David. Folk that have small features look a deal
+younger than their years; and you know poor father used to say my face
+was the pattern of a flat-iron. So nobody gives me my age; but I am
+five good years older than you, only you needn't go and tell the town
+crier.”
+
+“Well, Eve?”
+
+“Well, then, put all these together, and now, why not come to me for
+friendly advice and the voice of reason?”
+
+“Reason! reason! there are other lights besides reason.”
+
+“Jack-o'-lantern, eh? and Will-o'-the-wisp.”
+
+“Eve, nobody can advise me that can't feel for me. Nobody can feel for
+me that doesn't know my pain; and you don't know that, because you
+were never in love.”
+
+“Oh, then, if I had ever been in love, you would listen.”
+
+“As I would to an angel from Heaven.”
+
+“And be advised by me.”
+
+“Why not? for then you'd be competent to advise; but now you haven't
+an idea what you are talking about.”
+
+“What a pity! Don't you think it would be as well if you were not to
+speak to me so sulky?”
+
+“I ask your pardon; Eve. I did not mean to offend you.”
+
+“Davy, dear--for God's sake what is this chill that has come between
+you and me? You are a man. Speak out like a man.”
+
+David turned his great calm, sorrowful eye full upon her.
+
+“Well, then, Eve, if the truth must be told, I am disappointed in
+you.”
+
+“Oh, David.”
+
+“A little. You are not the girl I took you for. You know which way my
+fancy lies, yet you keep steering me in the teeth of it; then you see
+how down-hearted I am this while, but not a word of comfort or hope
+comes from you, and me almost dried up for want of one.”
+
+“Make one word of it, David--I am not a sister to you.”
+
+“I don't say that, but you might be kinder; you are against me just
+when I want you with me the most.”
+
+“Now this is what I like,” said Eve, cheerfully; “this is plain
+speaking. So now it is my turn, my lad. Do you remember Balaam and his
+ass?”
+
+“Sure,” said David; but, used as he was to Eve's transitions, he
+couldn't help staring a little at being carried eastward ho so
+suddenly.
+
+“Then what did the ass say when she broke silence at last?”
+
+“Well, you know, Eve; I take shame to say I don't remember her very
+words, but the tune of them I do. Why, she sang out, 'Avast there! it
+is first fault, so you needn't be so hasty with your thundering rope's
+end.”'
+
+“There! You'd make a nice commentator. You haven't taken it up one
+bit; you are as much in the dark as our parson. He preached on her the
+very Sunday you came home, and it was all I could do to help whipping
+up into the pulpit, and snatching away his book, and letting daylight
+in on them.”
+
+David was scandalized at the very idea of such a breach of discipline.
+“That is ridiculous,” said he; “one can't have two skippers in a
+church any more than in a ship, brig, or bark. But you can let
+daylight in on me.”
+
+“I mean. To begin: the ass was in the right and Balaam in the wrong;
+so what becomes of your 'first fault?' She was frugal of her words,
+but every syllable was a needle; the worst is, some skins are so thick
+our needles won't enter 'em. Says she, 'This seven years you have
+known me; always true to the bridle and true to you. Did ever I
+disobey you before? Then why go and fancy I do it without some great
+cause that you can't see?' Then the man's eyes were open, and he saw
+it was destruction his old friend had run back from, and galled his
+foot to save his life; so of course he thanked her, and blessed her
+then. Not he. He was too much of a man.”
+
+“Ay, ay, I see; but what is the moral? for I have no heart to expound
+riddles.”
+
+“Oh, I'll tell you the moral sooner than you'll like, perhaps. The ass
+is a type, David. In Holy Writ you know almost everything is a type.
+When a thing means one thing and stands for another, that's a type.”
+
+“Ducks can swim--at least I've heard so. Now if you could tell me what
+she is a type of?”
+
+“What, the ass? Don't you know? Why, of women, to be sure--of us poor
+creatures of burden, underrated and misunderstood all the world over.
+And Balaam he stands for men, and for you at the head of them,” cried
+she, turning round with flashing eyes on David; “you have known me and
+my true affection more than seven years, or seventeen. I carried you
+in my arms when you were a year old and I was six. You were my little
+curly-headed darling, and have been from that day to this. Did ever I
+cross you, or be cold or unkind to you, till the other day?”
+
+“No, Eve, no, no, no! Come sit beside me.
+
+“Then shouldn't you have said, 'Don't slobber _me;_ I won't have
+it; you and I are bad friends.' Oughtn't you to have said, 'Eve could
+never give herself the pain of crossing me' (no, there isn't a man in
+the world with gumption enough to say that--that is a woman's
+thought); but at least you might have said, 'She sees rocks ahead that
+I can't.' (Balaam couldn't see the drawn sword ahead, but there it
+was.) it was for you to say, 'My sister Eve would not change from gay
+to grave all at once, and from indulging me in everything to thwarting
+me and vexing me, unless she saw some great danger threatening your
+peace of mind, your career in life, your very reason, perhaps.'”
+
+“I have been to blame, Eve; but speak out and let me know the worst.
+You have heard something against her character? Speak plain out, for
+Heaven's sake!”
+
+“It is all very well of you to say speak plain out, but there are
+things girls don't like to speak about to any man. But after what you
+said, that you would listen to me if I--so it is my duty. You will see
+my face red enough in about a minute. Two years ago I couldn't have
+done this even for you. It is hard I must expose my own folly--my own
+crime.”
+
+“Why, Eve, lass, how you tremble! Drop it now! drop it!”
+
+“Hold your tongue!” said Eve, sharply, but in considerable agitation.
+“It is too late now, after something you have said to me. If I didn't
+speak out now, I should be like that bad man you told us of, who let
+out the beacon light when the wind was blowing hard on shore. Listen,
+David, and take my words to heart. The road you are on now I have been
+upon, only I went much farther on it than you shall go.” She resumed
+after a short pause: “You remember Henry Dyke?”
+
+“What, the young clergyman, who used to be always alongside you at our
+last anchorage?”
+
+“Yes. He was just such a man as Miss Fountain is a woman. He was but a
+dish of skim-milk, yet he could poison my life.”
+
+Then Eve told the story of her heart. She described her lover as he
+appeared to her in the early days of courtship, young, handsome, good,
+noble in sentiment, and warm and tender in manner. Halcyon days--not a
+speck to be seen on love's horizon.
+
+Then she delineated the fine gradations by which the illusion faded,
+too slowly and too late for her to withdraw the love she had conceived
+for his person at that time when person and mind seemed alike
+superior. She painted with the delicate touch of her sex the portrait
+of a man and a scholar born to please all the world, and incapable of
+condensing his affections; a pious flirt, no longer stimulated to
+genuine ardor by doubts of success, but too kind-hearted to pain her
+beyond measure when a little factitious warmth from time to time would
+give her hours of happiness, keep her, on the whole, content, and,
+above all, retain her his. Then she shifted the mirror to herself, the
+fiery and faithful one, and showed David what centuries of torture a
+good little creature like this Dyke, with its charming exterior, could
+make a quick, and ardent, and devoted nature suffer in a year or two.
+Came out in her narrative, link by link, the gentle delicious
+complacency of the first period, the chill airs that soon ruffled it,
+the glowing hopes, the misgivings that dashed them; then the
+diminution of confidence, more complexing and exasperating than its
+utter loss; the alternations of joy and doubt, the fever and the ague
+of the wounded spirit; then the gusts of hatred followed by deeper
+love; later still, the periodical irritation at hopes long deferred,
+and still gleams of bliss between the paroxysms, so that now, as the
+vulgar say in their tremendous Saxon, she “spent her time between
+heaven and hell”; last of all, the sickness and recklessness of the
+wornout and wearied heart over which melancholy or fury impended.
+
+It was at this crisis when, as she could now see on a calm retrospect,
+her mind was distempered, a new and terrible passion stepped upon the
+scene--jealousy. A friend came and whispered her, “Mr. Dyke was
+courting another woman at the same time, and that other woman was
+rich.”
+
+“David, at that word a flash of lightning seemed to go through me, and
+show me the man as he really was.”
+
+“The mean scoundrel, to sell himself for money!!”
+
+“No, David, he would not have sold himself, with his eyes open, any
+more than perhaps your Miss Fountain would; but what little heart he
+had he could give to any girl that was not a fright. He was a
+self-deceiver and a general lover, and such characters and their
+affections sink by nature to where their interest lies. Iron is not
+conscious, yet it creeps toward the loadstone. Well, while she was
+with me I held up and managed to question her as coldly as I speak to
+you now, but as soon as she left me I went off in violent hysterics.”
+
+“Poor Eve!”
+
+“She had not been gone an hour when doesn't the Devil put it into
+_his_ head to send me a long, affectionate letter, and in the
+postscript he invited himself to supper the same afternoon. Then I got
+up and dried my eyes, and I seemed to turn into stone with resolution.
+'Come!' I said, 'but don't think you shall ever go back to her. Your
+troubles and mine shall end to-night.'”
+
+“Why, Eve, you turn pale with thinking of it. I fear you have had
+worse thoughts pass through your mind than any man is worth.”
+
+“David, your blood was in my veins, and mine is in yours.
+
+“If I didn't think so! The Lord deliver us from temptation! We don't
+know ourselves nor those we love.”
+
+“He had driven me mad.”
+
+“Mad, indeed. What! had you the heart to see the man bleed to
+death--the man you had loved--you, my little gentle Eve?”
+
+“Oh no, no; no blood!” said Eve, with a shudder. “Laudanum!”
+
+“Good God!”
+
+“Oh, I see your thought. No, I was not like the men in the newspapers,
+that kill the poor woman with a sure hand, and then give themselves a
+scratch. It was to be one spoonful for him, but two for me. I can't
+dwell on it” (and she hid her face in her hands); “it is too terrible
+to remember how far I was misled. Who, think you, saved us both?”
+ David could not guess.
+
+“A little angel--my good angel, that came home from sea that very
+afternoon. When I saw your curly head, and your sweet, sunburned face
+come in at the door, guess if I thought of putting death in the pot
+after that? Ah! the love of our own flesh and blood, that is the
+love--God and good angels can smile on it.”
+
+“Yes; but go on,” said David, impatiently.
+
+“It is ended, David. They say a woman's heart is a riddle, and perhaps
+you will think so when I tell you that when he had brought me down to
+this, and hadn't died for it, I turned as cold as ice to him that
+minute, once and forever. I looked back at the precipice, and I hated
+him. Ay, from that evening he was like the black dog to my eye. I used
+to slip anywhere to hide out of his way--just as you did out of mine
+but now.”
+
+“Can't you forget that? Well, to be sure. Well?”
+
+“So then (now you may learn what these skim-milk cheeses are made of),
+when he found he was my aversion, he fell in love with me again as hot
+as ever; tried all he could think of to win me back; wrote a letter
+every day; came to me every other day; and when he saw it was all over
+for good between us he cried and bellowed till my hate all went, and
+scorn came in its place. Next time we met he played quite another
+part--the calm, heart-broken Christian; gave me his blessing; went
+down on his knees, and prayed a beautiful prayer, that took me off my
+guard and made me almost respect him; then went away, and quietly
+married the girl with money; and six months after wrote to me he was
+miserable, dated from the vicarage her parents had got him.”
+
+“Now, you know, if he wasn't a parson, d--n me if I'd turn in to-night
+till I'd rope's-ended that lubber!”
+
+“As if I'd let you dirty your hands with such rubbish! I sent the note
+back to him with just one line, 'Such a fool as you are has no right
+to be a villain.' There, David, there is your poor sister's life. Oh,
+what I went through for that man! Often I said, is Heaven just, to let
+a poor, faithful, loving girl, who has done no harm, be played with on
+the hook, and tortured hot and cold, day after day, month after month,
+year after year, as I was? But now I see why it was permitted; it was
+for your sake, that you might profit by my sharp experience, and not
+fling your heart away on frozen mud, as I did;” and, happy in this
+feminine theory of Divine justice, Eve rested on her brother a look
+that would have adorned a seraph, then took him gently round the neck
+and laid her little cheek flat to his.
+
+She felt as if she had just saved a beloved life.
+
+Who can estimate the value of a happiness so momentary, yet so holy?
+
+Presently looking up, she saw David's face illuminated. “What is it?”
+ she asked joyously; “you look pleased.”
+
+David was “pleased because now he was sure she could feel for him, and
+would side with him.”
+
+“That I do; but, David, as it is all over between you and her--”
+
+“All over? Am I dead then?”
+
+Eve gasped with astonishment: “Why, what have I been telling you all
+this for?”
+
+“Who should you tell your trouble to but your own brother? Why,
+Eve--ha! ha!--you don't really see any likeness between your case and
+mine, do you? You are not so blind as to compare her with that
+thundering muff?”
+
+“They are brother and sister, as we are,” was the reply. “Ever since I
+saw you looked her way, my eye has hardly been off her, and she is
+Henry Dyke in petticoats.”
+
+“I don't thank you for saying that. Well, and if she is, what has that
+to do with it? I am not a woman. I am not forced to lie to waiting for
+a wind, as the girls are. I am a man. I can work for the wish of my
+heart, and, if it does not come to meet me, I can overhaul it.” Eve
+was a little staggered by this thrust, but she was not one to show an
+antagonist any advantage he had obtained. “David,” said she, coldly,
+“it must come to one of two things; either she will send you about
+your business in form, which is a needless affront for you and me
+both, or she will hold you in hand, and play with you and drive you
+_mad._ Take warning; remember what is in our blood. Father was as
+well as you are, but agitation and vexation robbed him of his reason
+for a while; and you and I are his children. Milk of roses creeps
+along in that young lady's veins, but fire gallops in ours. Give her
+up, David, as she has you. She has let you escape; don't fly back like
+a moth to the candle! You shan't, however; I won't let you.”
+
+“Eve,” said David, quietly, “you argue well, but you can't argue light
+into dark, nor night into day. She is the sun to me. I have seen her
+light; and now I can't live without it.”
+
+He added, more calmly: “It is her or none. I never saw a girl but this
+that I wanted to see twice, and I never shall.”
+
+“But it is that which frightens me for you, David. Often I have wished
+I could see you flirt a bit and harden your heart.”
+
+“And break some poor girl's.”
+
+“Oh, hang them! they always contrive to pass it on. What do I care for
+girls! they are not my brother. But no, David, I can't believe you
+will go against me and my judgment after the insult she has put on
+you. No more about it, but just you choose between my respect and this
+wild-goose chase.”
+
+“I choose both,” said David, quietly. “Both you shan't have”; and,
+with this, up bounced Eve, and stood before him bristling like a
+cat-o'mountain. David tried to soothe her--to coax her--in vain; her
+cheek was on fire, and her eyes like basilisks'. It was a picture to
+see the pretty little fury stand so erect and threatening, great David
+so humble and deprecating, yet so dogged. At last he took out his
+knife; it was not one of your stabbing-knives, but the sort of
+pruning-knife that no sailor went without in those days. “Now,” said
+he, sadly, “take and cut my head off--cut me to pieces, if you will--I
+won't wince or complain; and then you will get your way; but while I
+do live I shall love her, and I can't afford to lose her by sitting
+twiddling my thumbs, waiting for luck. I'll try all I know to win her,
+and if I lose her I won't blame her, but myself for not finding out
+how to please her; and with that I'll live a bachelor all my days for
+her, or else die, just as God wills--I shan't much care which.”
+
+“Oh, I know you, you obstinate toad,” said Eve, clinching her teeth
+and her little hand. Then she burst out furiously: “Are you quite
+resolved?”
+
+“Quite, dear Eve,” said David, sadly--but somehow it was like a rock
+speaking.
+
+“Then there is my hand,” said Eve, with an instant transition to
+amiable cheerfulness that dazzled a body like a dark lantern flying
+open. Used as David was to her, it stupefied him; he stared at her,
+and was all abroad. “Well, what is the wonder now?” inquired Eve;
+“there are but two of us. We must be together somehow or another must
+we not? You won't be wise with me; well, then, I'll be a fool with
+you. I'll help you with this girl.”
+
+“Oh, my dear Eve!”
+
+“You won't gain much. Without me you hadn't the shadow of a chance,
+and with me you haven't a chance, that is all the odds.”
+
+“I have! I have! you have taken away my breath with joy;” and David
+was quite overcome with the turn Eve had taken in his favor.
+
+“Oh, you need not thank me,” said Eve, tossing her head with a
+hypocrisy all her own. “It is not out of affection for you I do it,
+you may be very sure of that; but it looks so ridiculous to see my
+brother slipping out of my way behind a tree as soon as he sees me
+coming--oh! oh! oh! oh!” And a violent burst of sobs and tears
+revealed how that incident had rankled in this stoical little heart.
+
+David, with the tear in his own eye, clasped her in his arms, and
+kissed her and coaxed her and begged her again and again to forgive
+him. This she did internally at the first word; but externally no;
+pouted and sobbed till she had exacted her full tribute, then cleared
+up with sudden alacrity and inquired his plans.
+
+“I am going to call at Font Abbey, and find out whether I have
+offended her.”
+
+Eve demurred, “That would never do. You would betray yourself and
+there would be an end of you. How good I am not to let you go. No,
+I'll call there. I shall quietly find out whether it is her doing that
+we have not been invited so long, or whose it is. You stay where you
+are. I won't be a minute.”
+
+When the minute was thirty-five, David came under her window and
+called her. She popped her head out: “Well?”
+
+“What are you doing?”
+
+“Putting on my bonnet.”
+
+“Why, you have been an hour.”
+
+“You wouldn't have me go there a fright, would you?”
+
+At last she came down and started for Font Abbey, and David was left
+to count the minutes till her return. He paced the gravel sailor-wise,
+taking six steps and then turning, instead of going in each direction
+as far as he could. He longed and feared his sister's return. One
+hour--two hours elapsed; still he walked a supposed deck on the little
+lawn--six steps and then turn. At last he saw her coming in the
+distance; he ran to meet her; but when he came up with her he did not
+speak, but looked wistfully in her face, and tried hard to read it and
+his fate.
+
+“Now, David, don't make a fool of yourself, or I won't tell you.”
+
+“No, no. I'll be calm, I will--be--calm.”
+
+“Well, then, for one thing, she is to drink tea with us this evening.”
+
+“She? Who? What? Where? Oh!”
+
+“Here.”
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+MR. FOUNTAIN sat at breakfast opposite his niece with a twinkle set in
+his eye like a cherry-clack in a tree, relishing beforehand her
+smiles, and blushes, and gratitude to him for having hooked and played
+his friend, so that now she had but to land him. “I'll just finish
+this delicious cup of coffee,” thought he, “and then I'll tell you, my
+lady.” While he was slowly sipping said cup, Lucy looked up and said
+graciously to him, “How silly Mr. Talboys was last night--was he not,
+dear?”
+
+“Talboys? silly? what? do you know? Why, what on earth do you mean?”
+
+“Silly is a harsh word--injudicious, then--praising me _a tort et a
+travers,_ and was downright ill-bred--was discourteous to another
+of our guests, Mr. Dodd.”
+
+“Confound Mr. Dodd! I wish I had never invited him.”
+
+“So do I. If you remember, I dissuaded you.”
+
+“I do remember now. What! you don't like him, either?”
+
+“There you are mistaken, dear. I esteem Mr. Dodd highly, and Miss
+Dodd, too, in spite of her manifest defects; but in making up parties,
+however small, we should choose our guests with reference to each
+other, not merely to ourselves. Now, forgive me, it was clear
+beforehand that Mr. Talboys and the Dodds, especially Miss Dodd, would
+never coalesce; hence my objection in inviting them; but you overruled
+me--with a rod of iron, dear.”
+
+“Yes; but why? Because you gave me such a bad reason; you never said a
+word about this incongruity.”
+
+“But it was in my mind all the time.”
+
+“Then why didn't it come out?”
+
+“Because--because something else would come out instead. As if one
+gave one's real reasons for things!! Now, uncle dear, you allow me
+great liberties, but would it have been quite the thing for me to
+lecture you upon the selection of your own _convives?”_
+
+“Why, you have ended by doing it.”
+
+Lucy colored. “Not till the event proves--not till--”
+
+“Not till your advice is no longer any use.”
+
+Lucy, driven into a corner, replied by an imploring look, which had
+just the opposite effect of argument. It instantly disarmed the old
+boy; he grinned superior, and spared his supple antagonist three
+sarcasms that were all on the tip of his tongue. He was rewarded for
+his clemency by a little piece of advice, delivered by his niece with
+a sort of hesitating and penitent air he did not understand one bit,
+eyes down upon the cloth all the time.
+
+It came to this. He was to listen to her suggestions with a prejudice
+in their favor if he could, and give them credit for being backed by
+good reasons; at all events, he was never to do them the injustice to
+suppose they rested on those puny considerations she might put forward
+in connection with them.
+
+“Silly” is a term carrying with it a certain promptness and decision;
+above all, it was a very remarkable word for Lucy to use. “The girl is
+a martinet in these things,” thought he; “she can't forgive the least
+bit of impoliteness. I suppose he snubbed Jack Tar. What a crime! But
+I had better let this blow over before I go any farther.” So he
+postponed his disclosure till to-morrow.
+
+But, before to-morrow came, he had thought it over again, and
+convinced himself it would be the wiser course not to interfere at all
+for the present, except by throwing the young people constantly
+together. He had lived long enough to see that, in nine cases out of
+ten, husband and wife might be defined “a man and a woman that were
+thrown a good deal together--generally in the country.” A marries B,
+and C D; but, under similar circumstances, i.e., thrown
+together, A would have married D, and C B. This applies to puppy dogs,
+male and female, as well as to boys and girls.
+
+Perhaps a personal feeling had some little share, too, in bringing him
+to the above conclusion. He was a bit of a schemer--liked to play
+puppets. At present, his niece and friend were the largest and finest
+puppets he had on hand; the day he should bring them to a mutual,
+rational understanding, the puppet-strings would fall from his hands
+and the puppets turn independent agents. He represented to Talboys
+that Lucy was young and very innocent in some respects; that marriage
+did not seem to run in her head as in most girls'; that a precipitate
+avowal might startle her, and raise unnecessary difficulties by
+putting her on her guard too early in their acquaintance. “You have no
+rival,” he concluded; “best win her quietly by degrees. Undermine the
+coy jade! she is worth it.” Cool Talboys acquiesced. David had spurred
+him out of his pace one night; but David was put out of the way; the
+course was clear; and, as he could walk over it now, why gallop?
+
+Childish as his friend's jealousy of this poor sailor had seemed to
+Mr. Fountain, still, the idea once started, he could not help
+inspecting Lucy to see how she would take his sudden exclusion from
+these parties. Now Lucy missed the Dodds very much, and was surprised
+to see them invited no more. But it was not in her character to
+satisfy a curiosity of this sort by putting a point-blank question to
+the person who could tell her in two words. She was one of those
+thorough women whose instinct it is to find out little things, not to
+ask about them. When day after day passed by, and the Dodds were not
+invited, it flashed through her mind, first, that there must be some
+reason for this; secondly, that she had only to take no notice, and
+the reason, if any, would be sure to pop out. She half suspected
+Talboys, but gave him no sign of suspicion. With unruffled demeanor
+and tranquil patience, she watched demurely for disclosures from her
+uncle or from him like the prettiest little velvet panther conceivable
+lying flat in a blind path, deranging nobody, but waiting with amiable
+tranquillity for her friends to come her way.
+
+Thus, under the smooth surface of the little society at Font Abbey
+_finesse_ was cannily at work. But the surface of every society
+is like the skin of a man--hides a deal of secret machinery.
+
+Here were two undermining a “coy jade” (perhaps, on the whole, Uncle
+Fountain, it might be more prudent in you not to call her that name
+again; you see she is my heroine, and I am a man that could cut you
+out of this story, and nobody miss you), and the coy jade watching for
+the miners like a sweet little velvet panther, and, to fling away
+metaphor, an honest heart set aching sore, hard by, for having come
+among such a lot.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+A FABLE tells us a fowler one day saw sitting in tree a wood-pigeon.
+This is a very shy bird, so he had to creep and maneuver to get within
+gunshot unseen, unheard. He stole from tree to tree, and muffled his
+footsteps in the long grass so adroitly that, just as he was going to
+pull the trigger, he stepped light as a feather on a venomous snake.
+It bit; he died.
+
+This is instructive and pointed, but a trifle severe.
+
+What befell Uncle Fountain, busy enmeshing his cock and hen pheasant,
+netting a niece and a friend, went to the same tune, but in a lower
+key, as befitted a domestic tale.*
+
+     * “Domestic,” you are aware, is Latin for “tame.” Ex.,
+     “domestic fowl,” “domestic drama,” “story of domestic
+     intereet,” “or chronicle of small beer,”
+
+Among his letters at breakfast-time came one which he had no sooner
+read than he flung on the table and went into a fury. Lucy sat aghast;
+then inquired in tender anxiety what was the matter.
+
+Angry explanations are apt to be dark ones. “It is a confounded
+shame--it is a trick, child--it is a do.”
+
+“Ah! what is that, uncle? 'a do'?--'a do'?”
+
+“Yes, 'a do.' He knew I hated figures; can't bear the sight of them,
+and the cursed responsibility of adding them up right.”
+
+“But who knew all this?”
+
+“He came over here bursting with health, and asked me to be one of his
+executors--mind, one. I consented on a distinct understanding I was
+never to be called upon to act. He was twenty years my junior, and
+like so much mahogany. It was just a form; I did it to soothe a man
+who called himself my friend, and set his mind at rest.”
+
+“But, uncle dear, I don't understand even now. Can it be possible that
+a friend has abused your good nature?”
+
+“A little,” with an angry sneer.
+
+“Has he betrayed your confidence?”
+
+“Hasn't he?”
+
+“Oh dear! What has he done?”
+
+“Died, that is all,” snarled the victim.
+
+“Oh, uncle! Poor man!”
+
+“Poor man, no doubt. But how about poor me? Why, it turns out I am
+sole executor.”
+
+“But, dear uncle, how could the poor soul help dying?”
+
+“That is not candid, Lucy,” said Mr. Fountain, severely. “Did ever I
+say he could help dying? But he could help coming here under false
+colors, a mahogany face, and trapping his friend.”
+
+“Uncle, what is the use--your trying to play the misanthrope with me,
+who know how good you are, in spite of your pretenses to the contrary?
+To hide your emotion from your poor niece, you go into a feigned fury,
+and all the time you know how sorry you are your poor friend is gone.”
+
+“Of course I am. He has secured one mourner. He might have died to all
+eternity if he hadn't nailed me first. See how selfish men are, and
+bad-hearted into the bargain. I believe that young fellow had been to
+a doctor, and found out he was booked in spite of his mahogany cheeks;
+so then he rides out here and wheedles an unguarded friend--I'm
+wired--I'm trapped--I'm snared.”
+
+Lucy set herself to soothe her injured relative. “You must say to
+yourself, _'C'est un petit matheur.'”_
+
+“Tell myself a falsehood? What shall I gain by that? Let me tell you,
+it is these minor troubles that send a man to Bedlam. One breeds
+another, till they swarm and buzz you distracted, and sting you dead.
+_'Petit maiheur!'_ it is a greater one than you have ever
+encountered since you have been under _my_ wing.”
+
+“It is, dear, it is; but I hope to encounter much greater ones before
+I am your age.”
+
+“The deuce you do!”
+
+“Or else I shall die without ever having lived--a vegetable, not a
+human being.”
+
+“Bombast! a 'flower' your lovers will call you.”
+
+“And men of sense a 'weed.' But don't let us discuss me. What I wish
+to know is the nature of your annoyance, dear.” He explained to her
+with a groan that he should have to wind up all the affairs of an
+estate of 8,000 pounds a year, pay the annual and other encumbrances,
+etc., etc.
+
+“Well, but, dear, you will be quite at home in this, you have such a
+turn for business.”
+
+“For my own,” shrieked the old bachelor, angrily, “not for other
+people's. Why, Lucy, there will be half a dozen separate accounts, all
+of four figures. It is not as if executors were paid. And why are they
+not paid? There ought to be a law compelling the estates they
+administer to pay them, and handsomely. It never occurred to me
+before, but now I see the monstrous iniquity of amateur executors,
+amateur trustees, amateur guardians. They take business out of the
+hands of those who live by business. I sincerely regret my share in
+this injustice. If a snob works, he always expects to be paid! how
+much more a gentleman. He ought to be paid double--once for the work,
+and once for giving up his natural ease. Here am I, guardian gratis to
+a cub of sixteen--the worst age--done school, and not begun Oxford and
+governesses.”
+
+“Tutors, you mean.”
+
+“Do I? Is it the tutors the whelps fall in love with, little goose?
+Stop; I'll describe my 'interesting charge,' as the books call it. He
+has hair you could not tell from tow. He has no eyebrows--a little
+unfledged slippery horror. He used to come in to dessert, and turn all
+our stomachs except his silly father's.”
+
+“Poor orphan!”
+
+“When you speak to him he never answers--blushes instead.”
+
+“Poor child!”
+
+“He has read of eloquent blushes, and thinks there is no need to reply
+in words--blushing must be such an interesting and effective
+substitute.”
+
+“Poor boy, he wants a little judicious kindness. We will have him
+here.”
+
+“Here!” cried the old gentleman, with horror. “What! make Font Abbey a
+kennel!!! No, Lucy, no, this house is sacred; no nuisances admitted
+here. Here, on this single spot of earth, reigns comfort, and shall
+reign unruffled while I live. This is the temple of peace. If I must
+be worried, I must, but not beneath this hallowed roof.”
+
+This eloquence, delivered as it was with a sudden solemnity, told upon
+the mind.
+
+“Dear Font Abbey,” murmured Lucy, half closing her eyes, “how well you
+describe it! Societies of the cosey; the walls seem padded, the
+carpets velvet, and the whole structure care-proof; all is quiet
+gayety and sweet punctuality. Here comfort and good humor move by
+clock-work; that is Font Abbey. Yet you are right; if you were to be
+seen in it no more, it would lose the life of its charm, dear Uncle
+Fountain.”
+
+“Thank you, my dear--thank you. I do like to see my friends about me
+comfortable, and, above all, to be comfortable myself. The place is
+well enough, and I am bitterly sorry I must leave it, and sorry to
+leave you, my dear.”
+
+“Leave us? not immediately?”
+
+“This very day. Why, the funeral is to be this week--a grand
+funeral--and I have to order it all. Then there are relatives to be
+invited--thirty letters--others to be asked to the reading of the
+will. It will be one hurry-scurry till we get the house clear of the
+corpse and the vultures; then at it I must go, head-foremost, into
+fathomless addition--subtraction--multiplication, and vexation. 'Oh,
+now forever farewell, something or other--farewell content!' You talk
+of misanthropy. I shall end there. Lucy.”
+
+“Yes, dear uncle.”
+
+“I never--do--a good-natured thing--but--I--bitterly--repent it. By
+Jupiter! the coffee is cold; the first time that has befallen me since
+I turned off seven servants that battled that point of comfort with
+me.”
+
+Lucy suggested that the coffee might have cooled a little while he was
+being so kind as to answer her question at unusual length. Then she
+came round to him bringing a fresh supply of fragrant slow poison, and
+sat beside him and soothed him till his ire went down, and came the
+calm depression of a man who, accustomed for many years to do just
+what he liked, found himself suddenly obliged to do something he did
+not like--a thing out of the groove of his habits too.
+
+Sure enough, he left Font Abbey the same day, with a promise, exacted
+by Lucy, that he should make her the partner of all his vexations by
+writing to her every day.
+
+“And, Lucy,” said the old Parthian, as he stepped into his
+traveling-carriage, “my friend Talboys will miss me; pray be kind to
+him while I am away. He is a particular friend of mine. I may be
+wrong, but I do like men of known origin--of old family.”
+
+“And you are right. I will be kind to him for your sake, dear.”
+
+A slight cold confined Lucy to the house for three or four days after
+her uncle's departure (by the by, I think this must have been the
+reason of David's ill success in his endeavors to get an interview
+with her out of doors).
+
+Thus circumstanced, ladies rummage.
+
+Lucy found in a garret a chest containing a quantity of papers and
+parchments, and the beautifulest dust. No such dust is made in these
+degenerate days. Some of these MSS. bore recent dates, and were easily
+legible, though not so easily intelligible, being written as Gratiano
+spake.* The writers had omitted to put the idea'd words into red ink,
+so they had to be picked out with infinite difficulty from the
+multitude of unidea'd ones.
+
+     * “Gratiano speaks an infinite deal of nothing . . . . his
+     reasons are as three grains of wheat in two bushels of
+     chaff.”
+
+Other of the MSS., more ancient, wore a double veil. They hid their
+sense in verbiage, and also in narrow Germanifled letters, farther
+deformed by contractions and ornamental flourishes, whose joint effect
+made a word look like a black daddy-long-legs, all sprawling fantastic
+limbs and the body a dot.
+
+The perusal of these pieces was slow and painful; it was like walking
+or slipping about among broken ruins overgrown with nettles. But then
+Uncle Fountain was so anxious to hook on to the Flunkeys--oh, Ciel!
+what am I saying?--the Funteyns, and his direct genealogical evidence
+had so completely broken down. She said to herself, “Oh dear! if I
+could find something among these old writings, and show it him on his
+return.” She had them all dusted and brought down, and a table-cloth
+laid on a long table in the drawing-room, and spelled them with a
+good-humored patience that belonged partly to her character, partly to
+her sex. A female who undertakes this sort of work does not skip as we
+should; the habit of needle-work in all its branches reconciles that
+portion of mankind to invisible progress in other matters.
+
+Besides this, they are naturally careful, and, above all, born to
+endure, they carry patience into nearly all they do.*
+
+     * At about the third rehearsal of a new play our actresses
+     bring the author's words into their heads, our actors are
+     still all abroad, and at the first performance the breaks-
+     down are sure to be among the males; the female jumenta
+     carry their burden (be it of pig-lead) safe from wing to
+     wing.
+
+Lucy made her way manfully through all the well-written
+circumlocution, and in a very short time considering; but the antique
+[Greek] tried her eyes too much at night, so she gave nearly her whole
+day to it, for she was anxious to finish all before her uncle's
+return. It was a curious picture--Venus immersed in musty records.
+
+One day she had studied and spelled four mortal hours, when a visitor
+was suddenly announced--Miss Dodd. That young lady came briskly in at
+the heels of the servant and caught Lucy at her work. After the first
+greeting, her eye rested with such undisguised curiosity on the
+“mouldy records” that Lucy told her in general terms what she was
+trying to do for her uncle. “La!” said Eve, “you will ruin your
+eye-sight; why not send them over to us? I will make David read them.”
+
+“And his eyesight?”
+
+“Oh, bless you, he has a knack at reading old writing. He has made a
+study of it.”
+
+“If I thought I was not presuming too far on Mr. Dodd's good nature, I
+would send one or two of them.”
+
+“Do; and I will make him draw up a paper of the contents; I have seen
+him at this sort of work before now. But there, la! I suppose you know
+it is all vanity.”
+
+“I do it to please my poor uncle.”
+
+“And very good you are. But what the better will the poor old
+gentleman be? We are here to act our own part well; we can't ride up
+to heaven on our great-grandfather.”
+
+These maxims were somewhat coldly received, so Eve shifted her ground.
+“After all, I don't know why I should be the one to say that, for my
+own name is older than your uncle's a pretty deal.”
+
+Lucy looked puzzled; then suddenly fancying she had caught Eve's
+meaning, she said: “That is true. Hail mother of mankind!!” and bowed
+her head with graceful reverence.
+
+Eve stared and colored, not knowing what on earth her companion meant.
+I am afraid it must be owned that Eve steadily eschewed books and
+always had. What little book-learning she had came to her filtered
+through David, and by this channel she accepted it willingly, even
+sought it at odd times, when there was no bread, pudding, dress,
+theology, scandal, or fun going on. She turned it off by a sudden
+inquiry where Mr. Fountain was; “they told me in the village he was
+away.” Now several circumstances combined to make Lucy more
+communicative than usual. First, she had been studying hard; and,
+after long study, when a lively person comes to us, it is a great
+incitement to talk. Pitiful by nature, I spare you the “bent bow.”
+ Secondly, she was a little anxious lest her uncle's sudden neglect
+should have mortified Miss Dodd, and a neutral topic handled at length
+tends to replace friendly feeling without direct and unpleasant
+explanations. She therefore answered every question in full; told her
+that her uncle had lost a dear friend; that he was executor and
+guardian to the poor boy, now entirely an orphan. Her uncle, with his
+usual zeal on behalf of his friends; had gone off at once, and
+doubtless would not return till he had fulfilled in every respect the
+wishes of the deceased.
+
+To this general sketch she added many details, suppressing the
+misanthropy Mr. Fountain had exhibited or affected at the first
+receipt of the intelligence.
+
+In short, angelic gossip. Earthly gossip always backbites, you know.
+Eve missed something somehow, no doubt the human or backbiting
+element; still, it was gossip, sacred gossip, far dearer than
+Shakespeare to the female heart, and Eve's eyes glowed with pleasure
+and her tongue plied eager questions.
+
+With all this, such instinctive artists are these delicate creatures,
+both these ladies were secretly in ambush, Lucy to learn whether Eve
+and David were hurt or surprised at not being invited of late, and why
+she and he had not called since; Eve to find out what was the cause
+David and she had been so suddenly dropped: was it Lucy's doing or
+whose?
+
+Each lady being bent on receiving, not on making revelations, nothing
+transpired on either side. Seeing this, Eve became impatient and made
+a bold move.
+
+“Miss Fountain,” said she, “you are all alone. I wish you would come
+over to us this evening and have tea.”
+
+Lucy did not immediately reply. Eve saw her hesitation. “It is but a
+poor place,” said she, “to ask you to.”
+
+“I will come,” said the lady, directly. “I will come with great
+pleasure.”
+
+“Will seven be too early for you?”
+
+“Oh, no, I don't dine now my uncle is away. I call luncheon dinner.”
+
+“Perhaps, six, then?”
+
+“Pray let me come at your usual hour. Why derange your family for one
+person?” Six o'clock was settled.
+
+“I must take some of this rubbish with me,” said Eve; “come along, my
+dears”; and with an ample and mock enthusiastic gesture she caught up
+an armful of manuscripts.
+
+“The servant shall take them over for you.”
+
+“Oh, bother the servant; I am my own servant--if you will lend me a
+pin or two.”
+
+Lucy drew six pins out from different parts of her dress. Eve noticed
+this, but said nothing. She pinned up her apron so as to make an
+enormous pocket, and went gayly off with the “spoils of time.”
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+“Is that what you call being calm, David? Let me alone--don't slobber
+me. I am sure I wish she had said, 'No.' If I had thought she would
+come I would never have asked her.”
+
+“You would, Eve; you would, for love of me.”
+
+“Who knows? Perhaps I might. I am more indulgent than kind.”
+
+“Eve, do tell me all. Is she well? does she come of her own good will?
+Dear Eve!”
+
+“Well, I'll tell you: first we had a bit of a talk for a blind like;
+and her uncle is away; so then I asked her plump to come to tea. Well,
+David, first she looked 'No'--only for a single moment, though; she
+soon altered her mind, and so then, the moment it was to be 'Yes,' she
+cleared up, and you would have thought she had been asked to the
+king's banquet. Ah! David, my lad, you have fallen into good
+hands--you have launched your heart on a deeper ocean than ever your
+ship sailed on.”
+
+David took no notice. He was in a state of exaltation for one thing,
+and, besides, Eve's simile was sent to the wrong address; we
+terrestrials fear water in proportion to its depth, but these mariners
+dread their native element only when it is shallow.
+
+David now kept asking in an excited way what they could do for her.
+“What could they get to do her honor? Wouldn't she miss the luxuries
+of her fine place?”
+
+“Now you be quiet, David; we need not put ourselves about, for she
+will be the easiest girl to please you have ever seen here; or, if she
+isn't, she'll act it so that you'll be none the wiser. However, you
+can go and buy some flowers for me.”
+
+“That I will; we have none good enough for her here.”
+
+“And, David, tea under the catalpa, as we always do on fine nights.”
+
+“You don't mean that.”
+
+“Ah! but I do. These fine ladies are all for novelties. Now I'm much
+mistaken if this one has ever had her tea out of doors in all her born
+days. What! do you think our little stuffy room would be any treat to
+her, after the drawing-room at Font Abbey? Come, you be off till
+half-past five; you'll fidget yourself and fidget me else.”
+
+David recognized her superiority, obeyed and vanished.
+
+Eve, having got rid of him, showed none of the insouciance she had
+recommended. She darted into the kitchen, bared her arms, and made
+wheaten cakes with unequaled rapidity, the servant looking on with
+demure admiration all the while. These put into the oven, she got her
+keys and put out the silver teapot, cream jug and sugar basin, things
+not used every day, I can tell you; item, the best old china tea
+service; item, some rare tea, of which David had brought home a small
+quantity from China. At six o'clock Miss Fountain came; a footman
+marched twenty yards behind her. She dismissed him at the door, and
+Eve invited her at once into the garden. There David joined them, his
+heart beating violently. She put out her hand kindly and calmly, and
+shook hands with him in the most unembarrassed way imaginable. At the
+touch of her soft hand every fiber in him thrilled and the color
+rushed into his face. At this a faint blush tinged her own, but no
+more than the warm welcome she was receiving might account for.
+
+They seated her in a comfortable chair under the catalpa. Presently
+out came a nice, clean maid, her white neck half hidden, half
+revealed, by plain, unfigured muslin worn where the frock ended. She
+put the tea things on the table, and courtesied to Lucy, who returned
+her salute by a benignant smile. Out came another stouter one with the
+kettle, hung it from a hoop between two stout sticks, and lighted a
+fire she had laid underneath, retiring with a parting look at the
+kettle as soon as it hissed. Then returned maid one with bread, and
+wheaten cakes, and fruit, butter nice and hard from the cellar, and
+yellow cream, and went off smiling.
+
+A gentle zeal seemed to animate these domestics, as if they, also, in
+relative proportions, gave the fete, or at least contributed good
+will. Lucy's quick eye caught this. It was new to her.
+
+The tea was soon made, and its Oriental fragrance mingled with the
+other odors that filled the balmy air. Gay golden broken lights
+flickered in patches on the table, the china cups, the ladies'
+dresses, and the grass, all but in one place, where the cool deep
+shadow lay undisturbed around the foot of the tree-stem. Looking up to
+see whence the flickering gold came that sprinkled her white hand,
+Lucy saw one of the loveliest and commonest things in nature. The sky
+was blue--the sun fiery--the air potable gold outside the tree, so
+that, as she looked up, the mellow green leaves of the catalpa, coming
+between her and the bright sky and glowing air, shone like transparent
+gold--staircase upon staircase of great exotic translucent leaves,
+with specks of lovely blue sky that seemed to come down and perch
+among the top branches. Charming as these sights were, contrast
+doubled their beauties; for all these dimples of bright blue and
+flakes of translucent gold were eyed from the cool and from the deep
+shade.
+
+The light, it is true, came down and danced on the turf here and
+there, but it left its heat behind through running the gauntlet of the
+myriad leaves. Over Lucy's head hung by a silk line from one of the
+branches a huge globe of humble but fragrant flowers; they were, in
+point of fact, fastened with marvelous skill all round a damp sponge,
+but she did not know that. Thus these simple hosts honored their
+lovely guest. And while these sights and smells stole into her deep
+eyes and her delicate nostrils, “Fiddle, David,” said Eve, loftily,
+and straightway a simple mellow tune rang sweetly on the cheerful
+chords--a rustic, dulcet, and immortal ditty, in tune with summer and
+afternoon, with gold-checkered grass, and leaves that slumbered, yet
+vibrated, in the glowing air.
+
+A bright, dreamy hour; the soul and senses floated gently in color,
+fragrance, melody, and great calm. “Each sound seemed but an echo of
+tranquillity.”
+
+Lucy looked up and absorbed the scene, then closed her eyes and
+listened; and presently her lips parted gradually in so ravishing a
+smile, her eyes remaining closed, that even Eve, who saw her in her
+true light, a terrible girl come there to burn and destroy David,
+remaining cool as a cucumber, could hardly forbear seizing and
+mumbling her.
+
+
+In certain companies you shall see a boisterous cordiality, which at
+bottom is as hollow as diplomacy; but there is a modest geniality
+which is to society what the bloom is to the plum.
+
+And this charm Lucy found in her hosts of the catalpa. For this very
+reason that they were her hosts, their manner to her changed a little,
+and becomingly; they made no secret that it was a downright pleasure
+to them to have her there. They petted her, and showed her so much
+simple kindness, that what with the scene, the music, and her
+companions' goodness, the coy bud opened--timidly at first--but in a
+way it never had expanded at Font Abbey.
+
+She even developed a feeble sense of fun, followed suit demurely when
+Eve came out sprightly, laughed like a brook gurgling to Eve's peal of
+bells, and lo and behold, when the two girls got together, and faced
+the man, strong in numbers, a favorite trick, backed her ally as
+cowards back the brave, and set her on to sauce David. They cast
+doubts upon his skill in navigation. They perplexed him with
+treacherous questions in geography, put with an innocent affectation
+of a humble desire for information. In short, they played upon him
+lightly as they touch the piano. And Eve carolled a song, and David
+accompanied her on the fiddle; and at the third verse Lucy chimed in
+spontaneously with a second, and the next verse David struck in with a
+base, and the tepid air rang with harmony, and poor David thrilled
+with happiness. His heart felt his voice mingle and blend with hers,
+and even this contact was delicious to his imagination. And they were
+happy. But all must end; the shades of evening came down, and the
+pleasant little party broke up, and, as John had not come, David asked
+leave to escort her home. Oh no, she could not think of giving him
+that trouble; so saying, she went home with him. When they were alone,
+his deep love made him timid and confused. He walked by her side, and
+did not speak to her. She waited with some surprise at this silence,
+and then, as he was shy, she talked to him, uttered many airy
+nothings, and then put questions to him. “Did he always drink tea out
+of doors?”
+
+“On fine nights in summer. Eve settled all such matters.”
+
+“Have you not a voice?”
+
+“I have a voice, but no vote. She is skipper ashore.”
+
+“Oh, is she? Who taught her how delicious it is to drink tea out of
+doors?”
+
+David did not know--fancied it was her own idea. “Did you really like
+it, Miss Fountain?”
+
+“Like it, Mr. Dodd! It was Elysium. I never passed a sweeter evening
+in my life.”
+
+David colored all over. “I wish I could believe that.”
+
+“Was it the tulip-tree, or the violin, or was it your conversation,
+Mr. Dodd, I wonder?” asked she demurely, looking mock-innocent in his
+face.
+
+“It was your goodness to be so easily pleased,” said Dodd, with a gush
+that made her color. She smiled, however. “Well, that is one way of
+looking at things,” said she. _“Entre nous,_ I think Miss Dodd
+was the enchantress.”
+
+“Eve is capital company, for that matter.”
+
+“Indeed she is; you must be very happy together. Your mutual affection
+is very charming, Mr. Dodd, but sometimes it almost makes me sad.
+Forgive me! I have no brother.”
+
+“You will never want one to love you a thousand times better than a
+brother can love.”
+
+“Oh, shan't I?” said the lady, and opened her eyes.
+
+“No; and there is more than one that worships the ground you tread on
+at this moment; but you know that.”
+
+“Oh, do I?” She opened her eyes still wider.
+
+David longed to tell how he loved her, but dared not. He looked
+wistfully at her face. It was quite calm and had suddenly became a
+little reserved. He felt he was on new and dangerous ground; he sighed
+and was silent. He turned away his face. When this involuntary sigh
+broke from him she turned her head a little and looked at him. He felt
+her eye dwell on him, and his cheeks burned under it.
+
+The next moment they were at Font Hill, and Lucy seemed to David to
+hesitate whether to give him her hand at parting or not.
+
+She did give him her hand, though not so freely, David thought, as she
+had done on his own little lawn three hours before, and this dashed
+his spirits. It seemed to him a step lost, and he had hoped to gain a
+step somehow by walking home with her. He felt like one who has
+undertaken to catch some skittish timorous thing, that, if you stand
+still, will come within a certain small but safe distance, but you
+must not move a step toward it, or, whir, away it is. He went slowly
+home, his heart warm and cold by turns; warm when he remembered the
+sweet hours he had just spent, and her sweet looks and heavenly tones,
+every one of which he saw and heard again; cold when he thought of the
+social distance that separated them, and the hundred chances to one
+against his love. Then he said to himself: “Time was I thought I could
+never bring a yard down from the foretop to the deck, but I mastered
+that. Time was I thought I could never work out a logarithm without a
+formula, but I mastered that. Time was the fiddle beat me so I was
+ready to cry over it, but at last I learned to make it sing, and now I
+can make her smile with it (God bless her!) instead of stopping her
+ears. I can hardly mind the thing that didn't beat me dead for a long
+while, but I persevered and got the upper hand. Ay, but this is higher
+and harder than them all--a hundred times harder and higher.
+
+“I'll hold my course, let the wind blow high or low, and if I can't
+overhaul the wish of my heart, well, I'll carry her flag to the last.
+I'll die a bachelor for her sake, as sure as you are the moon, my
+lass, and you the polar star, and from this hour I'll never look at
+you, but I'll make believe it is her I am looking up at; for she is as
+high above me, and as bright as you are. God bless her! and to think I
+never even said good-night to her! I stood there like a mummy.” And
+David reproached himself for his unkindness.
+
+
+Lucy, on entering the drawing-room, was surprised to find it blazing
+with candles, but she was more surprised at what she saw seated calmly
+in an armchair--Mrs. Bazalgette. Lucy stood transfixed; the audacious
+intruder laughed at her astonishment; the next moment they
+intertwined, and fell to kissing one another with tender violence.
+
+“Well, love, the fact is, I was passing here on my way home from
+Devonshire, and I wanted particularly to speak to you, so I thought I
+would venture just to pop in for a passing call, and lo! I find the
+old ogre is absent, and not expected back for ever so long, so I have
+installed myself at his Font Abbey, partly out of love for you, dear,
+partly, I confess it, out of hate to him. You will write and tell me
+his face when he comes home and hears I have been living and enjoying
+myself in his den. I ordered my imperial into his bedroom. I took it
+for granted that would be the only comfortable one in his house.”
+
+“Aunt Bazalgette!” cried Lucy, turning pale; “oh, aunt, what will
+become of us?”
+
+“Don't be frightened; the gray-haired monster that dyes his whiskers,
+and gets him up to look only sixty, interposed and forbade the
+consecration.”
+
+“I am glad of it. You shall sleep in mine, dear, and I will go into
+the east room. It is a sweet little room.”
+
+“Is it? then why not put me there?” Lucy colored a little. “I think
+mine would suit you better, dear, because it is larger and airier,
+and--”
+
+“I see. As you please; you know I never make difficulties.”
+
+“And how long have you been here, aunt?”
+
+“About three hours.”
+
+“Three hours, and not send for me! I was only in the village. Did no
+one tell you?”
+
+“Yes; but you know it is not my way to make a fuss and put people out.
+How could I tell? You might be agreeably employed, and I was sure of
+you before bedtime.”
+
+Mighty-fine! but the truth is, she came to Font Abbey to pry. She had
+heard a vague report about Lucy and a gentleman.
+
+She was very glad to find Lucy was out; it gave her an opportunity.
+She sent for Lucy's maid to help her unpack a dress or two--thirteen.
+This girl was paid out of Lucy's estate, but did not know that. Mrs.
+Bazalgette handed her her wages, and that gives an influence. The wily
+matron did not trust to that alone. In unpacking she gave the girl a
+dress and several smaller presents, and, this done, slowly and
+cautiously pumped her. Jane, to fulfill her share of a bargain, which,
+though never once alluded to, was perfectly understood between both
+the parties, told her all she knew and all she conjectured; told her,
+in particular, how constantly Mr. Talboys was in the house, and how,
+one night, the old gentleman had walked part of the way home with him,
+“which Mr. Thomas says he didn't think his master would do it for the
+king, mum!” and had come in all of a flurry, and sent up for miss, and
+swore* awful when she couldn't come because she was abed. “So you may
+depend, mum, it is so; leastways, the gentlemen they are willing. We
+talk it over mostly every day in the servants' hall, mum, and we are
+all of a mind so fur; but whether it will come to a wedding, that we
+haven't a settled yet. It's miss beats us; she is like no other young
+lady ever I came anigh. A man or woman--it is all the same to her--a
+kind word for everybody, and pass on. But I do really think she likes
+her own side of the house a trifle the best.”
+
+     *The ladies of the bedchamber will embellish. After all, it
+     is their business.
+
+“And there you don't agree with her, Jane?”
+
+“Well, mum--being as we are alone--now is it natural? But Mr. Thomas
+he says, 'The cold ones take the first offer that comes when there is
+money ahind it. It isn't us they wants,' says he. I told him I should
+think not the likes of him--'but our house and land,' says he, 'and
+hopera box and cetera.' 'But I don't think that of our one,' says I;
+'bless you, she is too high-minded.' But what I think, mum, is, she
+wouldn't say 'no' to her uncle; her mouth don't seem made for saying
+no, especially to him; and he is bent on Talboys, mum, you take my
+word.”
+
+To return to the drawing-room: Mrs. Bazalgette, after the above
+delicate discussion, sat there in ambush, knowing more of Lucy's
+affairs than Lucy knew. Her next point was to learn Lucy's sentiments,
+and to find whether she was deliberately playing false and breaking
+her promise, vide.
+
+“Well, Lucy, any lovers yet?”
+
+“No, aunt.”
+
+“Take care, Lucy, a little bird whispers in my ear.”
+
+“Then it is a humming-bird,” and Lucy pouted. “Now, aunt, did you
+really come to Font Abbey to tease me about such nonsense
+as--as--gentlemen?” and Lucy looked hurt.
+
+“Here's an actress for you,” thought Mrs. Bazalgette; but she calmly
+dropped the subject, and never recurred to it openly all the evening,
+but lay secretly in watch, and put many subtle but seeming innocent
+questions to her niece about her habits, her uncle's guest, whether
+her uncle kept a horse for her, whether he bought it for her, etc.,
+etc.
+
+The next morning Mrs. Bazalgette breakfasted in bed, during which
+process she rang her bell seven times. Lucy received at the
+breakfast-table a letter from her uncle.
+
+
+“MY DEAR NIECE--The funeral was yesterday, and, I flatter myself, well
+performed: there were five-and-twenty carriages. After that a
+luncheon, in the right style, and then to the reading of the will. And
+here I shall surprise you, but not more than I was myself: I am left
+5,000 pounds consols. My worthy friend, whose loss we are called on so
+suddenly to deplore, accompanied this bequest in his will with many
+friendly expressions of esteem, which I have always studied and shall
+study to deserve. He bequeathed to me also, during minority, the care
+of his boy, the heir to this fine property, which far exceeds the
+value I had imagined. There is a letter attached to the will; in
+compliance with it Arthur is to go to Cambridge, but not until he has
+been well prepared. He will therefore accompany me to Font Abbey
+to-morrow, and I must contrive somehow or other to find him a
+mathematical tutor in the neighborhood. There is a handsome allowance
+made out of the estate for his board, etc., etc.
+
+“He is an interesting boy, and has none of the rudeness and
+mischievousness they generally have--blue eyes, soft, silky, flaxen
+hair, and as modest as a girl. His orphaned state merits kindness, and
+his prospects entitle him to consideration. I mention this because I
+fancy, when we last discussed this matter, I saw a little disposition
+on your part to be satirical at the poor boy's expense. I am sure,
+however, that you will restrain this feeling at my request, and treat
+him like a younger brother. I only wish he was three or four years
+older--you understand me, miss.
+
+“To-morrow afternoon, then, we shall be at Font Abbey. Let him have
+the east room, and tell Brown to light a blazing fire in my bedroom.
+and warm and air every mortal thing, on pain of death.
+
+                              “Your affectionate uncle,
+
+                              “JOHN FOUNTAIN.”
+
+
+On reading this letter Lucy formed an innocent scheme. It had long
+been matter of regret to her that Aunt Bazalgette could not see the
+good qualities of Uncle Fountain, and Uncle Fountain of Aunt
+Bazalgette. “It must be mere prejudice,” said she, “or why do I love
+them both?” She had often wished she could bring them together, and
+make them know one another better; they would find out one another's
+good qualities then, and be friends. But how? As Shakespeare says,
+“Oxen and wain-ropes would not haul them, together.”
+
+At last chance aided her--Mrs. Bazalgette was at Font Abbey actually.
+Lucy knew that if she announced Mr. Fountain's expected return the B
+would fly off that minute, so she suppressed the information, and,
+giving up to young Arthur as she had to Mrs. B., moved into a still
+smaller room than the east room.
+
+And now her heart quaked a little. “But, after all, Uncle Fountain is
+a gentleman,” thought she, “and not capable of showing hostility to
+her under his own roof. Here she is safe, though nowhere else; only I
+must see him, and explain to him before he sees her.” With this view
+Lucy declined demurely her aunt's proposal for a walk. No, she must be
+excused; she had work to do in the drawing-room that could not be
+postponed.
+
+“Work! that alters the case. Let me see it.” She took for granted it
+was some useful work--something that could be worn when done. “What!
+is this it--these dirty parchments? Oh! I see; it is for that selfish
+old man; who but he would set a lady to parchments!”
+
+“A bad guess,” cried Lucy, joyously. “I found them myself, and set
+myself to work on them.”
+
+“Don't tell me! He is at the bottom of it. If it was for yourself you
+would give it up directly. How amusing for me to see you work at
+that!” Lucy rose and brought her the new novel. Mrs. Bazalgette took
+it and sat down to it, but she could not fix her attention long on it.
+Ladies whose hearts are in dress have no taste for books, however
+frivolous; can't sit them for above a second or two. Mrs. Bazalgette
+fidgeted and fidgeted, and at last rose and left the room, book in
+hand. “How unkind I am!” said Lucy to herself.
+
+She was sitting sentinel till the carriage should arrive; then she
+could run down and prepare her uncle for his innocent and accidental
+visitor. It would not be prudent to let him receive the information
+from a servant, or without the accompanying explanation. This it was
+that made her so unnaturally firm when the little idle B pressed her
+to waste in play the shining hours.
+
+Mrs. Bazalgette went book in hand to her bedroom, and had not been
+there long before she found employment. Many of Lucy's things were
+still in the wardrobes. Mrs. B. rummaged them, inspected them at the
+window, and ended by ringing for her maid and trying divers of her
+niece's dresses on. “They make her dresses better than they do mine;
+they take more pains.” At last she found one that was new to her,
+though Lucy had worn it several times at Font Abbey.
+
+“Where did she get this, Jane?”
+
+“Present from the old gentleman, mum; he had it down from London for
+her all at one time with this shawl and twelve puragloves.”
+
+Lucy looked two inches taller than Mrs. B., but somehow, I can't tell
+how, this dress of hers fitted the latter like a glove. It embraced
+her; it held her tenderly, but tight, as gowns and lovers should. The
+poor dear could not get out of it. “I _must_ wear it an hour or
+two,” said she. “Besides, it will save my own, knocking about in these
+country lanes.” Thus attired she went into the drawing-room to
+surprise Lucy. Now Lucy was determined not to move; so, not to be
+enticed, she did not even look up from her work; on this the other
+took a mild huff and whisked out.
+
+So keen are the feminine senses, that Lucy, on reflection, recognized
+something brusk, perhaps angry, in the rustle of that retiring dress,
+and soon after rang the bell and inquired where Mrs. Bazalgette was.
+John would make henquiries.
+
+“Your haunt is in the back garden, miss.”
+
+“Walking, or what?”
+
+John would make henquiries.
+
+“She is reading, miss; and she is sitting on the seat master 'ad made
+for _you,_ miss.
+
+“Very well: thank you.”
+
+“Any more commands, miss?”
+
+“Not at present.” John retired with a regretful air, as one capable of
+executing important commissions, but lost for lack of opportunity. All
+the servants in this house liked to come into contact with Lucy. She
+treated them with a dignified kindness and reserved politeness that
+wins these good creatures more than either arrogance or familiarity.
+“Jeames is not such a fool as he looks.”
+
+Lucy was glad. Her aunt had got her book. It is an interesting story;
+she will not miss me now, and the carriage will soon be here, and then
+I will make up for my unkindness. Curiously enough, at this very
+juncture, the fair student found something in her parchment which gave
+her some little hopes of a favorable result.
+
+She was following this clue eagerly, when all of a sudden she started.
+Her ear had caught the rattle of a carriage over the stones of the
+stable yard. She rang the bell, and inquired if that was not the
+carriage.
+
+“Yes, miss.
+
+“My uncle has sent it back, then? He is not coming to-day?”
+
+John would inquire of the coachman.
+
+“Oh yes, miss, master is come, but he got out at the foot of the hill,
+and walked up through the shrubbery with the young gentleman to show
+him the grounds.” On this news Lucy rose hastily, snatched up a garden
+hat, and, without any other preparation, went out to intercept her
+uncle. As she stepped into the garden she heard a loud scream,
+followed by angry voices; she threw her hands up to heaven in dismay
+and ran toward the sounds. They came from the back garden. She went
+like lightning round the corner of the house, and came plump upon an
+agitated group, of whom she made one directly, spellbound. Here stood
+Aunt Bazalgette, her head turned haughtily, her cheeks scarlet. There
+stood Mr. Fountain on the other side of the rustic seat, red as fire,
+too, but wearing a hang-dog look, and behind him young Arthur, pale,
+with two eyes like saucers, gazing awestruck at the first row he had
+ever seen between a full-grown lady and gentleman.
+
+Our narrative must take a step to the rear, as an excellent writer,
+Private ----* phrases it, otherwise you might be misled to suppose
+that Uncle Fountain was quarreling with Mrs. B. for having set her
+foot in sacred Font Abbey.
+
+     * “I had an escape myself. As I opened the door of a house, a
+     black fellow was behind waiting for me, and made a chop. I
+     took a step to the rear, fired through the door, and cooked
+     his goose.”--_Times._
+
+No, the pudding was richer than that. Mr. Fountain had young Arthur in
+charge, and, not being an ill-natured old gentleman, he pitied the
+boy, and did all he could to make him feel he was coming among
+friends. He sent the carriage on, and showed Arthur the grounds, and
+covertly praised the place and all about it, Lucy included, for was
+not she an appendage of his abbey. “You will see my niece--a charming
+young lady, who will be kind to you, and you must make friends with
+her. She is very accomplished--paints. She plays like an angel, too.
+Ah! there she is. She has got the gown on I gave her--a compliment to
+me--a very pretty attention, Arthur, the day of my return. What is she
+doing?”
+
+Arthur, with his young eyes, settled this question. “The lady is
+asleep. See, she has dropped her book.” And; in fact, the whole
+attitude was lax and not ungraceful. Her right hand hung down, and the
+domestic story, its duty done, reposed beneath.
+
+“Now, Arthur,” said the senior, making himself young to please the
+boy, and to show him that, if he looked old, he was not worn out,
+“would you like a bit of fun? We will startle her--we'll give her a
+kiss.” Arthur hung back irresolute, and his cheeks were dyed with
+blushes.
+
+“Not you, you young rogue; you are not her uncle.” The old gentleman
+then stole up at the back of the seat, followed with respectful
+curiosity by Arthur. She happened to move as the senior got near; so,
+for fear she was going to wake of herself and baffle the surprise, he
+made a rush and rubbed his beard a little roughly against Mrs.
+Bazalgette's cheek. Up starts that lady, who was not fast asleep, but
+only under the influence of the domestic tale, utters a scream, and,
+when she sees her ravisher, goes into a passion.
+
+“How dare you? What is the meaning of this insult?”
+
+“How came you here?” was the reply, in an equally angry tone.
+
+“Can't a lady come into your little misery of a garden without being
+outraged?”
+
+“It isn't the garden--it is only the back garden,” cried the
+proprietor of Font Hill; _“(blesse)_ I'll swear that is my
+niece's gown; so you've invaded that, too.”
+
+“Aunt Bazalgette--Uncle Fountain, it was my fault,” sighed a piteous
+voice. This was Lucy, who had just come on the scene. “Dear uncle,
+forgive me; it was I who invited her.”
+
+Lucy's pathetic tones, which were fast degenerating into sobs, were
+agreeably interrupted.
+
+At one and the same moment the man and woman of the world took a new
+view of the situation, looked at one another, and burst out laughing.
+Both these carried a safety-valve against choler--a trait that takes
+us into many follies, but keeps us out of others--a sense of humor.
+The next thing to relieve the situation was the senior's comprehensive
+vanity. He must recover young Arthur's reverence, which was doubtless
+dissolving all this time. “Now, Arthur,” he whispered, “take a lesson
+from a gentleman of the old school. I hate this she-devil; but this is
+at my house, so--observe.” He then strutted jauntily and feebly up to
+Mrs. Bazalgette: “Madam, my niece says you are her guest; but permit
+me to dispute her title to that honor.” Mrs. Bazalgette smiled
+agreeably. She wanted to stay a day or two at Font Abbey. The senior
+flourished out his arm. “Let me show you what _we_ call the
+garden here.” She took his arm graciously. “I shall be delighted, sir
+[pompous old fool!].”
+
+Mrs. Bazalgette steeled her mind to admire the garden, and would have
+done so with ease if it had been hideous. But, unfortunately, it was
+pretty--prettier than her own; had grassy slopes, a fountain, a
+grotto, variegated beds, and beds a blaze of one color (a fashion not
+common at that time); item, a brook with waterlilies on its bosom.
+“This brook is not mine, strictly speaking,” said her host; “I
+borrowed it of my neighbor.” The lady opened her eyes; so he grinned
+and revealed a characteristic transaction. A quarter of a century ago
+he had found the brook flowing through a meadow close to his garden
+hedge. He applied for a lease of the meadow, and was refused by the
+proprietor in the following terms: “What is to become of my cows?”
+
+He applied constantly for ten years, and met the same answer.
+Proprietor died, the cows turned to ox-beef, and were eaten in London
+along with flour and a little turmeric, and washed down with Spanish
+licorice-water, salt, gentian and a little burned malt. Widow
+inherited, made hay, and refused F. the meadow because her husband had
+always refused him. But in the tenth year of her siege she assented,
+for the following reasons: _primo,_ she had said “no” so often
+the word gave her a sense of fatigue; _secundo,_ she liked
+variety, and thought a change for the worse must be better than no
+change at all.
+
+Her tenant instantly cut a channel from the upper part of the stream
+into his garden, and brought the brook into the lawn, made it write an
+S upon his turf, then handed it but again upon the meadow “none the
+worse,” his own comment. These things could be done in the
+country--_jadis._
+
+It cost Mrs. Bazalgette a struggle to admire the garden and borrowed
+stream--they were so pretty. She made the struggle and praised all.
+Lucy, walking behind the pair, watched them with innocent
+satisfaction. “How fast they are making friends,” thought she,
+mistaking an armistice for an alliance.
+
+“Since the place is so fortunate as to please you, you will stay a
+week with me, madam, at least.”
+
+“A week! No, Mr. Fountain; I really admire your courtesy too much to
+abuse it.”
+
+“Not at all; you will oblige me.”
+
+“I cannot bring myself to think so.”
+
+“You may believe me. I have a selfish motive.”
+
+“Oh, if you are in earnest.”
+
+“I will explain. If you are my guest for a week, that will give me a
+claim to be yours in turn.” And he bent a keen look upon the lady, as
+much as to say, “Now I shall see whether you dare let me spy on you as
+you are doing on me.”
+
+“I propose an amendment,” said Mrs. Bazalgette, with a merry air of
+defiance: “for every day I enjoy here you must spend two beneath my
+roof. On this condition, I will stay a week at Font Abbey.”
+
+“I consent,” said Mr. Fountain, a little sharply. He liked the
+bargain. “I must leave you to Lucy for a minute; I have some orders to
+give. I like _my_ guests to be comfortable.” With this he retired
+to his study and pondered. “What is she here for? it is not affection
+for Lucy; that is all my eye, a selfish toad like her. (How agreeable
+she can make herself, though.) She heard I was out, and came here to
+spy directly. That was sharp practice. Better not give her a chance of
+seeing my game. I disarmed her suspicion by asking her to stay a week,
+aha! Well, during that week Talboys must not come, that is all; aha!
+my lady, I won't give those cunning eyes of yours a chance of looking
+over my hand.” He then wrote a note to Talboys, telling him there was
+a guest at Font Abbey, a disagreeable woman, “who makes mischief
+whenever she can. She would be sure to divine our intentions, and use
+all her influence with Lucy to spite me. You had better stay away till
+she is gone.” He sent this off by a servant, then pondered again.
+
+“She suspects something; then that is a sign she has her own designs
+on Lucy. Hum! no. If she had, she would not have invited me to her
+house. She invited me directly and cheerfully--!”
+
+
+Mrs. Bazalgette walked and sat with an arm round Lucy's waist, and
+told her seven times before dinner how happy she was at the prospect
+of a quiet week with her. In the evening she yawned eleven times. Next
+day she asked Lucy who was coming to dinner.
+
+“Nobody, dear.”
+
+“Nobody at all?”
+
+“I thought you would perhaps not care to have our tete-a-tete
+interrupted yet.”
+
+“Oh, but I should like to explore the natives too.”
+
+“I will give uncle a hint, dear.” The hint was given very delicately,
+but the malicious senior had a perverse construction ready
+immediately.
+
+“So this is her mighty affection for you. Can't get through two days
+without strangers.”
+
+“Uncle,” said Lucy, imploringly, “she is so used to society, and she
+has me all day; we ought to give her some little amusement at night.”
+
+“Well, I can't make up parties now; my friends are all in London. She
+only wants something to flirt with. Send for David Dodd.”
+
+“What, for her to flirt with?”
+
+“Yes; he is a handsome fellow; he will serve her turn.”
+
+“For shame, uncle; what would Mr. Bazalgette say? Poor aunt, she is a
+coquette now.”
+
+“And has been this twenty years.”
+
+“Now I was thinking--Mr. Talboys?”
+
+“Talboys is not at home; she must be content with lower game. She
+shall bring down David.”
+
+Lucy hesitated. “I don't think she will like Mr. Dodd, and I am sure
+he will not like her.”
+
+“How can you know that?”
+
+“He is so honest. He will not understand a woman of the world and her
+little in--sin--No, I don't mean that.”
+
+“Well, if he does not understand her he may like her.”
+
+
+“Aunt, he has made me ask the Dodds to tea, and I am afraid you will
+not like them.”
+
+“Well, if I don't we must try some more natives to-morrow. Who are
+they?” Lucy told her. “Pretty people to ask to meet me,” said she,
+loftily. This scorn dissolved in course of the evening. Lucy, anxious
+her guests should be pleased with one another, drew the Dodds out,
+especially David--made him spin a yarn. With this and his good looks
+he so pleased Mrs. Bazalgette that it was the last yarn he ever span
+during her stay. She took a fancy to him, and set herself to captivate
+him with sprightly ardor.
+
+David received her advances politely, but a little coldly. The lady
+was very agreeable, but she kept him from Lucy; he hardly got three
+words with her all the evening. As they went home together, Eve
+sneered: “Well, you managed nicely; it was your business to make
+friends with that lady.”
+
+“With all my heart.”
+
+“Then why didn't you do what she bid you?”
+
+“She gave me no orders that I heard,” said the literal first mate.
+
+“She gave you a plain hint, though.”
+
+“To do what?”
+
+“To do what? stupid! Why, to make love to her, to be sure.”
+
+“Why, she is a married woman?”
+
+“If she chooses to forget that, is it your business to remember it?”
+
+“And if she was single, and the loveliest in the world, how could I
+court her when my heart is full of an angel?”
+
+“If your heart is full, your head is empty. Why, you see nothing.”
+
+“I can't see why I should belie my heart.”
+
+“Can't you? Then I can. David, in less than a month Miss Fountain goes
+to this lady and stays a quarter of a year: she told me so herself.
+Oh, my ears are always open in your service ever since I did agree to
+be as great a fool as you are. Now don't you see that if you can't get
+Mrs. Bazalgette to invite you to her house, you must take leave of the
+other here forever?”
+
+“I see what you mean, Eve; how wise you are! It is wonderful. But what
+is to be done? I am bad at feigning. I can't make love to her.”
+
+“But you can let her make love to you: is that an effort you feel
+equal to? and I must do the rest. Oh, we have a nice undertaking
+before us. But, if boys will cry for fruit that is out of their reach,
+and their silly sisters will indulge them--don't slobber _me.”_
+
+“You are such a dear girl to fight for me so a little against your
+judgment.”
+
+“A little, eh? Dead against it, you mean. Don't look so blank, David;
+you are all right as far as me. When my heart is on your side you can
+snap your fingers at my judgment.”
+
+David was cheered by this gracious revelation.
+
+Eve was a tormenting little imp. She could not help reminding him
+every now and then that all her maneuvers and all his love were to end
+in disappointment. These discouraging comments had dashed poor David's
+spirits more than once; but he was beginning to discover that they
+were invariably accompanied or followed by an access of cheerful zeal
+in the desperate cause--a pleasing phenomenon, though somewhat
+unintelligible to this honest fellow, who had never microscoped the
+enigmatical sex.
+
+Mrs. Bazalgette reproached Lucy: “You never told me how handsome Mr.
+Dodd was.”
+
+“Didn't I?
+
+“No. He is the handsomest man I ever saw.”
+
+“I have not observed that, but I think he is one of the worthiest.”
+
+“I should not wonder,” said the other lady, carelessly. “It is clear
+you don't appreciate him here. You half apologized to me for inviting
+him.”
+
+“That was because you are such a fashionable lady, and the Dodds have
+no such pretensions.”
+
+“All the better; my taste is not for sophisticated people. I only put
+up with them because I am obliged. Why, Lucy, you ought to know how my
+heart yearns for nature and truth; I am sure I have told you so often
+enough. An hour spent with a simple, natural creature like Captain
+Dodd refreshes me as a cooling breeze after the heat and odors of a
+crowded room.”
+
+“Miss Dodd is very natural too--is she not?”
+
+“Very. Pertness and vulgarity are natural enough--to some people.”
+
+“My uncle likes her the best of the two.”
+
+“Then your uncle is mad. But the fact is, men are no judges in such
+cases; they are always unjust to their own sex, and as blind to the
+faults of ours as beetles.”
+
+“But surely, aunt, she is very arch and lively.”
+
+“Pert and fussy, you mean.”
+
+“Pretty, at all events? Rather?”
+
+“What, with that snub nose!!?”
+
+Lucy offered to invite other neighbors; Mrs. Bazalgette replied she
+didn't want to be bothered with rurality. “You can ask Captain Dodd,
+if you like; there is no need to invite the sister.”
+
+“Oh yes, I must; my uncle likes her the best.”
+
+“But _I_ don't; and I am only here for a day or two.”
+
+“Miss Dodd would be hurt. It would be unkind--discourteous.”
+
+“No, no. She watches him all the time like a little dragon.”
+
+_“Apres?_ We have no sinister designs on Mr. Dodd, have we?” and
+something unusually keen flashed upon Aunt Bazalgette out of the tail
+of the quiet Lucy's eye.
+
+Mrs. Bazalgette looked cross. “Nonsense, Lucy; so tiresome! Can't we
+have an agreeable person without tacking on a disagreeable one?”
+
+“Aunt,” said Lucy, pathetically, “ask me anything else in the world,
+but don't ask me to be rude, for _I can't.”_
+
+“Well, then, you are bound to entertain her, since she is your choice,
+and leave me mine.”
+
+Lucy acquiesced softly.
+
+David, tutored by his sister, now tried to seem interested in her who
+came between him and Lucy, and a miserable hand he made of this his
+first piece of acting. Luckily for him, Mrs. Bazalgette liked the
+sound of her own voice; and his good looks, too, went a long way with
+the mature woman. Lucy and Eve sat together at the tea-table; Mr.
+Fountain slumbered below; Arthur was in the study, nailed to a novel;
+Eve, under a careless exterior, watched intently to find out if Lucy,
+under a calm surface, cared for David at all or not, and also watched
+for a chance to serve him. She observed a certain languor about the
+young lady, but no attempt to take David from the coquette. At last,
+however, Lucy did say demurely, “Mr. Dodd seems to appreciate my
+aunt.”
+
+“Don't you think it is rather the other way?”
+
+“That is an insidious question, Miss Dodd. I shall make no admissions;
+but I warn you she is a very fascinating woman.”
+
+“My brother is greatly admired by the ladies, too.”
+
+“Oh, since I praised my champion, you have a right to praise yours.
+But he will get the worst in that little encounter.”
+
+“Why so?
+
+“Because my sprightly aunt forgets the very names of her conquests
+when once she has thoroughly made them.”
+
+“She will never make this one; my brother carries an armor against
+coquettes.”
+
+“Ay, indeed; and pray what may that be?” inquired Lucy, a little
+quizzingly.
+
+“A true and deep attachment.”
+
+“Ah!”
+
+“And if you will look at him a little closer you will see that he
+would be glad to get away from that old flirt; but David is very
+polite to ladies.”
+
+Lucy stole a look from under her silken lashes, and it so happened
+that at that very moment she encountered a sorrowful glance from David
+that said plainly enough, I am obliged to be here, but I long to be
+there. She received his glance full in her eyes, absorbed it blandly,
+then lowered her lashes a moment, then turned her head with a sweet
+smile toward Eve. “I think you said your brother was engaged.”
+
+“No.”
+
+“I misunderstood you, then.”
+
+“Yes.” Eve uttered this monosyllable so dryly that Lucy drew back, and
+immediately turned the conversation into chit-chat.
+
+It had not trickled above ten minutes when an exclamation from David
+interrupted it. The young ladies turned instinctively, and there was
+David flushing all over, and speaking to Mrs. Bazalgette with a
+tremulous warmth, that, addressed as it was to a pretty woman, sounded
+marvelously like love-making.
+
+Lucy turned her crest round a little haughtily, and shot such a glance
+on Eve. Eve read in it a compound of triumph and pique.
+
+
+David came to Eve one morning with parchments in his hand and a merry
+smile. “Eureka!”
+
+“You're another,” said Eve, as quick as lightning, and upon
+speculation.
+
+“I have made Mr. Fountain's pedigree out,” explained David.
+
+“You don't say so! won't he be pleased?”
+
+“Yes. Do you think _she_ will be pleased?”
+
+“Why not? She will look pleased, anyway. I say, don't you go and tell
+them the whole county was owned by the Dodds before Fountain, or
+Funteyn, or Font, was ever heard of.”
+
+“Hardly. I have my own weaknesses, my lass; I've no need to adopt
+another man's.”
+
+“Bless my soul, how wise you are got! So sudden, too! You shouldn't
+surprise a body like that. Lucky I'm not hysterical. Now let me think,
+David--Solomon, I mean--no, you shall keep this discovery back awhile;
+it may be wanted.” She then reminded him that the Fountains were
+capricious; that they had dropped him for a week, and eight again; if
+so, this might be useful to unlock their street door to him at need.
+
+“Good heavens, Eve, what cunning!”
+
+“David, when I have a bad cause in hand, I do one of two things: I
+drop it, or I go into it heart and soul. If my zeal offends you, I can
+retire from the contest with great pleasure.”
+
+“No! no! no! no! no! If you leave the helm I shall go ashore
+directly”--dismay of David; grim satisfaction of his imp.
+
+This matter settled, David asked Eve if she did not think Master
+Nelson (Mr. Fountain's new ward) was a very nice boy.
+
+“Yes; and I see he has taken a wonderful fancy to you.”
+
+“And so have I to him; we have had one or two walks together. He is to
+come here at twelve o'clock to-day.”
+
+“Now why couldn't you have asked me first, David? The painters are
+coming into the house to-day; and the paperers, and all, and we can't
+be bothered with mathematics. You must do them at Font Abbey.” Eve was
+a little cross. David only laughed at her; but he hesitated about
+making a school-house of Font Abbey--it would look like intruding.
+
+“Pooh! nonsense,” said Eve; “they will only be too glad to take
+advantage of your good-nature.”
+
+“He is an orphan,” said David, doggedly.
+
+However, the lesson was given at Font Abbey, and after it Master
+Nelson came bounding into the drawing-room to the ladies.
+
+“Oh, Lucy, Mr. Dodd is such a beautiful geometrician! He has been
+giving me a lesson; he is going to give me one every day. He knows a
+great deal more than my last tutor.” On this Master Nelson was
+questioned, and revealed that a friendship existed between him and Mr.
+Dodd such as girls are incapable of (this was leveled at Lucy); being
+cross-examined as to the date of this friendship, he was obliged to
+confess that it had only existed four days, but was to last to death.
+
+“But, Arthur,” said Lucy, “will not this take up too much of Mr.
+Dodd's time? I think you had better consult Uncle Fountain before you
+make a positive arrangement of the kind.”
+
+“Oh, I have spoken to my guardian about it, and he was _so_
+pleased. He said that would save him a mathematical tutor.”
+
+“Oh, then,” said Mrs. Bazalgette, “Mr. Dodd is to teach mathematics
+gratis.”
+
+“My friend is a gentleman,” was the timid reply. (Juveniles have a
+pomposity all their own, and exquisitely delicious.*) “We read
+together because we like one another, and that is why we walk together
+and play together; if we were to offer him money he would throw it at
+our heads.” Mr. Arthur then relaxed his severity, and, condescending
+once more to the familiar, added: “And he has made me a kite on
+mathematical principles--such a whacker--those in the shops are no
+use; and he has sent his mother's Bath chair on to the downs, and he
+is going to show me the kite draw him ten knots an hour in it--a knot
+means a mile, Lucy--so I can't stay wasting my time here; only, if you
+want to see some fun for once in your lives, come on the downs in
+about an hour--will you? Oh yes! do come!”
+
+     * Read the Oxford Essays.
+
+“Certainly not,” said Mrs. Bazalgette, sharply.
+
+“Excuse us, dear,” said Lucy in the same breath.
+
+“Well, Lucy,” said Mrs. Bazalgette, “am I wrong about your uncle's
+selfishness! I have tried in vain ever since I came here to make you
+see it where _you_ were the only sufferer.”
+
+“Not quite in vain, aunt,” said Lucy sadly; “you have shown me defects
+in my poor uncle that I should never have discovered.”
+
+Mrs. Bazalgette smiled grimly.
+
+“Only, as you hate him, and I love him, and always mean to love him,
+permit me to call his defects 'thought-lessness.' _You_ can apply
+the harsh term 'selfish-ness' to the most good-natured, kind,
+indulgent--oh!”
+
+“Ha! ha! Don't cry, you silly girl. Thoughtless? a calculating old
+goose, who is eternally aiming to be a fox--never says or does
+anything without meaning something a mile off. Luckily, his veil is so
+thin that everybody sees through it but you. What do you think of his
+_thought-less-ness_ in getting a tutor gratis? Poor Mr. Dodd!”
+
+“I will answer for it, it is a pleasure to Mr. Dodd to be of service
+to his little friend,” said Lucy, warmly.
+
+“How do you know a bore is a pleasure to Mr. Dodd?”
+
+“Mr. Dodd is a new acquaintance of yours, aunt, but I have had
+opportunities of observing his character, and I assure you all this
+pity is wasted.”
+
+“Why, Lucy, what did you say to Arthur just now. You are contradicting
+_yourself.”_
+
+“What a love of opposition I must have. Are you not tired of in-doors?
+Shall we go into the village?”
+
+“No; I exhausted the village yesterday.”
+
+“The garden?”
+
+“No.”
+
+“Well, then, suppose we sketch the church together. There is a good
+light.”
+
+“No. Let us go on the downs, Lucy.”
+
+“Why, aunt, it--it is a long walk.”
+
+“All the better.”
+
+“But we said 'No.'”
+
+“What has that to do with it?”
+
+
+Arthur was right; the kites that are sold by shops of prey are not
+proportioned nor balanced; this is probably in some way connected with
+the circumstance that they are made to sell, not fly. The monster
+kite, constructed by the light of Euclid, rose steadily into the air
+like a balloon, and eventually, being attached to the chair, drew Mr.
+Arthur at a reasonable pace about half a mile over a narrow but level
+piece of turf that was on the top of the downs. Q.E.D. This done,
+these two patient creatures had to wind the struggling monster in, and
+go back again to the starting point. Before they had quite achieved
+this, two petticoats mounted the hill and moved toward them across the
+plateau. At sight of them David thrilled from head to foot, and Arthur
+cried, “Oh, bother!” an unjust ejaculation, since it was by his
+invitation they came. His alarms were verified. The ladies made
+themselves No. 1 directly, and the poor kite became a shield for
+flirtation. Arthur was so cross.
+
+At last the B's desire to occupy attention brought her to the verge of
+trouble. Seeing David saying a word to Lucy, she got into the chair,
+and went gayly off, drawn by the kite, which Arthur, with a mighty
+struggle, succeeded in hooking to the car for her. Now, the plateau
+was narrow, and the chair wanted guiding. It was easy to guide it, but
+Mrs. Bazalgette did not know how; so it sidled in a pertinacious and
+horrid way toward a long and steepish slope on the left side. She
+began to scream, Arthur to laugh--the young are cruel, and, I am
+afraid, though he stood perfectly neutral to all appearance, his heart
+within nourished black designs. But David came flying up at her
+screams--just in time. He caught the lady's shoulders as she glided
+over the brow of the slope, and lifted her by his great strength up
+out of the chair, which went the next moment bounding and jumping
+athwart the hill, and soon rolled over and groveled in rather an ugly
+way.
+
+Mrs. Bazalgette sobbed and cried so prettily on David's shoulder, and
+had to be petted and soothed by all hands. Inward composure soon
+returned, though not outward, and in due course histrionics commenced.
+First the sprain business. None of you do it better, ladies, whatever
+you may think. David had to carry her a bit. But she was too wise to
+be a bore. Next, the heroic business: _would_ be put down,
+_would_ walk, possible or not; _would_ not be a trouble to
+her kind friends. Then the martyr smiling through pain. David was very
+attentive to her; for while he was carrying her in his arms she had
+won his affection, all he could spare from Lucy. Which of you can tell
+all the consequences if you go and carry a pretty woman, with her
+little insinuating mouth close to your ears?
+
+Lucy and Arthur walked behind. Arthur sighed. Lucy was _reveuse._
+Arthur broke silence first. “Lucy!”
+
+“Yes, dear.”
+
+“When is she going?”
+
+“Arthur, for shame! I won't tell you. To-morrow.”
+
+“Lucy,” said Arthur, with a depth of feeling, “she spoils
+everything!!!”
+
+
+Next morning ---- _come back?_ What for? _I will have the
+goodness to tell you what she said in his ear?_ Why, nothing.
+
+_You are a female reader?_ Oh! that alters the case. To attempt
+to deceive you would be cowardly, immoral; it would fail. She sighed,
+“My preserver!” at which David had much ado not to laugh in her face.
+Then she murmured still more softly, “You must come and see me at my
+home before you sail--will you not? I insist” (in the tone of a
+supplicant), “come, promise me.”
+
+“That I will--with pleasure,” said David, flushing.
+
+“Mind, it is a promise. Put me down. Lucy, come here and make him put
+me down. I _will not_ be a burden to my friends.”
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+THAT same evening, Mrs. Bazalgette, being alone with Lucy in the
+drawing-room, put her arm round that young lady's waist, and lovingly,
+not seriously, as a man might have been apt to do, reminded her of her
+honorable promise--not to be caught in the net of matrimony at Font
+Abbey. Lucy answered, without embarrassment, that she claimed no merit
+for keeping her word. No one had had the ill taste to invite her to
+break it.
+
+“You are either very sly or very blind,” replied Mrs. Bazalgette,
+quietly.
+
+“Aunt!” said Lucy, piteously.
+
+Mrs. Bazalgette, who, by many a subtle question and observation during
+the last week, had satisfied herself of Lucy's innocence, now set to
+work and laid Uncle Fountain bare.
+
+“I do not speak in a hurry, Lucy; a hint came round to me a fortnight
+ago that you had an admirer here, and it turns out to be this Mr.
+Talboys.”
+
+“Mr. Talboys?”
+
+“Yes. Does that surprise you? Do you think a young gentleman would
+come to Font Abbey three nights in a week without a motive?”
+
+Lucy reflected.
+
+“It is all over the place that you two are engaged.”
+
+Lucy colored, and her eyes flashed with something very like anger, but
+she held her peace.
+
+“Ask Jane else.”
+
+“What! take my servant into my confidence?”
+
+“Oh, there is a way of setting that sort of people chattering without
+seeming to take any notice. To tell the truth, I have done it for you.
+It is all over the village, and all over the house.”
+
+“The proper person to ask must have been Uncle Fountain himself.”
+
+“As if he would have told me the truth.”
+
+“He is a gentleman, aunt, and would not have uttered a falsehood.”
+
+“Doctrine of chivalry! He would have uttered half a dozen in one
+minute. Besides, why should I question a person I can read without.
+Your uncle, with his babyish cunning that everybody sees through, has
+given me the only proof I wanted. He has not had Mr. Talboys here once
+since I came.”
+
+“Cunning little aunt! Mr. Talboys happens not to be at home; uncle
+told me so himself.”
+
+“Simple little niece, uncle told you a fib; Mr. Talboys is at home.
+And observe! until I came to Font Abbey, he was here three times a
+week. You admit that. I come; your uncle knows I am not so unobservant
+as you, and Mr. Talboys is kept out of sight.”
+
+“The proof that my uncle has deceived me,” said Lucy, coldly, and with
+lofty incredulity.
+
+“Read that note from Miss Dodd!”
+
+“What! you in correspondence with Miss Dodd?”
+
+“That is to say, she has thrust herself into correspondence with
+me--just like her assurance.”
+
+The letter ran thus:
+
+
+“DEAR MADAM--My brother requests me to say that, in compliance with
+your request, he called at the lodge of Talboys Park, and the people
+informed him Mr. Talboys had not left Talboys Park at all since
+Easter. I remain yours, etc.”
+
+
+Lucy was dumfounded.
+
+“I suspected something, Lucy, so I asked Mr. Dodd to inquire.”
+
+“It was a singular commission to send him on.”
+
+“Oh, he takes long walks--cruises, he calls them--and he is so
+good-natured. Well, what do you think of your uncle's veracity now?”
+
+Lucy was troubled and distressed, but she mastered her countenance: “I
+think he has sacrificed it for once to his affection for me. I fear
+you are right; my eyes are opened to many circumstances. But do--oh,
+pray do!--see his goodness in all this.”
+
+“The goodness of a story-teller.”
+
+“He admires Mr. Talboys--he reveres him. No doubt he wished to secure
+his poor niece what he thinks a great match, and now you assign ill
+motives to him. Yes, I confess he has deviated from truth. Cruel!
+cruel! what can you give me in exchange if you rob me of my esteem for
+those I love!”
+
+This innocent distress, with its cause, were too deep for a lady whose
+bright little intelligence leaned toward cunning rather than wisdom.
+In spite of her niece's trouble, and the brimming eyes that implored
+forbearance, she drove the sting, merrily in again and again, till at
+last Lucy, who was not defending herself, but an absent friend, turned
+a little suddenly on her and said:
+
+“And do you think he says nothing against you?”
+
+“Oh, he is a backbiter, too, is he? I didn't know he had that vice.
+Ah! and, pray, what can he find to say against me?”
+
+“Oh, people that hate one another can always find something
+ill-natured to say,” retorted Lucy, with a world of meaning.
+
+Mrs. Bazalgette turned red, and her little nose went up into the air
+at an angle of forty-five. She said, with majestic disdain: “I don't
+hate the man--I don't condescend to hate him.”
+
+“Then don't condescend to backbite him, dear.”
+
+This home-thrust, coming from such a quarter, took away my Lady
+Disdain's very breath. She sat transfixed; then, upon reflection, got
+up a tear, and had to be petted.
+
+This sweet lady departed, flinging down her firebrand on those
+hospitable boards.
+
+Lucy, though she had defended her uncle, was not a little vexed that
+he had managed matters so as to get her talked of with Mr. Talboys.
+Her natural modesty and reserve prevented her from remonstrating; nor
+was there any positive necessity. She was one of those young ladies
+who seem born mistresses of the art of self-defense. Deriving the art
+not from experience, but from instinct, they are as adroit at
+seventeen as they are at twenty-seven; so a last year's bird
+constructs her first nest as cunningly as can a veteran feathered
+architect.
+
+Therefore, without a grain of discourtesy or tangible ill-temper, she
+quietly froze, and a small family with her, they could not tell how or
+why, for they had never even suspected this girl's power. You would
+have seemed to them as one that mocketh had you told them they owed
+their gayety, their good-humor, their happiness, and their
+conversational powers to her.
+
+Of these Talboys suffered the most. She brought him to a stand-still
+by a very simple process. She no longer patted or spurred him. To vary
+the metaphor, a man that has no current must be stirred or stagnate;
+Lucy's light hand stirred Talboys no more; Talboys stagnated. Mr.
+Fountain suffered next in proportion. He began to find that something
+was the matter, but what he had no idea. He did not observe that,
+though Lucy answered him as kindly as ever, she did not draw him out
+as heretofore, far less that she was vexed with him, and on her guard
+against him and everybody, like a _maitresse d'armes._ No. “The
+days were drawing in. The air was heavy; no carbon in it. Wind in the
+east again!!!” etc. So subtle is the influence of these silly little
+creatures upon creation's lords.
+
+Mr. Talboys did not take delicate hints. He continued his visits three
+times a week, and the coast was kept clear for him. On this Miss
+Fountain proceeded to overt acts of war. She brought a champion on the
+scene--a terrible champion--a champion so irresistible that I set any
+woman down as a coward who lets him loose upon a sex already so
+unequal to the contest as ours. What that champion's real name is I
+have in vain endeavored to discover, but he is _called_
+“Headache.” When this terrible ally mingled in the game--on the
+Talboys nights--dismay fell upon the wretched males that abode in and
+visited the once cheerful, cozy Font Abbey. Messrs. Fountain and
+Talboys put their heads together in grave, anxious consultations, and
+Arthur vented a yell of remonstrance. He found the lady one afternoon
+preparing indisposition. She was leaning languidly back, and the fire
+was dying out of her eye, and the color out of her cheek, and the
+blinds were drawn down. The poor boy burst in upon this prologue. “Oh,
+Lucy,” he cried, in piteous, foreboding tones, “don't go and have a
+headache to-night. It was so jolly till you took to these
+_stupid_ headaches.”
+
+“I am so sorry, Arthur,” said Lucy, apologetically, but at bottom she
+was inexorable. The disease reached its climax just before dinner. All
+remedies failed, and there was nothing for it but to return to her own
+room, and read the last new tale of domestic interest--and
+principle--until sleep came to her relief.
+
+After dinner Arthur shot out with the retiring servants, and interred
+himself in the study, where he sought out with care such wild romances
+as give entirely false views of life, and found them, “and so shut up
+in measureless content.”--Macbeth.
+
+The seniors consulted at their ease. They both appreciated the painful
+phenomenon, but they differed _toto coelo_ as to the cause. Mr.
+Fountain ascribed it to the somber influence of Mrs. Bazalgette, and
+miscalled her, till Jane's hair stood on end: she happened to be the
+one at the keyhole that night. Mr. Talboys laid all the blame on David
+Dodd. The discussion was vigorous, and occupied more than two hours,
+and each party brought forward good and plausible reasons; and, if
+neither made any progress toward converting the other, they gained
+this, at least, that each corroborated himself. Now Mrs. Bazalgette
+was gone no direct reprisals on her were possible. Registering a vow
+that one day or other he would be even with her, the senior consented,
+though not very willingly, to co-operate with his friend against an
+imaginary danger. In answer to his remark that the Dodds were never
+invited to tea now, Mr. Talboys had replied: “But I find from Mr.
+Arthur he visits the house every day on the pretense of teaching him
+mathematics--a barefaced pretense--a sailor teach mathematics!” Mr.
+Fountain had much ado to keep his temper at this pertinacity in a
+jealous dream. He gulped his ire down, however, and said, somewhat
+sullenly: “I really cannot consent to send my poor friend's son to the
+University a dunce, and there is no other mathematician near.”
+
+“If I find you one,” said Talboys, hastily, “will you relieve Mr. Dodd
+of his labors, and me of his presence?”
+
+“Certainly,” said the other. Poor David!
+
+“Then there is my friend Bramby. He is a second wrangler. He shall
+take Arthur, and keep him till Miss Fountain leaves us. Bramby will
+refuse me nothing. I have a living in my gift, and the incumbent is
+eighty-eight.”
+
+The senior consented with a pitying smile.
+
+“Bramby will take him next week,” said Talboys, severely.
+
+Mr. Fountain nodded his head. It was all the assent he could effect:
+and at that moment there passed through him the sacrilegious thought
+that the Conqueror must have imported an ass or two among his other
+forces, and that one of these, intermarrying with Saxon blood, had
+produced a mule, and that mule was his friend.
+
+The same uneasy jealousy, which next week was to expel David from Font
+Abbey, impelled Mr. Talboys to call the very next day at one o'clock
+to see what was being done under cover of trigonometry. He found Mr.
+and Miss Fountain just sitting down to luncheon. David and Arthur were
+actually together somewhere, perhaps going through the farce of
+geometry. He was half vexed at finding no food for his suspicions.
+Presently, so spiteful is chance, the door opened, and in marched
+Arthur and David.
+
+“I have made him stay to luncheon for once,” said Arthur; “he couldn't
+refuse me; we are to part so soon.” Arthur got next to Lucy, and had
+David on his left. Mr. Talboys gave Mr. Fountain a look, and very soon
+began to play his battery upon David.
+
+“How do you naval officers find time to learn geometry?”
+
+“What? don't you know it is a part of our education, sir?”
+
+“I never heard that before.”
+
+“That is odd; but perhaps you have spent all your life ashore” (this
+in commiserating accents). David then politely explained to Mr.
+Talboys that a man who looked one day to command a ship must not only
+practice seamanship, but learn navigation, and that navigation was a
+noble art founded on the exact sciences as well as on practical
+experiences; that there did still linger upon the ocean a few of the
+old captains, who, born at a period when a ship, in making a voyage,
+used to run down her longitude first, and then begin to make her
+latitude, could handle a ship well, and keep her off a lee shore _if
+they saw it in time,_ but were, in truth, hardly to be trusted to
+take her from port to port. “We get a word with these old salts now
+and then when we are becalmed alongside, and the questions they put
+make us quite feel for them. Then they trust entirely to their
+instruments. They can take an observation, but they can't verify one.
+They can tack her and wear her (I have seen them do one when they
+should have done the other), and they can read the sky and the water
+better than we young ones; and while she floats they stick to her, and
+the greater the danger the louder the oaths--but that is all.” He then
+assured them with modest fervor that much more than that was expected
+of the modern commander, particularly in the two capital articles of
+exact science and gentlemanly behavior. He concluded with considerable
+grace by apologizing for his enthusiastic view of a profession
+that had been too often confounded with the faults of its
+professors--faults that were curable, and that they would all, he
+hoped, live long enough to see cured. Then, turning to Miss Fountain,
+he said: “And if I began by despising my business, and taking a small
+view of it, how should I ever hold sticks with my able competitors,
+who study it with zeal and admiration?”
+
+Lucy. “I don't quite understand all you have said, Mr. Dodd,
+but that last I think is unanswerable.”
+
+Fountain. “I am sure of it. As the Duke of Wellington said the
+other day in the House of Lords, 'That is a position I defy any noble
+lord to assault with success'--haw! ho!”
+
+Mr. Talboys averted his attack. “Pray, sir,” said he, with a sneer,
+“may I ask, have nautical commanders a particular taste for education
+as well as science?”
+
+“Not that I know of. If you mean me, I am hungry to learn, and I find
+few but what can teach me something, and what little I know I am
+willing to impart, sir; give and take.”
+
+“It is the direction of your teaching that seems to me so singular.
+Mathematics are horrible enough, and greatly to be avoided.”
+
+“That is news to me.”
+
+“On _terra firma,_ I mean.”
+
+At this opening of the case Talboys versus Newton, Arthur
+shrugged his shoulders to Lucy and David, and went swiftly out as from
+the presence of an idiot. It was abominably rude. But, besides being
+ill-natured and a little shallow, Mr. Talboys was drawling out his
+words, and Arthur was sixteen--candid epoch, at which affectation in
+man or woman is intolerable to us; we get a little hardened to it long
+before sixty. Mr. Talboys bit his lip at this boyish impertinence, but
+he was too proud a man to notice it otherwise than by quietly
+incorporating the offender into his satire. “But the enigma is why you
+read them with a stripling, of whose breeding we have just had a
+specimen--mathematics with a hob-ba-de-hoy? _Grand Dieu!_ Do pray
+tell us, Mr. Dodd, why you come to Font Abbey every day; is it really
+to teach Master Orson mathematics and manners?”
+
+David did not sink into the earth as he was intended to.
+
+“I come to teach him algebra and geometry, what little I know.”
+
+“But your motive, Mr. Dodd?”
+
+David looked puzzled, Lucy uneasy at seeing her guest badgered.
+
+“Ask Miss Fountain why she thinks I do my best for Arthur,” said
+David, lowering his eyes.
+
+Talboys colored and looked at Fountain.
+
+“I think it must be out of pure goodness,” said Lucy, sweetly.
+
+Mr. Talboys ignored her calmly. “Pray enlighten us, Mr. Dodd. Now what
+is the real reason you walk a mile every day to do mathematics with
+that interesting and well-behaved juvenile?”
+
+“You are very curious, sir,” said David, grimly, his ire rising
+unseen.
+
+“I am--on this point.”
+
+“Well, since you must be told what most men could see without help, it
+is--because he is an orphan; and because an orphan finds a brother in
+every man that is worth the shoe-leather he stands in. Can ye read the
+riddle now, ye lubber?” and David started up haughtily, and, with
+contempt and wrath on his face, marched through the open window and
+joined his little friend on the lawn, leaving Fountain red with anger
+and Talboys white.
+
+The next thing was, Lucy rose and went quietly out of the room by the
+door.
+
+“It is the last time he shall set his foot within my door. Provoking
+cub!”
+
+“You are convinced at last that he is a dangerous rival?”
+
+“A rival? Nonsense and stuff!!”
+
+“Then why was she so agitated? She went out with tears in her eyes: I
+saw them.”
+
+“The poor girl was frightened, no doubt. We don't have fracases at
+Font Abbey. On this one spot of earth comfort reigns, and balmy peace,
+and shall reign unruffled while I live. The passions are not admitted
+here, sir. Gracious Heaven forbid! I'd as soon see a bonfire in the
+middle of my dining-room as Jealousy & Co.”
+
+“In that case you had better exclude the cause.”
+
+“The cause is your imagination, my good friend; but I will give it no
+handle. I will exclude David Dodd until she has accepted you in form.”
+
+With this understanding the friends parted.
+
+
+After dinner that same day Arthur sat in the drawing-room with Lucy.
+He was reading, she working placidly. She looked off her work demurely
+at him several times. He was absorbed in a flighty romance. “I have
+dropped my worsted, Arthur. It is by you.”
+
+Arthur picked the ball up and brought it to her; then back to his
+romance, heart and soul. Another sidelong glance at him; then, after a
+long silence, “Your book seems very interesting.”
+
+“I'll fling it against the wall if it does not mind,” was the
+infuriated reply. “Here are two fools quarreling, page after page, and
+can't see, or won't see, what everybody else can see, that it is an
+absurd misunderstanding. One word of common sense would put it all
+right.”
+
+“Then why not put the book down and talk to me?”
+
+“I can't. It won't let me. I must see how long the two fools will go
+on not seeing what everybody else sees.”
+
+“Will not the number of volumes tell you that?”
+
+“Signorina, don't you try to be satirical!” said the sprightly youth;
+“you'll only make a mess of it. What is the use dropping one drop of
+vinegar into such a great big honey pot?”
+
+“You are a saucy boy,” retorted Lucy, in tones of gentle approbation.
+
+A long silence.
+
+“Arthur, will you hold this skein for me?”
+
+Arthur groaned.
+
+“Never mind, dear. I will try and manage with a chair.”
+
+“No you won't, now; there.”
+
+The victim was caught by the hands. But with fatal instinctive
+perverseness he sat in silent amazement watching Lucy's supple white
+hand disentangling impossibilities instead of chattering as he was
+intended to. Lucy gave a little sigh. Here was a dreadful
+business--obliged to elicit the information she had resolved should be
+forced upon her.
+
+“By the by, Arthur,” said she, carelessly, “did Mr. Dodd say anything
+to you on the lawn?”
+
+“What about?”
+
+“About what was said after you went out so ru--so suddenly.”
+
+“No; why? what was said? Something about me? Tell me.”
+
+“Oh, no, dear; as Mr. Dodd did not mention it, it is not worth while.
+You must not move your hands, please.”
+
+“Now, Lucy, that is too bad. It is not fair to excite one's curiosity
+and then stop directly.”
+
+“But it is nothing. Mr. Talboys teased Mr. Dodd a little, that is all,
+and Mr. Dodd was not so patient as I have seen him on like occasions.
+There, _you_ are disentangled at last.”
+
+“Now, signorina, let us talk sense. Tell me, which do you like best of
+all the gentlemen that come here?”
+
+“You, dear; only keep your hands still.”
+
+“None of your chaff, Lucy.”
+
+“Chaff! what is that?”
+
+“Flattery, then. I hope it isn't that affected fool Talboys, for I
+hate hun.”
+
+“I cannot undertake to share your prejudices, Mr. Arthur.”
+
+“Then you actually like him.”
+
+“I don't dislike him.”
+
+“Then I pity your taste, that is all.”
+
+“Mr. Talboys has many good qualities; and if he was what you describe
+him, Uncle Fountain would not prize him as he does.”
+
+“There is something in that, Lucy; but I think my guardian and you are
+mad upon just that one point. Talboys is a fool and a snob.”
+
+“Arthur,” said Lucy, severely, “if you speak so of my uncle's friends,
+you and I shall quarrel.”
+
+“You won't quarrel just now, if you can help it.”
+
+“Won't I, though? Why not, pray?”
+
+“Because your skein is not wound yet.”
+
+“Oh, you little black-hearted thing!”
+
+“I know human nature, miss,” said the urchin, pompously; “I have read
+Miss Edgeworth!!!”
+
+He then made an appeal to her candor and good sense. “Now don't you
+see my friend Mr. Dodd is worth them all put together?”
+
+“I can't quite see that.”
+
+“He is so noble, so kind, so clever.”
+
+“You must own he is a trifle brusk.”
+
+“Never. And, if he is, that is not like hurting people's feelings on
+purpose, and saying nasty, ill-natured things wrapped up in politeness
+that you daren't say out like a man, or you'd get kicked. He is a
+gentleman inside; that Talboys is only one outside; but you girls
+can't look below the surface.”
+
+“We have not read Miss Edgeworth. His hands are not so white as Mr.
+Talboys'.”
+
+“Nor his liver, either--oh, you goose! Which has the finest eyes? Why,
+you don't see such eyes as Mr. Dodd's every day. They are as large as
+yours, only his are dark.”
+
+“Don't be angry, dear. You must admit his voice is very loud.”
+
+“He can make it loud, but it is always low and gentle whenever he
+speaks to you. I have noticed that; so that is monstrous ungrateful of
+you.”
+
+“There, the skein is wound. Arthur!”
+
+“Well?”
+
+“I have a great mind to tell you something your friend Mr. Dodd said
+while you were out of the room--but no, you shall finish your story
+first.”
+
+“No, no; hang the story!”
+
+“Ah! you only say that out of politeness. I have taken you from it so
+long already.”
+
+The impetuous boy jumped up, seized the volumes, dashed out, and
+presently came running back, crying: “There, I have thrown them behind
+the bookcase for ever and ever. Now will you tell me what he said?”
+
+Lucy smiled triumphantly. She could relish a bloodless victory over an
+inanimate rival. Then she said softly, “Arthur, what I am going to
+tell you is in confidence.”
+
+“I will be torn in pieces before I betray it,” said the young
+chevalier.
+
+Lucy smiled at his extravagance, then began again very gravely: “Mr.
+Talboys, who, with many good qualities, has--what shall I say?--narrow
+and artificial views compared with your friend--”
+
+“Ah! now you are talking sense.”
+
+“Then why interrupt me, dear?--began teasing him, and wanting to know
+the real reason he comes here.”
+
+“The real reason? What did the fool mean?”
+
+“How can I tell, Arthur, any more than you? Mr. Dodd evidently thought
+that some slur was meant on the purity of his friendship for you.”
+
+“Shame! shame! oh!”
+
+“I saw his anger rising; for Mr. Dodd, though not irritable, is
+passionate--at least I think so. I tried to smooth matters. But no;
+Mr. Talboys persisted in putting this ungenerous question, when all of
+a sudden Mr. Dodd burst out, 'You wish to know why I love Arthur?
+Because he is an orphan; and because an orphan finds a brother in
+every man who is worth the shoe-leather he stands in. That is all the
+riddle, you lubber!!' It was terribly rude; but oh! Arthur, I must
+tell you your friend looked noble; he seemed to swell and rise to a
+giant as he spoke, and we all felt such little shrimps around him; and
+his lip trembled, and fire flashed from his eyes. How you would have
+admired him then; and he swept out of the room, and left us for his
+little friend, who is worthy of it all, since he stands up for him
+against us all. Arthur! why, he is crying! poor child! and do you
+think those words did not go to _my_ heart as well? I am an
+orphan, too. Arthur, don't cry, love! oh! oh! oh!”
+
+Oh, magic of a word from a great heart! Such a word, uncouth and
+simple, but hot from a manly bosom, pierced silk and broadcloth as if
+they had been calico and fustian, and made a fashionable young lady
+and a bold school-boy take hands and cry together. But such sweet
+tears dry quickly; they dry almost as they flow.
+
+“Hallo!” cried the mercurial prince; “a sudden thought strikes me. You
+kept running him down a minute ago.”
+
+“Me?” said Lucy, with a look of amazement.
+
+“Why, you know you did. Now tell me what was that for.”
+
+“To give you the pleasure of defending him.”
+
+“Oh. Hum? Lucy, you are not quite so simple as the others think;
+sometimes I can't make you out myself.”
+
+“Is it possible? Well, you know what to do, dear.”
+
+“No, I don't.”
+
+“Why, read Miss Edgeworth over again.”
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+ARTHUR was bundled off to a private tutor, and the Dodds invited to
+Font Abbey no more, and Talboys dined there three days a week. So far,
+David Dodd was in a poor and miserable position compared with Talboys,
+who visited Lucy at pleasure, and could close the very street door
+against a rival, real or imaginary. But the street door is not the
+door of the heart, and David had one little advantage over his
+powerful antagonist; it was a slender one, and he owed it to a subtle
+source--female tact. His sister had long been aware of Talboys. The
+gossip of the village had enlightened her as to his visits and
+supposed pretensions. She had deliberately withheld this information
+from her brother, for she said to herself: “Men always make
+_such_ fools of themselves when they are jealous. No. David
+shan't even know he has got a rival; if he did he would be wretched
+and live on thorns, and then he would get into passions, and either
+make a fool of himself in her eyes, or do something rash and be shown
+to the door.”
+
+Thus far Eve, defending her brother. And with this piece of shrewdness
+she did a little more for him than she intended or was conscious of;
+for Talboys, either by feeble calculation or instinct of petty
+rivalry, constantly sneered at David before Lucy; David never
+mentioned Talboys' name to her. Now superior ignores, inferior
+detracts. Thus Talboys lowered himself and rather elevated David;
+moreover, he counteracted his own strongest weapon, the street door.
+After putting David out of sight, this judicious rival could not let
+him fade out of mind too; he found means to stimulate the lady's
+memory, and, as far as in him lay, made the absent present. May all my
+foes unweave their webs as cleverly! David knew nothing of this. He
+saw himself shut out from Paradise, and he was sad. He felt the loss
+of Arthur too. The orphan had been medicine to him. When a man is
+absorbed in a hopeless passion, to be employed every day in a good
+action has a magical soothing influence on the racked heart. Try this
+instead of suicide, despairing lover. It is a quack remedy; no M. D.
+prescribes it. Never you mind; in desperate ills a little cure is
+worth a deal of etiquette. Poor David had lost this innocent
+comfort--lost, too, the pleasure of going every day to the house she
+lived in. To be sure, when he used to go he seldom caught a glimpse of
+her, but he did now and then, and always enjoyed the hope.
+
+“I see how it is,” said he to Eve one day; “I am not welcome to the
+master of the house. Well, he is the master; I shall not force my way
+where I am not welcome”; but after these spirited words he hung his
+head.
+
+“Oh, nonsense,” said Eve. “It isn't him. There are mischief-makers
+behind.”
+
+“Ay? just you tell me who they are. I'll teach them to come across my
+hawse”; and David's eyes flashed.
+
+“Don't you be silly,” said Eve, and turned it off; “and don't be so
+downhearted. Why, you are not half a man.”
+
+“No more I am, Eve. What has come to me?”
+
+“What, indeed? just when everything goes swimmingly.”
+
+“Eve, how can you say so?”
+
+“Why, David, she leaves this in a few days for Mrs. Bazalgette's
+house. You tell me you have got a warm invitation there. Then make the
+play there, and, if you can't win her, say you don't deserve her,
+twiddle your thumb, and see a bolder lover carry her off. You foolish
+boy, she is only a woman; she is to be won. If you don't mind, some
+man will show you it was as easy as you think it is hard. Timid wooers
+make a mountain of a mole-hill.”
+
+“Why, it is you who have kept me backing and filling all this time,
+Eve.”
+
+“Of course. Prudence at first starting, but that isn't to say courage
+is never to come in. First creep within the fortification wall; but,
+once inside, if you don't storm the city that minute, woe be unto you.
+Come, cheer up! it is only for a few days, and then she goes where you
+will have her all to yourself; besides, you shall have one sweet
+delicious evening with her all alone before she goes. What! have you
+forgotten the pedigree? Wasn't I right to keep that back? and now
+march and take a good long walk.”
+
+Her tongue was a spur. It made David's drooping manhood rear and
+prance--a trumpet, and pealed victory to come. David kissed her warmly
+and strode away radiant. She looked sadly after him.
+
+She had never spoken so hopefully, so encouragingly. The reason will
+startle such of my readers as have not taken the trouble to comprehend
+her. It was that she had never so thoroughly desponded. Such was Eve.
+When matters went smoothly, she itched to torment and take the gloss
+off David; but now the affair looked really desperate, so it would
+have been unkind not to sustain him with all her soul. The cause of
+her despondency and consequent cheerfulness shall now be briefly
+related. Scarce an hour ago she had met Miss Fountain in the village
+and accompanied her home. For David's sake she had diverted the
+conversation by easy degrees to the subject of marriage, in order to
+sound Miss Fountain. “You would never give your hand without your
+heart, I am sure.”
+
+“Heaven forbid,” was the reply.
+
+“Not even to a coronet?”
+
+“Not even to a crown.”
+
+So far so good; but Miss Fountain went on to say that the heart was
+not the only thing to be consulted in a matter so important as
+marriage.
+
+“It is the only thing I would ever consult,” said Eve. As Lucy did not
+reply, Eve asked her next what she would do if she loved a poor man.
+Lucy replied coldly that it was not her present intention to love
+anybody but her relations; that she should never love any gentleman
+until she had been married to him, or, correcting herself, at all
+events, been some time engaged to him, and she should certainly never
+engage herself to anyone who would not rather improve her position in
+society than deteriorate it. Eve met these pretty phrases with a look
+of contempt, as much as to say, “While you speak I am putting all that
+into plain vulgar English.” The other did not seem to notice it. “To
+leave this interesting topic for a while,” said she, languidly, “let
+me consult you, Miss Dodd. I have not, as you may have noticed, great
+abilities, but I have received an excellent education. To say nothing
+of those _soi-disant_ accomplishments with which we adorn and
+sometimes weary society, my dear mother had me well grounded in
+languages and history. Without being eloquent, I have a certain
+fluency, in which, they tell me, even members of Parliament are
+deficient, smoothly as their speeches read made into English by the
+newspapers. Like yourself, Miss Dodd, and all our sex, I am not
+destitute of tact, and tact, you know, is 'the talent of talents.' I
+feel,” here she bit her lip, “myself fit for public life. I am
+ambitious.”
+
+“Oh, you are, are you?”
+
+“Very; and perhaps you will kindly tell me how I had best direct that
+ambition. The army? No; marching against daisies, and dancing and
+flirting in garrison towns, is frivolous and monotonous too. It isn't
+as if war was raging, trumpets ringing, and squadrons charging. Your
+brother's profession? Not for the world; I am a coward” [consistent].
+“Shall I lower my pretensions to the learned professions?”
+
+“I don't doubt your cleverness, but the learned professions?”
+
+“A woman has a tongue, you know, and that is their grand requisite. I
+interrupted you, Miss Dodd; pray forgive me.”
+
+“Well, then, let us go through them. To be a clergyman, what is
+required? To preach, and visit the sick, and feel for them, and
+understand what passes in the sorrowful hearts of the afflicted. Is
+that beyond our sex?”
+
+“That last is far more beyond a man at most times; and oh, the
+discourses one has to sit out in church!”
+
+“Portia made a very passable barrister, Miss Dodd.”
+
+“Oh, did she?”
+
+“Why, you know she did; and as for medicine, the great successes there
+are achieved by honeyed words, with a long word thrown in here and
+there. I've heard my own mamma say so. Now which shall I be?”
+
+“I suppose you are making fun of me,” said Eve; “but there is many a
+true word spoken in jest. You could be a better, parson, lawyer or
+doctor than nine out of ten, but they won't let us. They know we could
+beat them into fits at anything but brute strength and wickedness, so
+they have shut all those doors in us poor girls' faces.”
+
+“There; you see,” said Lucy archly, “but two lines are open to our
+honorable ambition, marriage and--water-colors. I think marriage the
+more honorable of the two; above all, it is the more fashionable. Can
+you blame me, then, if my ambition chooses the altar and not the
+easel?”
+
+“So that is what you have been bringing me to.”
+
+“You came of your own accord,” was the sly retort. “Let me offer you
+some luncheon.”
+
+“No, thank you; I could not eat a morsel just now.”
+
+Eve went away, her bright little face visibly cast down. It was not
+Miss Fountain's words only, and that new trait of hard satire, which
+she had so suddenly produced from her secret recesses. Her very tones
+were cynical and worldly to Eve's delicate sense of hearing.
+
+“Poor, poor David!” she thought, and when she got to the door of the
+room she sighed; and as she went home she said more than once to
+herself, “No more heart than a marble statue. Oh, how true our first
+thought is! I come back to mine--”
+
+Lucy (sola). _“Then_ what right had she to come here and
+try to turn me inside out?”
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+As the hour of Lucy's departure drew near, Mr. Fountain became anxious
+to see her betrothed to his friend, for fear of accidents. “You had
+better propose to her in form, or authorize me to do so, before she
+goes to that Mrs. Bazalgette.” This time it was Talboys that hung
+back. He objected that the time was not opportune. “I make no
+advance,” said he; “on the contrary, I seem of late to have lost
+ground with your niece.”
+
+“Oh, I've seen the sort of distance she has put on; all superficial,
+my dear sir. I read it in your favor. I know the sex; they can't elude
+me. Pique, sir--nothing on earth but female pique. She is bitter
+against us for shilly-shallying. These girls hate shilly-shally in a
+man. They are monopolists--severe monopolists; shilly-shally is one of
+their monopolies. Throw yourself at her feet, and press her with
+ardor; she will clear up directly.” The proposed attitude did not
+tempt the stiff Talboys. His pride took the alarm.
+
+“Thank you. It is a position in which I should not care to place
+myself unless I was quite sure of not being refused. No, I will not
+risk my proposal while she is under the influence of this Dodd; he is,
+somehow or other, the cause of her coldness to me.”
+
+“Good heavens! why, she has been hermetically sealed against him ever
+so long,” cried Fountain, almost angrily.
+
+“I saw his sister come out of your gate only the other day. Sisters
+are emissaries--dangerous ones, too. Who knows? her very coldness may
+be vexation that this man is excluded. Perhaps she suspects me as the
+cause.”
+
+“These are chimeras--wild chimeras. My niece cares nothing for such
+people as the Dodds.”
+
+“I beg your pardon; these low attachments are the strongest. It is a
+notorious fact.”
+
+“There is no attachment; there is nothing but civility, and the
+affability of a well-bred superior to an inferior. Attachment! why,
+there is not a girl in Europe less capable of marrying beneath her;
+and she is too cold to flirt---but with a view to matrimonial
+position. The worst of it is, that, while you fear an imaginary
+danger, you are running into a real one. If we are defeated it will
+not be by Dodd, but by that Mrs. Bazalgette. Why, now I think of it,
+whence does Lucy's coldness date? From that viper's visit to my house.
+Rely on it, if we are suffering from any rival influence, it is that
+woman's. She is a dangerous woman--she is a character I detest--she is
+a schemer.”
+
+“Am I to understand that Mrs. Bazalgette has views of her own for Miss
+Fountain?” inquired Talboys, his jealousy half inclined to follow the
+new lead.
+
+“In all probability.”
+
+“Oh, then it is mere surmise.”
+
+“No, it is not mere surmise; it is the reasonable conjecture of a man
+who knows her sex, and human nature, and life. Since I have my views,
+what more likely than that she has hers, if only to spite me? Add to
+this her strange visit to Font Abbey, and the somber influence she has
+left behind. And to this woman Lucy is going unprotected by any
+positive pledge to you. Here is the true cause for anxiety. And if you
+do not share it with me, it must be that you do not care about our
+alliance.”
+
+Mr. Talboys was hurt. “Not care for the alliance? It was dear to
+him--all the dearer for the difficulties. He was attached to Miss
+Fountain--warmly attached; would do anything for her except run the
+risk of an affront--a refusal.” Then followed a long discussion, the
+result of which was that he would not propose in form now, but
+_would_ give proofs of his attachment such as no lady could
+mistake; _inter alia,_ he would be sure to spend the last evening
+with her, and would ride the first stage with her next day, squeeze
+her hand at parting, and look unutterable. And as for the formal
+proposal, that was only postponed a week or two. Mr. Fountain was to
+pay his visit to Mrs. Bazalgette, and secretly prepare Miss Fountain;
+then Talboys would suddenly pounce--and pop. The grandeur and boldness
+of this strategy staggered, rather than displeased, Mr. Fountain.
+
+“What! under her own roof?” and he could not help rubbing his hands
+with glee and spite--“under her own eye, and _malgre_ her
+personal influence? Why, you are Nap. I.”
+
+“She will be quite out of the way of the Dodds there,” said Talboys,
+slyly.
+
+The senior groaned. (“'Mule I.' I should have said.”)
+
+
+And so they cut and dried it all.
+
+
+The last evening came, and with it, just before dinner, a line by
+special messenger from Mr. Talboys. “He could not come that evening.
+His brother had just arrived from India; they had not met for seven
+years. He could not set him to dine alone.”
+
+After dinner, in the middle of her uncle's nap, in came Lucy, and,
+unheard-of occurrence--deed of dreadful note--woke him. She was
+radiant, and held a note from Eve. “Good news, uncle; those good, kind
+Dodds! they are coming to tea.”
+
+“What?” and he wore a look of consternation. Recollecting, however,
+that Talboys was not to be there, he was indifferent again. But when
+he read the note he longed for his self-invited visitors. It ran thus:
+
+
+“DEAR MISS FOUNTAIN--David has found out the genealogy. He says there
+is no doubt you came from the Fountains of Melton, and he can prove
+it. He has proved it to me, and I am none the wiser. So, as David is
+obliged to go away to-morrow, I think the best way is for me to bring
+him over with the papers to-night. We will come at eight, unless you
+have company.”
+
+
+“He is a worthy young man,” shouted Mr. Fountain. “What o'clock is
+it?”
+
+“Very nearly eight. Oh, uncle, I am so glad. How pleased you will be!”
+
+The Dodds arrived soon after, and while tea was going on David spread
+his parchments on the table and submitted his proofs. He had eked out
+the other evidence by means of a series of leases. The three fields
+that went with Font Abbey had been let a great many times, and the
+landlord's name, Fountain in the latter leases, was Fontaine in those
+of remoter date. David even showed his host the exact date at which
+the change of orthography took place. “You are a shrewd young
+gentleman,” cried Mr. Fountain, gleefully.
+
+David then asked him what were the names of his three meadows. The
+names of them? He didn't know they had any.
+
+“No names? Why, there isn't a field in England that hasn't its own
+name, sir. I noticed that before I went to sea.” He then told Mr.
+Fountain the names of his three meadows, and curious names they were.
+Two of them were a good deal older than William the Conqueror. David
+wrote them on a slip of paper. He then produced a chart. “What is
+that, Mr. David?”
+
+“A map of the Melton estate, sir.”
+
+“Why, how on earth did you get that?”
+
+“An old shipmate of mine lives in that quarter--got him to make it for
+me. Overhaul it, sir; you will find the Melton estate has got all your
+three names within a furlong of the mansion house.”
+
+“From this you infer--”
+
+“That one of that house came here, and brought the E along with him
+that has got dropped somehow since, and, being so far from his
+birthplace, he thought he would have one or two of the old names about
+him. What will you bet me he hasn't shot more than one brace of
+partridges on those fields about Melton when he was a boy? So he
+christened your three fields afresh, and the new names took; likely he
+made a point of it with the people in the village. For all that, I
+have found one old fellow who stands out against them to this day. His
+name is Newel. He will persist in calling the field next to your house
+Snap Witcheloe. 'That is what my grandfather allus named it,' says he,
+'and that is the name it went by afore there was ever a Fountain in
+this ere parish.' I have looked in the Parish Register, and I see
+Newel's grandfather was born in 1690. Now, sir, all this is not
+mathematical proof; but, when you come to add it to your own direct
+proofs, that carry you within a cable's length of Port Fontaine, it is
+very convincing; and, not to pay out too much yarn, I'll bet--my
+head--to a China orange--”
+
+“David, don't be vulgar.”
+
+“Never mind, Mr. Dodd--be yourself.”
+
+“Well, then, to serve Eve out, I'll bet her head (and that is a better
+one than mine) to a China orange that Fontaine and Fountain are one,
+and that the first Fontaine came over here from Melton more than one
+hundred and thirty years ago, and less than one hundred and forty,
+when Newel's grandfather was a young man.”
+
+_“Probatum est,”_ shouted old Fountain, his eyes sparkling, his
+voice trembling with emotion. “Miss Fontaine,” said he, turning to
+Lucy, throwing a sort of pompous respect into his voice and manner,
+“you shall never marry any man that cannot give you as good a home as
+Melton, and quarter as good a coat of arms with you as your own, the
+Founteyns'.” David's heart took a chill as if an ice-arrow had gone
+through it. “So join me to thank our young friend here.”
+
+Mr. Fountain held out his hand. David gave his mechanically in return,
+scarcely knowing what he did. “You are a worthy and most intelligent
+young man, and you have made an old man as happy as a lord,” said the
+old gentleman, shaking him warmly.
+
+“And there is my hand, too,” said Lucy, putting out hers with a blush,
+“to show you I bear you no malice for being more unselfish and more
+sagacious than us all.” Instantly David's cold chill fled
+unreasonably. His cheeks burned with blushes, his eyes glowed, his
+heart thumped, and the delicate white, supple, warm, velvet hand that
+nestled in his shot electric tremors through his whole frame, when
+glided, with well-bred noiselessness, through the open door, Mr.
+Talboys, and stood looking yellow at that ardent group, and the
+massive yet graceful bare arm stretched across the table, and the
+white hand melting into the brown one.
+
+
+While he stood staring, David looked up, and caught that strange, that
+yellow look. Instantly a light broke in on him. “So I should look,”
+ felt David, “if I saw her hand in his.” He held Lucy's hand tight (she
+was just beginning to withdraw it), and glared from his seat on the
+newcomer like a lion ready to spring. Eve read and turned pale; she
+knew what was in the man's blood.
+
+
+Lucy now quietly withdrew her hand, and turned with smiling composure
+toward the newcomer, and Mr. Fountain thrust a minor anxiety between
+the passions of the rivals. He rose hastily, and went to Talboys, and,
+under cover of a warm welcome, took care to let him know Miss Dodd had
+been kind enough to invite herself and David. He then explained with
+uneasy animation what David had done for him.
+
+Talboys received all this with marked coldness; but it gave him time
+to recover his self-possession. He shook hands with Lucy, all but
+ignored David and Eve, and quietly assumed the part of principal
+personage. He then spoke to Lucy in a voice tuned for the occasion, to
+give the impression that confidential communication was not unusual
+between him and her. He apologized, scarce above a whisper, for not
+having come to dinner on her last day.
+
+“But after dinner,” said he, “my brother seemed fatigued. I
+treacherously recommended bed. You forgive me? The nabob instantly
+acted on my selfish hint. I mounted my horse, and _me voila.”_ In
+short, in two minutes he had retaliated tenfold on David. As for Lucy,
+she was a good deal amused at this sudden public assumption of a
+tenderness the gentleman had never exhibited in private, but a little
+mortified at his parade of mysterious familiarity; still, for a
+certain female reason, she allowed neither to appear, but wore an air
+of calm cordiality, and gave Talboys his full swing.
+
+David, seated sore against his will at another table, whither Mr.
+Fountain removed him and parchments on pretense of inspecting the
+leases, listened with hearing preternaturally keen--listened and
+writhed.
+
+His back was toward them. At last he heard Talboys propose in
+murmuring accents to accompany her the first stage of her journey. She
+did not answer directly, and that second was an age of anguish to poor
+David.
+
+When she did answer, as if to compensate for her hesitation, she said,
+with alacrity: “I shall be delighted; it will vary the journey most
+agreeably; I will ride the pony you were so kind as to give me.”
+
+The letters swam before David's eyes.
+
+Lucy came to the table, and, standing close behind David--so close
+that he felt her pure cool breath mingle with his hair, said to her
+uncle: “Mr. Talboys proposes to me to ride the first stage to-morrow;
+if I do, you must be of the party.”
+
+“Oh, must I? Well, I'll roll after you in my phaeton.”
+
+At this moment Eve could bear no longer the anguish on David's beloved
+face. It made her hysterical. She could hardly command herself. She
+rose hastily, and saying, “We must not keep you up the night before a
+journey,” took leave with David. As he shook hands with Lucy, his
+imploring eye turned full on hers, and sought to dive into her heart.
+But that soft sapphire eye was unfathomable. It was like those dark
+blue southern waters that seem to reveal all, yet hide all, so deep
+they are, though clear.
+
+
+Eve. “Thank Heaven, we are safe out of the house.”
+
+David. “I have got a rival.”
+
+Eve. “A pretty rival; she doesn't care a button for him.”
+
+David. “He rides the first stage with her.”
+
+Eve. “Well, what of that?”
+
+David. “I have got a rival.”
+
+
+David was none of your lie-a-beds. He rose at five in summer, six in
+winter, and studied hard till breakfast time; after that he was at
+every fool's service. This morning he did not appear at the breakfast
+table, and the servant had not seen him about. Eve ran upstairs full
+of anxiety. He was not in his room. The bed had not been slept in; the
+impress of his body outside showed, however, that he had flung himself
+down on it to snatch an uneasy slumber.
+
+Eve sent the girl into the village to see if she could find him or
+hear tidings of him. The girl ran out without her bonnet, partaking
+her mistress's anxiety, but did not return for nearly half an hour,
+that seemed an age to Eve. The girl had lost some time by going to
+Josh Grace for information. Grace's house stood in an orchard; so he
+was the unlikeliest man in the village to have seen David. She set
+against this trivial circumstance the weighty one that he was her
+sweetheart, and went to him first.
+
+“I hain't a-sin him, Sue; thee hadst better ask at the blacksmith's
+shop,” said Joshua Grace.
+
+Susan profited by this hint, and learned at the blacksmith's shop that
+David had gone by up the road about six in the morning, walking very
+fast. She brought the news to Eve.
+
+“Toward Royston?”
+
+“Yes, miss; but, la! he won't ever think to go all the way to
+Royston--without his breakfast.”
+
+“That will do, Susan. I think I know what he is gone for.”
+
+On the servant retiring, her assumed firmness left her.
+
+“On the road _she_ is to travel! and his rival with her. What mad
+act is he going to do? Heaven have mercy on him, and me, and her!”
+
+Eve knew what was in the man's blood. She sat trembling at home till
+she could bear it no longer. She put on her bonnet, and sallied out on
+the road to Royston, determined to stop the carriage, profess to have
+business at Royston, and take a seat beside Mr. Fountain. She felt
+that the very sight of her might prevent David from committing any
+great rashness or folly. On reaching the high road, she observed a
+fresh track of narrow wheels, that her rustic experience told her
+could only be those of a four-wheeled carriage, and, making inquiries,
+she found she was too late; carriage and riders had gone on before.
+
+Her heart sank. Too late by a few minutes; but somehow she could not
+turn back. She walked as fast as she could after the gay cavalcade, a
+prey to one of those female anxieties we have all laughed at as
+extravagant, proved unreasonable, and sometimes found prophetic.
+
+Meantime Lucy and Mr. Talboys cantered gayly along; Mr. Fountain
+rolled after in a phaeton; the traveling carriage came last. Lucy was
+in spirits; motion enlivens us all, but especially such of us as are
+women. She had also another cause for cheerfulness, that may perhaps
+transpire. Her two companions and unconscious dependents were governed
+by her mood. She made them larks to-day, as she had owls for some
+weeks past, last night excepted. She would fall back every now and
+then, and let Uncle Fountain pass her; then come dashing up to him,
+and either pull up short with a piece of solemn information like an
+_aid-de-camp_ from headquarters, or pass him shooting a shaft of
+raillery back into his chariot, whereat he would rise with mock fury
+and yell a repartee after her. Fountain found himself good
+company--Talboys himself. It was not the lady; oh dear no! it never
+is.
+
+At last all seemed so bright, and Mr. Talboys found himself so
+agreeable, that he suddenly recalled his high resolve not to pop in a
+county desecrated by Dodds. “I'll risk it now,” said he; and he rode
+back to Fountain and imparted his intention, and the senior nearly
+bounded off his seat. He sounded the charge in a stage whisper,
+because of the coachman, “At her at once!”
+
+“Secret conference? hum!” said Lucy, twisting her pony, and looking
+slyly back.
+
+Mr. Talboys rejoined her, and, after a while, began in strange,
+melodious accents, “You will leave a blank--”
+
+“Shall we canter?” said Lucy, gayly, and off went the pony. Talboys
+followed, and at the next hill resumed the sentimental cadence.
+
+“You will leave a sad blank here, Miss Fountain.”
+
+“No greater than I found,” replied the lady, innocently (?). “Oh,
+dear!” she cried, with sudden interest, “I am afraid I have dropped my
+comb.” She felt under her hat. [No, viper, you have not dropped your
+comb, but you are feeling for a large black pin with a head to it.
+There, you have found it, and taken it out of your hair, and got it
+hid in your hand. What is that for?]
+
+“Ten times greater,” moaned the honeyed Talboys; “for then we had not
+seen you. Ah! my dear Miss Fountain--The devil! wo-ho, Goliah!”
+
+For the pony spilled the treacle. He lashed out both heels with a
+squeak of amazement within an inch of Mr. Talboys' horse, which
+instantly began to rear, and plunge, and snort. While Talboys, an
+excellent horseman, was calming his steed, Lucy was condoling with
+hers. “Dear little naughty fellow!” said she, patting him [“I did it
+too hard”].
+
+“As I was saying, the blessing we have never enjoyed we do not miss;
+but, now that you have shone upon us, what can reconcile us to lose
+you, unless it be the hope that--Hallo!”
+
+Lucy. “Ah!”
+
+The pony was off with a bound like a buck. She had found out the right
+depth of pin this time. “Ah! where is my whip? I have dropped it; how
+careless!” Then they had to ride back for the whip, and by this means
+joined Mr. Fountain. Lucy rode by his side, and got the carriage
+between her and her beau. By this plan she not only evaded sentiment,
+but matured by a series of secret trials her skill with her weapon.
+Armed with this new science, she issued forth, and, whenever Mr.
+Talboys left off indifferent remarks and sounded her affections, she
+probed the pony, and he kicked or bolted as the case might require.
+
+“Confound that pony!” cried Talboys; “he used to be quiet enough.”
+
+“Oh, don't scold him, dear, playful little love. He carries me like a
+wave.”
+
+At this simple sentence Talboys' dormant jealousy contrived to revive.
+He turned sulky, and would not waste any more tenderness, and
+presently they rattled over the stones of Royston. Lucy commended her
+pony with peculiar earnestness to the ostler. “Pray groom him well,
+and feed him well, sir; he is a love.” The ostler swore he would not
+wrong her ladyship's nag for the world.
+
+Lucy then expressed her desire to go forward without delay: “Aunt will
+expect me.” She took her seat in the carriage, bade a kind farewell to
+both the gentlemen now that no tender answer was possible, and was
+whirled away.
+
+Thus the coy virgin eluded the pair.
+
+Now her manner in taking leave of Talboys was so kind, so smiling (in
+the sweet consciousness of having baffled him), that Fountain felt
+sure it all had gone smoothly. They were engaged.
+
+“Well?” he cried, with great animation.
+
+“No,” was the despondent reply.
+
+“Refused?” screeched the other; “impossible!”
+
+“No, thank you,” was the haughty reply.
+
+“What then? Did you change your mind? Didn't you propose after all?”
+
+“I _couldn't._ That d--d pony wouldn't keep still.”
+
+Fountain groaned.
+
+
+Lucy, left to herself, gave a little sigh of relief. She had been
+playing a part for the last twenty-four hours. Her cordiality with Mr.
+Talboys naturally misled Eve and David, and perhaps a male reader or
+two. Shall I give the clue? It may be useful to you, young gentlemen.
+Well, then, her sex are compounders. Accustomed from childhood never
+to have anything entirely their own way, they are content to give and
+take; and, these terms once accepted, it is a point of honor and tact
+with them not to let a creature see the irksome part of the bargain is
+not as delicious as the other. One coat of their own varnish goes over
+the smooth and the rough, the bitter and the sweet.
+
+Now Lucy, besides being singularly polite and kind, was _femme
+jusqu' au bout des ongles._ If her instincts had been reasons, and
+her vague thoughts could have been represented by anything so definite
+as words, the result might have appeared thus:
+
+“A few hours, and you can bore me no more, Mr. Talboys. Now what must
+I do for you in return? _Seem not to be bored to-day? Mais c'est la
+moindre des choses. Seem to be pleased with your society?_ Why not?
+it is only for an hour or two, and my seeming to like it will not
+prolong it. My heart swells with happiness at the thought of escaping
+from you, good bore; you shall share my happiness, good bore. It is so
+kind of you not to bore me to all eternity.”
+
+This was why the last night she sat like Patience on an ottoman
+smiling on Talboys and racking David's heart; and this was why she
+made the ride so pleasant to those she was at heart glad to leave,
+till they tried sentiment on, and then she was an eel directly, pony
+and all.
+
+Lucy (sola). “That is over. Poor Mr. Talboys! Does he fancy he
+has an attachment? No; I please and I am courted wherever I go, but I
+have never been loved. If a man loved me I should see it in his face,
+I should feel it without a word spoken. Once or twice I fancied I saw
+it in one man's eyes: they seemed like a lion's that turned to a
+dove's as they looked at me.” Lucy closed her own eyes and recalled
+her impression: “It must have been fancy. Ought I to wish to inspire
+such a passion as others have inspired? No, for I could never return
+it. The very language of passion in romances seems so extravagant to
+me, yet so beautiful. It is hard I should not be loved, merely because
+I cannot love. Many such natures have been adored. I could not bear to
+die and not be loved as deeply as ever woman was loved. I must be
+loved, adored and worshiped: it would be so sweet--sweet!” She slowly
+closed her eyes, and the long lovely lashes drooped, and a celestial
+smile parted her lips as she fell into a vague, delicious reverie.
+Suddenly the carriage stopped at the foot of a hill. She opened her
+eyes, and there stood David Dodd at the carriage window.
+
+Lucy put her head out. “Why, it is Mr. Dodd! Oh, Mr. Dodd, is there
+anything the matter?”
+
+“No.”
+
+“You look so pale.”
+
+“Do I?” and he flushed faintly.
+
+“Which way are you going?”
+
+“I am going home again now,” said David, sorrowfully.
+
+“You came all this way to bid me good-by,” and she arched her eyebrows
+and laughed--a little uneasily.
+
+“It didn't seem a step. It will seem longer going back.”
+
+“No, no, you shall ride back. My pony is at the White Horse; will you
+not ride my pony back for me? then I shall know he will be kindly
+used; a stranger would whip him.”
+
+“I should think my arm would wither if I ill-used him.”
+
+“You are very good. I suppose it is because you are so brave.”
+
+“Me brave? I don't feel so. Am I to tell him to drive on?” and he
+looked at her with haggard and imploring eyes.
+
+Her eyes fell before his.
+
+“Good-by, then,” said she.
+
+He cried with a choking voice to the postilion, “Go ahead.”
+
+The carriage went on and left him standing in the road, his head upon
+his breast.
+
+
+At the steepest part of the hill a trace broke, and the driver drew
+the carriage across the hill and shouted to David. He came running up,
+and put a large stone behind each wheel.
+
+Lucy was alarmed. “Mr. Dodd! let me out.”
+
+He handed her out. The postboy was at a _nonplus;_ but David
+whipped a piece of cord and a knife out of his pocket, and began, with
+great rapidity and dexterity, to splice the trace.
+
+“Ah! now you are pleased, Mr. Dodd; our misfortune will elicit your
+skill in emergencies.”
+
+“Oh, no, it isn't that; it is--I never hoped to see you again so
+soon.”
+
+Lucy colored, and her eyes sought the ground; the splice was soon
+made.
+
+“There!” said David; “I could have spent an hour over it; but you
+would have been vexed, and the bitter moment must have come at last.”
+
+
+“God bless you, Miss Fountain--oh! mayn't I say Miss Lucy to-day?” he
+cried, imploringly.
+
+“Of course you may,” said Lucy, the tears rising in her eyes at his
+sad face and beseeching look. “Oh, Mr. Dodd, parting with those we
+esteem is always sad enough; I got away from the door without
+crying--for once; don't _you_ make me cry.”
+
+“Make you cry?” cried David, as it he had been suspected of
+sacrilege; “God forbid!” He muttered in a choking voice, “You give the
+word of command, for I can't.”
+
+“You can go on,” said her soft, clear voice; but first she gave David
+her hand with a gentle look--“Good-by.”
+
+But David could not speak to her. He held her hand tight in both his
+powerful hands. They seemed iron to her--shaking, trembling, grasping
+iron. The carriage went slowly on, and drew her hand away. She shrank
+into a corner of the carriage; he frightened her.
+
+He followed the carriage to the brow of the hill, then sat down upon a
+heap of stones, and looked despairingly after it.
+
+
+Meantime Lucy put her head in her hands and blushed, though she was
+all alone. “How dare he forget the distance between us? Poor fellow!
+have not I at times forgotten it? I am worse than he. I lost my
+self-possession; I should have checked his folly; he knows nothing of
+_les convenances._ He has hurt my hand, he is so rough; I feel
+his clutch now; there, I thought so, it is all red--poor fellow!
+Nonsense! he is a sailor; he knows nothing of the world and its
+customs. Parting with a pleasant acquaintance forever made him a
+little sad.
+
+“He is all nature; he is like nobody else; he shows every feeling
+instead of concealing it, that is all. He has gone home, I hope.” She
+glanced hastily back. He was sitting on the stones, his arms drooping,
+his head bowed, a picture of despondency. She put her face in her
+hands again and pondered, blushing higher and higher. Then the pale
+face that had always been ruddy before, the simple grief and
+agitation, the manly eye that did not know how to weep, but was so
+clouded and troubled, and wildly sad; the shaking hands, that had
+clutched hers like a drowning man's (she felt them still), the
+quivering features, choked voice, and trembling lip, all these
+recoiled with double force upon her mind: they touched her far more
+than sobs and tears would have done, her sex's ready signs of shallow
+grief.
+
+Two tears stole down her cheeks.
+
+“If he would but go home and forget me!” She glanced hastily back.
+David was climbing up a tree, active as a cat. “He is like nobody
+else--he! he! Stay! is that to see the last of me--the very last? Poor
+soul! Madman, how will this end? What can come of it but misery to
+him, remorse to me?
+
+“This is love.” She half closed her eyes and smiled, repeating, “This
+is love.
+
+“Oh how I despise all the others and their feeble flatteries!”
+
+“Heaven forgive me my mad, my wicked wish!
+
+“I _am_ beloved.
+
+“I am adored.
+
+“I am miserable!”
+
+
+As soon as the carriage was out of sight, David came down and hurried
+from the place. He found the pony at the inn. The ostler had not even
+removed his saddle.
+
+           “Methought that ostler did protest too much.”
+
+David kissed the saddle and the pommels, and the bridle her hand had
+held, and led the pony out. After walking a mile or two he mounted the
+pony, to sit in her seat, not for ease. Walking thirty miles was
+nothing to this athlete; sticking on and holding on with his chin on
+his knee was rather fatiguing.
+
+Meantime, Eve walked on till she was four miles from home. No David.
+She sat down and cried a little space, then on again. She had just
+reached an angle in the road, when--clatter, clatter--David came
+cantering around with his knee in his mouth. Eve gave a joyful scream,
+and up went both her hands with sudden delight. At the double shock to
+his senses the pony thought his end was come, and perhaps the world's.
+He shied slap into the hedge and stuck there--alone; for, his rider
+swaying violently the reverse way, the girths burst, the saddle peeled
+off the pony's back, and David sat griping the pommel of the saddle in
+the middle of the road at Eve's feet, looking up in her face with an
+uneasy grin, while dust rose around him in a little column. Eve
+screeched, and screeched, and screeched; then fell to, with a face as
+red as a turkey-cock's, and beat David furiously, and hurt--her little
+hands.
+
+David laughed. This incident did him good--shook him up a bit. The
+pony groveled out of the ditch and cantered home, squeaking at
+intervals and throwing his heels.
+
+David got up, hoisted the side saddle on to his square shoulders, and,
+keeping it there by holding the girths, walked with Eve toward Font
+Abbey. She was now a little ashamed of her apprehensions; and,
+besides, when she leathered David, she was, in her own mind, serving
+him out for both frights. At all events, she did not scold him, but
+kindly inquired his adventures, and he told her what he had done and
+said, and what Miss Fountain had said.
+
+The account disappointed Eve. “All this is just a pack of nothing,”
+ said she. “It is two lovers parting, or it is two common friendly
+acquaintances; all depends on how it was done, and that you don't tell
+me.” Then she put several subtle questions as to the looks, and tones
+and manner of the young lady. David could not answer them. On this she
+informed him he was a fool.
+
+“So I begin to think,” said he.
+
+“There! be quiet,” said she, “and let me think it over.”
+
+“Ay! ay!” said he.
+
+While he was being quiet and letting her think a carriage came rapidly
+up behind them, with a horseman riding beside it; and, as the
+pedestrians drew aside, an ironical voice fell upon them, and the
+carriage and horseman stopped, and floured, them with dust.
+
+
+Messrs. Talboys and Fountain took a stroll to look at the new jail
+that was building in Royston, and, as they returned, Talboys, whose
+wounded pride had now fermented, told Mr. Fountain plainly that he saw
+nothing for it but to withdraw his pretensions to Miss Fountain.
+
+“My own feelings are not sufficiently engaged for me to play the
+up-hill game of overcoming her disinclination.”
+
+“Disinclination? The mere shyness of a modest girl. If she was to be
+'won unsought,' she would not be worthy to be Mrs. Talboys.”
+
+“Her worth is indisputable,” said Mr. Talboys, “but that is no reason
+why I should force upon her my humble claims.”
+
+The moment his friend's pride began to ape humility, Fountain saw the
+wound it had received was incurable. He sighed and was silent.
+Opposition would only have set fire to opposition.
+
+They went home together in silence. On the road Talboys caught sight
+of a tall gentleman carrying a side-saddle, and a little lady walking
+beside him. He recognized his _bete noir_ with a grim smile. Here
+at least was one he had defeated and banished from the fair. What on
+earth was the man doing? Oh, he had been giving his sister a ride on a
+donkey, and they had met with an accident. Mr. Talboys was in a humor
+for revenge, so he pulled up, and in a somewhat bantering voice
+inquired where was the steed.
+
+“Oh, he is in port by now,” said David.
+
+“Do you usually ease the animal of that part of his burden, sir?”
+
+“No,” said David, sullenly.
+
+Eve, who hated Mr. Talboys, and saw through his sneers, bit her lip
+and colored, but kept silence.
+
+But Mr. Talboys, unwarned by her flashing eye, proceeded with his
+ironical interrogatory, and then it was that Eve, reflecting that both
+these gentlemen had done their worst against David, and that
+henceforth the battlefield could never again be Font Abbey, decided
+for revenge. She stepped forward like an airy sylph, between David and
+his persecutor, and said, with a charming smile, “I will explain,
+sir.”
+
+Mr. Talboys bowed and smiled.
+
+“The reason my brother carries this side-saddle is that it belongs to
+a charming young lady--you have some little acquaintance with
+her--Miss Fountain.”
+
+“Miss Fountain!” cried Talboys, in a tone from which all the irony was
+driven out by Eve's coup.
+
+“She begged David to ride her pony home; she would not trust him to
+anybody else.”
+
+“Oh!” said Talboys, stupefied.
+
+“Well, sir, owing to--to--an accident, the saddle came off, and the
+pony ran home; so then David had only her saddle to take care of for
+her.”
+
+“Why, we escorted Miss Fountain to Royston, and we never saw Mr.
+Dodd.”
+
+“Ay, but you did not go beyond Royston,” said Eve, with a cunning air.
+
+“Beyond Royston? where? and what was he doing there? Did he go all
+that way to take her orders about her pony?” said Talboys, bitterly.
+
+“Oh, as to that you must excuse me, sir,” cried Eve, with a scornful
+laugh; “that is being too inquisitive. Good-morning”; and she carried
+David off in triumph.
+
+The next moment Mr. Talboys spurred on, followed by the phaeton.
+Talboys' face was yellow.
+
+_“La langue d'une femme est son epee.”_
+
+“Sheer off and repair damages, you lubber,” said David, dryly, “and
+don't come under our guns again, or we shall blow you out of the
+water. Hum! Eve, wasn't your tongue a little too long for your teeth
+just now?”
+
+“Not an inch.”
+
+“She might be vexed; it is not for me to boast of her kindness.”
+
+“Temper won't let a body see everything. I'll tell you what I have
+done, too--I've declared war.”
+
+“Have you? Then run the Jack up to the mizzen-top, and let us fight it
+out.”
+
+“That is the way to look at it, David. Now don't you speak to me till
+we get home; let me think.”
+
+At the gate of Font Abbey, they parted, and Eve went home. David came
+to the stable yard and hailed, “Stable ahoy!” Out ran a little
+bandy-legged groom. “The craft has gone adrift,” cried David, “but
+I've got the gear safe. Stow it away”; and as he spoke he chucked the
+saddle a distance of some six yards on to the bandy-legged groom, who
+instantly staggered back and sank on a little dunghill, and there sat,
+saddled, with two eyes like saucers, looking stupefied surprise
+between the pommels.
+
+“It is you for capsizing in a calm,” remarked David, with some
+surprise, and went his way.
+
+
+“Well, Eve, have you thought?”
+
+“Yes, David, I was a little hasty; that puppy would provoke a saint.
+After all there is no harm done; they can't hurt us much now. It is
+not here the game will be played out. Now tell me, when does your ship
+sail?”
+
+“It wants just five weeks to a day.”
+
+“Does she take up her passengers at ---- as usual?”
+
+“Yes, Eve, yes.”
+
+“And Mrs. Bazalgette lives within a mile or two of ----. You have a
+good excuse for accepting her invitation. Stay your last week in her
+house. There will be no Talboys to come between you. Do all a man can
+do to win her in that week.”
+
+“I will.”
+
+“And if she says 'No,' be man enough to tear her out of your heart.”
+
+“I can't tear her out of my heart, but I will win her. I must win her.
+I can't live without her. A month to wait!”
+
+
+Mr. Talboys. “Well, sir, what do you say now?”
+
+Mr. Fountain (hypocritically). “I say that your sagacity was
+superior to mine; forgive me if I have brought you into a mortifying
+collision. To be defeated by a merchant sailor!” He paused to see the
+effect of his poisoned shaft.
+
+Talboys. “But I am not defeated. I will not be defeated. It is
+no longer a personal question. For your sake, for her sake, I must
+save her from a degrading connection. I will accompany you to Mrs.
+Bazalgette's. When shall we go?”
+
+“Well, not immediately; it would look so odd. The old one would smell
+a rat directly. Suppose we say in a month's time.”
+
+“Very well; I shall have a clear stage.”
+
+“Yes, and I shall then use all my influence with her. Hitherto I have
+used none.”
+
+“Thank you. Mr. Dodd cannot penetrate there, I conclude.”
+
+“Of course not.”
+
+“Then she will be Mrs. Talboys.”
+
+“Of course she will.”
+
+
+Lucy sighed a little over David's ardent, despairing passion, and his
+pale and drawn face. Her woman's instinct enabled her to comprehend in
+part a passion she was at this period of her life incapable of
+feeling, and she pitied him. He was the first of her admirers she had
+ever pitied. She sighed a little, then fretted a little, then
+reproached herself vaguely. “I must have been guilty of some
+imprudence--given some encouragement. Have I failed in womanly
+reserve, or is it all his fault? He is a sailor. Sailors are like
+nobody else. He is so simple-minded. He sees, no doubt, that he is my
+superior in all sterling qualities, and that makes him forget the
+social distance between him and me. And yet why suspect him of
+audacity? Poor fellow, he had not the courage to _say_ anything
+to me, after all. No; he will go to sea, and forget his folly before
+he comes back.” Then she had a gust of egotism. It was nice to be
+loved ardently and by a hero, even though that hero was not a
+gentleman of distinction, scarcely a gentleman at all. The next moment
+she blushed at her own vanity. Next she was seized with a sense of the
+great indelicacy and unpardonable impropriety of letting her mind run
+at all upon a person of the other sex; and shaking her lovely
+shoulders, as much as to say, “Away idle thoughts,” she nestled and
+fitted with marvelous suppleness into a corner of the carriage, and
+sank into a sweet sleep, with a red cheek, two wet eyelashes, and a
+half-smile of the most heavenly character imaginable. And so she
+glided along till, at five in the afternoon, the carriage turned in at
+Mr. Bazalgette's gates. Lucy lifted her eyes, and there was quite a
+little group standing on the steps to receive her, and waving welcome
+to the universal pet. There was Mr. Bazalgette, Mrs. Bazalgette, and
+two servants, and a little in the rear a tall stranger of
+gentleman-like appearance.
+
+The two ladies embraced one another so rapidly yet so smoothly, and so
+dovetailed and blended, that they might be said to flow together, and
+make one in all but color, like the Saone and the Rhone. After half a
+dozen kisses given and returned with a spirit and rapidity from which,
+if we male spectators of these ardent encounters were wise, we might
+slyly learn a lesson, Aunt Bazalgette suddenly darted her mouth at
+Lucy's ear, and whispered a few words with an animation that struck
+everybody present. Lucy smiled in reply. After “the meeting of the
+muslins,” Mr. Bazalgette shook hands warmly, and at last Lucy was
+introduced to his friend Mr. Hardie, who expressed in courteous terms
+his hopes that her journey had been a pleasant one.
+
+
+The animated words Mrs. Bazalgette whispered into Lucy's ear at that
+moment of burning affection were as follows:
+
+“You have had it washed!”
+
+
+Lucy (unpacking her things in her bedroom). “Who is Mr. Hardie,
+dear?”
+
+“What! don't you know? Mr. Hardie is the great banker.”
+
+“Only a banker? I should have taken him for something far more
+distinguished. His manner is good. There is a suavity without
+feebleness or smallness.”
+
+Mrs. Bazalgette's eye flashed, but she answered with apparent
+nonchalance: “I am glad you like him; you will take him off my hands
+now and then. He must not be neglected; Bazalgette would murder us.
+_Apropos,_ remind me to ask him to tell you Mr. Hardie's story,
+and how he comes to be looked up to like a prince in this part of the
+world, though he is only a banker, with only ten thousand a year.”
+
+“You make me quite curious, aunt. Cannot you tell me?”
+
+“Me? Oh, dear, no! Paper currency, foreign loans, government
+securities, gold mines, ten per cents, Mr. Peel, and why _one_
+breaks and _another_ doesn't! all that is quite beyond me.
+Bazalgette is your man. I had no idea your mousseline-delame would
+have washed so well. Why, it looks just out of the shop; it--” Come
+away, reader, for Heaven's sake!
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+THE man whom Mr. Bazalgette introduced so smoothly and off-hand to
+Lucy Fountain exercised a terrible influence over her life, as you
+will see by and by. This alone would make it proper to lay his
+antecedents before the reader. But he has independent claims to this
+notice, for he is a principal figure in my work. The history of this
+remarkable man's fortune is a study. The progress of his mind is
+another, and its past as well as its future are the very corner-stone
+of that capacious story which I am now building brick by brick, after
+my fashion where the theme is large. I invite my reader, therefore, to
+resist the natural repugnance which delicate minds feel to the ring of
+the precious metals, and for the sake of the coming story to accompany
+me into AN OLD BANK.
+
+The Hardies were goldsmiths in the seventeenth century; and when that
+business split, and the deposit and bill-of-exchange business went one
+way, and the plate and jewels another, they became bankers from father
+to son. A peculiarity attended them; they never broke, nor even
+cracked. Jew James Hardie conducted for many years a smooth,
+unostentatious and lucrative business. It professed to be a bank of
+deposit only, and not of discount. This was not strictly true. There
+never was a bank in creation that did not discount under the rose,
+when the paper represented commercial effects, and the indorsers were
+customers and favorites. But Mr. Hardie's main business was in
+deposits bearing no interest. It was of that nature known as “the
+legitimate banking business,” a title not, I think, invented by the
+customers, since it is a system destitute of that reciprocity which is
+the soul of all just and legitimate commercial relations.
+
+You shall lend me your money gratis, and I will lend it out at
+interest: such is legitimate banking--in the opinion of bankers.
+
+This system, whose decay we have seen, and whose death my young
+readers are like to see, flourished under old Hardie, green--as the
+public in whose pockets its roots were buried.
+
+Country gentlemen and noblemen, and tradesmen well-to-do, left
+floating balances varying from seven, five, three thousand pounds,
+down to a hundred or two, in his hands. His art consisted in keeping
+his countenance, receiving them with the air of a person conferring a
+favor, and investing the bulk of them in government securities, which
+in that day returned four and five per cent. As he did not pay one
+shilling for the use of the capital, he pocketed the whole interest. A
+small part of the aggregate balance was not invested, but remained in
+the bank coffers as a reserve to meet any accidental drain. It was a
+point of honor with the squires and rectors, who shared their incomes
+with him in a grateful spirit, never to draw their balances down too
+low; and more than once in this banker's career a gentleman has
+actually borrowed money for a month or two of the bank at four per
+cent, rather than exhaust his deposit, or, in other words, paid his
+debtor interest for the temporary use of his own everlasting property.
+Such capitalists are not to be found in our day; they may reappear at
+the Millennium.
+
+The banker had three clerks; one a youth and very subordinate, the
+other two steady old men, at good salaries, who knew the affairs of
+the bank, but did not chatter them out of doors, because they were
+allowed to talk about them to their employer; and this was a vent. The
+tongue must have a regular vent or random explosions--choose! Besides
+the above compliment paid to years of probity and experience, the
+ancient _regime_ bound these men to the interest and person of
+their chief by other simple customs now no more.
+
+At each of the four great festivals of the Church they dined with Mr.
+and Mrs. Hardie, and were feasted and cordially addressed as equals,
+though they could not be got to reply in quite the same tone. They
+were never scorned, but a peculiar warmth of esteem and friendship was
+shown them on these occasions. One reason was, the old-fangled banker
+himself aspired to no higher character than that of a man of business,
+and were not these clerks men of business good and true? his staff,
+not his menials?
+
+And since I sneered just now at a vital simplicity, let me hasten to
+own that here, at least, it was wise, as well as just and worthy.
+Where men are forever handling heaps of money, it is prudent to
+fortify them doubly against temptation--with self-respect, and a
+sufficient salary.
+
+It is one thing not to be led into temptation (accident on which half
+the virtue in the world depends), another to live in it and overcome
+it; and in a bank it is not the conscience only that is tempted, but
+the senses. Piles of glittering gold, amiable as Hesperian fruit;
+heaps of silver paper, that seem to whisper as they rustle, “Think how
+great we are, yet see how little; we are fifteen thousand pounds, yet
+we can go into your pocket; whip us up, and westward ho! If you have
+not the courage for that, at all events wet your finger; a dozen of us
+will stick to it. That pen in your hand has but to scratch that book
+there, and who will know? Besides, you can always put us back, you
+know.”
+
+Hundreds and thousands of men take a share in the country's public
+morality, legislate, build churches, and live and die respectable, who
+would be jail-birds sooner or later if their sole income was the pay
+of a banker's clerk, and their eyes, and hands, and souls rubbed daily
+against hundred-pound notes as his do. I tell you it is a temptation
+of forty-devil power.
+
+Not without reason, then, did this ancient banker bestow some respect
+and friendship on those who, tempted daily, brought their hands pure,
+Christmas after Christmas, to their master's table. Not without reason
+did Mrs. Hardie pet them like princes at the great festivals, and
+always send them home in the carriage as persons their entertainers
+delighted to honor. Herein I suspect she looked also, woman-like, to
+their security; for they were always expected to be solemnly, not
+improperly, intoxicated by the end of supper; no wise fuddled, but
+muddled; for the graceful superstition of the day suspected severe
+sobriety at solemnities as churlish and ungracious.
+
+The bank itself was small and grave, and a trifle dingy, and bustle
+there was none in it; but if the stream of business looked sluggish
+and narrow, it was deep and quietly incessant, and tended all one
+way--to enrich the proprietor without a farthing risked.
+
+Old Hardie had sat there forty years with other people's money
+overflowing into his lap as it rolled deep and steady through that
+little counting-house, when there occurred, or rather recurred, a
+certain phenomenon, which comes, with some little change of features,
+in a certain cycle of commercial changes as regularly as the month of
+March in the year, or the neap-tides, or the harvest moon, but,
+strange to say, at each visit takes the country by surprise.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+THE nation had passed through the years of exhaustion and depression
+that follow a long war; its health had returned, and its elastic vigor
+was already reviving, when two remarkable harvests in succession, and
+an increased trade with the American continent, raised it to
+prosperity. One sign of vigor, the roll of capital, was wanting;
+speculation was fast asleep. The government of the day seems to have
+observed this with regret. A writer of authority on the subject says
+that, to stir stagnant enterprise, they directed “the Bank of England
+to issue about four millions in advances to the state and in enlarged
+discounts.” I give you the man's words; they doubtless carry a
+signification to you, though they are jargon in a fog to me. Some
+months later the government took a step upon very different motives,
+which incidentally had a powerful effect in loosening capital and
+setting it in agitation. They reduced to four per cent the Navy Five
+per Cents, a favorite national investment, which represented a capital
+of two hundred millions. Now, when men have got used to five per cent
+from a certain quarter, they cannot be content with four, particularly
+the small holders; so this reduction of the Navy Five per Cents
+unsettled several thousand capitalists, and disposed them to search
+for an investment. A flattering one offered itself in the nick of
+time. Considerable attention had been drawn of late to the mineral
+wealth of South America, and one or two mining companies existed, but
+languished in the hands of professed speculators. The public now broke
+like a sudden flood into these hitherto sluggish channels of
+enterprise, and up went the shares to a high premium.
+
+Almost contemporaneously, numerous joint-stock companies were formed,
+and directed toward schemes of internal industry. The small
+capitalists that had sold out of the Navy Five per Cents threw
+themselves into them all, and being bona fide speculators, drew
+hundreds in their train. Adventure, however, was at first restrained
+in some degree by the state of the currency. It was low, and rested on
+a singularly sound basis. Mr. Peel's Currency Bill had been some
+months in operation; by its principal provision the Bank of England
+was compelled on and after a certain date to pay gold for its notes on
+demand. The bank, anticipating a consequent rush for gold, had
+collected vast quantities of sovereigns, the new coin; but the rush
+never came, for a mighty simple reason. Gold is convenient in small
+sums, but a burden and a nuisance in large ones. It betrays its
+presence and invites robbers; it is a bore to lug it about, and a
+fearful waste of golden time to count it. Men run upon gold only when
+they have reason to distrust paper. But Mr. Peel's Bill, instead of
+damaging Bank of England paper, solidified it, and gave the nation a
+just and novel confidence in it. Thus, then, the large hoard of gold,
+fourteen to twenty millions, that the caution of the bank directors
+had accumulated in their coffers, remained uncalled for. But so large
+an abstraction from the specie of the realm contracted the provincial
+circulation. The small business of the country moved in fetters, so
+low was the metal currency. The country bankers petitioned government
+for relief, and government, listening to representations that were no
+doubt supported by facts, and backed by other interests, tampered with
+the principle of Mr. Peel's Bill, and allowed the country bankers to
+issue 1 pound and 2 pound notes for eleven years to come.
+
+To this step there were but six dissentients in the House of Commons,
+so little was its importance seen or its consequences foreseen. This
+piece of inconsistent legislation removed one restraint, irksome but
+salutary, from commercial enterprise at a moment when capital was
+showing some signs of a feverish agitation. Its immediate consequences
+were very encouraging to the legislator; the country bankers sowed the
+land broadcast with their small paper, and this, for the cause above
+adverted to, took _pro tem._ the place of gold, and was seldom
+cashed at all except where silver was wanted. On this enlargement of
+the currency the arms of the nation seemed freed, enterprise shot
+ahead unshackled, and unwonted energy and activity thrilled in the
+veins of the kingdom. The rise in the prices of all commodities which
+followed, inevitable consequence of every increase in the currency,
+whether real or fictitious, was in itself adverse to the working
+classes; but the vast and numerous enterprises that were undertaken,
+some in the country itself, some in foreign parts, to which English
+workmen were conveyed, raised the price of labor higher still in
+proportion; so no class was out of the sun.
+
+Men's faces shone with excitement and hope. The dormant hordes of
+misers crept out of their napkins and sepulchral strong-boxes into the
+warm air of the golden time. The mason's chisel chirped all over the
+kingdom, and the shipbuilders' * hammers rang all round the coast; corn
+was plenty, money became a drug, labor wealth, and poverty and
+discontent vanished from the face of the land. Adventure seemed all
+wings, and no lumbering carcass to clog it. New joint-stock companies
+were started in crowds as larks rise and darken the air in winter;**
+hundreds came to nothing, but hundreds stood, and of these nearly all
+reached a premium, small in some cases, high in most, fabulous in
+some; and the ease with which the first calls for cash on the
+multitudinous shares were met argued the vast resources that had
+hitherto slumbered in the nation for want of promising investments
+suited to the variety of human likings and judgments. The mind can
+hardly conceive any species of earthly enterprise that was not fitted
+with a company, oftener with a dozen, and with fifty or sixty where
+the proposed road to metal was direct. Of these the mines of Mexico
+still kept the front rank, but not to the exclusion of European,
+Australian and African ore.
+
+     * Two hundred new vessels are said to have been laid on the
+     stocks in one year.
+
+     ** In two years 624 new companies were projected.
+
+That masterpiece of fiction, “the Prospectus,” * diffused its gorgeous
+light far and near, lit up the dark mine, and showed the minerals
+shining and the jewels peeping; shone broad over the smiling fields,
+soon to be plowed, reaped, and mowed by machinery; and even illumined
+the depths of the sea, whence the buried treasures of ancient and
+modern times were about to be recovered by the Diving-bell Company.
+
+     * There is a little unlicked anonymuncule going scribbling
+     about, whose creed seems to be that a little camel, to be
+     known, must be examined and compared with other quadrupeds,
+     but that the great arts can be judged out of the depths of a
+     penny-a-liner's inner consciousness, and to be rated and
+     ranked need not be compared _inter se._ Applying the
+     microscope to the method of the novelist, but diverting the
+     glass from the learned judge's method in Biography, the
+     learned historian's method in History, and the daily
+     chronicler's method in dressing _res gestoe_ for a journal,
+     this little addle-pate has jumped to a comparative estimate,
+     not based on comparison, so that all his blindfold
+     vituperation of a noble art is chimera, not reasoning; it
+     is, in fact, a retrograde step in science and logic. This is
+     to evade the Baconian method, humble and wise, and crawl
+     back to the lazy and self-confident system of the ancients,
+     that kept the world dark so many centuries. It is [Greek]
+     versus Induction. “[Greek],” ladies, is “divination by means
+     of an ass's skull.” A pettifogger's skull, however, will
+     serve the turn, provided that pettifogger has been bitten
+     with an insane itch for scribbling about things so
+     infinitely above his capacity as the fine arts. Avoid this
+     sordid dreamer, and follow, in letters as in science, the
+     Baconian method! Then you will find that all uninspired
+     narratives are more or less inexact, and that one, and one
+     only, Fiction proper, has the honesty to antidote its errors
+     by professing inexactitude. You will find that the
+     Historian, Biographer, Novelist, and Chronicler are all
+     obliged _to paint upon their data_ with colors the
+     imagination alone can supply, and all do it--alive or dead.
+     You will find that Fiction, as distinguished from neat
+     mendacity, has not one form upon earth, but a dozen. You
+     will find the most habitually, willfully, and inexcusably
+     inaccurate, with the means of accuracy under its nose, that
+     form of fiction called “anonymous criticism,” political and
+     literary; the most equivocating, perhaps, is the
+     “imaginavit,” better known at Lincoln's Inn as the
+     “affidavit.” In the article of exaggeration, the mildest and
+     tamest are perhaps History and the Novel, the boldest and
+     most sparkling is the Advertisement, but the grandest,
+     ablest, most gorgeous and plausibly exaggerating is surely
+     the grave commercial prospectus, drawn up and signed by
+     potent, grave and reverend seniors, who fear God, worship
+     Mammon, revere big wigs right or wrong, and never read
+     romances.
+
+One mine was announced with a “vein of ore as pure and solid as a tin
+flagon.”
+
+In another the prospectus offered mixed advantages. The ore lay in so
+romantic a situation, and so thick, that the eye could be regaled with
+a heavenly landscape, while the foot struck against neglected lumps of
+gold weighing from two pounds to fifty.
+
+This put the Bolanos mine on its mettle, and it announced, “not mines,
+but mountains of silver.” Here, then, men might chip metal instead of
+painfully digging it. With this, up went the shares till they reached
+500 premium.
+
+
+     Tialpuxahua was done at 199 premium.
+     Anglo Mexican  10 pounds paid, went to 158 pounds premium.
+     United Mexican 10   “      “ ,     “   155 pounds   ”
+      Columbian      10   “      “ ,     “    82 pounds   ”
+
+
+But the Real del Monte, a mine of longer standing, on which 70 pounds
+was paid up, went to 550 premium, and at a later period, for I am not
+following the actual sequence of events, reached the enormous height
+of 1350 premium.
+
+The Prospectus of the Equitable Loan Company lamented in paragraph one
+the imposition practiced on the poor, and denounced the pawnbrokers'
+15 per cent. In paragraph four it promised 40 per cent to its
+shareholders.
+
+Philanthropy smiled in the heading, and Avarice stung in the tail. No
+wonder a royal duke and other good names figured in this concern.
+Another eloquent sheet appealed to the national dignity. Should a
+nation that was just now being intersected by forty canal companies,
+and lighted by thirty gas companies, and every life in it worth a
+button insured by a score of insurance companies, dwell in hovels?
+Here was a country that, after long ruling the sea, was now mining the
+earth, and employing her spoils nobly, lending money to every nation
+and tribe that would fight for constitutional liberty. Should the
+principal city of so sovereign a nation be a collection of dingy
+dwellings made with burned clay? No; let these perishable and ignoble,
+materials give way, and London be granite, or at least wear a granite
+front--with which up went the Red Granite Company.
+
+A railway was projected from Dover to Calais, but the shares never
+came into the market.
+
+The Rhine Navigation shares were snapped up directly. The original
+holders, having no faith in their own paper, sold large quantities
+directly for the account. But they had underrated the ardor of the
+public. At settling day the shares were at 28 premium, and the sellers
+found they had made a most original hedge; for “the hedge” is not a
+daring operation that grasps at large gains; it is a timid and
+cautious maneuver, whose humble aim is to lower the figures of
+possible loss or gain. To be ruined by a stroke of caution so shocked
+the directors' sense of justice that they forged new coupons in
+imitation of the old, and tried to pass them off. The fraud was
+discovered; a committee sat on it. Respectables quaked. Finally, a
+scapegoat was put forward and expelled the Stock Exchange, and with
+that the inquiry was hushed. It would have let too much daylight in on
+a host of “good names” in the City and on 'Change.
+
+At the same time, the country threw itself with ardor into
+Transatlantic loans. This, however, was an existing speculation vastly
+dilated at the period we are treating, but created about five years
+earlier. Its antecedent history can be dispatched in a few words.
+
+England is said to be governed by a limited monarchy; but in case of a
+struggle between the two, her heart goes more with unlimited republic
+than with genuine monarchy. The Spanish colonies in South America
+found this out, and in their long battle for independence came to us
+for sympathy and cash. They often obtained both, and in one case
+something more; we lent Chili a million at six per cent, but we lent
+her ships, bayonets, and Cochrane gratis. This last, a gallant and
+amphibious dragoon, went to work in a style the slow Spaniard was
+unprepared for; blockaded the coast, overawed the Royalist party, and
+wrenched the state from the mother country, and settled it a republic.
+One of the first public acts of this Chilian republic was to borrow a
+million of us to go on with. Peru took only half a million at this
+period. Colombia, during the protracted struggle her independence cost
+her, obtained a sort of _carte blanche_ loan from us at ten per
+cent. We were to deliver the stock in munitions of war, as called for,
+which, you will 'observe, was selling our loan; for at the bottom of
+all our romance lies business, business, business. Her freedom
+secured, the new state accommodated us by taking two millions of 5 per
+cent stock at 84. In all, about ten millions nominal capital, eight
+millions cash, crossed the Atlantic while we were cool; but now that
+we were heated by three hundred joint-stock companies, and the fire
+fanned by seven hundred prospectuses, fresh loans were effected with a
+wider range of territory and on a more important scale.
+
+     Brazil now got . . . 3,200,000 l. in two loans;
+     Colombia . . . . . . 4,750,000 l.;
+     Peru . . . . . . . . 1,366,000 l. in two loans;
+     Mexico . . . . . . . 6,400,000 l. in two loans;
+     Buenos Ayres . . . . 1,000,000 l.;
+
+and Guatemala, a state we never heard of till she wanted money, took a
+million and a half. Besides these there were smaller loans, lent, not
+to nations, but to tribes. So hot was our money in our pockets that we
+tried 200,000 pounds on Patagonia. But the savages could not be got to
+nail us, which was the more to be regretted, as we might have done a
+good stroke with them; could have sent the stock out in fisherman's
+boots, cocked hats, beads, Bibles, and army misfits.
+
+Europe found out there existed an island overflowing with faith and
+overburdened with money; she ran at us for a slice of the latter. We
+lent Naples two millions and a half at 5 per cent stock 92 1/2.
+Portugal a million and a half at 87. Austria three millions and a half
+at 82 1/2. Denmark three millions and a half at 3 per cent stock 75
+1/2. Then came a _bonne bouche._ The subtle Greek had gathered
+from his western visitors a notion of the contents of Thucydides, and
+he came to us for sympathy and money to help him shake off the
+barbarians and their yoke, and save the wreck of the ancient temples.
+The appeal was shrewdly planned. England reads Thucydides, and skims
+Demosthenes, though Greece, it is presumed, does not. The impressions
+of our boyhood fasten upon our hearts, and our mature reason judges
+them like a father, not like a judge. To sweep the Tartar out of the
+Peloponnese, and put in his place a free press that should recall from
+the tomb that soul of freedom, and revive by degrees that tongue of
+music--who can play Solomon when such a proposal comes up for
+judgment?
+
+“Give yourself no further concern about the matter,” said the lofty
+Burdett, with a gentlemanlike wave of the hand; “your country shall be
+saved.”
+
+“In a few weeks,” said another statesman, “Cochrane will be at
+Constantinople, and burn the port and its vessels. Having thus
+disarmed invasion, he will land in the Morea and clear it of
+the Turks.”
+
+Greece borrowed in two loans 2,800,000 pounds at 5 per cent. Russia
+(droll juxtaposition!) drew up the rear. She borrowed three millions
+and a half, but upon far more favorable terms than, with all our
+romance, we accorded to “Graeculus esuriens.” The Greek stock ruled *
+from 56 1/2 to 59.
+
+     * A corruption from the French verb “rouler.”
+
+Into these loans, and the multitudinous mines and miscellaneous
+enterprises, gas, railroad, canal, steam, dock, provision, insurance,
+milk, water, building, washing, money-lending, fishing, lottery,
+annuities, herring-curing, poppy-oil, cattle, weaving, bog draining,
+street-cleaning, house-roofing, old clothes exporting, steel-making,
+starch, silk-worm, etc., etc., etc., companies, all classes of the
+community threw themselves, either for investment or temporary
+speculation, on the fluctuations of the share-market. One venture was
+ennobled by a prince of the blood figuring as a director; another was
+sanctified by an archbishop; hundreds were solidified by the best
+mercantile names in the cities of London, Liverpool, and Manchester.
+Princes, dukes, duchesses, stags, footmen, poets, philosophers,
+divines, lawyers, physicians, maids, wives, widows, tore into the
+market, and choked the Exchange up so tight that the brokers could not
+get in nor out, and a bare passage had to be cleared by force and
+fines through a mass of velvet, fustian, plush, silk, rags, lace, and
+broadcloth, that jostled and squeezed each other in the struggle for
+gain. The shop-keeper flung down his scales and off to the
+share-market; the merchant embarked his funds and his credit; the
+clerk risked his place and his humble respectability. High and low,
+rich and poor, all hurried round the Exchange, like midges round a
+flaring gas-light, and all were to be rich in a day.
+
+And, strange to say, all seemed to win and none to lose; for nothing
+was at a discount except toil and self-denial, and the patient
+industry that makes men rich, but not in a day.
+
+One cold misgiving fell. The vast quantities of gold and silver that
+Mexico, mined by English capital and machinery, was about to pour into
+our ports, would so lower the price of those metals that a heavy loss
+must fall on all who held them on a considerable scale at their
+present values in relation to corn, land, labor and other properties
+and commodities.
+
+“We must convert our gold,” was the cry. Others more rash said: “This
+is premature caution--timidity. There is no gold come over yet; wait
+till you learn the actual bulk of the first metallic imports.” “No,
+thank you,” replied the prudent ones, “it will be too late then; when
+once they have touched our shores, the fall will be rapid.” So they
+turned their gold, whose value was so precarious, into that
+unfluctuating material, paper. This solitary fear was soon swallowed
+up in the general confidence. The king congratulated Parliament, and
+Parliament the king. Both houses rang with trumpet notes of triumph, a
+few of which still linger in the memories of living men.
+
+1. “The cotton trade and iron trade were never so flourishing.”
+
+2. “The exports surpassed by millions the highest figure recorded in'
+history.”
+
+3. “The hum of industry was heard throughout the fields.”
+
+4. “Joy beamed in every face.”
+
+5. “The country now reaped in honor and repose all it had sown in
+courage, constancy and wisdom.”
+
+6. “Our prosperity extended to all ranks of men, enhanced by those
+arts which minister to human comfort, and those inventions by which
+man seems to have obtained a mastery over Nature through the
+application of her own powers.”
+
+But one honorable gentleman informed the Commons that “distress had
+vanished from the land,” * and in addressing the throne acknowledged a
+novel embarrassment: “Such,” said he, “is the general prosperity of
+the country, that I feel at a loss how to proceed; whether to give
+precedence to our agriculture, which is the main support of the
+country, to our manufactures, which have increased to an unexampled
+extent, or to our commerce, which distributes them to the ends of the
+earth, finds daily new outlets for their distribution, and new sources
+of national wealth and prosperity.”
+
+     * “The poor ye shall have always with you.”--Chimerical
+     Evangelist.
+
+Our old bank did not profit by the golden shower. Mr. Hardie was old,
+too, and the cautious and steady habits of forty years were not to be
+shaken readily. He declined shares, refused innumerable discounts, and
+loans upon scrip and invoices, and, in short, was behind the time. His
+bank came to be denounced as a clog on commerce. Two new banks were
+set up in the town to oil the wheels of adventure, on which he was a
+drag, and Hardie fell out of the game.
+
+He was not so old or cold as to be beyond the reach of mortification,
+and these things stung him. One day he said fretfully to old Skinner,
+“It is hardly worth our while to take down the shutters now, for
+anything we do.”
+
+One afternoon two of his best customers, who were now up to their
+chins in shares, came and solicited a heavy loan on their joint
+personal security. Hardie declined. The gentlemen went out. Young
+Skinner watched them, and told his father they went into the new bank,
+stayed there a considerable time, and came out looking joyous. Old
+Skinner told Mr. Hardie. The old gentleman began at last to doubt
+himself and his system.
+
+“The bank would last my time,” said he, “but I must think of my son. I
+have seen many a good business die out because the merchant could not
+keep up with the times; and here they are inviting me to be director
+in two of their companies--good mercantile names below me. It is very
+flattering. I'll write to Dick. It is just he should have a voice;
+but, dear heart! at his age we know beforehand he will be for
+galloping faster than the rest. Well, his old father is alive to curb
+him.”
+
+It was always the ambition of Mr. Richard Hardie to be an accomplished
+financier. For some years past he had studied money at home and
+abroad--scientifically. His father's connection had gained him a
+footing in several large establishments abroad, and there he sat and
+worked _en amateur_ as hard as a clerk. This zeal and diligence
+in a young man of independent means soon established him in the
+confidence of the chiefs, who told him many a secret. He was now in a
+great London bank, pursuing similar studies, practical and
+theoretical.
+
+He received his father's letters sketching the rapid decline of the
+bank, and finally a short missive inviting him down to consider an
+enlarged plan of business. During the four days that preceded the
+young man's visit, more than one application came to Hardie senior for
+advances on scrip, cargoes coming from Mexico, and joint personal
+securities of good merchants that were in the current ventures. Old
+Hardie now, instead of refusing, detained the proposals for
+consideration. Meantime, he ordered five journals daily instead of
+one, sought information from every quarter, and looked into passing
+events with a favorable eye. The result was that he blamed himself,
+and called his past caution timidity. Mr. Richard Hardie arrived and
+was ushered into the bank parlor. After the first affectionate
+greetings old Skinner was called in, and, in a little pompous,
+good-hearted speech, invited to make one in a solemn conference. The
+compliment brought the tears into the old man's eyes. Mr. Hardie
+senior opened, showed by the books the rapid decline of business,
+pointed to the rise of two new banks owing to the tight hand he had
+held unseasonably, then invited the other two to say whether an
+enlarged system was not necessary to meet the times, and submitted the
+last, proposals for loans and discounts. “Now, sir, let me have your
+judgment.”
+
+“After my betters, sir,” was old Skinner's reply.
+
+“Well, Dick, have you formed any opinion on this matter?”
+
+“I have, sir.”
+
+“I am extremely glad of it,” said the old gentleman, very sincerely,
+but with a shade of surprise; “out with it, Dick.”
+
+The young man thus addressed by his father would not have conveyed to
+us the idea of “Dick.” His hair was brown; there were no wrinkles
+under his eyes or lines in his cheek, but in his manner there was no
+youth whatever. He was tall, commanding, grave, quiet, cold, and even
+at that age almost majestic. His first sentence, slow and firm,
+removed the paternal notion that a cipher or a juvenile had come to
+the council-table.
+
+“First, sir, let me return to you my filial thanks for that caution
+which you seem to think has been excessive. There I beg respectfully
+to differ with you.”
+
+“I am glad of it, Dick; but now you see it is time to relax, eh?”
+
+“No, sir.”
+
+The two old men stared at one another. The senile youth proceeded:
+“That some day or other our system will have to be relaxed is
+probable, but just now all it wants is--tightening.”
+
+“Why, Dick? Skinner, the boy is mad. You can't have watched the signs
+of the times.”
+
+“I have, sir; and looked below the varnish.”
+
+“To the point, then, Dick. There is a general proposal 'to relax our
+system.' The boy uses good words, Skinner, don't he? and here are six
+particulars over which you can cast your eye. Hand them to him,
+Skinner.”
+
+“I will take things in that order,” said Richard, quietly running his
+eye over the papers. There was a moment's silence. “It is proposed to
+connect the bank with the speculations of the day.”
+
+“That is not fairly stated, Dick; it is too broad. We shall make a
+selection; we won't go in the stream above ankle deep.”
+
+“That is a resolution, sir, that has been often made but never
+kept--for this reason: you can't sit on dry land and calculate the
+force of the stream. It carries those who paddle in it off their feet,
+and then they must swim with it or--sink.”
+
+“Dick, for Heaven's sake, no poetry here.”
+
+“Nay, sir,” said old Skinner, “remember, 'twas you brought the stream
+in.”
+
+“More fool I. 'Flow on, thou shining Dick'; only the more figures of
+arithmetic, and the fewer figures of speech, you can give old Skinner
+and me, the more weight you will carry with us.”
+
+The young man colored a moment, but never lost his ponderous calmness.
+
+“I will give you figures in their turn, But we were to begin with the
+general view. Half-measures, then, are no measures; they imply a
+vacillating judgment; they are a vain attempt to make a pound of
+rashness and a pound of timidity into two pounds of prudence. You
+permit me that figure, sir; it comes from the summing-book. The able
+man of business fidgets. He keeps quiet, or carries something out.”
+
+Old Skinner rubbed his hands. “These are wise words, sir.”
+
+“No, only clever ones. This is book-learning. It is the sort of wisdom
+you and I have outgrown these forty years. Why, at his age I was
+choke-full of maxims. They are good things to read; but act proverbs,
+and into the Gazette you go. My faith in any general position has
+melted away with the snow of my seventy winters.”
+
+“What, then, if it was established that all adders bite, would you
+refuse to believe his adder would bite you, sir?”
+
+“Dick, if a single adder bit me, it would go farther to convince me
+that the next adder would bite me too than if fifty young Buffons told
+me all adders bite.”
+
+The senile youth was disconcerted for a single moment. He hesitated.
+The keys that the old man had himself said would unlock his judgment
+lay beside him on the table. He could not help glancing slyly at them,
+but he would not use them before their turn. His mind was methodical.
+His will was strong in all things. He put his hand in his side-pocket,
+and drew out a quantity of papers neatly arranged, tied, and indorsed.
+
+The old men instantly bestowed a more watchful sort of attention on
+him.
+
+“This, gentlemen, is a list of the joint-stock companies created last
+year. What do you suppose is their number?”
+
+“Fifty, I'll be bound, Mr. Richard.”
+
+“More than that, Skinner. Say eighty.”
+
+ “Two hundred and forty-three, gentlemen. Of these some were
+stillborn, but the majority hold the market. The capital proposed to
+be subscribed on the sum total is two hundred and forty-eight
+millions.”
+
+“Pheugh! Skinner!”
+
+“The amount actually paid at present (chiefly in bank-notes) is stated
+at 43,062,608 pounds, and the balance due at the end of the year on
+this set of ventures will be 204,937,392 pounds or thereabouts. The
+projects of _this year_ have not been collected, but they are on
+a similar scale. Full a third of the general sum total is destined to
+foreign countries, either in loans or to work mines, etc., the return
+for which is uncertain and future. All these must come to nothing, and
+ruin the shareholders that way, or else must sooner or later be paid
+in specie, since no foreign nation can use our paper, but must sell it
+to the Bank of England. We stand, then, pledged to burst like a
+bladder, or to _export_ in a few months thrice as much specie as
+we possess. To sum up, if the country could be sold to-morrow, with
+every brick that stands upon it, the proceeds would not meet the
+engagements into which these joint-stock companies have inveigled her
+in the course of twenty months. Viewed then, in gross, under the test,
+not of poetry and prospectus, but of arithmetic, the whole thing is a
+bubble.”
+
+“A bubble?” uttered both the seniors in one breath, and almost in a
+scream.
+
+“But I am ready to test it in detail. Let us take three main
+features--the share-market, the foreign loans, and the inflated
+circulation caused by the provincial banks. Why do the public run
+after shares? Is it in the exercise of a healthy judgment? No; a
+cunning bait has been laid for human weakness. Transferable shares
+valued at 100 pounds can be secured and paid for by small instalments
+of 5 pounds or less. If, then, his 100 pound shares rise to 130 pounds
+each, the adventurer can sell at a nominal profit of 30 per cent, but
+a real profit of 600 per cent on his actual investment. This
+intoxicates rich and poor alike. It enables the small capitalist to
+operate on the scale that belongs, in healthy times, to the large
+capitalist; a beggar can now gamble like a prince; his farthings are
+accepted as counters for sovereigns; but this is a distinct feature of
+all the more gigantic bubbles recorded. Here, too, you see, is
+illusory credit on a vast scale, with its sure consequence, inflated
+and fictitious values; another bit of soap that goes to every bubble
+in history. Now for the Transatlantic loans. I submit them to a simple
+test. Judge nations like individuals. If you knew nothing of a man but
+that he had set up a new shop, would you lend him money? Then why lend
+money to new republics of whom you know nothing but that, born
+yesterday, they may die to-morrow, and that they are exhausted by
+recent wars, and that, where responsibility is divided, conscience is
+always subdivided?”
+
+“Well said, Richard, well said.”
+
+“If a stranger offered you thirty per cent, would you lend him your
+money?”
+
+“No; for I should know he didn't mean to pay.”
+
+“Well, these foreign negotiators offer nominally five per cent, but,
+looking at the price of the stock, thirty, forty, and even fifty per
+cent. Yet they are not so liberal as they appear; they could afford
+ninety per cent. You understand me, gentlemen. Would you lend to a man
+that came to you under an alias like a Newgate thief? Cast your eye
+over this prospectus. It is the Poyais loan. There is no such place as
+Poyais.”
+
+“Good heavens!”
+
+“It is a loan to an anonymous swamp by the Mosquito River. But
+Mosquito suggests a bite. So the vagabonds that brought the proposal
+over put their heads together as they crossed the Atlantic, and
+christened the place Poyais; and now fools that are not fools enough
+to lend sixpence to Zahara, are going to lend 200,000 pounds to rushes
+and reeds.”
+
+“Why, Richard, what are you talking about? 'The air is soft and balmy;
+the climate fructifying; the soil is spontaneous'--what does that
+mean? mum! mum! 'The water runs over sands of gold.' Why, it is a
+description of Paradise. And, now I think of it, is not all this taken
+from John Milton?”
+
+“Very likely. It is written by thieves.”
+
+“It seems there are tortoise-shell, diamonds, pearls--”
+
+“In the prospectus, but not in the morass. It is a good,
+straightforward morass, with no pretensions but to great damp. But
+don't be alarmed, gentlemen, our countrymen's money will not be
+swamped there. It will all be sponged up in Threadneedle Street by the
+poetic swindlers whose names, or aliases, you hold in your hand. The
+Greek, Mexican, and Brazilian loans may be translated from Prospectish
+into English thus: At a date when every sovereign will be worth five
+to us in sustaining shriveling paper and collapsing credit, we are
+going to chuck a million sovereigns into the Hellespont, five million
+sovereigns into the Gulf of Mexico, and two millions into the Pacific
+Ocean. Against the loans to the old monarchies there is only this
+objection, that they are unreasonable; will drain out gold when gold
+will be life-blood; which brings me, by connection, to my third
+item--the provincial circulation. Pray, gentlemen, do you remember the
+year 1793?”
+
+For some minutes past a dead silence and a deep, absorbed attention
+had received the young man's words; but that quiet question was like a
+great stone descending suddenly on a silent stream. Such a noise,
+agitation, and flutter. The old banker and his clerk both began to
+speak at once.
+
+“Don't we?”
+
+“Oh, Lord, Mr. Richard, don't talk of 1793.”
+
+“What do you know about 1793? You weren't born.”
+
+“Oh, Mr. Richard, such a to-do, sir! 1800 firms in the Gazette.
+Seventy banks stopped.”
+
+“Nearer a hundred, Mr. Skinner. Seventy-one stopped in the provinces,
+and a score in London.”
+
+“Why, sir, Mr. Richard knows everything, whether he was born or not.”
+
+“No, he doesn't, you old goose; he doesn't know how you and I sat
+looking at one another, and pretending to fumble, and counting out
+slowly, waiting sick at heart for the sack of guineas that was to come
+down by coach. If it had not come we should not have broken, but we
+should have suspended payment for twenty-four hours, and I was young
+enough then to have cut my throat in the interval.”
+
+“But it came, sir--it came, and you cried, 'Keep the bank open till
+midnight!' and when the blackguards heard that, and saw the sackful of
+gold, they crept away; they were afraid of offending us. Nobody came
+anigh us next day. Banks smashed all round us like glass bottles, but
+Hardie & Co. stood, and shall stand for ever and ever. Amen.”
+
+“Who showed the white feather, Mr. Skinner? Who came creeping and
+sniveling, and took my hand under the counter, and pressed it to give
+me courage, and then was absurd enough to make apologies, as if
+sympathy was as common as dirt? Give me your hand directly, you
+old--Hallo!”
+
+“God bless you, sir! God bless you! It is all right, sir. The bank is
+safe for another fifty years. We have got Master Richard, and he has
+got a head. O Gemini, what a head he has got, and the other day
+playing marbles!”
+
+“Yes, and we are interrupting him with our nonsense. Go on, Richard.”
+
+Richard had secretly but fully appreciated the folly of the
+interruption. His was a great mind, and moved in a sort of pecuniary
+ether high above the little weaknesses my reader has observed in
+Hardie senior and old Skinner. Being, however, equally above the other
+little infirmities of fretfulness and fussiness, he waited calmly and
+proceeded coolly.
+
+“What was the cause of the distress in 1793?”
+
+“Ah! that was the puzzle--wasn't it, Skinner? We were never so
+prosperous as that year. The distress came over us like a
+thunder-storm all in a moment. Nobody knows the exact cause.”
+
+“I beg your pardon, sir, it is as well known as any point of history
+whatever. Some years of prosperity had created a spawn of country
+banks, most of them resting on no basis; these had inflated the
+circulation with their paper. A panic and a collapse of this
+fictitious currency was as inevitable as the fall of a stone forced
+against nature into the air.”
+
+“There _were_ a great many petty banks, Richard, and, of course,
+plenty of bad paper. I believe you are right. The causes of things
+were not studied in those days as they are now.”
+
+“All that we know now, sir, is to be found in books written long
+before 1793.”
+
+“Books! books!”
+
+“Yes, sir; a book is not dead paper except to sleepy minds. A book is
+a man giving you his best thoughts in his very best words. It is only
+the shallow reader that can't learn life from genuine books. I'll back
+him who studies them against the man who skims his fellow-creatures,
+and vice versa. A single page of Adam Smith, studied, understood, and
+acted on by the statesmen of your day, would have averted the panic of
+1793. I have the paragraph in my note-book. He was a great man, sir;
+oblige me, Mr. Skinner.”
+
+“Certainly, sir, certainly. 'Should the circulation of paper exceed
+the value of the gold and silver of which it supplies the place, many
+people would immediately perceive they had more of this paper than was
+necessary for transacting their business at home; and, as they could
+not send it abroad, bank paper only passing current where it is
+issued, there would be a run upon the banks to the extent of this
+superfluous paper.'”
+
+Richard Hardie resumed. “We were never so overrun with rotten banks as
+now. Shoemakers, cheesemongers, grocers, write up 'Bank' over one of
+their windows, and deal their rotten paper by the foolscap ream. The
+issue of their larger notes is colossal, and renders a panic
+inevitable soon or late; but, to make it doubly sure, they have been
+allowed to utter 1 pound and 2 pound notes. They have done it, and on
+a frightful scale. Then, to make it trebly sure, the just balance
+between paper and specie is disturbed in the other scale as well as by
+foreign loans to be paid in gold. In 1793 the candle was left
+unsnufled, but we have lighted it at both ends and put it down to
+roast. Before the year ends, every sovereign in the banks of this
+country may be called on to cash 30 pounds of paper--bank-paper,
+share-paper, foolscap-paper, waste-paper. In 1793, a small excess of
+paper over specie had the power to cause a panic and break some ninety
+banks; but our excess of paper is far larger, and with that fatal
+error we have combined foreign loans and three hundred bubble
+companies. Here, then, meet three bubbles, each of which, unaided,
+secures a panic. Events revolve, gentlemen, and reappear at intervals.
+The great French bubble of 1719 is here to-day with the addition of
+two English tom-fooleries, foreign loans and 1 pound notes. Mr. Law
+was a great financier. Mr. Law was the first banker and the greatest.
+All mortal bankers are his pupils, though they don't know it. Mr. Law
+was not a fool; his critics are. Mr. Law did not commit one error out
+of six that are attributed to him by those who judge him without
+reading, far less studying, his written works. He was too sound and
+sober a banker to admit small notes. They were excluded from his
+system. He found France on the eve of bankruptcy; in fact, the state
+had committed acts of virtual bankruptcy. He saved her with his bank.
+
+“Then came his two errors, one remedial, the other fatal. No. 1, he
+created a paper company and blew it up to a bubble. When the shares
+had reached the skies, they began to come down, like stones, by an
+inevitable law. No. 2, to save them from their coming fate, he propped
+them with his bank. Overrating the power of governments, and
+underrating Nature's, he married the Mississippi shares (at forty
+times their value) to his banknotes by edict. What was the
+consequence? The bank paper, sound in itself, became rotten by
+marriage. Nothing could save the share-paper. The bank paper, making
+common cause with it, shared its fate. Had John Law let his two tubs
+each stand on its own bottom, the shares would have gone back to what
+they came from--nothing; the bank, based as it was on specie, backed
+stoutly by the government, and respected by the people for great
+national services, would have weathered the storm and lasted to this
+day. But he tied his rickety child to his healthy child, and flung
+them into a stormy sea, and told them to swim together: they sank
+together. Now observe, sir, the fatal error that ruined the great
+financier in 1720 is this day proposed to us. We are to connect our
+bank with bubble companies by the double tie of loans and liability.
+John Law was sore tempted. The Mississippi Company was his own child
+as well as the bank. Love of that popularity he had drunk so deeply,
+egotism, and parental partiality, combined to obscure that great man's
+judgment. But, with us, folly stands naked on one side, bubbles in
+hand--common sense and printed experience on the other. These six
+specimen bubbles here are not _our_ children. Let me see whose
+they are, aliases excepted.”
+
+“Very good, young gentleman, very good. Now it is my turn. I have got
+a word or two to say on the other side. The journals, which are so
+seldom agreed, are all of one mind about these glorious times. Account
+for that!”
+
+“How can you know their minds, sir?”
+
+“By their leading columns.”
+
+“Those are no clue.”
+
+“What! Do they think one thing and print another? Why should the
+independent press do that? Nonsense.”
+
+“Why, sir? Because they are bribed to print it, but they are not
+bribed to think it.”
+
+“Bribed? The English press bribed?”
+
+“Oh, not directly, like the English freeman. Oblige me with a journal
+or two, no matter which; they are all tarred with the same stick in
+time of bubble. Here, sir, are 50 pounds worth of bubble
+advertisements, yielding a profit of say 25 pounds on this single
+issue. In this one are nearer 100 pounds worth of such advertisements.
+Now is it in nature that a newspaper, which is a trade speculation,
+should say the word that would blight its own harvest? This is the
+oblique road by which the English press is bribed. These leaders are
+mere echoes of to-day's advertisement sheet, and bidders for
+to-morrow's.”
+
+“The world gets worse every day, Skinner.”
+
+“It gets no better,” replied Richard, philosophically.
+
+“But, Richard, here is our county member, and ----, staid, sober men
+both, and both have pledged their honor on the floor of the House of
+Commons to the sound character of some of these companies.”
+
+“They have, sir; but they will never redeem the said honor, for they
+are known to be bribed, and not obliquely, by those very companies.”
+ (The price current of M. P. honor, in time of bubble, ought to be
+added to the works of arithmetic.) “Those two Brutuses get 500
+pounds apiece per annum for touting those companies down at
+Stephen's. ---- goes cheaper and more oblique. He touts, in the same
+place, for a gas company, and his house in the square flares from cellar
+to garret, gratis.”
+
+“Good gracious! and he talked of the light of conscience in his very
+last speech. But this cannot apply to all. There is the archbishop; he
+can't have sold his name to that company.”
+
+“Who knows? He is over head and ears in debt.”
+
+“But the duke, _he_ can't have.”
+
+“Why not? He is over head and ears in debt. Princes deep in debt by
+misconduct, and bishops deep in ditto by ditto, are half-honest, needy
+men; and half-honest, needy men are all to be bought and sold like
+hogs in Smithfield, especially in time of bubble.”
+
+“What is the world come to!”
+
+“What it was a hundred years ago.”
+
+“I have got one pill left for him, Skinner. Here is the Chancellor of
+the Exchequer, a man whose name stands for caution, has pronounced a
+panegyric on our situation. Here are his words quoted in this leader;
+now listen: 'We may safely venture to contemplate with instructive
+admiration the harmony of its proportions and the solidity of its
+basis.' What do you say to that?”
+
+“I say it is one man's opinion versus the experience of a century.
+Besides, that is a quotation, and may be a fraudulent one.”
+
+“No, no. The speech was only delivered last Wednesday: we will refer
+to it. Mum! mum! Ah, here it is. 'The Chancellor of the Exchequer rose
+and--' mum! mum! ah--'I am of--o-pinion that--if, upon a fair review
+of our situation, there shall appear to be nothing hollow in its
+foundation, artificial in its superstructure, or flimsy in its general
+results, we may safely venture to contemplate with instructive
+admiration the harmony of its proportions and the solidity of its
+basis.'”
+
+“Ha! ha! ha! I quite agree with cautious Bobby. If it is not hollow,
+it may be solid; if it is not a gigantic paper balloon, it may be a
+very fine globe, and vice versa, which vice versa he in
+his heart suspects to be the truth. You see, sir, the mangled
+quotation was a swindle, like the flimsy superstructures it was
+intended to prop. The genuine paragraph is a fair sample of Robinson,
+and of the art of withholding opinion by means of expression. But as
+quoted, by a fraudulent suppression of one half, the unbalanced half
+is palmed off as a whole, and an indecision perverted into a decision.
+I might just as fairly cite him as describing our situation to be
+'hollow in its basis, artificial in its superstructure, flimsy in its
+general result.' Since you value names, I will cite you one man that
+has commented on the situation; not, like Mr. Robinson, by misty
+sentences, each neutralizing the other, but by consistent acts: a man,
+gentlemen, whose operations have always been numerous and courageous in
+less _prosperous_ times, yet now he is _out of everything_ but a single
+insurance company.”
+
+“Who is the gentleman?”
+
+“It is not a gentleman; it is a blackguard,” said the exact youth.
+
+“You excite my curiosity. Who is the capitalist, then, that stands
+aloof?”
+
+“Nathan Meyer Rothschild.”
+
+“The devil.”
+
+Old Skinner started sitting. “Rothschild hanging back. Oh, master, for
+Heavens sake don't let us try to be wiser than those devils of Jews.
+Mr. Richard, I bore up pretty well against your book-learning, but now
+you've hit me with a thunderbolt. Let us get in gold, and keep as snug
+as mice, and not lend one of them a farthing to save them from the
+gallows. Those Jews smell farther than a Christian can see. Don't
+let's have any more 1793's, sir, for Heaven's sake. Listen to Mr.
+Richard; he has been abroad, and come back with a head.”
+
+“Be quiet, Skinner. You seem to possess private information, Richard.”
+
+“I employ three myrmidons to hunt it; it will be useful by and by.”
+
+“It may be now. Remark on these proposals.”
+
+“Well, sir, two of them are based on gold mines, shares at a fabulous
+premium. Now no gold mine can be worked to a profit by a company.
+_Primo:_ Gold is not found in veins like other metals. It is an
+abundant metal made scarce to man by distribution over a wide surface.
+The very phrase gold mine is delusive. _Secundo:_ Gold is a metal
+that cannot be worked to a profit by a company for this reason:
+workmen will hunt it for others so long as the daily wages average
+higher than the amount of metal they find per diem; but, that Rubicon
+once passed, away they run to find gold for themselves in some spot
+with similar signs; if they stay, it is to murder your overseers and
+seize your mine. Gold digging is essentially an individual
+speculation. These shares sell at 700 pounds apiece; a dozen of them
+are not worth one Dutch tulip-root. Ah! here is a company of another
+class, in which you have been invited to be director; they would have
+given you shares and made you liable.” Mr. Richard consulted his
+note-book. “This company, which 'commands the wealth of both
+Indies'--in perspective--dissolved yesterday afternoon for want of
+eight guineas. They had rented offices at eight guineas a week, and
+could not pay the first week. 'Turn out or pay,' said the landlord, a
+brute absorbed in the present, and with no faith in the glorious
+future. They offered him 1,500 pounds worth of shares instead of his
+paltry eight guineas cash. On this he swept his premises of them. What
+a godsend you would have been to these Jeremy Diddlers, you and the
+ten thousand they would have bled you of.”
+
+The old banker turned pale.
+
+“Oh, that is nothing new, sir. _'To-morrow_ the first lord of the
+treasury calls at my house, and brings me 11,261 pounds 14s. 11 3/4d.,
+which is due to me from the nation at twelve of the clock on that day;
+you couldn't lend me a shilling till then, could ye?' Now for the
+loans. Baynes upon Haggart want 2,000 pounds at 5 per cent.”
+
+“Good names, Richard, surely,” said old Hardie, faintly.
+
+“They were; but there are no good names in time of bubble. The
+operations are so enormous that in a few weeks a man is hollowed out
+and his frame left standing. In such times capitalists are like
+filberts; they look all nut, but half of them are dust inside the
+shell, and only known by breaking. Baynes upon Haggart, and Haggart
+upon Baynes, the city is full of their paper. I have brought some down
+to show it to you. A discounter, who is a friend of mine, did it for
+them on a considerable scale at thirty per cent discount (cast your
+eye over these bills, Haggart on Baynes). But he has burned his
+fingers even at that, and knows it. So I am authorized to offer all
+these to you at fifty per cent discount.”
+
+“Good heavens! Richard!”
+
+“If, therefore, you think of doing rotten apple upon rotten pear,
+otherwise Haggart upon Baynes, why do it at five per cent when it is
+to be had by the quire at fifty?”
+
+“Take them out of my sight,” said old Hardie, starting up--“take them
+all out of my sight. Thank God I sent for you. No more discussion, no
+more doubt. Give me your hand, my son; you have saved the bank!”
+
+The conference broke up with these eager words, and young Skinner
+retired swiftly from the keyhole.
+
+The next day Mr. Hardie senior came to a resolution which saddened
+poor old Skinner. He called the clerks in and introduced them to Mr.
+Richard as his managing partner.
+
+“Every dog has his day,” said the old gentleman. “Mine has been a long
+one. Richard has saved the bank from a fatal error; Richard shall
+conduct it as Hardie & Son. Don't be disconsolate, Skinner; I'll look
+in on you now and then.”
+
+Hardie junior sent back all the proposals with a polite negative. He
+then proceeded on a two-headed plan. Not to lose a shilling when the
+panic he expected should come, and to make 20,000 pounds upon its
+subsiding. Hardie & Son held Exchequer bills on rather a large scale.
+They were at half a crown premium. He sold every one and put gold in
+his coffers. He converted in the same way all his other securities
+except consols. These were low, and he calculated they would rise in
+any general depreciation of more pretentious investments. He drew out
+his balance, a large one, from his London correspondent, and put his
+gold in his coffers. He drew a large deposit from the Bank of England.
+Whenever his own notes came into the bank, he withdrew them from
+circulation. “They may hop upon Hardie & Son,” said he, “but they
+shan't run upon us, for I'll cut off their legs and keep them in my
+safe.”
+
+One day he invited several large tradesmen in the town to dine with
+him at the bank. They came full of curiosity. He gave them a luxurious
+dinner, which pleased them. After dinner he exposed the real state of
+the nation, as he understood it. They listened politely, and sneered
+silently, but visibly. He then produced six large packets of his
+banknotes; each packet contained 3,000 pounds. Skinner, then present,
+enveloped these packets in cartridge-paper, and the guests were
+requested to seal them up. This was soon done. In those days a bunch
+of gigantic seals dangled and danced on the pit of every man's
+stomach. The sealed packets went back into the safe.
+
+“Show us a sparkle o' gold, Mr. Richard,” said Meredith, linen-draper
+and wag.
+
+“Mr. Skinner, oblige me by showing Mr. Meredith a little of your
+specie--a few anti-bubble pills, eh! Mr. Meredith.”
+
+Omnes. “Ha! ha! ha!”
+
+Presently a shout from Meredith: “Boys, he has got it here by the
+bushel. All new sovereigns. Don't any of ye be a linen-draper, if you
+have got a chance to be a banker. How much is there here, Mr.
+Richard?”
+
+“We must consult the books to ascertain that, sir.”
+
+“Must you? Then just turn your head away, Mr. Richard, and I'll put in
+a claw.”
+
+Omnes. “Haw! haw! ho!”
+
+Richard Hardie resumed. “My precautions seem extravagant to you now,
+but in a few months you will remember this conversation, and it will
+lead to business.” The rest of the evening he talked of anything,
+everything, except banking. He was not the man to dilute an
+impression.
+
+Hardie junior was so confident in his reading and his reasonings that
+he looked every day into the journals for the signs of a general
+collapse of paper and credit; instead of which, public confidence
+seemed to increase, not diminish, and the paper balloon, as he called
+it, dilated, not shrank; and this went on for months. His gold lay a
+dead and useless stock, while paper was breeding paper on every side
+of him. He suffered his share of those mortifications which every man
+must look to endure who takes a course of his own, and stems a human
+current. He sat somber and perplexed in his bank parlor, doing
+nothing; his clerks mended pens in the office. The national calamity
+so confidently predicted, and now so eagerly sighed for, came not.
+
+In other words, Richard Hardie was a sagacious calculator, but not a
+prophet; no man is till afterward, and then nine out of ten are. At
+last he despaired of the national calamity ever coming at all. So
+then, one dark November day, an event happened that proved him a
+shrewd calculator of probabilities in the gross, and showed that the
+records, of the past, “studied” instead of “skimmed,” may in some
+degree counterbalance youth and its narrow experience. Owing to the
+foreign loans, there were a great many bills out against this country.
+Some heavy ones were presented, and seven millions in gold taken out
+of the Bank of England and sent abroad. This would have trickled back
+by degrees; but the suddenness and magnitude of the drain alarmed the
+bank directors for the safety of the bank, subject as it was by Mr.
+Peel's bill to a vast demand for gold.
+
+Up to this period, though they had amassed specie themselves, they had
+rather fed the paper fever in the country at large, but now they began
+to take a wide and serious view of the grave contingencies around
+them. They contracted their money operations, refused in two cases to
+discount corn, and, in a word, put the screw on as judiciously as they
+could. But time was up. Public confidence had reached its culminating
+point. The sudden caution of the bank could not be hidden; it awoke
+prudence, and prudence after imprudence drew terror at its heels.
+There was a tremendous run upon the country banks. The smaller ones
+“smashed all around like glass bottles,” as in 1793; the larger ones
+made gigantic and prolonged efforts to stand, and generally fell at
+last.
+
+Many, whose books showed assets 40s. in the pound, suspended
+payment; for in a violent panic the bank creditors can all draw their
+balances in a few hours or days, but the poor bank cannot put a
+similar screw on its debtors. Thus no establishment was safe. Honor
+and solvency bent before the storm, and were ranked with rottenness;
+and, as at the same time the market price of securities sank with
+frightful rapidity, scarcely any amount of invested capital was safe
+in the unequal conflict.
+
+Exchequer bills went down to 60s. discount, and the funds rose
+and fell like waves in a storm.
+
+London bankers were called out of church to answer dispatches from
+their country correspondents.
+
+The Mint worked day and night, and coined a hundred and fifty thousand
+sovereigns per diem for the Bank of England; but this large supply
+went but a little way, since that firm had in reality to cash nearly
+all the country notes that were cashed.
+
+Post-chaises and four stood like hackney-coaches in Lombard Street,
+and every now and then went rattling off at a gallop into the country
+with their golden freight. In London, at the end of a single week, not
+an old sovereign was to be seen, so fiercely was the old coinage swept
+into the provinces, so active were the Mint and the smashers; these
+last drove a roaring trade; for paper now was all suspected, and
+anything that looked like gold was taken recklessly in exchange.
+
+Soon the storm burst on the London banks. A firm known to possess half
+a million in undeniable securities could not cash them fast enough to
+meet the checks drawn on their counter, and fell. Next day, a house
+whose very name was a rock suspended for four days. An hour or two
+later two more went hopelessly to destruction. The panic rose to
+madness. Confidence had no longer a clue, nor names a distinction. A
+man's enemies collected three or four vagabonds round his door, and in
+another hour there was a run upon him, that never ceased till he was
+emptied or broken. At last, as, in the ancient battles, armies rested
+on their arms to watch a duel in which both sides were represented,
+the whole town watched a run upon the great house of Pole, Thornton &
+Co. The Bank of England, from public motives, spiced of course with
+private interest, had determined to support Pole, Thornton & Co., and
+so perhaps stem the general fury, for all things have their
+turning-point. Three hundred thousand pounds were advanced to Pole &
+Co., who with this aid and their own resources battled through the
+week, but on Saturday night were drained so low that their fate once
+more depended on the Bank of England. Another large sum was advanced
+them. They went on; but, ere the next week ended, they succumbed, and
+universal panic gained the day.
+
+Climax of all, the Bank of England notes lost the confidence of the
+public, and a frightful run was made on it. The struggle had been
+prepared for, and was gigantic on both sides. Here the great hall of
+the bank, full of panic-stricken citizens jostling one another to get
+gold for the notes of the bank; there, foreign nations sending over
+ingots and coin to the bank, and the Mint working night and day,
+Sunday and week-day, to turn them into sovereigns to meet the run.
+Sovereigns or else half-sovereigns were promptly delivered on demand.
+No hesitation or sign of weakness peeped out; but under this bold and
+prudent surface, dismay, sickness of heart, and the dread of a great
+humiliation. At last, one dismal evening, this establishment, which at
+the beginning of the panic had twenty millions specie, left off with
+about five hundred thousand pounds in coin, and a similar amount in
+bullion. A large freight of gold was on the seas, coming to their aid,
+and due, but not arrived; the wind was high; and in a few hours the
+people would be howling round their doors again. They sent a hasty
+message to the government, and implored them to suspend, by order in
+council, the operation of Mr. Peel's bill for a few days. A plump
+negative from Mr. Canning.
+
+Then, being driven to expedients, they bethought them of a chest of 1
+pound notes that they had luckily omitted to burn.
+
+Another message to the government, “May we use these?”
+
+“As a temporary expedient, yes.”
+
+The one-pound notes were whirling all over the country before
+daybreak, and, marvelous anomaly, which took Richard Hardie by
+surprise, they oiled the waves, the panic abated from that hour. The
+holders of country notes took the 1 pound B. E. notes as cash with
+avidity. The very sight of them piled on a counter stopped a run in
+more than one city.
+
+The demand for gold at the Bank of England continued, but less
+fiercely; and as the ingots still came tumbling in, and the Mint
+hailed sovereigns on them, their stock of specie rose as the demand
+declined, and they came out of their fiercest battle with honor. But,
+ere the tide turned, things in general came to a pass scarcely known
+in the history of civilized nations. Ladies and gentlemen took
+heirlooms to the pawnbrokers', and swept their tills of the last coin.
+Not only was wild speculation, hitherto so universal and ardent,
+snuffed out like a candle, but investment ceased and commerce came to
+a stand-still. Bank stock, East India stock, and, some days, consols
+themselves, did not go down; they went out, were blotted from the book
+of business. No man would give them gratis; no man would take them on
+any other terms. The brokers closed their books; there were no buyers
+nor sellers. Trade was coming to the same pass, except the retail
+business in eatables; and an observant statesman and economist, that
+watched the phenomenon, pronounced that in forty-eight hours more all
+dealings would have ceased between man and man, or returned to the
+rude and primitive form of barter, or direct exchange of men's several
+commodities, labor included.
+
+Finally, things crept into their places; shades of distinction were
+drawn between good securities and bad. Shares were forfeited,
+companies dissolved, bladders punctured, balloons flattened, bubbles
+burst, and thousands of families ruined--thousands of people
+beggared--and the nation itself, its paper fever reduced by a severe
+bleeding, lay sick, panting, exhausted, and discouraged for a year or
+two to await the eternal cycle--torpor, prudence, health, plethora,
+blood-letting; torpor, prudence, health, plethora, bloodletting, etc.,
+etc., etc., etc., _in secula seculorum._
+
+
+The journals pitched into “speculation.”
+
+Three banks lay in the dust in the town of ----, and Hardie & Son
+stood looking calmly down upon the ruins.
+
+Richard Hardie had carried out his double-headed plan.
+
+There was no run upon him--could not be one in the course of nature,
+his balances were so low, and his notes were all at home. He created
+artificially a run of a very different kind. He dined the same party
+of tradesmen--all but one, who could not come, being at supper after
+Polonius his fashion. After dinner he showed the packets still sealed,
+and six more unsealed. “Here, gentlemen, is our whole issue.” There
+was a huge wood fire in the old-fashioned room. He threw a packet of
+notes into it. A most respectable grocer yelled and lost color: victim
+of his senses, he thought sacred money was here destroyed, and his
+host a well-bred, and oh! how plausible, maniac. The others derided
+him, and packet after packet fed the flames. When two only were left,
+containing about five thousand pounds between them, Hardie junior made
+a proposal that they should advertise in their shop windows to receive
+Hardie's five-pound notes as five guineas in payment for their goods.
+Observing a natural hesitation, he explained that they would by this
+means, crush their competitors, and could easily clap a price on their
+goods to cover the odd shillings. The bargain was soon struck. Mr.
+Richard was a great man. All his guests felt in their secret souls and
+pockets--excuse the tautology--that some day or other they should want
+to borrow money of him. Besides, “crush their competitors!”
+
+Next day Mr. Richard loosed his hand and let a flock of his own
+bank-notes fly (they were asked for earnestly every day). Some soon
+found their way to the shops in question. The next day still more took
+wing and buzzed about the shops. Presently other tradesmen, finding
+people rushed to the shops in question, began to bid against them for
+Hardie's notes, a result the long-headed youth had expected; and said
+notes went up to ten shillings premium. Too calm and cold to be
+betrayed into deserting his principles, he confined the issue within
+the bounds he had prescribed, and when they were all out seldom saw
+one of them again. By this means he actually lowered the Bank of
+England notes in public estimation, and set his own high above them in
+the town of ----. Deposits came in. Confidence unparalleled took the
+place of fear so far as he was concerned, and he was left free to work
+the other part of his plan.
+
+To the amazement and mystification of old Skinner, he laid out ten
+thousand pounds in Exchequer bills, and followed this up by other
+large purchases of paper, paper, nothing but paper.
+
+Hardie senior was nervous.
+
+“Are you true to your own theory, Richard?”
+
+The youth explained to him that blind confidence always ends in blind
+distrust, and then all paper becomes depreciated alike, but good paper
+is sure to recover. “Sixty-two shillings discount, sir, is a
+ridiculous decline of Exchequer bills. We are at peace, and elastic,
+and the government is strong. My other purchases all rest upon certain
+information, carefully and laboriously amassed while the world was so
+busy blowing bubbles. I am now buying paper that is unjustly
+depreciated in Panic, i.e., in the second act of that mania of
+which Bubble is the first act.” He added: “When the herd buy, the
+price rises; when they sell, it falls. To buy with them and sell with
+them is therefore to buy dear and sell cheap. My game--and it is a
+game that reduces speculation to a certainty--is threefold:
+
+“First, never, at any price or under any temptation, buy anything that
+is not as good as gold.
+
+“Secondly, buy that sound article when the herd sells it.
+
+“Thirdly, sell it when the herd buys it.”
+
+“Richard,” said the old man, “I see what it is--you are a genius.”
+
+“No.”
+
+“It is no use your denying it, Richard.”
+
+“Common sense, sir, common sense.”
+
+“Yes, but common sense carried to such a height as you do is genius.”
+
+“Well, sir, then I own to the genius of common sense.”
+
+“I admire you, Richard--I am proud of you; but the bank has stood one
+hundred and forty years, and never a genius in it;” the old man
+sighed.
+
+Hardie senior, having relieved his mind of this vague misgiving, never
+returned to it--probably never felt it again. It was one of those
+strange flashes that cross a mind as a meteor the sky.
+
+The old gentleman, having little to do, talked more than heretofore,
+and, like fathers, talked about his son, and, unlike sons, cried him
+up at his own expense. The world is not very incredulous; above all,
+it never disbelieves a man who calls himself a fool. Having then
+gained the public ear by the artifice of self-depreciation, he poured
+into it the praises of Hardie junior. He went about telling how he, an
+old man, was all but bubbled till this young Daniel came down and
+foretold all. Thus paternal garrulity combined for once with a man's
+own ability to place Richard Hardie on the pinnacle of provincial
+grandeur.
+
+A few years more and Hardie senior died. (His old clerk, Skinner,
+followed him a month later.)
+
+Richard Hardie, now sole partner and proprietor, assumed a mode of
+living unknown to his predecessors. He built a large, commodious
+house, and entertained in the first style. The best families in the
+neighborhood visited a man whose manner was quiet and stately, his
+income larger than their own, and his house and table luxurious
+without vulgar pretensions, and the red-hot gilding and glare with
+which the injudicious parvenu brands himself and furniture.
+
+The bank itself put on a new face. Twice as much glass fronted the
+street, and a skylight was let into the ceiling: there were five
+clerks instead of three; the new ones at much smaller salaries than
+the pair that had come down from antiquity.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+SUCH was Mr. Hardie at twenty-five, and his townspeople said: “If he
+is so wise now he is a boy, what in Heaven's name will he be at
+forty?” To sixty the provincial imagination did not attempt to follow
+his wisdom. He was now past thirty, and behind the scenes of his bank
+was still the able financier I have sketched. But in society he seemed
+another man. There his characteristics were quiet courtesy,
+imperturbability, a suave but impressive manner, vast information on
+current events, and no flavor whatever of the shop.
+
+He had learned the happy art, which might be called “the barrister's
+art,” _hoc agendi,_ of throwing the whole man into a thing at one
+time, and out of it at another. In the bank and in his own study he
+was a devout worshiper of Mammon; in society, a courteous, polished,
+intelligent gentleman, always ready to sift and discuss any worthy
+topic you could start except finance. There was some affectation in
+the cold and immovable determination with which he declined to say
+three words about money. But these great men act habitually on a
+preconceived system: this gives them their force.
+
+If Lucy Fountain had been one of those empty girls that were so rife
+at the time, the sterling value of his conversation would have
+disgusted her, and his calm silence where there was nothing to be said
+(sure proof of intelligence) would have passed for stupidity with her.
+But she was intelligent, well used to bungling, straightforward
+flattery, and to smile with arch contempt at it, and very capable of
+appreciating the more subtle but less satirical compliment a man pays
+a pretty girl by talking sense to her; and, as it happened, her foible
+favored him no less than did her strong points. She attached too solid
+a value to manner; and Mr. Hardie's manner was, to her fancy, male
+perfection. It added to him in her estimation as much as David Dodd's
+defects in that kind detracted from the value of his mind and heart.
+
+To this favorable opinion Mr. Hardie responded in full.
+
+He had never seen so graceful a creature, nor so young a woman so
+courteous and high-bred.
+
+He observed at once, what less keen persons failed to discover, that
+she was seldom spontaneous or off her guard. He admired her the more.
+He had no sympathy with the infantine in man or woman. “She thinks
+before she speaks,” said he, with a note of admiration. On the other
+hand, he missed a trait or two the young lady possessed, for they
+happened to be virtues he had no eye for; but the sum total was most
+favorable; in short, it was esteem at first sight.
+
+
+As a cobweb to a cabbage-net, so fine was Mrs. Bazalgette's
+reticulation compared with Uncle Fountain's. She invited Mr. Hardie to
+stay a fortnight with her, commencing just one day before Lucy's
+return. She arranged a round of gayety to celebrate the double event.
+What could be more simple? Yet there was policy below. The whirl of
+pleasure was to make Lucy forget everybody at Font Abbey; to empty her
+heart, and pave Mrs. B.'s candidate's way to the vacancy. Then, she
+never threw Mr. Hardie at Lucy's head, contenting herself with
+speaking of him with veneration when Lucy herself or others introduced
+his name. She was always contriving to throw the pair together, but no
+mortal could see her hand at work in it. _Bref,_ a she-spider.
+The first day or two she watched her niece on the sly, just to see
+whether she regretted Font Abbey, or, in other words, Mr. Talboys.
+Well acquainted with all the subtle signs by which women read one
+another, she observed with some uneasiness that Lucy appeared somewhat
+listless and pensive at times, when left quite to herself. Once she
+found her with her cheek in her hand, and, by the way the young lady
+averted her head and slid suddenly into distinct cheerfulness,
+suspected there must have been tears in her eyes, but could not be
+positive. Next, she noticed with satisfaction that the round of
+gayety, including, as it did, morning rides as well as evening dances,
+dissipated these little reveries and languors. She inferred that
+either there was nothing in them but a sort of sediment of
+_ennui,_ the natural remains of a visit to Font Abbey, or that,
+if there was anything more, it had yielded to the active pleasures she
+had provided, and to the lady's easy temper, and love of society, “the
+only thing she loves, or ever will,” said Mrs. B., assuming prophecy.
+
+“Aunt, how superior Mr. Hardie's conversation is. He interests one in
+topics that are unbearable generally; politics now. I thought I
+abhorred them, but I find it was only those little paltry Whig and
+Tory squabbles that wearied me. Mr. Hardie's views are neither Whig
+nor Tory; they are patriotic, and sober, and large-minded. He thinks
+of the country. I can take some interest in what he calls politics.”
+
+“And, pray, what is that?”
+
+“Well, aunt, the liberation of commerce from its fetters for one
+thing. I can contrive to be interested in that, because I know England
+can be great only by commerce. Then the education of all classes,
+because without that England cannot be enlightened or good.”
+
+“He never says a word to me about such things,” said Mrs. Bazalgette;
+“I suppose he thinks they are above poor me.” She delivered this with
+so admirable an imitation of pique, that the courtier was deceived,
+and applied butter to “a fox's wound.”
+
+“Oh no, aunt. Consider; if that was it, he would not waste them on me,
+who am so inferior to you in sagacity. More likely he says, 'This
+young lady has not yet completed her education; I will sprinkle a
+little good sense among her frivolous accomplishments.' Whatever the
+motive, I am very much obliged to Mr. Hardie. A man of sense is so
+refreshing after--(full stop). What do you think of his voice?”
+
+“His voice? I don't remember anything about it.”
+
+“Yes, you do--you must; it is a very remarkable one; so mellow, so
+quiet, yet so modulated.”
+
+“Well, I do remember now; it is rather a pleasant voice--for a man.”
+
+“Rather a pleasant voice!” repeated Lucy, opening her eyes; “why, it
+is a voice to charm serpents.”
+
+“Ha! ha! It has not charmed him one yet, you see.”
+
+This speech was not in itself pellucid; but these sweet ladies among
+themselves have so few topics compared with men, and consequently beat
+their little manor so often, that they seize a familiar idea, under
+any disguise, with the rapidity of lightning.
+
+“Oh, charmers are charm-proof,” replied Lucy; “that is the only reason
+why. I am sure of that.” Then she reflected awhile. “It is his
+natural voice, is it not? Did you ever hear him speak in any other?
+Think.”
+
+“Never.”
+
+“Then he must be a good man. Apropos, is Mr. Hardie a good man, aunt?”
+
+“Why, of course he is.”
+
+“How do you know?”
+
+“I never heard of any scandal against him.”
+
+“Oh, I don't mean your negative goodness. You never heard anything
+against _me_ out of doors.”
+
+“Well, and are you not a good girl?”
+
+“Me, aunt? Why, you know I am not.”
+
+“Bless me, what have you done?”
+
+“I have done nothing, aunt,” exclaimed Lucy, “and the good are never
+nullities. Then I am not open, which is a great fault in a character.
+But I can't help it! I can't! I can't!”
+
+“Well, you need not break your heart for that. You will get over it
+before you have been married a year. Look at me; I was as shy as any
+of you at first going off, but now I can speak my mind; and a good
+thing too, or what would become of me among the selfish set?”
+
+“Meaning me, dear?”
+
+“No. Divide it among you. Come, this is idle talk. Men's voices, and
+whether they are good, bad, or indifferent, as if that mattered a pin,
+provided their incomes are good and their manners endurable. I want a
+little serious conversation with you.”
+
+“Do you?” and Lucy colored faintly; “with all my heart.”
+
+“We go to the Hunts' ball the day after to-morrow, Lucy; I suppose you
+know that? Now what on earth am I to wear? that is the question. There
+is no time to get a new dress made, and I have not got one--”
+
+“That you have not worn at least once.”
+
+“Some of them twice and three times;” and the B looked aghast at the
+state of nudity to which she was reduced. Lucy sidled toward the door.
+
+“Since you consult me, dear, I advise you to wear what I mean to wear
+myself.”
+
+“Ah! what a capital idea! then we shall pass for sisters. I dare say I
+have got some old thing or other that will match yours; but you had
+better tell me at once what you do mean to wear.”
+
+“A gown, a pair of gloves, and a smirk”; and with this heartless
+expression of nonchalance Lucy glided away and escaped the impending
+shower.
+
+“Oh, the selfishness of these girls!” cried the deserted one. “I have
+got her a husband to her taste, so now she runs away from me to think
+of him.”
+
+The next moment she looked at the enormity from another point of view,
+and then with this burst of injured virtue gave way to a steady
+complacency.
+
+“She is caught at last. She notices his very voice. She fancies she
+cares for politics--ha! ha! She is gone to meditate on him--could not
+bear any other topic--would not even talk about dress, a thing her
+whole soul was wrapped up in till now. I have known her to go on for
+hours at a stretch about it.”
+
+There are people with memories so constructed that what they said, and
+another did not contradict or even answer, seems to them, upon
+retrospect, to have been delivered by that other person, and received
+in dead silence by themselves.
+
+Meantime Lucy was in her own room and the door bolted.
+
+So she was the next day; and uneasy Mrs. Bazalgette came hunting her,
+and tapped at the door after first trying the handle, which in Lucy's
+creed was not a discreet and polished act.
+
+“Nobody admitted here till three o'clock.”
+
+“It is me, Lucy.”
+
+“So I conclude,” said Lucy gayly. “'Me' must call again at three,
+whoever it is.”
+
+“Not I,” said Aunt Bazalgette, and flounced off in a pet.
+
+At three Dignity dissolved in curiosity, and Mrs. Bazalgette entered
+her niece's room in an ill-temper; it vanished like smoke at the sight
+of two new dresses, peach-colored and _glacees,_ just finished,
+lying on the bed. An eager fire of questions. “Where did you get them?
+which is mine? who made them?”
+
+“A new dressmaker.”
+
+“Ah! what a godsend to poor us! Who is she?”
+
+“Let me see how you like her work before I tell you. Try this one on.”
+
+Mrs. Bazalgette tried on her dress, and was charmed with it. Lucy
+would not try on hers. She said she had done so, and it fitted well
+enough for her.
+
+“Everything fits you, you witch,” replied the B. “I must have this
+woman's address; she is an angel.”
+
+Lucy looked pleased. “She is only a beginner, but desirous to please
+you; and 'zeal goes farther than talent,' says Mr. Dodd.”
+
+“Mr. Dodd! Ah! by-the-by, that reminds me--I am so glad you mentioned
+his name. Where does the woman live?”
+
+“The woman, or, as some consider her, the girl, lives at present with
+a charming person called by the world Mrs. Bazalgette, but by the
+dressmaker her sweet little aunt--” (kiss) (kiss) (kiss); and Lucy,
+whose natural affection for this lady was by a certain law of nature
+heated higher by working day and night for her in secret, felt a need
+of expansion, and curled, round her like a serpent with a dove's
+heart.
+
+
+Mrs. Bazalgette did what you and I, manly reader, should have been apt
+to omit. She extricated herself, not roughly, yet a little
+hastily--like a water-snake gliding out of the other sweet serpent's
+folds.* Sacred dress being present, she deemed caresses frivolous--and
+ill-timed. “There, there, let me alone, child, and tell me all about
+it directly. 'What put it into your head? Who taught you? Is this your
+first attempt? Have you paid for the silk, or am I to? Do tell me
+quick; don't keep me on thorns!”
+
+     * Here flashes on the cultivated mind the sprightly couplet,
+
+      “Oh, that I had my mistress at this bay,
+       To kiss and clip me--till I run away.”
+
+                SHAKESPEARE.--Venus and Adonis.
+
+Lucy answered this fusillade in detail. “You know, aunt, dressmakers
+bring us their failures, and we, by our hints, get them made into
+successes.”
+
+“So we do.”
+
+“So I said to myself, 'Now why not bring a little intelligence to bear
+at the beginning, and make these things right at once?' Well, I bought
+several books, and studied them, and practiced cutting out, in large
+sheets of brown paper first; next I ventured a small flight--I made
+Jane a gown.”
+
+“What! your servant?”
+
+“Yes. I had a double motive; first attempts are seldom brilliant, and
+it was better to fail in merino, and on Jane, than on you, madam, and
+in silk. In the next place, Jane had been giving herself airs, and
+objecting to do some work of that kind for me, so I thought it a good
+opportunity to teach her that dignity does not consist in being
+disobliging. The poor girl is so ashamed now: she comes to me in her
+merino frock, and pesters me all day to let her do things for me. I am
+at my wit's end sometimes to invent unreal distresses, like the
+writers of fiction, you know; and, aunty, dear, you will not have to
+pay for the stuff: to tell you the real truth, I overheard Mr.
+Bazalgette say something about the length of your last dressmaker's
+bill, and, as I have been very economical at Font Abbey, I found I had
+eighteen pounds to spare, so I said nothing, but I thought we will
+have a dress apiece that _nobody_ shall have to pay for.”
+
+“Eighteen pounds? These two lovely dresses, lace, trimmings, and all,
+for eighteen pounds!”
+
+“Yes, aunt. So you see those good souls that make our dresses have
+imposed upon us without ceremony: they would have been twenty-five
+pounds apiece; now would they not?”
+
+“At least. Well, you are a clever girl. I might as well try on yours,
+as you won't.”
+
+“Do, dear.”
+
+She tried on Lucy's gown, and, as before, got two looking-glasses into
+a line, twisted and twirled, and inspected herself north, south, east
+and west, and in an hour and a half resigned herself to take the dress
+off. Lucy observed with a sly smile that her gayety declined, and she
+became silent and pensive.
+
+
+“In the dead of the night, when with labor oppressed, All mortals
+enjoy the sweet blessing of rest,” a phantom stood at Lucy's bedside
+and fingered her. She awoke with a violent scream, the first note of
+which pierced the night's dull ear, but the second sounded like a wail
+from a well, being uttered a long way under the bedclothes. “Hush!
+don't be a fool,” cried the affectionate phantom; and kneaded the
+uncertain form through the bedclothes; “fancy screeching so at sight
+of me!” Then gradually a single eye peeped timidly between two white
+hands that held the sheets ready for defense like a shield.
+
+“B--b--but you are all in white,” gulped Lucy, trembling all over; for
+her delicate fibers were set quivering, and could not be stilled by a
+word, fingered at midnight all in a moment by a shape.
+
+“Why, what color should I be--in my nightgown?” snapped the specter.
+“What color is yours?” and she gave Lucy a little angry pull--“and
+everybody else's?”
+
+“But at the dead of night, aunt, and without any warning--it's
+terrible. Oh dear!” (another little gulp in the throat, exceeding
+pretty).
+
+“Lucy, be yourself,” said the specter, severely; “you used not to be
+so selfish as to turn hysterical when your aunt came to you for
+advice.”
+
+Lucy had to do a little. “Forgive, blessed shade!” She apologized,
+crushed down her obtrusive, egotistical tremors, and vibrated to
+herself.
+
+Placable Aunt Bazalgette accepted her excuses, and opened the business
+that brought her there.
+
+“I didn't leave my bed at this hour for nothing, you may be sure.”
+
+“N--no, aunt.”
+
+“Lucy,” continued Mrs. Bazalgette, deepening, “there is a weight on my
+mind.”
+
+Up sat Lucy in the bed, and two sapphire eyes opened wide and made
+terror lovely.
+
+“Oh, aunt, what have you been doing? It is remorse, then, that will
+not let you sleep. Ah! I see! your flirtations--your flirtations--this
+is the end of them.”
+
+“My flirtations!” cried the other, in great surprise. “I never flirt.
+I only amuse myself with them.” *
+
+     *In strict grammar this “them” ought to refer to
+     “flirtations;” but Lucy's aunt did not talk strict grammar.
+     Does yours?
+
+“You--never--flirt? Oh! oh! oh! Mr. Christopher, Mr. Horne, Sir George
+Healey, Mr. M'Donnell, Mr. Wolfenton, Mr. Vaughan--there! oh, and Mr.
+Dodd!”
+
+“Well, at all events, it's not for any of those fools I get out of my
+bed at this time of night. I have a weight on my mind; so do be
+serious, if you can. Lucy, I tried all yesterday to hide it from
+myself, but I cannot succeed.”
+
+“What, dear aunt?”
+
+“That your gown fits me ever so much better than my own.” She sighed
+deeply.
+
+Lucy smiled slyly; but she replied, “Is not that fancy?”
+
+“No, Lucy, no,” was the solemn reply; “I have tried to shut my eyes to
+it, but I can't.”
+
+“So it seems. Ha! ha!”
+
+“Now do be serious; it is no laughing matter. How unfortunate I am!”
+
+“Not at all. Take my gown; I can easily alter yours to fit me, if
+necessary.”
+
+“Oh, you good girl, how clever you are! I should never have thought of
+that.” N. B--She had been thinking of nothing else these six hours.
+
+“Go to bed, dear, and sleep in peace,” said Lucy, soothingly. “Leave
+all to me.”
+
+“No, I can't leave all to you. Now I am to have yours, I must try it
+on.” It was hers now, so her confidence in its fitting was shaken.
+
+Mrs. Bazalgette then lighted all the candles in the sconces, and
+opened Lucy's drawers, and took out linen, and put on the dress with
+Lucy's aid, and showed Lucy how it fitted, and was charmed, like a
+child with a new toy.
+
+Presently Lucy interrupted her raptures by an exclamation. Mrs.
+Bazalgette looked round, and there was her niece inspecting the
+ghostly robe which had caused her such a fright.
+
+“Here are oceans of yards of lace on her very nightgrown!” cried Lucy.
+
+“Well, does not every lady wear lace on her nightgown?” was the
+tranquil reply. “What is that on yours, pray?”
+
+“A little misery of Valenciennes an inch broad; but this is
+Mechlin--superb! delicious! Well, aunt, you are a sincere votary of
+the graces; you put on fine things because they are fine things, not
+with the hollow motive of dazzling society; you wear Mechlin, not for
+_eclat,_ but for Mechlin. Alas! how few, like you, pursue quite
+the same course in the dark that they do in the world's eye.”
+
+“Don't moralize, dear; unhook me!”
+
+
+After breakfast Mrs. Bazalgette asked Lucy how long she could give her
+to choose which of the two gowns to take, after all.
+
+“Till eight o'clock.”
+
+Mrs. Bazalgette breathed again. She had thought herself committed to
+No. 2, and No. 1 was beginning to look lovely in consequence. At
+eight, the choice being offered her with impenetrable nonchalance by
+Lucy, she took Lucy's without a moment's hesitation, and sailed off
+gayly to her own room to put it on, in which progress the ample
+peach-colored silk held out in both hands showed like Cleopatra's
+foresail, and seemed to draw the dame along.
+
+Lucy, too, was happy--demurely; for in all this business the female
+novice, “la ruse sans le savoir,” had outwitted the veteran. Lucy had
+measured her whole aunt. So she made dress A for her, but told her she
+was to have dress B. This at once gave her desires a perverse bent
+toward her own property, the last direction they could have been
+warped into by any other means; and so she was deluded to her good,
+and fitted to a hair, soul and body.
+
+Going to the ball, one cloud darkened for an instant the matron's
+mind.
+
+“I am so afraid they will see it only cost nine pounds.”
+
+“Enfant!” replied Lucy, “aetat. 20.” At the ball Mr. Hardie and Lucy
+danced together, and were the most admired couple.
+
+The next day Mr. Hardie announced that he was obliged to curtail his
+visit and go up to London. Mrs. Bazalgette remonstrated. Mr. Hardie
+apologized, and asked permission to make out the rest of his visit on
+his return. Mrs. B. accorded joyfully, but Lucy objected: “Aunt, don't
+you be deluded into any such arrangement; Mr. Hardie is liable to
+another fortnight. We have nothing to do with his mismanagement. He
+comes to spend a fortnight with us: he tries, but fails. I am sorry
+for Mr. Hardie, but the engagement remains in full force. I appeal to
+you, Mr. Bazalgette, you are so exact.”
+
+“I don't see myself how he can get out of it with credit,” said
+Bazalgette, solemnly.
+
+“I am happy to find that my duty is on the side of my inclination,”
+ said Mr. Hardie. He smiled, well pleased, and looked handsomer than
+ever.
+
+They all missed him more or less, but nobody more than Lucy. His
+conversation had a peculiar charm for her. His knowledge of current
+events was unparalleled; then there was a quiet potency in him she
+thought very becoming in a man; and then his manner. He was the first
+of our unfortunate sex who had reached beau ideal. One was harsh,
+another finicking; a third loud; a fourth enthusiastic; a fifth timid;
+and all failed in tact except Mr. Hardie. Then, other male voices were
+imperfect; they were too insignificant or too startling, too bass or
+too treble, too something or too other. Mr. Hardie's was a mellow
+tenor, always modulated to the exact tone of good society. Like
+herself, too, he never laughed loud, seldom out; and even his smiles,
+like her own, did not come in unmeaning profusion, so they told when
+they did come.
+
+The Bazalgettes led a very quiet life for the next fortnight, for Mrs.
+Bazalgette was husbanding invitations for Mr. Hardie's return.
+
+Mrs. Bazalgette yawned many times during this barren period, but with
+considerate benevolence she shielded Lucy from _ennui._ Lucy was
+a dressmaker, gifted, but inexperienced; well, then, she would supply
+the latter deficiency by giving her an infinite variety of alterations
+to make in a multitude of garments. There are egotists who charge for
+tuition, but she would teach her dear niece gratis. A mountain of
+dresses rose in the drawing-room, a dozen metamorphoses were put in
+hand, and a score more projected.
+
+“She pulled down, she built up, she rounded the angular, and squared
+the round.” And here Mr. Bazalgette took perverse views and
+misbehaved. He was a very honest man, but not a refined courtier. He
+seldom interfered with these ladies, one way or other, except to
+provide funds, which interference was never snubbed; for was he not
+master of the house in that sense? But, having observed what was going
+on day after day in the drawing-room or workshop, he walked in and
+behaved himself like a brute.
+
+“How much a week does she give you, Lucy?” said he, looking a little
+red.
+
+Lucy opened her eyes in utter astonishment, and said nothing; her very
+needle and breath were suspended.
+
+Mrs. Bazalgette shrugged her shoulders to Lucy, but disdained words.
+Mr. Bazalgette turned to his wife.
+
+“I have often recommended economy to you, Jane, I need not say with
+what success; but this sort of economy is not for your credit or mine.
+If you want to add a dressmaker to your staff--with all my heart. Send
+for one when you like, and keep her to all eternity. But this young
+lady is our ward, and I will not have her made a servant of for your
+convenience.”
+
+“Put your work down, dear,” said Mrs. Bazalgette resignedly. “He does
+not understand our affection, nor anything else except pounds,
+shillings and pence.”
+
+“Oh, yes I do. I can see through varnished selfishness for one thing.”
+
+“You certainly ought to be a judge of the unvarnished article,”
+ retorted the lady.
+
+“Having had it constantly under my eyes these twenty years,” rejoined
+the gentleman.
+
+“Oh, aunt! Oh, Mr. Bazalgette!” cried Lucy, rising and clasping her
+hands; if you really love me, never let me be the cause of a
+misunderstanding, or an angry word between those I esteem; it would
+make me too miserable; and, dear Mr. Bazalgette, you must let people
+be happy in their own way, or you will be sure to make them unhappy.
+My aunt and I understand one another better than you do.”
+
+“She understands you, my poor girl.”
+
+“Not so well as I do her. But she knows I hate to be idle, and love to
+do these bagatelles for her. It is my doing from the first, not hers;
+she did not even know I could do it till I produced two dresses for
+the Hunts' ball. So, you see--”
+
+“That is another matter; all ladies play at work. But you are in for
+_three months' hard labor._ Look at that heap of vanity. She is
+making a lady's-maid of you. It is unjust. It is selfish. It is
+improper. It is not for my credit, of which I am more jealous than
+coquettes are of theirs; besides, Lucy, you must not think, because I
+don't make a parade as she does, that I am not fond of you. I have a
+great deal more real affection for you than she has, and so you will
+find if we are ever put to the test.”
+
+At this last absurdity Mrs. Bazalgette burst out laughing. But “la
+rusee sans le savoir” turned toward the speaker, and saw that he spoke
+with a certain emotion which was not ordinary in him. She instantly
+went to him with both hands gracefully extended. “I do think you have
+an affection for me. If you really have, show it me _some other
+way,_ and not by making me unhappy.”
+
+“Well, then, I will, Lucy. Look here; if Solomon was such a fool as to
+argue with one of you young geese you would shut his mouth in a
+minute. There, I am going; but you will always be the slave of one
+selfish person or other; you were born for it.”
+
+Thus impotently growling, the merchant prince retired from the field,
+escorted with amenity by the courtier. In the passage she suddenly
+dropped forward like a cypress-tree, and gave him her forehead to
+kiss. He kissed it with some little warmth, and confided to her, in
+friendly accents, that she was a fool, and off he went, grumbling
+inarticulately, to his foreign loans and things.
+
+The courtier returned to smooth her aunt in turn, but that lady
+stopped her with a lofty gesture.
+
+“My plan is to look on these monstrosities as horrid dreams, and go on
+as if nothing had happened.”
+
+Happy philosophy.
+
+Lucy acquiesced with a smile, and in an instant both immortal souls
+plunged and disappeared in silk, satin, feathers and point lace.
+
+The afternoon post brought letters that furnished some excitement. Mr.
+Hardie announced his return, and Captain Kenealy accepted an
+invitation that had been sent to him two days before. But this was not
+all. Mrs. Bazalgette, with something between a laugh and a crow,
+handed Lucy a letter from Mr. Fountain, in which that diplomatic
+gentleman availed himself of her kind invitation, and with elephantine
+playfulness proposed, as he could not stay a month with her, to be
+permitted to bring a friend with him for a fortnight. This friend had
+unfortunately missed her through absence from his country-house at the
+period of her visit to Font Abbey, and had so constantly regretted his
+ill fortune that he (Fountain) had been induced to make this attempt
+to repair the calamity. His friend's name was Talboys; he was a
+gentleman of lineage, and in his numerous travels had made a
+collection of foreign costumes which were really worth inspecting,
+and, if agreeable to Mrs. Bazalgette, he should send them on before by
+wagon, for no carriage would hold them.
+
+Lucy colored on reading this letter, for it repeated a falsehood that
+had already made her blush. The next moment, remembering how very
+keenly her aunt must be eying her, and reading her, she looked
+straight before her, and said coldly, “Uncle Fountain ought to be
+welcome here for his courtesy to you at Font Abbey, but I think he
+takes rather a liberty in proposing a stranger to you.”
+
+“Rather a liberty? Say a very great liberty.”
+
+“Well, then, aunt, why not write back that any friend of his would be
+welcome, but that the house is full? You have only room for Uncle
+Fountain.”
+
+“But that is not true, Lucy,” said Mrs. Bazalgette, with sudden
+dignity.
+
+Lucy was staggered and abashed at this novel objection; recovering,
+she whined humbly, “but it is very nearly true.”
+
+It was plain Lucy did not want Mr. Talboys to visit them. This decided
+Mrs. Bazalgette to let his dresses and him come. He would only be a
+foil to Mr. Hardie, and perhaps bring him on faster. Her decision once
+made on the above grounds, she conveyed it in characteristic colors.
+“No, my love; where I give my affection, there I give my confidence. I
+have your word not to encourage this gentleman's addresses, so why
+hurt your uncle's feelings by closing my door to his friend? It would
+be an ill compliment to you as well as to Mr. Fountain; he shall
+come.”
+
+Her postscript to Mr. Fountain ran thus:
+
+“Your friend would have been welcome independently of the foreign
+costumes; but as I am a very candid little woman, I may as well tell
+you that, now you _have_ excited my curiosity, he will be a great
+deal more welcome with them than without them.”
+
+And here I own that I, the simpleminded, should never have known all
+that was signified in these words but for the comment of John
+Fountain, Esq.
+
+“It is all right, Talboys,” said he. “My bait has taken. You must pack
+up these gimcracks at once and send them off, or she'll smile like a
+marble Satan in your face, and stick you full of pins and needles.”
+
+The next day Mr. Bazalgette walked into the room, haughtily overlooked
+the pyramid of dresses, and asked Lucy to come downstairs and see
+something. She put her work aside, and went down with him, and lo! two
+ponies--a cream-colored and a bay. “Oh, you loves!” cried the virgin,
+passionately, and blushed with pleasure. Her heart was very
+accessible--to quadrupeds.
+
+“Now you are to choose which of these you will have.”
+
+“Oh, Mr. Bazalgette!”
+
+“Have you forgotten what you told me? 'Try and make me happy some
+other way,' says you. Now I remembered hearing you say what a nice
+pony you had at Font Abbey; so I sent a capable person to collect
+ponies for you. These have both a reputation. Which will you have?”
+
+“Dear, good, kind Uncle Bazalgette; they are ducks!”
+
+“Let us hope not; a duck's paces won't suit you, if you are as fond of
+galloping as other young ladies. Come, jump up, and see which is the
+best brute of the two.”
+
+“What, without my habit?”
+
+“Well, get your habit on, then. Let us see how quick you can be.”
+
+Off ran Lucy, and soon returned fully equipped. She mounted the ponies
+in turn, and rode them each a mile or two in short distances. Finally
+she dismounted, and stood beaming on the steps of the hall. The groom
+held the ponies for final judgment.
+
+“The bay is rather the best goer, dear,” said she, timidly.
+
+“Miss Fountain chooses the bay, Tom.”
+
+“No, uncle, I was going to ask you if I might have the cream-colored
+one. He is so pretty.”
+
+“Ha! ha! ha! here's a little goose. Why, they are to ride, not to
+wear. Come, I see you are in a difficulty. Take them both to the
+stable, Tom.”
+
+“No, no, no,” cried Lucy. “Oh, Mr. Bazalgette, don't tempt me to be so
+wicked.” Then she put both her fingers in her ears and screamed, “Take
+the bay darling out of my sight, and leave the cream-colored love.”
+ And as she persisted in this order, with her fingers in her ears, and
+an inclination to stamp with her little feet, the bay disappeared and
+color won the day.
+
+Then she dropped suddenly like a cypress toward Mr. Bazalgette, which
+meant “you can kiss me.” This time it was her cheek she proffered, all
+glowing with exercise and innocent excitement.
+
+
+Captain Kenealy was the first arrival: a well-appointed soldier; eyes
+equally bright under calm and excitement, mustache always clean and
+glossy; power of assent prodigious. He looked so warlike, and was so
+inoffensive, that he was in great request for miles and miles round
+the garrison town of ----. The girls, at first introduction to him,
+admired him, and waited palpitating to be torn from their mammas, and
+carried half by persuasion, half by force, to their conqueror's tent;
+but after a bit they always found him out, and talked before, and at,
+and across this ornament as if it had been a bronze Mars, or a
+mustache-tipped shadow. This the men viewing from a little distance
+envied the gallant captain, and they might just as well have been
+jealous of a hair-dresser's dummy.
+
+One eventful afternoon, Mrs. Bazalgette and Miss Fountain walked out,
+taking the gallant captain between them as escort. Reginald hovered on
+the rear. Kenealy was charmingly equipped, and lent the party a
+luster. If he did not contribute much to the conversation, he did not
+interrupt it, for the ladies talked through him as if he had been a
+column of red air. Sing, muse, how often Kenealy said “yaas” that
+afternoon; on second thoughts, don't. I can weary my readers without
+celestial aid: Toot! toot! toot! went a cheerful horn, and the
+mail-coach came into sight round a corner, and rolled rapidly toward
+them. Lucy looked anxiously round, and warned Master Reginald of the
+danger now impending over infants. The terrible child went instantly
+(on the “vitantes stulti vitia” principle) clean off the road
+altogether into the ditch, and clayed (not pipe) his trousers to the
+knee. As the coach passed, a gentleman on the box took off his hat to
+the ladies and made other signs. It was Mr. Hardie.
+
+Mrs. Bazalgette proposed to return home to receive him. They were
+about a mile from the house. They had not gone far before the
+rear-guard intermitted blackberrying for an instant, and uttered an
+eldrich screech; then proclaimed, “Another coach! another coach!” It
+was a light break coming gently along, with two showy horses in it,
+and a pony trotting behind.
+
+At one and the same moment Lucy recognized a four-footed darling, and
+the servant recognized her. He drew up, touched his hat, and inquired
+respectfully whether he was going right for Mr. Bazalgette's. Mrs.
+Bazalgette gave him directions while Lucy was patting the pony, and
+showering on him those ardent terms of endearment some ladies bestow
+on their lovers, but this one consecrated to her trustees and
+quadrupeds. In the break were saddles, and a side-saddle, and other
+caparisons, and a giant box; the ladies looked first at it, and then
+through Kenealy at one another, and so settled what was inside that
+box.
+
+They had not walked a furlong before a traveling-carriage and four
+horses came dashing along, and heads were put out of the window, and
+the postboys ordered to stop. Mr. Talboys and Mr. Fountain got out,
+and the carriage was sent on. Introductions took place. Mrs.
+Bazalgette felt her spirits rise like a veteran's when line of battle
+is being formed. She was one of those ladies who are agreeable or
+disagreeable at will. She decided to charm, and she threw her
+enchantment over Messrs. Fountain and Talboys. Coming with hostile
+views, and therefore guilty consciences, they had expected a cold
+welcome. They received a warm, gay, and airy one. After a while she
+maneuvered so as to get between Mr. Fountain and Captain Kenealy, and
+leave Lucy to Mr. Talboys. She gave her such a sly look as she did it.
+It implied, “You will have to tell me all he says to you while we are
+dressing.”
+
+Mr. Talboys inquired who was Captain Kenealy. He learned by her answer
+that that officer had arrived to-day, and she had no previous
+acquaintance with him.
+
+Whatever little embarrassment Lucy might feel, remembering her
+equestrian performance with Mr. Talboys and its cause, she showed
+none. She began about the pony, and how kind of him it was to bring
+it. “And yet,” said she, “if I had known, I would not have allowed you
+to take the trouble, for I have a pony here.”
+
+Mr. Talboys was sorry for that, but he hoped she would ride his now
+and then, all the same.
+
+“Oh, of course. My pony here is very pretty. But a new friend is not
+like an old friend.”
+
+Mr. Talboys was gratified on more accounts than one by this speech. It
+gave him a sense of security. She had no friend about her now she had
+known as long as she had him, and those three months of constant
+intimacy placed him above competition. His mind was at ease, and he
+felt he could pop with a certainty of success, and pop he would, too,
+without any unnecessary delay.
+
+The party arrived in great content and delectation at the gates that
+led to the house. “Stay!” said Mrs. Bazalgette; “you must come across
+the way, all of you. Here is a view that all our guests are expected
+to admire. Those, that cry out 'Charming! beautiful! Oh, I never!' we
+take them in and make them comfortable. Those that won't or can't
+ejaculate--”
+
+“You put them in damp beds,” said Mr. Fountain, only half in jest.
+
+“Worse than that, sir--we flirt with them, and disturb the placid
+current of their hearts forever and ever. Don't we, Lucy?”
+
+“You know best, aunt,” said Lucy, half malice, half pout. The others
+followed the gay lady, and, when the view burst, ejaculated to order.
+
+But Mr. Fountain stood ostentatiously in the middle of the road, with
+his legs apart, like him of Rhodes. “I choose the alternative,” cried
+he. “Sooner than pretend I admire sixteen plowed fields and a hill as
+much as I do a lawn and flower-beds, I elect to be flirted, and my
+what do ye call 'em?--my stagnant current--turned into a whirlpool.”
+ Ere the laugh had well subsided, caused by this imitation of Hercules
+and his choice, he struck up again, “Good news for you, young
+gentleman; I smell a ball; here is a fiddle-case making for this
+hospitable mansion.”
+
+“No,” said Mrs. Bazalgette, “I never ordered any musician to come
+here.”
+
+A tall but active figure came walking light as a feather, with a large
+carpet-bag on his back, a boy behind carrying a violin-case.
+
+Lucy colored and lowered her eyes, but never said a word.
+
+The young man came up to the gate, and then Mr. Talboys recognized
+him.
+
+He hesitated a single moment, then turned and came to the group and
+took off his hat to the ladies. It was David Dodd!
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+THE new guest's manner of presenting himself with his stick over his
+shoulder, and his carpet-bag on his back, subjected him to a battery
+of stares from Kenealy, Talboys, Fountain, and abashed him sore.
+
+This lasted but a moment. He had one friend in the group who was too
+true to her flirtations while they endured, and too strong-willed, to
+let her flirtee be discouraged by mortal.
+
+“Why, it is Mr. Dodd,” cried she, with enthusiasm, and she put forth
+both hands to him, the palms downward, with a smiling grace. “Surely
+you know Mr. Dodd,” said she, turning round quickly to the gentlemen,
+with a smile on her lip, but a dangerous devil in her eye.
+
+The mistress of the house is all-powerful on these occasions. Messrs.
+Talboys and Fountain were forced to do the amiable, raging within;
+Lucy anticipated them; but her welcome was a cold one. Says Mrs.
+Bazalgette, tenderly, “And why do you carry that heavy bag, when you
+have that great stout lad with you? I think it is his business to
+carry it, not yours”; and her eyes scathed the boy, fiddle and all.
+
+All the time she was saying this David was winking to her, and making
+faces to her not to go on that tack. His conduct now explained his
+pantomime. “Here, youngster,” said he, “you take these things
+in-doors, and here is your half-crown.”
+
+Lucy averted her head, and smiled unobserved.
+
+As soon as the lad was out of hearing, David continued: “It was not
+worth while to mortify him. The fact is, I hired him to carry it; but,
+bless you, the first mile he began to go down by the head, and would
+have foundered; so we shifted our cargoes.” This amused Kenealy, who
+laughed good-humoredly. On this, David laughed for company.
+
+“There,” cried his inamorata, with rapture, “that is Mr. Dodd all
+over; thinks of everybody, high or low, before himself.” There was a
+grunt somewhere behind her; her quick ear caught it; she turned round
+like a thing on a pivot, and slapped the nearest face. It happened to
+be Fountain's; so she continued with such a treacle smile, “Don't you
+remember, sir, how he used to teach your cub mathematics gratis?” The
+sweet smile and the keen contemporaneous scratch confounded Mr.
+Fountain for a second. As soon as he revived he said stiffly, “We can
+all appreciate Mr. Dodd.”
+
+Having thus established her Adonis on a satisfactory footing, she
+broke out all over graciousness again, and, smiling and chatting, led
+her guests beneath the hospitable roof.
+
+But one of these guests did not respond to her cheerful strain. The
+Norman knight was full of bitterness. Mr. Talboys drew his friend
+aside and proposed to him to go back again. The senior was aghast.
+“Don't be so precipitate,” was all that he could urge this time.
+“Confound the fellow! Yes, if that is the man she prefers to you, I
+will go home with you to-morrow, and the vile hussy shall never enter
+my doors again.”
+
+In this mind the pair went devious to their dressing-rooms.
+
+
+One day a witty woman said of a man that “he played the politician
+about turnips and cabbages.” That might be retorted (by a snob and
+brute) on her own sex in general, and upon Mrs. Bazalgette in
+particular. This sweet lady maneuvered on a carpet like Marlborough on
+the south of France. She was brimful of resources, and they all tended
+toward one sacred object, getting her own way. She could be imperious
+at a pinch and knock down opposition; but she liked far better to
+undermine it, dissolve it, or evade it. She was too much of a woman to
+run straight to her _je-le-veux,_ so long as she could wind
+thitherward serpentinely and by detour. She could have said to Mr.
+Hardie, “You will take down Lucy to dinner,” and to Mr. Dodd, “You
+will sit next me”; but no, she must mold her males--as per sample.
+
+To Mr. Fountain she said, “Your friend, I hear, is of old family.”
+
+“Came in with the Conqueror, madam.”
+
+“Then he shall take me down: that will be the first step toward
+conquering me--ha! ha!” Fountain bowed, well pleased.
+
+To Mr. Hardie she said, “Will you take down Lucy to-day? I see she
+enjoys your conversation. Observe how disinterested I am.”
+
+Hardie consented with twinkling composure.
+
+Before dinner she caught Kenealy, drew him aside, and put on a long
+face. “I am afraid I must lose you to-day at dinner. Mr. Dodd is quite
+a stranger, and they all tell me I must put him at his ease.
+
+“Yaas.”
+
+“Well, then, you had better get next Lucy, as you can't have me.”
+
+“Yaas.”
+
+“And, Captain Kenealy, you are my aid-de-camp. It is a delightful
+post, you know, and rather a troublesome one.”
+
+“Yaas.”
+
+“You must help me be kind to this sailor.”
+
+“Yaas. He is a good fellaa. Carried the baeg for the little caed.”
+
+“Oh, did he?”
+
+“And didn't maind been laughed at.”
+
+“Now, that shows how intelligent you must be,” said the wily one; “the
+others could not comprehend the trait. Well, you and I must patronize
+him. Merit is always so dreadfully modest.”
+
+“Yaas.”
+
+This arrangement was admirable, but human; consequently, not without a
+flaw. Uncle Fountain was left to chance, like the flying atoms of
+Epicurus, and chance put him at Bazalgette's right hand save one. From
+this point his inquisitive eye commanded David Dodd and Mrs.
+Bazalgette, and raked Lucy and her neighbors, who were on the opposite
+side of the table. People who look, bent on seeing everything,
+generally see something; item, it is not always what they would like
+to see.
+
+As they retired to rest for the night, Mr. Fountain invited his friend
+to his room.
+
+“We shall not have to go home. I have got the key to our antagonist.
+Young Dodd is _her_ lover.” Talboys shook his head with cool
+contempt. “What I mean is that she has invited him for her own
+amusement, not her niece's. I never saw a woman throw herself at any
+man's head as she did at that sailor's all dinner. Her very husband
+saw it. He is a cool hand, that Bazalgette; he only grinned, and took
+wine with the sailor. He has seen a good many go the same
+road--soldiers, sailors, tinkers, tai--”
+
+Talboys interrupted him. “I really must call you to order. You are
+prejudiced against poor Mrs. Bazalgette, and prejudice blinds
+everybody. Politeness required that she should show some attention to
+her neighbor, but her principal attention was certainly not bestowed
+on Mr. Dodd.”
+
+Fountain was surprised. “On whom, then?”
+
+“Well, to tell the truth, on your humble servant.”
+
+Fountain stared. “I observed she did not neglect you; but when she
+turned to Dodd her face puckered itself into smiles like a bag.”
+
+“I did not see it, and I was nearer her than you,” said Talboys
+coldly.
+
+“But I was in front of her.”
+
+“Yes, a mile off.” There being no jurisconsult present to explain to
+these two magistrates that if fifty people don't see a woman pucker
+her face like a bag, and one does see her p. h. f. l. a. b., the
+affirmative evidence preponderates, they were very near coming to a
+quarrel on this grave point. It was Fountain who made peace. He
+suddenly remembered that his friend had never been known to change an
+opinion. “Well,” said he, “let us leave that; we shall have other
+opportunities of watching Dodd and her; meantime I am sorry I cannot
+convince you of my good news, for I have some bad to balance it. You
+have a rival, and he did not sit next Mrs. Bazalgette.”
+
+“Pray may I ask whom he did sit next?” sneered Talboys.
+
+“He sat--like a man who meant to win--by the girl herself.”
+
+“Oh, then it is that sing-song captain you fear, sir?” drawled
+Talboys.
+
+“No, sir, no more than I dread the _epergne._ Try the other
+side.”
+
+“What, Mr. Hardie? Why, he is a banker.”
+
+“And a rich one.”
+
+“She would never marry a banker.”
+
+“Perhaps not, if she were uninfluenced; but we are not at Talboys
+Court or Font Abbey now. We have fallen into a den of _parvenues._ That
+Hardie is a great catch, according to their views, and all Mrs.
+Bazalgette's influence with Lucy will be used in his favor.
+
+“I think not. She spoke quite slightingly of him to me.”
+
+“Did she? Then that puts the matter quite beyond doubt. Why should she
+speak slightingly of him? Bazalgette spoke to me of him with grave
+veneration. He is handsome, well behaved, and the girl talked to him
+nineteen to the dozen. Mrs. Bazalgette could not be sincere in
+underrating him. She undervalued him to throw dust in your eyes.”
+
+“It is not so easy to throw dust in my eyes.”
+
+“I don't say it is; but this woman will do it; she is as artful as a
+fox. She hoodwinked even me for a moment. I really did not see through
+her feigned politeness in letting you take her down to dinner.”
+
+“You mistake her character entirely. She is coquettish, and not so
+well-bred as her niece, but artful she is not. In fact, there is
+almost a childish frankness about her.”
+
+At this stroke of observation Fountain burst out laughing bitterly.
+
+Talboys turned pale with suppressed ire, and went on doggedly: “You
+are mistaken in every particular. Mrs. Bazalgette has no fixed views
+for her niece, and I by no means despair of winning her to my side.
+She is anything but discouraging.”
+
+Fountain groaned.
+
+“Mr. Hardie is a new acquaintance, and Miss Fountain told me herself
+she preferred old friends to new. She looked quite conscious as she
+said it. In a word, Mr. Dodd is the only rival I have to
+fear--good-night;” and he went out with a stately wave of the hand,
+like royalty declining farther conference. Mr. Fountain sank into an
+armchair, and muttered feebly, “Good-night.” There he sat collapsed
+till his friend's retiring steps were heard no more; then, springing
+wildly to his feet, he relieved his swelling mind with a long, loud,
+articulated roar of Anglo-Saxon, “Fool! dolt! coxcomb! noodle! puppy!
+ass!!!!”
+
+Did ye ever read “Tully 'de Amicitia'?”
+
+
+David Dodd was saved from misery by want of vanity. His reception at
+the gate by Miss Fountain was cool and constrained, but it did not
+wound him. For the last month life had been a blank to him. She was
+his sun. He saw her once more, and the bare sight filled him with life
+and joy. His was naturally a sanguine, contented mind. Some lovers
+equally ardent would have seen more to repine at than to enjoy in the
+whole situation; not so David. She sat between Kenealy and Hardie, but
+her presence filled the whole room, and he who loved her better than
+any other had the best right to be happy in the place that held her.
+He had only to turn his eyes, and he could see her. What a blessing,
+after a month of vacancy and darkness. This simple idolatry made him
+so happy that his heart overflowed on all within reach. He gave Mrs.
+Bazalgette answers full of kindness and arch gayety combined. He
+charmed an old married lady on his right. His was the gay, the merry
+end of the table, and others wished themselves up at it.
+
+After the ladies had retired, his narrative powers, _bonhomie_
+and manly frankness soon told upon the men, and peals of genuine
+laughter echoed up to the very drawing-room, bringing a deputation
+from the kitchen to the keyhole, and irritating the ladies overhead,
+who sat trickling faint monosyllables about their three little topics.
+
+Lucy took it philosophically. “Now those are the good creatures that
+are said to be so unhappy without us. It was a weight off their minds
+when the door closed on our retiring forms--ha! ha!”
+
+“It was a restraint taken off them, my dear,” said Mrs. Mordan, a
+starched dowager, stiffening to the naked eye as she spoke. “When they
+laugh like that, they are always saying something improper.”
+
+“Oh, the wicked things,” replied Lucy, mighty calmly.
+
+“I wish I knew what they are saying,” said eagerly another young lady;
+then added, “Oh!” and blushed, observing her error mirrored in all
+eyes.
+
+Lucy the Clement instructed her out of the depths of her own
+experience in impropriety. “They swear. That is what Mrs. Mordan
+means,” and so to the piano with dignity.
+
+Presently in came Messrs. Fountain and Talboys. Mrs. Bazalgette asked
+the former a little crossly how he could make up his mind to leave the
+gay party downstairs.
+
+“Oh, it was only that fellow Dodd. The dog is certainly very amusing,
+but 'there's metal more attractive here.'”
+
+Coffee and tea were fired down at the other gentlemen by way of hints;
+but Dodd prevailed over all, and it was nearly bedtime when they
+joined the ladies.
+
+Mr. Talboys had an hour with Lucy, and no rival by to ruffle him.
+
+Next day a riding-party was organized. Mr. Talboys decided in his mind
+that Kenealy was even less dangerous than Hardie, so lent him the
+quieter of his two nags, and rode a hot, rampageous brute, whose very
+name was Lucifer, so that will give you an idea. The grooms had driven
+him with a kicking-strap and two pair of reins, and even so were
+reluctant to drive him at all, but his steady companion had balanced
+him a bit. Lucy was to ride her old pony, and Mrs. Bazalgette the new.
+The horses came to the door; one of the grooms offered to put Lucy up.
+Talboys waved him loftily back, and then, strange as it may appear,
+David, for the first time in his life, saw a gentleman lift a lady
+into the saddle.
+
+Lucy laid her right hand on the pommel and resigned her left foot; Mr.
+Talboys put his hand under that foot and heaved her smoothly into the
+saddle. “That is clever,” thought simple David; “that chap has got
+more pith in his arm than one would think.” They cantered away, and
+left him looking sadly after them. It seemed so hard that another man
+should have her sweet foot in his hand, should lift her whole glorious
+person, and smooth her sacred dress, and he stand by helpless; and
+then the indifference with which that man had done it all. To him it
+had been no sacred pleasure, no great privilege. A sense of loneliness
+struck chill on David as the clatter of her pony's hoofs died away. He
+was in the house; but in that house was a sort of inner circle, of
+which she was the center, and he was to be outside it altogether.
+
+Liable to great wrath upon great occasions, he had little of that
+small irritability that goes with an egotistical mind and feminine
+fiber, so he merely hung his head, blamed nobody, and was sad in a
+manly way. While he leaned against the portico in this dejected mood,
+a little hand pulled his coat-tail. It was Master Reginald, who looked
+up in his face, and said timidly, “Will you play with me?” The fact
+is, Mr. Reginald's natural audacity had received a momentary check. He
+had just put this same question to Mr. Hardie in the library, and had
+been rejected with ignominy, and recommended to go out of doors for
+his own health and the comfort of such as desired peaceable study of
+British and foreign intelligence.
+
+“That I will, my little gentleman,” said David, “if I know the game.”
+
+“Oh, I don't care what it is, so that it is fun. What is your name?”
+
+“David Dodd.”
+
+“Oh.”
+
+“And what is yours?”
+
+“What, don't--you--know??? Why, Reginald George Bazalgette. I am
+seven. I am the eldest. I am to have more money than the others when
+papa dies, Jane says. I wonder when he will die.”
+
+“When he does you will lose his love, and that is worth more than his
+money; so you take my advice and love him dearly while you have got
+him.”
+
+“Oh, I like papa very well. He is good-natured all day long. Mamma is
+so ill-tempered till dinner, and then they won't let me dine with her;
+and then, as soon as mamma has begun to be good-tempered upstairs in
+the drawing-room, my bedtime comes directly; it's abominable!!” The
+last word rose into a squeak under his sense of wrong.
+
+David smiled kindly: “So it seems we all have our troubles,” said he.
+
+“What! have you any troubles?” and Reginald opened his eyes in wonder.
+He thought size was an armor against care.
+
+“Not so many as most folk, thank God, but I have some,” and David
+sighed.
+
+“Why, if I was as big as you, I'd have no troubles. I'd beat everybody
+that troubled me, and I would marry Lucy directly”; and at that
+beloved name my lord falls into a reverie ten seconds long.
+
+David gave a start, and an ejaculation rose to his lips. He looked
+down with comical horror upon the little chubby imp who had divined
+his thought.
+
+Mr. Reginald soon undeceived him. “She is to be my wife, you know.
+Don't you think she will make a capital one?” Before David could
+decide this point for him, the kaleidoscopic mind of the terrible
+infant had taken another turn. “Come into the stable-yard; I'll show
+you Tom,” cried young master, enthusiastically. Finally, David had to
+make the boy a kite. When made it took two hours for the paste to dry;
+and as every ten minutes spent in waiting seemed an hour to one of Mr.
+Reginald's kidney, as the English classics phrase it, he was almost in
+a state of frenzy at last, and flew his new kite with yells. But after
+a bit he missed a familiar incident; “It doesn't tumble down; my other
+kites all tumble down.”
+
+“More shame for them,” said David, with a dash of contempt, and
+explained to him that tumbling down is a flaw in a kite, just as
+foundering at sea is a vile habit in a ship, and that each of these
+descents, however picturesque to childhood's eye, implies a
+construction originally derective, or some little subsequent
+mismanagement. It appeared by Reginald's retort that when his kite
+tumbled he had the tumultuous joy of flying it again, but, by its
+keeping the air like this, monotony reigned; so he now proposed that
+his new friend should fasten the string to the pump-handle, and play
+at ball with him beneath the kite. The good-natured sailor consented,
+and thus the little voluptuary secured a terrestrial and ever-varying
+excitement, while occasional glances upward soothed him with the mild
+consciousness that there was his property still hovering in the
+empyrean; amid all which, poor love-sick David was seized with a
+desire to hear the name of her he loved, and her praise, even from
+these small lips. “So you are very fond of Miss Lucy?” said he.
+
+“Yes,” replied Reginald, dryly, and said no more; for it is a
+characteristic of the awfu' bairn to be mute where fluency is
+required, voluble where silence.
+
+“I wonder why you love her so much,” said David, cunningly. Reginald's
+face, instead of brightening with the spirit of explanation, became
+instantly lack-luster and dough-like; for, be it known, to the
+everlasting discredit of human nature, that his affection and
+matrimonial intentions, as they were no secret, so they were the butt
+of satire from grown-up persons of both sexes in the house, and of
+various social grades; down to the very gardener, all had had a fling
+at him. But soon his natural cordiality gained the better of that
+momentary reserve. “Well, I'll tell you,” said he, “because you have
+behaved well all day.”
+
+David was all expectation.
+
+“I like her because she has got red cheeks, and does whatever one asks
+her.”
+
+
+Oh, breadth of statement! Why was not David one of your repeaters? He
+would have gone and told Lucy. I should have liked her to know in what
+grand primitive colors peach-bloom and queenly courtesy strike what
+Mr. Tennyson is pleased to call “the deep mind of dauntless infancy.”
+ But David Dodd was not a reporter, and so I don't get my way; and how
+few of us do! not even Mr. Reginald, whose joyous companionship with
+David was now blighted by a footman. At sight of the coming plush,
+“There, now!” cried Reginald. He anticipated evil, for messages from
+the ruling powers were nearly always adverse to his joys. The footman
+came to say that his master would feel obliged if Mr. Dodd would step
+into his study a minute.
+
+David went immediately.
+
+“There, now!” squeaked Reginald, rising an octave. “I'm never happy
+for two hours together.” This was true. He omitted to add, “Nor
+unhappy for one.” The dear child sought comfort in retaliation. He
+took stones and pelted the footman's retiring calves. His admirers, if
+any, will be glad to learn that this act of intelligent retribution
+soothed his deep mind a little.
+
+Mr. Bazalgette had been much interested by David's conversation the
+last night, and, hearing he was not with the riding-party, had a mind
+to chat with him. David found him in a magnificent study, lined with
+books, and hung with beautiful maps that lurked in mahogany cylinders
+attached to the wall; and you pulled them out by inserting a
+brass-hooked stick into their rings, and hauling. Mr. Bazalgette began
+by putting him a question about a distant port to which he had just
+sent out some goods. David gave him full information. Began,
+seaman-like, with the entrance to the harbor, and told him what danger
+his captain should look out for in running in, and how to avoid it;
+and from that went to the character of the natives, their tricks upon
+the sailors, their habits, tastes, and fancies, and, entering with
+intelligence into his companion's business, gave him some very shrewd
+hints as to the sort of cargo that would tempt them to sell the very
+rings out of their ears. Succeeding so well in this, Mr. Bazalgette
+plied him on other points, and found him full of valuable matter, and,
+by a rare union of qualities, very modest and very frank. “Now I like
+this,” said Mr. Bazalgette, cheerfully. “This is a return to old
+customs. A century or two ago, you know, the merchant and the captain
+felt themselves parts of the same stick, and they used to sit and
+smoke together before a voyage, and sup together after one, and be
+always putting their heads together; but of late the stick has got so
+much longer, and so many knots between the handle and the point, that
+we have quite lost sight of one another. Here we merchants sit at home
+at ease, and send you fine fellows out among storms and waves, and
+think more of a bale of cotton spoiled than of a captain drowned.”
+
+David. “And we eat your bread, sir, as if it dropped from the
+clouds, and quite forget whose money and spirit of enterprise causes
+the ship to be laid on the stocks, and then built, and then rigged,
+and then launched, and then manned, and then sailed from port to
+port.”
+
+“Well, well, if you eat our bread, we eat your labor, your skill, your
+courage, and sometimes your lives, I am sorry to say. Merchants and
+captains ought really to be better acquainted.”
+
+“Well, sir,” said David, “now you mention it, you are the first
+merchant of any consequence I ever had the advantage of talking with.”
+
+“The advantage is mutual, sir; you have given me one or two hints I
+could not have got from fifty merchants. I mean to coin you, Captain
+Dodd.”
+
+David laughed and blushed. “I doubt it will be but copper coin if you
+do. But I am not a captain; I am only first mate.”
+
+“You don't say so! Why, how comes that?”
+
+“Well, sir, I went to sea very young, but I wasted a year or two in
+private ventures. When I say wasted, I picked up a heap of knowledge
+that I could not have gained on the China voyage, but it has lost me a
+little in length of standing; but, on the other hand, I have been very
+lucky; it is not every one that gets to be first mate at my age; and
+after next voyage, if I can only make a little bit of interest, I
+think I shall be a captain. No, sir, I wish I was a captain; I never
+wished it as now;” and David sighed deeply.
+
+“Humph!” said Mr. Bazalgette, and took a note.
+
+He then showed David his maps. David inspected them with almost boyish
+delight, and showed the merchant the courses of ships on Eastern and
+Western voyages, and explained the winds and currents that compelled
+them to go one road and return another, and in both cases to go so
+wonderfully out of what seems the track as they do. _Bref,_ the
+two ends of the mercantile stick came nearer.
+
+“My study is always open to you, Mr. Dodd, and I hope you will not let
+a day pass without obliging me by looking in upon me.”
+
+David thanked him, and went out innocently unconscious that he had
+performed an unparalleled feat. In the hall he met Captain Kenealy,
+who, having received orders to amuse him, invited him to play at
+billiards. David consented, out of good-nature, to please Kenealy.
+Thus the whole day passed, and _les facheux_ would not let him
+get a word with Lucy.
+
+At dinner he was separated from her, and so hotly and skillfully
+engaged by Mrs. Bazalgette that he had scarcely time to look at his
+idol. After dinner he had to contest her with Mr. Talboys and Mr.
+Hardie, the latter of whom he found a very able and sturdy antagonist.
+Mr. Hardie had also many advantages over him. First, the young lady
+was not the least shy of Mr. Hardie, but the parting scene beyond
+Royston had put her on her guard against David, and her instinct of
+defense made her reserved with him. Secondly, Mrs. Bazalgette was
+perpetually making diversions, whose double object was to get David to
+herself and leave Lucy to Mr. Hardie.
+
+With all this David found, to his sorrow, that, though he now lived
+under the same roof with her, he was not so near her as at Font Abbey.
+There was a wall of etiquette and of rivals, and, as he now began to
+fear, of her own dislike between them. To read through that mighty
+transparent jewel, a female heart, Nauta had recourse--to what, do you
+think? To arithmetic. He set to work to count how many times she spoke
+to each of the party in the drawing-room, and he found that Mr. Hardie
+was at the head of the list, and he was at the bottom. That might be
+an accident; perhaps this was his black evening; so he counted her
+speeches the next evening. The result was the same. Droll statistics,
+but sad and convincing to the simple David. His spirits failed him;
+his aching heart turned cold. He withdrew from the gay circle, and sat
+sadly with a book of prints before him, and turned the leaves
+listlessly. In a pause of the conversation a sigh was heard in the
+corner. They all looked round, and saw David all by himself, turning
+over the leaves, but evidently not inspecting them.
+
+A sort of flash of satirical curiosity went from eye to eye.
+
+But tact abounded at one end of the room, if there was a dearth of it
+at the other.
+
+_La rusee sans le savoir_ made a sign to them all to take no
+notice; at the same time she whispered: “Going to sea in a few days
+for two years; the thought will return now and then.” Having said this
+with a look at her aunt, that, Heaven knows how, gave the others the
+notion that it was to Mrs. Bazalgette she owed the solution of David's
+fit of sadness, she glided easily into indifferent topics. So then the
+others had a momentary feeling of pity for David. Miss Lucy noticed
+this out of the tail of her eye.
+
+That night David went to bed thoroughly wretched. He could not sleep,
+so he got up and paced the deck of his room with a heavy heart. At
+last, in his despair, he said, “I'll fire signals of distress.” So he
+sat down and took a sheet of paper, and fired: “Nothing has turned as
+I expected. She treats me like a stranger. I seem to drop astern
+instead of making any way. Here are three of us, I do believe, and all
+seem preferred to your poor brother; and, indeed, the only thing that
+gives me any hope is that she seems too kind to be in earnest, for it
+is not in her angelic nature to be really unkind; and what have I
+done? Eve, dear, such a change from what she was at Font Abbey, and
+that happy evening when she came and drank tea with us, and lighted
+our little garden up, and won your heart, that was always a little set
+against her. Now it is so different that I sit and ask myself whether
+all that is not a dream. Can anyone change so in one short month? I
+could not. But who knows? perhaps I do her wrong. You know I never
+could read her at home without your help, and, dear Eve, I miss you
+now from my side most sadly. Without you I seem to be adrift, without
+rudder or compass.”
+
+Then, as he could not sleep, he dressed himself, and went out at four
+o'clock in the morning. He roamed about with a heavy heart; at last he
+bethought him of his fiddle. Since Lucy's departure from Font Abbey
+this had been a great solace to him. It was at once a depository and
+vent to him; he poured out his heart to it and by it; sometimes he
+would fancy, while he played, that he was describing the beauties of
+her mind and person; at others, regretting the sad fate that separated
+him from her; or, hope reviving, would see her near him, and be
+telling her how he loved her; and, so great an inspirer is love, he
+had invented more than one clear melody during the last month, he who
+up to that time had been content to render the thoughts of others,
+like most fiddlers and composers.
+
+So he said to himself, “I had better not play in the house, or I shall
+wake them out of their first sleep.”
+
+He brought out his violin, got among some trees near the stable-yard,
+and tried to soothe his sorrowful heart. He played sadly, sweetly and
+dreamingly. He bade the wooden shell tell all the world how lonely he
+was, only the magic shell told it so tenderly and tunefully that he
+soon ceased to be alone. The first arrival was on four legs: Pepper, a
+terrier with a taste for sounds. Pepper arrived cautiously, though in
+a state of profound curiosity, and, being too wise to trust at once to
+his ears, avenue of sense by which we are all so much oftener deceived
+than by any other, he first smelled the musician carefully and
+minutely all round. What he learned by this he and his Creator alone
+know, but apparently something reassuring; for, as soon as he had
+thoroughly snuffed his Orpheus, he took up a position exactly opposite
+him, sat up high on his tail, cocked his nose well into the air, and
+accompanied the violin with such vocal powers as Nature had bestowed
+on him. Nor did the sentiment lose anything, in intensity at all
+events, by the vocalist. If David's strains were plaintive, Pepper's
+were lugubrious; and what may seem extraordinary, so long as David
+played softly the Cerberus of the stableyard whined musically, and
+tolerably in tune; but when he played loud or fast poor Pepper got
+excited, and in his wild endeavors to equal the violin vented dismal
+and discordant howls at unpleasantly short intervals. All this
+attracted David's attention, and he soon found he could play upon
+Pepper as well as the fiddle, raising him and subduing him by turns;
+only, like the ocean, Pepper was not to be lulled back to his musical
+ripple quite so quickly as he could be lashed into howling frenzy.
+
+While David was thus playing, and Pepper showing a fearful broadside
+of ivory teeth, and flinging up his nose and sympathizing loudly and
+with a long face, though not perhaps so deeply as he looked, suddenly
+rang behind David a chorus of human chuckles. David wheeled, and there
+were six young women's faces set in the foliage and laughing merrily.
+Though perfectly aware that David would look round, they seemed taken
+quite by surprise when he did look, and with military precision became
+instantly two files, for the four impudent ones ran behind the two
+modest ones, and there, by an innocent instinct, tied their
+cap-strings, which were previously floating loose, their custom ever
+in the early morning.
+
+“Play us up something merry, sir,” hazarded one of the mock-modest
+ones in the rear.
+
+“Shan't I be taking you from your work?” objected David dryly.
+
+“Oh, all work and no play is bad for the body,” replied the minx,
+keeping ostentatiously out of sight.
+
+Good-natured David played a merry tune in spite of his heart; and even
+at that disadvantage it was so spirit-stirring compared with anything
+the servants had heard, it made them all frisky, of which disposition
+Tom, the stable boy, who just then came into the yard, took advantage,
+and, leading out one of the housemaids by the polite process of
+hauling at her with both hands, proceeded to country dancing, in which
+the others soon demurely joined.
+
+Now all this was wormwood to poor David; for to play merriment when
+the heart is too heavy to be cheered by it makes that heart bitter as
+well as sad. But the good-natured fellow said to himself: “Poor
+things, I dare say they work from morning till night, and seldom see
+pleasure but at a distance; why not put on a good face, and give them
+one merry hour.” So he played horn-pipes and reels till all their
+hearts were on fire, and faces red, and eyes glittering, and legs
+aching, and he himself felt ready to burst out crying, and then he
+left off. As for _il penseroso_ Pepper, he took this intrusion of
+merry music upon his sympathies very ill. He left singing, and barked
+furiously and incessantly at these ancient English melodies and at the
+dancers, and kept running from and running at the women's whirling
+gowns alternately, and lost his mental balance, and at last, having by
+a happier snap than usual torn off two feet of the under-housemaid's
+frock, shook and worried the fragment with insane snarls and gleaming
+eyes, and so zealously that his existence seemed to depend on its
+annihilation.
+
+David gave those he had brightened a sad smile, and went hastily
+in-doors. He put his violin into its case, and sealed and directed his
+letter to Eve. He could not rest in-doors, so he roamed out again, but
+this time he took care to go on the lawn. Nobody would come there, he
+thought, to interrupt his melancholy. He was doomed to be disappointed
+in that respect. As he sat in the little summer-house with his head on
+the table, he suddenly heard an elastic step on the dry gravel. He
+started peevishly up and saw a lady walking briskly toward him: it was
+Miss Fountain.
+
+She saw him at the same instant. She hesitated a single half-moment;
+then, as escape was impossible, resumed her course. David went
+bashfully to meet her.
+
+“Good-morning, Mr. Dodd,” said she, in the most easy, unembarrassed
+way imaginable.
+
+He stammered a “good-morning,” and flushed with pleasure and
+confusion.
+
+He walked by her side in silence. She stole a look at him, and saw
+that, after the first blush at meeting her, he was pale and haggard.
+On this she dashed into singularly easy and cheerful conversation with
+him; told him that this morning walk was her custom--“My substitute
+for rouge, you know. I am always the first up in this languid house;
+but I must not boast before you, who, I dare say, turn out--is not
+that the word?--at daybreak. But, now I think of it, no! you would
+have crossed my hawse before, Mr. Dodd,” using naval phrases to
+flatter him.
+
+“It was my ill-luck; I always cruised a mile off. I had no idea this
+bit of gravel was your quarter-deck.”
+
+“It is, though, because it is always dry. You would not like a
+quarter-deck with that character, would you?”
+
+“Oh yes, I should. I'd have my bowsprit always wet, and my
+quarter-deck always dry. But it is no use wishing for what we cannot
+have.”
+
+“That is very true,” said Lucy, quietly.
+
+David reflected on his own words, and sighed deeply.
+
+This did not suit Lucy. She plied him with airy nothings, that no man
+can arrest and impress on paper; but the tone and smile made them
+pleasing, and then she asked his opinion of the other guests in such a
+way as implied she took some interest in his opinion of them, but
+mighty little in the people themselves. In short, she chatted with him
+like an old friend, and nothing more; but David was not subtle enough
+in general, nor just now calm enough, to see on what footing all this
+cordiality was offered him. His color came back, his eye brightened,
+happiness beamed on his face, and the lady saw it from under her
+lashes.
+
+“How fortunate I fell in with you here! You are yourself again--on
+your quarter-deck. I scarce knew you the last few days. I was afraid I
+had offended you. You seemed to avoid me.”
+
+“Nonsense, Mr. Dodd; what is there about you to avoid?”
+
+“Plenty, Miss Fountain; I am so inferior to your other friends.”
+
+“I was not aware of it, Mr. Dodd.”
+
+“And I have heard your sex has gusts of caprice, and I thought the
+cold wind was blowing upon me; and that did seem very sad, just when I
+am going out, and perhaps shall never see your sweet face or hear your
+lovely voice again.”
+
+“Don't say that, Mr. Dodd, or you will make me sad in earnest. Your
+prudence and courage, and a kind Providence, will carry you safe
+through this voyage, as they have through so many, and on your return
+the acquaintance you do me the honor to value so highly will await
+you--if it depends on me.”
+
+All this was said kindly and beautifully, and almost tenderly, but
+still with a certain majesty that forbade love-making--rendered it
+scarce possible, except to a fool. But David was not captious. He
+could not, like the philosopher, sift sunshine. For some days he had
+been almost separated from her. Now she was by his side. He adored her
+so that he could no longer _realize_ sorrow or disappointment to
+come. They were uncertain--future. The light of her eyes, and voice,
+and face, and noble presence were here; he basked in them.
+
+He told her not to mind a word he had said. “It was all nonsense. I am
+happier now--happier than ever.”
+
+At this Lucy looked grave and became silent.
+
+David, to amuse her, told her there was “a singing dog aboard,” and
+would she like to hear him?
+
+This was a happy diversion for Lucy. She assented gayly. David ran for
+his fiddle, and then for Pepper. Pepper wagged his tail, but, strong
+as his musical taste was, would not follow the fiddle. But at this
+juncture Master Reginald dawned on the stable-yard with a huge slice
+of bread and butter. Pepper followed him. So the party came on the
+lawn and joined Lucy. Then David played on the violin, and Pepper
+performed exactly as hereinbefore related. Lucy laughed merrily, and
+Reginald shrieked with delight, for the vocal terrier was mortal
+droll.
+
+
+“But, setting Pepper aside, that is a very sweet air you are playing
+now, Mr. Dodd. It is full of soul and feeling.”
+
+“Is it?” said David, looking wonderstruck; “you know best.”
+
+“Who is the composer?”
+
+David looked confused and said, “No one of any note.”
+
+Lucy shot a glance at him, keen as lightning. What with David's
+simplicity and her own remarkable talent for reading faces, his
+countenance was a book to her, wide open, Bible print. “The composer's
+name is Mr. Dodd,” said she, quietly.
+
+“I little thought you would be satisfied with it,” replied David,
+obliquely.
+
+“Then you doubted my judgment as well as your own talent.”
+
+“My talent! I should never have composed an air that would bear
+playing but for one thing.”
+
+“And what was that?” said Lucy, affecting vast curiosity. She felt
+herself on safe ground now--the fine arts.
+
+“You remember when you went away from Font Abbey, and left us all so
+heavy-hearted?”
+
+“I remember leaving Font Abbey,” replied Lucy, with saucy emphasis,
+and an air of lofty disbelief in the other incident.
+
+“Well, I used to get my fiddle, and think of you so far away, and
+sweet sad airs came to my heart, and from my heart they passed into
+the fiddle. Now and then one seemed more worthy of you than the rest
+were, and then I kept that one.”
+
+“You mean you took the notes down,” said Lucy coldly.
+
+“Oh no, there was no need; I wrote it in my head and in my heart. May
+I play you another of your tunes? I call them your tunes.”
+
+Lucy blushed faintly, and fixed her eyes on the ground. She gave a
+slight signal of assent, and David played a melody.
+
+“It is very beautiful,” said she in a low voice. “Play it again. Can
+you play it as we walk?”
+
+“Oh yes.” He played it again. They drew near the hall door. She looked
+up a moment, and then demurely down again.
+
+“Now will you be so good as to play the first one twice?” She listened
+with her eyelashes drooping. “Tweedle dee! tweedle dum! tweedle dee.”
+ “And _now_ we will go into breakfast,” cried Lucy, with sudden
+airy cheerfulness, and, almost with the word, she darted up the steps,
+and entered the house without even looking to see whether David
+followed or what became of him.
+
+He stood gazing through the open door at her as she glided across the
+hall, swift and elastic, yet serpentine, and graceful and stately as
+Juno at nineteen.
+
+           “Et vera iucessu patuit lady.”
+
+These Junones, severe in youthful beauty, fill us Davids with
+irrational awe; but, the next moment, they are treated like small
+children by the very first matron they meet; they resign their
+judgment at once to hers, and bow their wills to her lightest word
+with a slavish meanness.
+
+Creation's unmarried lords, realize your true position--girls govern
+you, and wives govern girls.
+
+Mrs. Bazalgette, on Lucy's entrance, ran a critical eye over her, and
+scolded her like a six-year-old for walking in thin shoes.
+
+“Only on the gravel, aunt,” said the divine slave, submissively.
+
+“No matter; it rained last night. I heard it patter. You want to be
+laid up, I suppose.”
+
+“I will put on thicker ones in future, dear aunt,” murmured the
+celestial serf.
+
+Now Mrs. Bazalgette did not really care a button whether the servile
+angel wore thick soles or thin. She was cross about something a mile
+off that. As soon as she had vented her ill humor on a sham cause, she
+could come to its real cause good-temperedly. “And, Lucy, love, do
+manage better about Mr. Dodd.”
+
+Lucy turned scarlet. Luckily, Mrs. Bazalgette was evading her niece's
+eye, so did not see her telltale cheek.
+
+“He was quite thrown out last night; and really, as he does not ride
+with us, it is too bad to neglect him in-doors.”
+
+“Oh, excuse me, aunt, Mr. Dodd is your protege. You did not even tell
+me you were going to invite him.”
+
+“I beg your pardon, that I certainly did. Poor fellow, he was out of
+spirits last night.”
+
+“Well, but, aunt, surely you can put an admirer in good spirits when
+you think proper,” said Lucy slyly.
+
+“Humph! I don't want to attract too much attention. I see Bazalgette
+watching me, and I don't wish to be misinterpreted myself, or give my
+husband pain.”
+
+She said this with such dignity that Lucy, who knew her regard for her
+husband, had much ado not to titter. But courtesy prevailed, and she
+said gravely: “I will do whatever you wish me, only give me a hint at
+the time; a look will do, you know.”
+
+The ladies separated; they met again at the breakfast-room door.
+Laughter rang merrily inside, and among the gayest voices was Mr.
+Dodd's. Lucy gave Mrs. Bazalgette an arch look. “Your patient seems
+better;” and they entered the room, where, sure enough, they found Mr.
+Dodd the life and soul of the assembled party.
+
+“A letter from Mrs. Wilson, aunt.”
+
+“And, pray, who is Mrs. Wilson?”
+
+“My nurse. She tells me 'it is five years since she has seen me, and
+she is wearying to see me.' What a droll expression, 'wearying.'”
+
+“Ah!” said David Dodd.
+
+“You have heard the word before, Mr. Dodd?”
+
+“No, I can't say I have; but I know what it must mean.”
+
+“Lying becalmed at the equator, eh! Dodd?” said Bazalgette,
+misunderstanding him.
+
+“Mrs. Wilson tells me she has taken a farm a few miles from this.”
+
+“Interesting intelligence,” said Mrs. Bazalgette.
+
+“And she says she is coming over to see me one of these days, aunt,”
+ said Lucy, with a droll expression, half arch, half rueful. She added
+timidly, “There is no objection to that, is there?”
+
+“None whatever, if she does not make a practice of it; only mind,
+these old servants are the greatest pests on earth.”
+
+“I remember now,” said Lucy thoughtfully, “Mrs. Wilson was always very
+fond of me. I cannot think why, though.”
+
+“No more can I,” said Mr. Hardie, dryly; “she must be a thoroughly
+unreasonable woman.”
+
+Mr. Hardie said this with a good deal of grace and humor, and a laugh
+went round the table.
+
+“I mean she only saw me at intervals of several years.”
+
+“Why, Lucy, what an antiquity you are making yourself,” said Fountain.
+
+But Lucy was occupied with her puzzle. “She calls me her nursling,”
+ said Lucy, _sotto voce,_ to her aunt, but, of course, quite
+audibly to the rest of the company; “her dear nursling;” and says,
+“she would walk fifty miles to see me. Nursling? hum! there is another
+word I never heard, and I do not exactly know--Then she says--”
+
+_“Taisez-vous, petite sotte!”_ said Mrs. Bazalgette, in a sharp
+whisper, so admirably projected that it was intelligible only to the
+ear it was meant for.
+
+Lucy caught it and stopped short, and sat looking by main force calm
+and dignified, but scarlet, and in secret agony. “I have said
+something amiss,” thought Lucy, and was truly wretched.
+
+“We don't believe in Mrs. Wilson's affection on this side the table,”
+ said Mr. Hardie; “but her revelations interest us, for they prove that
+Miss Fountain had a beginning. Now we had thought she rose from the
+foam like Venus, or sprung from Jove's brow like Minerva, or descended
+from some ancient pedestal, flawless as the Parian itself.”
+
+“What, sir,” cried Bazalgette, furiously, “did you think our niece was
+built in a day? So fair a structure, so accomplished a--”
+
+“Will you be quiet, good people?” said Mrs. Bazalgette. “She was born,
+she was bred, she was brought up, in which I had a share, and she is a
+very good girl, if you gentlemen will be so good as not to spoil her
+for me with your flattery.”
+
+“There!” said Lucy, courageously, enforcing her aunt's thunderbolt;
+and she leaned toward Mrs. Bazalgette, and shot back a glance of
+defiance, with arching neck, at Mr. Bazalgette.
+
+
+After breakfast she ran to Mrs. Bazalgette. “What was it?”
+
+“Oh, nothing; only the gentlemen were beginning to grin.”
+
+“Oh, dear! did I say anything--ridiculous?”
+
+“No, because I stopped you in time. Mind, Lucy, it is never safe to
+read letters out from people in that class of life; they talk about
+everything, and use words that are quite out of date. I stopped you
+because I know you are a simpleton, and so I could not tell what might
+pop out next.”
+
+“Oh, thank you, aunt--thank you,” cried Lucy, warmly. “Then I did not
+expose myself, after all.”
+
+“No, no; you said nothing that might not be proclaimed at St. Paul's
+Cross--ha! ha!”
+
+“Am I a simpleton, aunt?” inquired Lucy, in the tone of an indifferent
+person seeking knowledge.
+
+“Not you,” replied this oblivious lady. “You know a great deal more
+than most girls of your age. To be sure, girls that have been at a
+fashionable school generally manage to learn one or two things you
+have no idea of.”
+
+“Naturally.”
+
+“As you say--he! he! But you make up for it, my dear, in other
+respects. If the gentlemen take you for a pane of glass, why, all the
+better; meantime, shall I tell you your real character? I have only
+just discovered it myself.”
+
+“Oh, yes, aunt, tell me my character. I should so like to hear it from
+you.”
+
+“Should you?” said the other, a little satirically; “well, then, you
+are an INNOCENT FOX.”
+
+“Aunt!”
+
+“An in-no-cent fox; so run and get your work-box. I want you to run up
+a tear in my flounce.”
+
+Lucy went thoughtfully for her workbox, murmuring ruefully, “I am an
+innocent fox--I am an in-nocent fox.”
+
+She did not like her new character at all; it mortified her, and
+seemed self-contradictory as well as derogatory.
+
+On her return she could not help remonstrating: “How can that be my
+character? A fox is cunning, and I despise cunning; and _I am
+sure_ I am not _innocent,”_ added she, putting up both hands
+and looking penitent. With all this, a shade of vexation was painted
+on her lovely cheeks as she appealed against her epigram.
+
+Mrs. Bazalgette (with the calm, inexorable superiority of
+matron despotism). “You are an in-nocent fox!! Is your needle
+threaded? Here is the tear; no, not there. I caught against the
+flowerpot frame, and I'll swear I heard my gown go. Look lower down,
+dear. Don't give it up.”
+
+All which may perhaps remind the learned and sneering reader of
+another fox--the one that “had a wound, and he could not tell where.”
+
+
+They rode out to-day as usual, and David had the equivocal pleasure of
+seeing them go from the door.
+
+Lucy was one of the first down, and put her hand on the saddle, and
+looked carelessly round for somebody to put her up. David stepped
+hastily forward, his heart beating, seized her foot, never waited for
+her to spring, but went to work at once, and with a powerful and
+sustained effort raised her slowly and carefully like a dead weight,
+and settled her in the saddle. His gripe hurt her foot. She bore it
+like a Spartan sooner than lose the amusement of his simplicity and
+enormous strength, so drolly and unnecessarily exerted. It cost her a
+little struggle not to laugh right out, but she turned her head away
+from him a moment and was quit for a spasm. Then she came round with a
+face all candor.
+
+“Thank you, Mr. Dodd,” said she, demurely; and her eyes danced in her
+head. Her foot felt encircled with an iron band, but she bore him not
+a grain of malice for that, and away she cantered, followed by his
+longing eyes.
+
+David bore the separation well. “To-morrow morning I shall have her
+all to myself,” said he. He played with Kenealy and Reginald, and
+chatted with Bazalgette. In the evening she was surrounded as usual,
+and he obtained only a small share of her attention. But the thought
+of the morrow consoled him. He alone knew that she walked before
+breakfast.
+
+The next morning he rose early, and sauntered about till eight
+o'clock, and then he came on the lawn and waited for her. She did not
+come. He waited, and waited, and waited. She never came. His heart
+died within him. “She avoids me,” said he; “it is not accident. I have
+driven her out of her very garden; she always walked here before
+breakfast (she said so) till I came and spoiled her walk; Heaven
+forgive me.”
+
+David could not flatter himself that this interruption of her
+acknowledged habit was accidental. On the other hand, how kind and
+cheerful she had been with him on the same spot yesterday morning. To
+judge by her manner, his company on her quarter-deck was not unwelcome
+to her yet she kept her room to-day, from the window of which she
+could probably see him walking to and fro, longing for her. The bitter
+disappointment was bad enough, but here tormenting perplexity as to
+its cause was added, and between the two the pining heart was racked.
+
+This is the cruelest separation; mere distance is the mildest. Where
+land and sea alone lie between two loving hearts, they pine, but are
+at rest. A piece of paper, and a few lines traced by the hand that
+reads like a face, and the two sad hearts exult and embrace one
+another afresh, in spite of a hemisphere of dirt and salt water, that
+parts bodies but not minds. But to be close, yet kept aloof by red-hot
+iron and chilling ice, by rivals, by etiquette and cold
+indifference--to be near, yet far--this is to be apart--this, this is
+separation.
+
+A gush of rage and bitterness foreign to his natural temper came over
+Mr. Dodd. “Since I can't have the girl I love, I will have nobody but
+my own thoughts. I cannot bear the others and their chat to-day. I
+will go and think of her, since that is all she will let me do”; and
+directly after breakfast David walked out on the downs and made by
+instinct for the sea. The wounded deer shunned the lively herd.
+
+The ladies, as they sat in the drawing-room, received visits of a less
+flattering character than usual. Reginald kept popping in, inquiring,
+“Where was Mr. Dodd?” and would not believe they had not hid him
+somewhere. He was followed by Kenealy, who came in and put them but
+one question, “Where is Dawd?”
+
+“We don't know,” said Mrs. Bazalgette sharply; “we have not been
+intrusted with the care of Mr. Dodd.”
+
+Kenealy sauntered forth disconsolate. Finally Mr. Bazalgette put his
+head in, and surveyed the room keenly but in silence; so then his wife
+looked up, and asked him satirically if he did not want Mr. Dodd.
+
+“Of course I do,” was the gracious reply; “what else should I come
+here for?”
+
+“Well, he is lost; you had better put him in the 'Hue and Cry.'”
+
+La Bazalgette was getting jealous of her own flirtee: he attracted too
+much of that attention she loved so dear.
+
+At last Reginald, despairing of Dodd, went in search of another
+playmate--Master Christmas, a young gentleman a year older than
+himself, who lived within half a mile. Before he went he inquired what
+there was for his dinner, and, being informed “roast mutton,” was not
+enraptured; he then asked with greater solicitude what was the
+pudding, and, being told “rice,” betrayed disgust and anger, as was
+remembered when too late.
+
+At two o'clock, the day being fine, the ladies went for a long ride,
+accompanied by Talboys only. Kenealy excused himself: “He must see if
+he could not find Dawd.”
+
+Mrs. Bazalgette started in a pet; but, after the first canter, she set
+herself to bewitch Mr. Talboys, just to keep her hand in; she
+flattered him up hill and down dale. Lucy was silent and
+_distraite._
+
+“From that hill you look right down upon the sea,” said Mrs.
+Bazalgette; “what do you say? It is only two miles farther.”
+
+On they cantered, and, leaving the high road, dived into a green lane
+which led them, by a gradual ascent, to Mariner's Folly on the summit
+of the cliff. Mariner's Folly looked at a distance like an enormous
+bush in the shape of a lion; but, when you came nearer, you saw it was
+three remarkably large blackthorn-trees planted together. As they
+approached it at a walk, Mrs. Bazalgette told Mr. Talboys its legend.
+
+“These trees were planted a hundred and fifty years ago by a retired
+buccaneer.”
+
+“Aunt, now, it was only a lieutenant.”
+
+“Be quiet, Lucy, and don't spoil me; I _call_ him a buccaneer.
+Some say it is named his “Folly,” because, you must know, his ghost
+comes and sits here at times, and that is an absurd practice,
+shivering in the cold. Others more learned say it comes from a Latin
+word 'folio,' or some such thing, that means a leaf; the mariner's
+leafy screen.” She then added with reckless levity, “I wonder whether
+we shall find Buckey on the other side, looking at the ships through a
+ghostly telescope--ha! ha!--ah! ah! help! mercy! forgive me! Oh, dear,
+it is only Mr. Dodd in his jacket--you frightened me so. Oh! oh!
+There--I am ill. Catch me, somebody;” and she dropped her whip, and,
+seeing David's eye was on her, subsided backward with considerable
+courage and trustfulness, and for the second time contrived to be in
+her flirtee's arms.
+
+I wish my friend Aristotle had been there; I think he would have been
+pleased at her [Greek] (presence of mind) in turning even her terror
+of the supernatural so quickly to account, and making it subservient
+to flirtation.
+
+
+David sat heart-stricken and hopeless, gazing at the sea. The hours
+passed by his heavy heart unheeded. The leafy screen deadened the
+light sound of the horses' feet on the turf, and, moreover, his senses
+were all turned inward. They were upon him, and he did not move, but
+still held his head in his hands and gazed upon the sea. At Mrs.
+Bazalgette's cries he started up, and looked confusedly at them all;
+but, when she did the feinting business, he thought she was going to
+faint, and caught her in his arms; and, holding her in them a moment
+as if she had been a child, he deposited her very gently in a sitting
+posture at the foot of one of the trees, and, taking her hand, slapped
+it to bring her to.
+
+“Oh, don't! you hurt me,” cried the lady in her natural voice.
+
+Lucy, barbarous girl, never came to her aunt's assistance. At the
+first fright she seemed slightly agitated, but she now sat impassive
+on her pony, and even wore a satirical smile.
+
+“Now, dear aunt, when you have done, Mr. Dodd will put you on your
+horse again.”
+
+On this hint David lifted her like a child, _malgre_ a little
+squeak she thought it well to utter, and put her in the saddle again.
+She thanked him in a low, murmuring voice. She then plied David with a
+host of questions. “How came he so far from home?” “Why had he
+deserted them all day?” David hung his head, and did not answer. Lucy
+came to his relief: “It would be as well if you would make him promise
+to be at home in time for dinner; and, by the way, I have a favor to
+ask of you, Mr. Dodd.”
+
+“A favor to ask of me?!”
+
+“Oh, you know we all make demands upon your good-nature in turn.”
+
+“That is true,” said La Bazalgette, tenderly. “I don't know what will
+become of us all when he goes.”
+
+Lucy then explained “that the masked ball suggested by Mr. Talboys'
+beautiful dresses was to be very soon, and she wanted Mr. Dodd to
+practice quadrilles and waltzes with her; it will be so much better
+with the violin and piano than with a piano alone, and you are such an
+excellent timist--will you, Mr. Dodd?”
+
+“That I will,” said David, his eyes sparkling with delight; “thank
+you.”
+
+“Then, as I shall practice before the gentlemen join us, and it is
+four o'clock now, had you not better turn your back on the sea, and
+make the best of your way home?”
+
+“I will be there almost as soon as you.”
+
+“Indeed! what, on foot, and we on horseback?”
+
+“Ay; but I can steer in the wind's eye.”
+
+“Aunt, Mr. Dodd proposes a race home.”
+
+“With all my heart. How much start are we to give him?”
+
+“None at all,” said David; “are you ready? Then give way,” and he
+started down the hill at a killing pace.
+
+The equestrians were obliged to walk down the hill, and when they
+reached the bottom David was going as the crow flies across some
+meadows half a mile ahead. A good canter soon brought them on a line
+with him, but every now and then the turns of the road and the hills
+gave him an advantage. Lucy, naturally kind-hearted, would have
+relaxed her pace to make the race more equal, but Talboys urged her
+on; and as a horse is, after all, a faster animal than a sailor, they
+rode in at the front gate while David was still two fields off.
+
+“Come,” said Mrs. Bazalgette, regretfully, “we have beat him, poor
+fellow, but we won't go in till we see what has become of him.”
+
+As they loitered on the lawn, Henry the footman came out with a
+salver, and on it reposed a soiled note. Henry presented it with
+demure obsequiousness, then retired grinning furtively.
+
+“What is this--a begging-letter? What a vile hand! Look, Lucy; did you
+ever? Why, it must be some pauper.”
+
+“Have a little mercy, aunt,” said Lucy, piteously; “that hand has been
+formed under my care and daily superintendence: it is Reginald's.”
+
+“Oh, that alters the case. What can the dear child have to say to me!
+Ah! the little wretch! Send the servants after him in every direction.
+Oh, who would be a mother!”
+
+The letter was written in lines with two pernicious defects. 1st. They
+were like the wooden part of a bow instead of its string. 2d. They
+yielded to gravity--kept tending down, down, to the righthand corner
+more and more. In the use of capitals the writer had taken the
+copyhead as his model. The style, however, was pithy, and in writing
+that is the first Christian grace--no, I forgot, it is the second;
+pellucidity is the first.
+
+     “Dear mama, me and johnny
+     Cristmas are gone to the north
+     Pole his unkle went twise we
+     Shall be back in siks munths
+     Please give my love to lucy and
+     Papa and ask lucy to be kind to
+     My ginnipigs i shall want them
+     Wen i come back. too much
+     Cabiges is not good for ginnipigs.
+     Wen i come back i hope there
+     Will be no rise left. it is very
+     Unjust to give me those nasty
+     Messy pudens i am not a child
+     There filthy there abbommanabel.
+     Johny says it is funy at the north
+     Pole and there are bares
+     and they
+     Are wite.
+     I remain
+
+                 “Your duteful son
+
+                 “Reginald George Bazalgette.”
+
+
+This innocent missive set house and premises in an uproar. Henry was
+sent east through the dirt, _multa reluctantem,_ in white
+stockings. Tom galloped north. Mrs. Bazalgette sat in the hall, and
+did well-bred hysterics for Kenealy and Talboys. Lucy pinned up her
+habit, and ran to the boundary hedge on the bare chance of seeing the
+figures of the truants somewhere short of the horizon. Lo, and behold,
+there was David Dodd crossing the very nearest field and coming toward
+her, an urchin in each hand.
+
+Lucy ran to meet them. “Oh, you dear naughty children, what a fright
+you have given us! Oh, Mr. Dodd, how good of you! Where _did_ you
+find them?”
+
+“Under that hedge, eating apples. They tell me they sailed for the
+North Pole this morning, but fell in with a pirate close under the
+land, so 'bout ship and came ashore again.”
+
+“A pirate, Mr. Dodd? Oh, I see, a beggar--a tramp.”
+
+“A deal worse than that, Miss Lucy. Now, youngster, why don't you spin
+your own yarn?”
+
+“Yes, tell me, Reggy.”
+
+“Well, dear, when I had written to mamma, and Johnny had folded
+it--because I can write but I can't fold it, and he can fold it but he
+can't write it--we went to the North Pole, and we got a mile; and then
+we saw that nasty Newfoundland dog sitting in the road waiting to
+torment us. It is Farmer Johnson's, and it plays with us, and knocks
+us down, and licks us, and frightens us, and we hate it; so we came
+home.”
+
+“Ha! ha! good, prudent children. Oh, dear, you have had no dinner.”
+
+“Oh, yes we had, Lucy, such a nice one: we bought such a lot of apples
+of a woman. I never had a dinner all apples before; they always spoil
+them with mutton and things, and that nasty, nasty rice”
+
+“Hear to that!” shouted David Dodd. “They have been dining upon
+varjese” (verjuice), “and them growing children. I shall take them
+into the kitchen, and put some cold beef into their little holds this
+minute, poor little lambs.”
+
+“Oh yes, do; and I will run and tell the good news.” She ran across
+the lawn, and came into the hall red with innocent happiness and
+agitation. “They are found, aunt, they are found; don't cry. Mr. Dodd
+found them close by, They have had no dinner, so that good, kind Mr.
+Dodd is taking them into the kitchen. I will send Master Christmas
+home with a servant. Shall I bring you Reggy to kiss?”
+
+“No, no; wicked little wretch, to frighten his poor mother! Whip him,
+somebody, and put him to bed.”
+
+
+In the evening, soon after the ladies had left the dining-room, the
+pianoforte was heard playing quadrilles in the drawing-room. David
+fidgeted on his seat a little, and presently rose and went for his
+violin, and joined Lucy in the drawing-room alone. Mrs. B. was trying
+on a dress. Between the tunes Lucy chatted with him as freely and
+kindly as ever. David was in heaven. When the gentlemen came up from
+the dining-room, his joy was interrupted, but not for long. The two
+musicians played with so much spirit, and the fiddle, in particular,
+was so hearty, that Mrs. Bazalgette proposed a little quiet dance on
+the carpet: and this drew the other men away from the piano, and left
+David and Lucy to themselves.
+
+She stole a look more than once at his bright eyes and rich ruddy
+color, and asked herself, “Is that really the same face we found
+looking wan and haggard on the sea? I think I have put an end to that,
+at all events.” The consciousness of this sort of power is secretly
+agreeable to all men and all women, whether they mean to abuse it or
+no. She smiled demurely at her mastery over this great heart, and said
+to herself, “One would think I was a witch.” Later in the evening she
+eyed him again, and thought to herself, “If my company and a few
+friendly words can make him so happy, it does seem very hard I should
+select him to shun for the few days he has to pass in England now; but
+then, if I let him think--I don't know what to do with him. Poor Mr.
+Dodd.”
+
+Miss Fountain did not torment her bolder aspirants with alternate
+distance and familiarity. She rode out every fine day with Mr.
+Talboys, and was all affability. She sat next Mr. Hardie at dinner,
+and was all affability.
+
+Narrative has its limits and, to relate in some sequence the honest
+sailor's tortures in love with a tactician, I have necessarily omitted
+concurrent incidents of a still tamer character; but the reader may,
+by the help of his own intelligence, gather their general results from
+the following dialogues, which took place on the afternoon and evening
+of the terrible infant's escapade.
+
+Mrs. Bazalgette. “'Well, my dear friend, and how does this
+naughty girl of mine use you?”
+
+Mr. Hardie. “As well as I could expect, and better than I
+deserve.”
+
+Mrs. B. “Then she must be cleverer than any girl that ever
+breathed. However, she does appreciate your conversation; she makes no
+secret of it.”
+
+Mr. H. “I have so little reason to complain of my reception
+that I will make my proposal to her this evening if you think proper.”
+
+Mrs. Bazalgette started, and glanced admiration on a man of eight
+thousand a year, who came to the point of points without being either
+cajoled or spurred thither; but she shook her head. “Prudence, my dear
+Mr. Hardie, prudence. Not just yet. You are making advances every day;
+and Lucy is an odd girl; with all her apparent tenderness, she is
+unimpressionable.”
+
+“That is only virgin modesty,” said Hardie, dogmatically.
+
+“Fiddlestick,” replied Mrs. B., good-humoredly. “The greatest flirts I
+ever met with were virgins, as you call them. I tell you she is not
+disposed toward marriage as all other girls are until they have tasted
+its bitters.”
+
+Mr. H. “If I know anything of character, she will make a very
+loving wife.”
+
+Mrs. B. (sharply). “That means a nice little negro. Well, I
+think she might, when once caught; but she is not caught, and she is
+slippery, and, if you are in too great a hurry, she may fly off; but,
+above all, we have a dangerous rival in the house just now.”
+
+Mr. H. “What, that Mr. Talboys? I don't fear him. He is next
+door to a fool.”
+
+Mrs. B. “What of that? Fools are dangerous rivals for a lady's
+favor. We don't object to fools. It depends on the employment. There
+is one office we are apt to select them for.”
+
+Mr. H. “A husband, eh?” The lady nodded.
+
+Mrs. B. “I meant to marry a fool in Bazalgette, but I found my
+mistake. The wretch had only feigned absurdity. He came out in his
+true colors directly.”
+
+Mr. H. “A man of sense, eh? The sinister hypocrite! He only
+wore the caps and bells to allure unguarded beauty, and doffed them
+when he donned the wedding-suit.”
+
+Mrs. B. “Yes. But these are reminiscences so sweet that I shall
+be glad to return from them to your little affair. Seriously, then,
+Mr. Talboys is not to be overlooked, for this reason: he is well
+backed.”
+
+“By whom?”
+
+“By some one who has influence with Lucy--her nearest relation, Mr.
+Fountain.”
+
+“What! is he nearer to her than you are?”
+
+“Certainly; and she is fond of him to infatuation. One day I did but
+hint that selfishness entered into his character (he is eaten up with
+it), and that he told fibs; Mr. Hardie, she turned round on me like a
+tigress--Oh, how she made me cry!”
+
+The keen hand, Hardie, smiled satirically, and after a pause answered
+with consummate coolness: “I believe thus much, that she loves her
+uncle, and that his influence, exerted unscrupulously--”
+
+“Which it will be. He may be strong enough to spoil us, even though
+he should not be able to carry his own point; now trust me, my dear
+friend, Lucy's preference is clearly for you, but I know the weakness
+of my own sex, and, above all, I know Lucy Fountain. A mouse can help
+a lion in a matter of small threads, too small for his nobler and
+grander wisdom to see. Let me be your mouse for once.” The little
+woman caught the great man with the everlasting hook, and the
+discussion ended in “claw me and I will claw thee,” and in the mutual
+self-complacency that follows that arrangement. _Vide_ “Blackwood,”
+ _passim._
+
+Mr. H. “I really think she would accept me if I offered to-day;
+but I have so high an opinion of your sagacity and friendship for me,
+madam, that I will defer my judgment to yours. I must, however, make
+one condition, that you will not displace my plan without suggesting a
+distinct course of action for me to adopt in its place.”
+
+This smooth proposal, made quietly but with twinkling eye, would have
+shut the mouth of nine advisers in ten, but it found the Bazalgette
+prepared.
+
+“Oh, the pleasure of having a man of ability to deal with!” cried she,
+with enthusiasm. “This is my advice, then: stay Mr. Fountain out. He
+must go in a day or two. His time is up, and I will drop a hint of
+fresh visitors expected. When he is gone, warm by degrees, and offer
+yourself either in person, or through Bazalgette, or me.”
+
+“In person, then, certainly. Of all foibles, employing another pair of
+eyes, another tongue, another person to make love for one is surely
+the silliest.”
+
+“I am quite of your opinion,” cried the lady, with a hearty laugh.
+
+
+Mr. Fountain. “So you are satisfied with the state of things?”
+
+Mr. Talboys. “Yes, I think I have beaten the sailor out of the
+field.”
+
+“Well, but--this Hardie?”
+
+“Hardie! a shopkeeper. I don't fear him.”
+
+“In that case, why not propose? I have been doing the
+preliminaries--sounding your praises.”
+
+Mr. Talboys (tyrannically). “I propose next Saturday.”
+
+Mr. Fountain. “Very well.”
+
+Talboys. “In the boat.”
+
+“In the boat? What boat? There's no boat.”
+
+“I have asked her to sail with me from ---- in a boat; there is a very
+nice little lugger-rigged one. I am having the seats padded and
+stuffed and lined, and an awning put up, and the boat painted white
+and gold.”
+
+“Bravo! Cleopatra's galley.”
+
+“I assure you she looks forward to it with pleasure; she guesses why I
+want to get her into that boat. She hesitated at first, but at last
+consented with a look--a conscious look; I can hardly describe it.”
+
+“There is no need,” cried Fountain. “I know it; the jade turned all
+eyelashes.”
+
+“That is rather exaggerated, but still--”
+
+“But still I have described it--to a hair. Ha! ha!”
+
+Talboys (gravely). “Well, yes.”
+
+Mr. Talboys, I am bound to own, was accurate. During the last day or
+two Lucy had taken a turn; she had been bewitching; she had flattered
+him with tact, but deliciously; had consulted him as to which of his
+beautiful dresses she should wear at the masked ball, and, when
+pressed to have a sail in the boat he was fitting for her, she ended
+by giving a demure assent.
+
+Chorus of male readers, _“Oh, les femmes, les femmes!”_
+
+
+David Dodd had by nature a healthy as well as a high mind; but the
+fever and ague of an absorbing passion were telling on it. Like many a
+great heart before his day, his heart was tossed like a ship, and went
+up to heaven, and down again to despair, as a girl's humor shifted, or
+seemed to shift, for he forgot that there is such a thing as accident,
+and that her sex are even more under its dominion than ours. No;
+whatever she did must be spontaneous, voluntary, premeditated even,
+and her lightest word worth weighing, her lightest action worth
+anxious scrutiny as to its cause.
+
+Still he had this about him that the peevish and puny lover has not.
+Her bare presence was joy to him. Even when she was surrounded by
+other figures, he saw and felt but the one; the rest were nothings.
+But when she went out of his sight, some bright illusion seemed to
+fade into cold and dark reality. Then it fell on him like a weighty,
+icy hammer, that in three days he must go to sea for two years, and
+that he was no nearer her heart now than he was at Font Abbey. Was he
+even as near?
+
+So the next afternoon he thrust in before Talboys, and put Lucy on her
+horse by brute force, and griped her stout little boot, which she had
+slyly substituted for a shoe, and touched her glossy habit, and felt a
+thrill of bliss unspeakable at his momentary contact with her; but she
+was no sooner out of sight than a hollow ache seized the poor fellow,
+and he hung his head and sighed.
+
+“I say, capting,” said a voice in his ear. He looked up, and there
+stood Tom, the stable-boy, with both hands in his pockets. Tom was not
+there by his own proper movement, but was agent of Betsy, the
+under-housemaid.
+
+Female servants scan the male guests pretty closely too,
+without seeming to do it, and judge them upon lamentably broad
+principles--youth, health, size, beauty, and good temper. Oh, the
+coarse-minded critics! Hence it befell that in their eyes, especially
+after the fiddle business, David was a king compared with his rivals.
+
+“If I look at him too long, I shall eat him,” said the cook-maid.
+
+“He is a darling,” said the upper housemaid.
+
+Betsy aforesaid often opened a window to have a sly look at him, and
+on one of these occasions she inspected him from an upper story at her
+leisure. His manner drew her attention. She saw him mount Lucy, and
+eye her departing form sadly and wistfully. Betsy glowered and
+glowered, and hit the nail on the head, as people will do who are so
+absurd as to look with their own eyes, and draw their own conclusions
+instead of other people's. After this she took an opportunity, and
+said to Tom, with a satirical air, “How are you off for nags, your
+way?”
+
+“Oh, we have got enough for our corn,” replied Tom, on the defensive.
+
+“It seems you can't find one for the captain among you.”
+
+“Will you give a kiss if I make you out a liar?”
+
+“Sooner than break my arm. Come, you might, Tom. Now is it reasonable,
+him never to get a ride with her, and that useless lot prancing about
+with her all day long?”
+
+
+“Why don't you ride with 'em, capting?”
+
+“I have no horse.”
+
+“I have got a horse for you, sir--master's.”
+
+“That would be taking a liberty.”
+
+“Liberty, sir! no; master would be so pleased if you would but ride
+him. He told me so.”
+
+“Then saddle him, pray.”
+
+“I have a-saddled him. You had better come in the stable-yard,
+capting; then you can mount and follow; you will catch them before
+they reach the Downs.” In another minute David was mounted.
+
+“Do you ride short or long, capting?” inquired Tom, handling the
+stirrup-leather.
+
+David wore a puzzled look. “I ride as long as I can stick on;” and he
+trotted out of the stable-yard. As Tom had predicted, he caught the
+party just as they went off the turn-pike on to the grass. His heart
+beat with joy; he cantered in among them. His horse was fresh,
+squeaked, and bucked at finding himself on grass and in company, and
+David announced his arrival by rolling in among their horses' feet
+with the reins tight grasped in his fist. The ladies screamed with
+terror. David got up laughing; his horse had hoped to canter away
+without him, and now stood facing him and pulling.
+
+“No, ye don't,” said David. “I held on to the tiller-ropes though I
+did go overboard.” Then ensued a battle between David and his horse,
+the one wanting to mount, the other anxious to be unencumbered with
+sailors. It was settled by David making a vault and sitting on the
+animal's neck, on which the ladies screamed again, and Lucy, half
+whimpering, proposed to go home.
+
+“Don't think of it,” cried David. “I won't be beat by such a small
+craft as this--hallo!” for, the horse backing into Talboys, that
+gentleman gave him a clandestine cut, and he bolted, and, being a
+little hard-mouthed, would gallop in spite of the tiller-ropes. On
+came the other nags after him, all misbehaving more or less, so fine a
+thing is example. When they had galloped half a mile the ground began
+to rise, and David's horse relaxed his pace, whereon David whipped him
+industriously, and made him gallop again in spite of remonstrance.
+
+The others drew the rein, and left him to gallop alone. Accordingly,
+he made the round of the hill and came back, his horse covered with
+lather and its tail trembling. “There,” said he to Lucy, with an air
+of radiant self-satisfaction, “he clapped on sail without orders from
+quarter-deck, so I made him carry it till his bows were under water.”
+
+“You will kill my uncle's horse,” was the reply, in a chilling tone.
+
+“Heaven forbid!”
+
+“Look at its poor flank beating.”
+
+David hung his head like a school-girl rebuked. “But why did he clap
+on sail if he could not carry it?” inquired he, ruefully, of his
+monitress.
+
+The others burst out laughing; but Lucy remained grave and silent.
+
+David rode along crestfallen.
+
+Mrs. Bazalgette brought her pony close to him, and whispered, “Never
+mind that little cross-patch. _She_ does not care a pin about the
+_horse;_ you interrupted her flirtation, that is all.”
+
+This piece of consolation soothed David like a bunch of
+stinging-nettles.
+
+While Mrs. Bazalgette was consoling David with thorns, Kenealy and
+Talboys were quizzing his figure on horseback.
+
+He sat bent like a bow and visibly sticking on: _item,_ he had no
+straps, and his trousers rucked up half-way to his knee.
+
+Lucy's attention being slyly drawn to these phenomena by David's
+friend Talboys, she smiled politely, though somewhat constrainedly;
+but the gentlemen found it a source of infinite amusement during the
+whole ride, which, by the way, was not a very long one, for Miss
+Fountain soon expressed a wish to turn homeward. David felt guilty, he
+scarce knew why.
+
+The promised happiness was wormwood. On dismounting, she went to the
+lawn to tend her flowers. David followed her, and said bitterly, “I am
+sorry I came to spoil your pleasure.”
+
+Miss Fountain made no answer.
+
+“I thought I might have one ride with you, when others have so many.”
+
+“Why, of course, Mr. Dodd. If you like to expose yourself to ridicule,
+it is no affair of mine.” The lady's manner was a happy mixture of
+frigidity and crossness. David stood benumbed, and Lucy, having
+emptied her flower-pot, glided indoors without taking any farther
+notice of him.
+
+David stood rooted to the spot. Then he gave a heavy sigh, and went
+and leaned against one of the pillars of the portico, and everything
+seemed to swim before his eyes.
+
+Presently he heard a female voice inquire, “Is Miss Lucy at home?” He
+looked, and there was a tall, strapping woman in conference with
+Henry. She had on a large bonnet with flaunting ribbons, and a bushy
+cap infuriated by red flowers. Henry's eye fell upon these
+embellishments: “Not at home,” chanted he, sonorously.
+
+“Eh, dear,” said the woman sadly, “I have come a long way to see her.”
+
+“Not at home, ma'am,” repeated Henry, like a vocal machine.
+
+“My name is Wilson, young man,” said she, persuasively, and the
+Amazon's voice was mellow and womanly, spite of her coal-scuttle full
+of field poppies. “I am her nurse, and I have not seen her this five
+years come Martinmas;” and the Amazon gave a gentle sigh of
+disappointment.
+
+“Not at home, ma'am!” rang the inexorable Plush.
+
+But David's good heart took the woman's part. “She is at home, now,”
+ said he, coming forward. “I saw her go into the house scarce a minute
+ago.”
+
+“Oh, thank you, sir,” said Mrs. Wilson. But Mr. Plush's face was
+instantly puckered all over with signals, which David not
+comprehending, he said, “Can I say a word with you, sir?” and, drawing
+him on one side, objected, in an injured and piteous tone. “We are not
+at home to such gallimaufry as that; it is as much as my place is
+worth to denounce that there bonnet to our ladies.”
+
+“Bonnet be d--d,” roared David, aloud. “It is her old nurse. Come,
+heave ahead;” and he pointed up the stairs.
+
+“Anything to oblige you, captain,” said Henry, and sauntered into the
+drawing-room; “Mrs. Wilson, ma'am, for Miss Fountain.”
+
+“Very well; my niece will be here directly.”
+
+Lucy had just gone to her own room for some working materials.
+
+“You had better come to an anchor on this seat, Mrs. Wilson,” said
+David.
+
+“Thank ye kindly, young gentleman,” said Mrs. Wilson; and she settled
+her stately figure on the seat. “I have walked a many miles to-day,
+along of our horse being lame, and I am a little tired. You are one of
+the family, I do suppose?”
+
+“No, I am only a visitor.”
+
+“Ain't ye now? Well, thank ye kindly, all the same. I have seen a
+worse face than yours, I can tell you,” added she; for in the midst of
+it all she had found time to read countenances _more mulierurn._
+
+“And I have seen a good many hundred worse than yours, Mrs. Wilson.”
+
+Mrs. Wilson laughed. “Twenty years ago, if you had said so, I might
+have believed you, or even ten; but, bless you, I am an old woman now,
+and can say what I choose to the men. Forty-two next Candlemas.”
+
+In the country they call themselves old at forty-two, because they
+feel young. In town they call themselves young at forty-two, because
+they feel old.
+
+David found that he had fallen in with a gossip; and, being in no
+humor for vague chat, he left Mrs. Wilson to herself, with an
+assurance that Miss Fountain would be down to her directly.
+
+In leaving her he went into worse company--his own thoughts; they were
+inexpressibly sad and bitter. “She hates me, then,” said he.
+“Everybody is welcome to her at all hours, except me. That lady said
+it was because I interrupted her flirtation. Aha! well, I shan't
+interrupt her flirtation much longer. I shan't be in her way or
+anybody's long. A few short hours, and this bitter day will be
+forgotten, and nothing left me but the memory of the kindness she had
+for me once, or seemed to have, and the angel face I must carry in my
+heart wherever I go, by land or sea. The sea? would to God I was upon
+it this minute! I'd rather be at sea than ashore in the dirtiest night
+that ever blew.”
+
+He had been walking to and fro a good half-hour, deeply dejected and
+turning bitter, when, looking in accidentally at the hall door, he
+caught sight of Mrs. Wilson sitting all alone where he had left her.
+“Why, what on earth is the meaning of that?” thought he; and he went
+into the hall and asked Mrs. Wilson how she came to be there all
+alone.
+
+“That is what I have been asking myself a while past,” was the dry
+reply.
+
+“Have you not seen her?”
+
+“No, sir, I have not seen her, and, to my mind, it is doubtful whether
+I am to see her.”
+
+“But I say you shall see her.”
+
+“No, no, don't put yourself out, sir,” said the woman, carelessly; “I
+dare say I shall have better luck next time, if I should ever come to
+this house again, which it is not very likely.” She added gently,
+“Young folk are thoughtless; we must not judge them too hardly.”
+
+“Thoughtless they may be, but they have no business to be heartless. I
+have a great mind to go up and fetch her down.”
+
+“Don't ye trouble, sir. It is not worth while putting you about for an
+old woman like me.” Then suddenly dropping the mask of nonchalance
+which women of this class often put on to hide their sensibility, she
+said, very, very gravely, and with a sad dignity, that one would not
+have expected from her gossip and her finery, “I begin to fear, sir,
+that the child I have suckled does not care to know me now she is a
+woman grown.”
+
+David dashed up the stairs with a red streak on his brow. He burst
+into the drawing-room, and there sat Mrs. Bazalgette overlooking, and
+Lucy working with a face of beautiful calm. She looked just then so
+very like a pure, tranquil Madonna making an altar-cloth, or
+something, that David's intention to give her a scolding was withered
+in the bud, and he gazed at her surprised and irresolute, and said not
+a word.
+
+“Anything the matter?” inquired Mrs. Bazalgette, attracted by the
+bruskness of his entry.
+
+“Yes, there is,” said David sternly.
+
+Lucy looked up.
+
+“Miss Fountain's old nurse has been sitting in the hall more than half
+an hour, and nobody has had the politeness to go near her.”
+
+“Oh, is that all? Well, don't look daggers at me. There is Lucy; give
+her a lesson in good-breeding, Mr. Dodd.” This was said a little
+satirically, and rather nettled David.
+
+“Perhaps it does not become me to set up for a teacher of that. I know
+my own deficiencies as well as anybody in this house knows them; but
+this I know, that, if an old friend walked eight miles to see me, it
+would not be good-breeding in me to refuse to walk eight yards to see
+her. And, another thing, everybody's time is worth something; if I did
+not mean to see her, I would have that much consideration to send down
+and tell her so, and not keep the woman wasting her time as well as
+her trouble, and vexing her heart into the bargain.”
+
+“Where is she, Mr. Dodd?” asked Lucy quickly.
+
+“Where is she?” cried David, getting louder and louder. “Why, she is
+cooling her heels in the hall this half hour and more. They hadn't the
+manners to show her into a room.”
+
+“I will go to her, Mr. Dodd,” said Lucy, turning a little pale. “Don't
+be angry; I will go directly”; and, having said this with an abject
+slavishness that formed a miraculous contrast with her late crossness
+and imperious chilliness, she put down her work hastily and went out;
+only at the door she curved her throat, and cast back, Parthian-like,
+a glance of timid reproach, as much as to say, “Need you have been so
+very harsh with a creature so obedient as this is?”
+
+That deprecating glance did Mr. Dodd's business. It shot him with
+remorse, and made him feel a brute.
+
+“Ha! ha! That is the way to speak to her, Mr. Dodd; the other
+gentlemen spoil her.”
+
+“It was very unbecoming of me to speak to her harshly like that.”
+
+“Pooh! nonsense; these girls like to be ordered about; it saves them
+the trouble of thinking for themselves; but what is to become of me?
+You have sent off my workwoman.”
+
+“I will do her work for her.”
+
+“What! can you sew?”
+
+“Where is the sailor that can't sew?”
+
+“Delightful! Then please to sew these two thick ends together. Here is
+a large needle.”
+
+David whipped out of his pocket a round piece of leather with strings
+attached, and fastened it to the hollow of his hand.
+
+“What is that?”
+
+“It is a sailor's thimble.” He took the work, held it neatly, and
+shoved the needle from behind through the thick material. He worked
+slowly and uncouthly, but with the precision that was a part of his
+character, and made exact and strong stitches. His task-mistress
+looked on, and, under the pretense of minute inspection, brought a
+face that was still arch and pretty unnecessarily close to the marine
+milliner, in which attitude they were surprised by Mr. Bazalgette,
+who, having come in through the open folding-doors, stood looking
+mighty sardonic at them both before they were even aware he was in the
+room.
+
+Omphale colored faintly, but Hercules gave a cool nod to the newcomer,
+and stitched on with characteristic zeal and strict attention to the
+matter in hand.
+
+At this Bazalgette uttered a sort of chuckle, at which Mrs. Bazalgette
+turned red. David stitched on for the bare life.
+
+“I came to offer to invite you to my study, but--”
+
+“I can't come just now,” said David, bluntly; “I am doing a lady's
+work for her.”
+
+“So I see,” retorted Bazalgette, dryly.
+
+“We all dine with the Hunts but you and Mr. Dodd,” said Mrs.
+Bazalgette, “so you will be _en tete-a-tete_ all the evening.”
+
+“All the better for us both.” And with this ingratiating remark Mr.
+Bazalgette retired whistling.
+
+Mrs. Bazalgette heaved a gentle sigh: “Pity me, my friend,” said she,
+softly.
+
+“What is the matter?” inquired David, rather bluntly.
+
+“Mr. Bazalgette is so harsh to me--ah!--to me, who longs so for
+kindness and gentleness that I feel I could give my very soul in
+exchange for them.”
+
+The bait did not take.
+
+“It is only his manner,” said David, good-naturedly. “His heart is all
+right; I never met a better. What sort of a knot is that you are
+tying? Why, that is a granny's knot;” and he looked morose, at which
+she looked amazed; so he softened, and explained to her with
+benevolence the rationale of a knot. “A knot is a fastening intended
+to be undone again by fingers, and not to come undone without them.
+Accordingly, a knot is no knot at all if it jams or if it slips. A
+granny's knot does both; when you want to untie it you must pick at it
+like taking a nail out of a board, and, for all that, sooner or later
+it always comes undone of itself; now you look here;” and he took a
+piece of string out of his pocket, and tied her a sailor's knot,
+bidding her observe that she could untie it at once, but it could
+never come untied of itself. He showed her with this piece of string
+half a dozen such knots, none of which could either jam or slip.
+
+“Tie me a lover's knot,” suggested the lady, in a whisper.
+
+“Ay! ay!” and he tied her a lover's knot as imperturbably as he had
+the reef knot, bowling-knot, fisherman's bend, etc.
+
+“This is very interesting,” said Mrs. Bazalgette, ironically. She
+thought David might employ a tete-a-tete with a flirt better than
+this. “What a time Lucy is gone!”
+
+“All the better.”
+
+“Why?” and she looked down in mock confusion.
+
+“Because poor Mrs. Wilson will be glad.”
+
+Mrs. Bazalgette was piqued at this unexpected answer. “You seem quite
+captivated with this Mrs. Wilson; it was for her sake you took Lucy to
+task. Apropos, you need not have scolded her, for she did not know the
+woman was in the house.”
+
+“What do you mean?”
+
+“I mean Lucy was not in the room when Mrs. Wilson was announced. I
+was, but I did not tell her; the all-important circumstance had
+escaped my memory. Where are you running to now?”
+
+“Where? why, to ask her pardon, to be sure.”
+
+Mrs. B. [Brute!]
+
+David ran down the stairs to look for Lucy, but he found somebody else
+instead--his sister Eve, whom the servant had that moment admitted
+into the hall. It was “Oh, Eve!” and “Oh, David!” directly, and an
+affectionate embrace.
+
+“You got my letter, David?”
+
+“No.”
+
+“Well, then you will before long. I wrote to tell you to look out for
+me; I had better have brought the letter in my pocket. I didn't know I
+was coming till just an hour before I started. Mother insisted on my
+going to see the last of you. Cousin Mary had invited me to ----, so I
+shall see you off, Davy dear, after all. I thought I'd just pop in and
+let you know I was in the neighborhood. Mary and her husband are
+outside the gate in their four-wheel. I would not let them drive in,
+because I want to hear your story, and they would have bothered us.”
+
+“Eve, dear, I have no good news for you. Your words have come true. I
+have been perplexed, up and down, hot and cold, till I feel sometimes
+like going mad. Eve, I cannot fathom her. She is deeper than the
+ocean, and more changeable. What am I saying? the sea and the wind;
+they are to be read; they have their signs and their warnings; but
+she--”
+
+“There! there! that is the old song. I tell you it is only a girl--a
+creature as shallow as a puddle, and as easy to fathom, as you call
+it, only men are so stupid, especially boys. Now just you tell me all
+she has said, all she has done, and all she has looked, and I will
+turn her inside out like a glove in a minute.”
+
+Cheered by this audacious pledge, David pumped upon Eve all that has
+trickled on my readers, and some minor details besides, and repeated
+Lucy's every word, sweet or bitter, and recalled her lightest
+action--_Meminerunt omnia amantes_--and every now and then he
+looked sadly into Eve's keen little face for his doom.
+
+She heard him in silence until the last fatal incident, Lucy's
+severity on the lawn. Then she put in a question. “Were those her
+exact words?”
+
+“Do I ever forget a syllable she says to me?”
+
+“Don't be angry. I forgot what a ninny she has made of you. Well,
+David, it is all as plain as my hand. The girl likes you--that is
+all.”
+
+“The girl likes me? What do you mean? How can you say that? What sign
+of liking is there?”
+
+“There are two. She avoids you, and she has been rude to you.”
+
+“And those are signs of liking, are they?” said David, bitterly.
+
+“Why, of course they are, stupid. Tell me, now, does she shun this
+Captain Keely?”
+
+“Kenealy. No.”
+
+“Does she shun Mr. Harvey?”
+
+“Hardie. No.”
+
+“Does she shun Mr. Talboys?”
+
+“Oh Eve, you break my heart--no! no! She shuns no one but poor David.”
+
+“Now think a little. Here are three on one sort of footing, and one on
+a different footing; which is likeliest to be _the man,_ the one
+or the three? You have gained a point since we were all together. She
+_distinguishes_ you.”
+
+“But what a way to distinguish me. It looks more like hatred than
+love, or liking either.”
+
+“Not to my eye. Why should she shun you? You are handsome, you are
+good-tempered, and good company. Why should she be shy of you? She is
+afraid of you, that is why; and why is she afraid of you? because she
+is afraid of her own heart. That is how I read her. Then, as for her
+snubbing you, if her character was like mine, that ought to go for
+nothing, for I snub all the world; but this is a little queen for
+politeness. I can't think she would go so far out of her way as to
+affront anybody unless she had an uncommon respect for him.”
+
+“Listen to that, now! I am on my beam-ends.”
+
+“Now think a minute, David,” said Eve, calmly, ignoring his late
+observation; “did you ever know her snub anybody?”
+
+“Never. Did you?”
+
+“No; and she never would, unless she took an uncommon interest in the
+person. When a girl likes a man, she thinks she has a right to ill-use
+him a little bit; he has got her affection to set against a scratch or
+two; the others have not. So she has not the same right to scratch
+them. La! listen to me teaching him A B C. Why, David, you know
+nothing; it's scandalous.”
+
+Eve's confidence communicated itself at last to David; but when he
+asked her whether she thought Lucy would consent to be his wife, her
+countenance fell in her turn. “That is a very different thing. I am
+pretty sure she likes you; how could she help it? but I doubt she will
+never go to the altar with you. Don't be angry with me, Davy, dear.
+You are in love with her, and to you she is an angel. But I am of her
+own sex, and see her as she is; no matter who she likes, she will
+never be content to make a bad match, as they call it. She told me so
+once with her own lips. But she had no need to tell me; worldliness is
+written on her. David, David, you don't know these great houses, nor
+the fair-spoken creatures that live in them, with tongues tuned to
+sentiment, and mild eyes fixed on the main chance. Their drawing-rooms
+are carpeted market-places; you may see the stones bulge through the
+flowery pattern; there the ladies sell their faces, the gentlemen
+their titles and their money; and much I fear Miss Fountain's hand
+will go like the rest--to the highest bidder.”
+
+“If I thought so, my love, deep as it is, would turn to contempt; I
+would tear her out of my heart, though I tore my heart out of my
+body.” He added, “I will know what she is before many hours.”
+
+“Do, David. Take her off her guard, and make hot love to her; that is
+your best chance. It is a pity you are so much in love with her; you
+might win her by a surprise if you only liked her in moderation.”
+
+“How so, dear Eve?”
+
+“The battle would be more even. Your adoring her gives her the upper
+hand of you. She is sure to say 'no' at first, and then I am afraid
+you will leave off, instead of going on hotter and hotter. The very
+look she will put on to check you will check you, you are so green.
+What a pity I can't take your place for half an hour. I would have her
+against her will. I would take her by storm. If she said 'no' twenty
+times, she should say 'yes' the twenty-first; but you are afraid of
+her; fancy being afraid of a woman. Come, David, you must not
+shilly-shally, but attack her like a man; and, if she is such a fool
+she can't see your merit, forgive her like a man, and forget her like
+a man. Come, promise me you will.”
+
+“I promise you this, that if I lose her it shall not be for want of
+trying to win her; and, if she refuses me because I am not her fancy,
+I shall die a bachelor for her sake.” Eve sighed. “But if she is the
+mercenary thing you take her for--if she owns to liking me, but
+prefers money to love, then from that moment she is no more to me than
+a picture or a statue, or any other lovely thing that has no soul.”
+
+With these determined words he gave his sister his arm, and walked
+with her through the grounds to the road where her cousin was waiting
+for her.
+
+
+Lucy found Mrs. Wilson in the hall. “Come into the library, Mrs.
+Wilson,” said she; “I have only just heard you were here. Won't you
+sit down? Are you not well, Mrs. Wilson? You tremble. You are
+fatigued, I fear. Pray compose yourself. May I ring for a glass of
+wine for you?”
+
+“No, no, Miss Lucy,” said the woman, smiling; “it is only along of you
+coming to me so sudden, and you so grown. Eh! sure, can this fine
+young lady be the little girl I held in my lap but t'other day, as it
+seems?”
+
+There was an agitation and ardor about Mrs. Wilson that, coupled with
+the flaming bonnet, made Miss Fountain uneasy. She thought Mrs. Wilson
+must be a little cracked, or at least flighty.
+
+“Pray compose yourself, madam,” said she, soothingly, but with that
+dignity nobody could assume more readily than she could. “I dare say I
+am much grown since I last had the pleasure of seeing you; but I have
+not outgrown my memory, and I am happy to receive you, or any of our
+old servants that knew my dear mother.”
+
+“Then I must not look for a welcome,” said Mrs. Wilson, with feminine
+logic, “for I was never your servant, nor your mamma's.” Lucy opened
+her eyes, and her face sought an explanation.
+
+“I never took any money for what I gave you, so how could I be a
+servant? To see me a dangling of my heels in your hall so long, one
+would say I was a servant; but I am not a servant, nor like to be,
+please God, unless I should have the ill luck to bury my two boys, as
+I have their father. So perhaps the best thing I can do, miss, is to
+drop you my courtesy and walk back as I came.” The Amazon's manner was
+singularly independent and calm, but the tell-tale tears were in the
+large gray honest eyes before she ended.
+
+Lucy's natural penetration and habit of attending to faces rather than
+words came to her aid. “Wait a minute, Mrs. Wilson,” said she; “I
+think there is some misunderstanding here. Perhaps the fault is mine.
+And yet I remember more than one nursery-maid that was kind enough to
+me; but I have heard nothing of them since.”
+
+“Their blood is not in your veins as mine is, unless the doctors have
+lanced it out.”
+
+“I never was bled in my life, if you mean that, madam. But I must ask
+you to explain how I can possibly have the--the advantage of
+possessing _your_ blood in _my_ veins.”
+
+Mrs. Wilson eyed her keenly. “Perhaps I had better tell you the story
+from first to last, young lady,” said she quietly.
+
+“If you please,” said the courtier, mastering a sigh; for in Mrs.
+Wilson there was much that promised fluency.
+
+“Well, miss, when you came into the world, your mamma could not nurse
+you. I do notice the gentry that eat the fat of the land are none the
+better for it; for a poor woman can do a mother's part by her child,
+but high-born and high-fed folk can't always; so you had to be brought
+up by hand, miss, and it did not agree with you, and that is no great
+wonder, seeing it is against nature. Well, my little girl, that was
+born just two days after you, died in my arms of convulsion fits when
+she was just a month old. She had only just been buried, and me in
+bitter grief, when doesn't the doctor call and ask me as a great
+favor, would I nurse Mrs. Fountain's child, that was pining for want
+of its natural food. I bade him get out of my sight. I felt as if no
+woman had a right to have a child living when my little darling was
+gone. But my husband, a just man as ever was, said, 'Take a thought,
+Mary; the child is really pining, by all accounts.' Well, I would not
+listen to him. But next Sunday, after afternoon church, my mother,
+that had not said a word till then, comes to me, and puts her hand on
+my shoulder with a quiet way she had. 'Mary,' says she, 'I am older
+than you, and have known more.' She had buried six of us, poor thing.
+Says she, scarce above a whisper, 'Suckle that failing child. It will
+be the better for her, and the better for you, Mary, my girl.' Well,
+miss, my mother was a woman that didn't interfere every minute, and
+seldom gave her reasons; but, if you scorned her advice, you mostly
+found them out to your cost; and then she was my mother; and in those
+days mothers were more thought of, leastways by us that were women and
+had suffered for our children, and so learned to prize the woman that
+had suffered for us. 'Well, then,' I said, 'if you say so, mother, I
+suppose I didn't ought to gainsay you, on the Lord His day.' For you
+see my mother was one that chose her time for speaking--eh! but she
+was wise. 'Mother,' says I, 'to oblige you, so be it'; and with that I
+fell to crying sore on my mother's neck, and she wasn't long behind
+me, you may be sure. Whiles we sat a crying in one another's arms, in
+comes John, and goes to speak a word of comfort. 'It is not that,'
+says my mother; 'she have given her consent to nurse Mrs. Fountain's
+little girl.' 'It is much to her credit,' says he: says he, 'I will
+take her up to the house myself.' 'What for?' says I; 'them that
+grants the favor has no call to run after them that asks it.' You see,
+Miss Lucy, that was my ignorance; we were small farmers, too
+independent to be fawning, and not high enough to weed ourselves of
+upishness. Your mamma, she was a real lady, so she had no need to
+trouble about her dignity; she thought only of her child; and she
+didn't send the child, but she came with it herself. Well, she came
+into our kitchen, and made her obeisance, and we to her, and mother
+dusted her a seat. She was pale-like, and a mother's care was in her
+face, and that went to my heart. 'This is very, very kind of you, Mrs.
+Wilson,' said she. Those were her words. 'Mayhap it is,' says I; and
+my heart felt like lead. Mother made a sign to your mamma that she
+should not hurry me. I saw the signal, for I was as quick as she was;
+but I never let on I saw it. At last I plucked up a bit of courage,
+and I said, 'Let me see it.' So mother took you from the girl that
+held you all wrapped up, and mother put you on my knees; and I took a
+good look at you. You had the sweetest little face that ever came into
+the world, but all peaked and pining for want of nature. With you
+being on my knees, my bosom began to yearn over you, it did. 'The
+child is starved,' said I; 'that is all its grief. And you did right
+to bring it' here.' Your mother clasps her hands, 'Oh, Mrs. Wilson,'
+says she, 'God grant it is not too late.' So then I smiled back to
+her, and I said, 'Don't you fret; in a fortnight you shan't know her.'
+You see I was beginning to feel proud of what I knew I could do for
+you. I was a healthy young woman, and could have nursed two children
+as easy as some can one. To make a long story short, I gave you the
+breast then and there; and you didn't leave us long in doubt whether
+cow's milk or mother's milk is God's will for sucklings. Well, your
+mamma put her hands before her face, and I saw the tears force their
+way between her fingers. So, when she was gone, I said to my mother,
+'What was that for?' 'I shan't tell you,' says she. 'Do, mother,' says
+I. So she said, 'I wonder at your having to ask; can't you see it was
+jealousy-like. Do you think she has not her burden to bear in this
+world as well as you? How would you like to see another woman do a
+mother's part for a child of yours, and you sit looking on like a
+toy-mother? Eh! Miss Lucy, but I was vexed for her at that, and my
+heart softened; and I used to take you up to the great house, and
+spend nearly the whole day there, not to rob her of her child more
+than need be.”
+
+“Oh, Mrs. Wilson! Oh, you kind, noble-hearted creature, surely Heaven
+will reward you.”
+
+“That is past praying for, my dear. Heaven wasn't going to be long in
+debt to a farmer's wife, you may be sure; not a day, not an hour. I
+had hardly laid you to my breast when you seemed to grow to my heart.
+My milk had been tormenting me for one thing. My good mother had
+thought of that, I'll go bail; and of course you relieved me. But,
+above all, you numbed the wound in my heart, and healed it by degrees:
+a part of my love that lay in the churchyard seemed to come back like,
+and settle on the little helpless darling that milked me. At whiles I
+forgot you were not my own; and even when I remembered it, it was--I
+don't know--somehow--as if it wasn't so. I knew in my head you were
+none of mine, but what of that? I didn't feel it here. Well, miss, I
+nursed you a year and two months, and a finer little girl never was
+seen, and such a weight! And, of course, I was proud of you; and often
+your dear mother tried to persuade me to take a twenty-pound note, or
+ten; but I never would. I could not sell my milk to a queen. I'd
+refuse it, or I'd make a gift of it, and the love that goes with it,
+which is beyond price. I didn't say so to her in so many words, but I
+did use to tell her 'I was as much in her little girl's debt as she
+was in mine,' and so I was. But as for a silk gown, and a shawl, and
+the like, I didn't say 'No' to them; who ever does?”
+
+“Nurse!”
+
+“My lamb!”
+
+“Can you ever forgive me for confounding you with a servant? I am so
+inexperienced. I knew nothing of all this.”
+
+“Oh, Miss Lucy, 'let that flea stick in the wall,' as the saying is.”
+
+“But, dear Mrs. Wilson, now only think that your affection for me
+should have lasted all these years. You speak as if such tenderness
+was common. I fear you are mistaken there: most nurses go away and
+think no more of those to whom they have been as mothers in infancy.”
+
+“How do you know that, Miss Lucy? Who can tell what passes inside
+those poor women that are ground down into slaves, and never dare show
+their real hearts to a living creature? Certainly hirelings will be
+hirelings, and a poor creature that is forced to sell her breast, and
+is bundled off as soon as she has served the grand folks' turn, why,
+she behooves to steel herself against nature, and she knows that from
+the first; but whether she always does get to harden herself, I take
+leave to doubt. Miss Lucy; I knew an unfortunate girl that nursed a
+young gentleman, leastways a young nobleman it was, and years after
+that I have known her to stand outside the hedge for an hour to catch
+a sight of him at play on the lawn among the other children. Ay, and
+if she had a penny piece to spare she would go and buy him
+sugar-plums, and lay wait for him, and give them him, and he heir to
+thousands a year.”
+
+“Poor thing! Poor thing!”
+
+“Next to the tie of blood, Miss Lucy, the tie of milk is a binding
+affection. When you went to live twenty miles from us, I behooved to
+come in the cart and see you from time to time.”
+
+“I remember, nurse, I remember.”
+
+“When I came to our new farm hard by, you were away; but as soon as I
+heard you were come back, it was like a magnet drawing me. I could not
+keep away from you.”
+
+“Heaven forbid you should; and I will come and see you, dear nurse.”
+
+“Will ye, now? Do now. I have got a nice little parlor for you. It is
+a very good house for a farm-house; and there we can set and talk at
+our ease, and no fine servants, dressed like lords, coming staring
+in.”
+
+Lucy now proffered a timid request that Mrs. Wilson would take off her
+bonnet. “I want to see your good kind face without any ornament.”
+
+“Hear to that, now, the darling;” and off came the bonnet.
+
+“Now your cap.”
+
+“Well, I don't know; I hadn't time to do my hair as should be before
+coming.”
+
+“What does that matter with me? I must see you without that cap.”
+
+“What! don't you like my new cap? Isn't it a pretty cap? Why, I bought
+it a purpose to come and see you in.”
+
+“Oh, it is a very pretty cap in itself,” said the courtier, “but it
+does not suit the shape of your face. Oh, what a difference! Ah! now I
+see your heart in your face. Will you let me make you a cap?”
+
+“Will you, now, Miss Lucy? I shall be so proud wearing it our house
+will scarce hold me.”
+
+At this juncture a footman came in with a message from Mrs. Bazalgette
+to remind Lucy that they dined out.
+
+“I must go and dress, nurse.” She then kissed her and promised to ride
+over and visit her at her farm next week, and spend a long time with
+her quietly, and so these new old friends parted.
+
+Lucy pondered every word Mrs. Wilson had said to her, and said to
+herself: “What a child I am still! How little I know! How feebly I
+must have observed!”
+
+The party at dinner consisted of Mr. Bazalgette, David, and Reginald,
+who, taking advantage of his mother's absence and Lucy's, had
+prevailed on the servants to let him dine with the grown-up ones.
+“Halo? urchin,” said Mr. Bazalgette, “to what do we owe this honor?”
+
+“Papa,” said Reginald, quaking at heart, “if I don't ever begin to be
+a man what is to become of me?”
+
+Mr. Reginald did not exhibit his full powers at dinner-time. He was
+greatest at dessert. Peaches and apricots fell like blackberries. He
+topped up with the ginger and other preserves; then he uttered a sigh,
+and his eye dwelt on some candied pineapple he had respited too long.
+Putting the pineapple's escape and the sigh together, Mr. Bazalgette
+judged that absolute repletion had been attained. “Come, Reginald,”
+ said he, “run away now, and let Mr. Dodd and me have our talk.” Before
+the words were even out of his mouth a howl broke from the terrible
+infant. He had evidently feared the proposal, and got this dismal howl
+all ready.
+
+“Oh, papa! Oh! oh!”
+
+“What is the matter?”
+
+“Don't make me go away with the ladies this time. Jane says I am not a
+man because I go away when the ladies go. And Cousin Lucy won't marry
+me till I am a man. Oh, papa, do let me be a man this once.”
+
+“Let him stay, sir,” said David.
+
+“Then he must go and play at the end of the room, and not interrupt
+our conversation.”
+
+Mr. Reginald consented with rapture. He had got a new puzzle. He could
+play at it in a corner; all he wanted was to be able to stop Jane's
+mouth, should she ever jeer him again. Reginald thus disposed of, Mr.
+Bazalgette courted David to replenish his glass and sit round to the
+fire. The fire was huge and glowing, the cut glass sparkled, and the
+ruby wine glowed, and even the faces shone, and all invited genial
+talk. Yet David, on the eve of his departure and of his fate,
+oppressed with suspense and care, was out of the reach of those
+genial, superficial influences. He could only just mutter a word of
+assent here and there, then relapsed into his reverie, and eyed the
+fire thoughtfully, as if his destiny lay there revealed. Mr.
+Bazalgette, on the contrary, glowed more and more in manner as well as
+face, and, like many of his countrymen, seemed to imbibe friendship
+with each fresh glass of port.
+
+At last, under the double influence of his real liking for David and
+of the Englishman-thawing Portuguese decoction, he gave his favorite a
+singular proof of friendship. It came about as follows. Observing that
+he had all the talk to himself, he fixed his eyes with an expression
+of paternal benevolence on his companion, and was silent in turn.
+
+David looked up, as we all do when a voice ceases, and saw this mild
+gaze dwelling on him.
+
+“Dodd, my boy, you don't say a word; what is the matter?”
+
+“I am very bad company, sir, that is the truth.”
+
+“Well, fill your glass, then, and I'll talk for you. I have got
+something to say for you, young gentleman.” David filled his glass and
+forced himself to attend; after a while no effort was needed.
+
+“Dodd,” resumed the mature merchant, “I need hardly tell you that I
+have a particular regard for you; the reason is, you are a young man
+of uncommon merit.”
+
+“Mr. Bazalgette! sir! I don't know which way to look when you praise
+me like that. It is your goodness; you overrate me.”
+
+“No, I don't. I am a judge of men. I have seen thousands, and seen
+them too close to be taken in by their outside. You are the only one
+of my wife's friends that ever had the run of my study. What do you
+think of that, now?”
+
+“I am very proud of it, sir; that is all I can find to say.”
+
+“Well, young man, that same good opinion I have of you induces me to
+do something else, that I have never done for any of your
+predecessors.”
+
+Mr. Bazalgette paused. David's heart beat. Quick as lightning it
+darted through his mind, “He is going to ask a favor for me.
+Promotion? Why not? He is a merchant. He has friends in the Company.'”
+
+“I am going to interfere in your concerns, Dodd.”
+
+“You are very good, sir.”
+
+“Well, perhaps I am. I have to overcome a natural reluctance. But you
+are worth the struggle. I shall therefore go against the usages of the
+world, which I don't care a button for, and my own habits, which I
+care a great deal for, and give you, humph--a piece of friendly
+advice.”
+
+David looked blank.
+
+“Dodd, my boy, you are playing the fool in this house.”
+
+David looked blanker.
+
+“It is not your fault; you are led into it by one of those sweet
+creatures that love to reduce men to the level of their own wisdom.
+You are in love, or soon will be.”
+
+David colored all over like a girl, and his face of distress was
+painful to see.
+
+“You need not look so frightened; I am your friend, not your enemy.
+And do you really think others besides me have not seen what is going
+on? Now, Dodd, my dear fellow, I am an old man, and you are a young
+one. Moreover, I understand the lady, and you don't.”
+
+“That is true, sir; I feel I cannot fathom her.”
+
+“Poor fellow! Well, but I have known her longer than you.”
+
+“That is true, sir.”
+
+“And on closer terms of intimacy.”
+
+“No doubt, sir.”
+
+“Then listen to me. She is all very charming outside, and full of
+sensibility outside, but she has no more real feeling than a fish. She
+will go a certain length with you, or with any agreeable young man,
+but she can always stop where it suits her. No lady in England values
+position and luxury more than she does, or is less likely to sacrifice
+them to love, a passion she is incapable of. Here, then, is a game at
+which you run all the risk. No! leave her to puppies like Kenealy;
+they are her natural prey. You must not play such a heart as yours
+against a marble taw. It is not an even stake.”
+
+David groaned audibly. His first thought was, “Eve says the same of
+her.” His second, “All the world is against her, poor thing.”
+
+“Is she to bear the blame of my folly?”
+
+“Why not? She is the cause of your folly. It began with her setting
+her cap at you.”
+
+“No, sir, you do her wrong. She is modesty itself.”
+
+“Ta! ta! ta! you are a sailor, green as sea-weed.”
+
+“Mr. Bazalgette, as I am a gentleman, she never has encouraged me to
+love her as I do.”
+
+“Your statement, sir, is one which becomes a gentleman--under the
+circumstances. But I happen to have watched her. It is a thing I have
+taken the trouble to do for some time past. It was my interest in you
+that made me curious, and apprehensive--on your account.”
+
+“Then, if you have watched her, you must have seen her avoid me.”
+
+“Pooh! pooh! that was drawing the bait; these old stagers can all do
+that.”
+
+“Old stagers!” and David looked as if blasphemy had been uttered.
+Bazalgette wore a grin of infinite irony.
+
+“Don't be shocked,” said he; “of course, I mean old in flirtation; no
+lady is old in years.”
+
+“_She_ is not, at all events.”
+
+“It is agreed. There are legal fictions, and why not social ones?”
+
+“I don't understand you, sir; and, in truth, it is all a puzzle to me.
+You don't seem angry with me?”
+
+“Why, of course not, my poor fellow; I pity you.”
+
+“Yet you discourage me, Mr. Bazalgette.”
+
+“But not from any selfish motive. I want to spare you the
+mortification that is in store for you. Remember, I have seen the
+_end_ of about a dozen of you.”
+
+“Good Heavens! And what is the end of us?”
+
+“The cold shoulder without a day's warning, and another fool set in
+your place, and the house door slammed in your face, etc., etc. Oh,
+with her there is but one step from flirtation to detestation. Not one
+of her flames is her friend at this moment.”
+
+David hung his head, and his heart turned sick; there was a silence of
+some seconds, during which Bazalgette eyed him keenly. “Sir,” said
+David, at last, “your words go through me like a knife.”
+
+“Never mind. It is a friendly surgeon's knife, not an assassin's.”
+
+“Yet you say it is only out of regard for me you warn me so against
+her.”
+
+“I repeat it.”
+
+“Then, sir, if, by Heaven's mercy, you should be mistaken in her
+character--if, little as I deserve it, I should succeed in winning her
+regard--I might reckon on your permission--on your kind--support?”
+
+“Hardly,” said Mr. Bazalgette, hastily. He then stared at the honest
+earnest face that was turned toward him. “Well,” said he, “you modest
+gentlemen have a marvelous fund of assurance at bottom. No, sir; with
+the exception of this piece of friendly advice I shall be strictly
+neutral. In return for it, if you should succeed, be so good as to
+take her out of the house, that is the only stipulation I venture to
+propose.”
+
+“I should be sure to do that,” cried David, lifting his eyes to Heaven
+with rapture; “but I shall not have the chance.”
+
+“So I keep telling you. You might as well hope to tempt a statue of
+the Goddess Flirtation. She infinitely prefers wealth and vanity to
+anything, even to vice.”
+
+“Vice, sir! is that a term for us to apply to a lady like her, whom we
+are all unworthy to approach?” and David turned very red.
+
+“Well, _you_ need not quarrel with _me_ about her, as
+_I_ don't with _you.”_
+
+“Quarrel with you, dear sir? I hope I feel your kindness, and know my
+duty better; but, sir, I am agitated, and my heart is troubled; and
+surely you go beyond reason. She is not old enough to have had so many
+lovers.”
+
+“Humph! she has made good use of her time.”
+
+“Even could I believe that she, who seems to me an angel, is a
+coquette, still she cannot be hard and heartless as you describe her.
+It is impossible; it does not belong to her years.”
+
+“You keep harping on her age, Dodd. Do you know her age? If you do,
+you have the advantage of me. I have not seen her baptismal register.
+Have you?”
+
+“No, sir, but I know what she says is her age.”
+
+“That is only evidence of what is not her age.”
+
+“But there is her face, sir; that is evidence.”
+
+“You have never seen her face; it is always got up to deceive the
+public.”
+
+“I have seen it at the dawn, before any of you were up.”
+
+“What is that? Halo! the deuce--where?”
+
+“In the garden.”
+
+“In the garden? Oh, she does not jump off her down-bed on to a
+flowerbed. She had been an hour at work on that face before ever the
+sun or you got leave to look on it.”
+
+“I'll stake my head I tell her age within a year, Mr. Bazalgette.”
+
+“No you will not, nor within ten years.”
+
+“That is soon seen. I call her one-and-twenty.”
+
+“One-and-twenty! You are mad! Why, she has had a child that would be
+fifteen now if it had lived.”
+
+“Miss Lucy? A child? Fifteen years? What on earth do you mean?”
+
+“What do _you_ mean? What has Miss Lucy to do with it? You know
+very well it is MY WIFE I am warning you against, not that innocent
+girl.”
+
+At this David burst out in his turn. “YOUR WIFE! and have you so vile
+an opinion of me as to think I would eat your bread and tempt your
+wife under your roof. Oh, Mr. Bazalgette, is this the esteem you
+profess for me?”
+
+“Go to the Devil!” shouted Bazalgette, in double ire at his own
+blunder and at being taken to task by his own Telemachus; he added,
+but in a very different tone, “You are too good for this world.”
+
+The best things we say miss fire in conversation; only second-rate
+shots hit the mind through the ear. This, we will suppose, is why
+David derived no amusement or delectation from Mr. Bazalgette's
+inadvertent but admirable _bon-mot._
+
+“Go to the Devil! you are too good for this world.”
+
+He merely rose, and said gravely, “Heaven forgive you your unjust
+suspicions, and God bless you for your other kindness. Good-by!”
+
+“Why, where on earth are you going?”
+
+“To stow away my things; to pack up, as they call it.”
+
+“Come back! come back! why, what a terrible fellow you are; you make
+no allowances for metaphors. There, forgive me, and shake hands. Now
+sit down. I esteem you more than ever. You have come down from another
+age and a much better one than this. Now let us be calm, quiet,
+sensible, tranquil. Hallo!” (starting up in agitation), “a sudden
+light bursts on me. You are in love, and not with my wife; then it is
+my ward.”
+
+“It is too late to deny it, sir.”
+
+“That is far more serious than the other,” said Bazalgette, very
+gravely; “the old one would have been sure to cure you of your fancy
+for her, soon or late, but Lucy! Now, just look at that young buffer's
+eyes glaring at us like a pair of saucers.”
+
+“I am not listening, papa; I haven't heard a word you and Mr. Dodd
+have said about naughty ladies. I have been such a good boy, minding
+my puzzle.”
+
+“I wish he may not have been minding ours instead,” muttered his sire,
+and rang the bell, and ordered the servant to take away Master
+Reginald and bring coffee.
+
+The pair sipped their coffee in dead silence. It was broken at last by
+David saying sadly and a little bitterly, “I fear, sir, your good
+opinion of me does not go the length of letting me come into your
+family.”
+
+The merchant seemed during the last five minutes to have undergone
+some starching process, so changed was his whole manner now; so
+distant, dignified and stiff. “Mr. Dodd,” said he, “I am in a
+difficult position. Insincerity is no part of my character. When I say
+I have a regard for a man, I mean it. But I am the young lady's
+guardian, sir. She is a minor, though on the verge of her majority,
+and I cannot advise her to a match which, in the received sense, would
+be a very bad one for her. On the other hand, there are so many
+insuperable obstacles between you and her, that I need not combat my
+personal sentiments so far as to act against you; it would, indeed,
+hardly be just, as I have surprised your secret unfairly, though with
+no unfair intention. My promise not to act hostilely implies that I
+shall not reveal this conversation to Mrs. Bazalgette; if I did I
+should launch the deadliest of all enemies--irritated vanity--upon
+you, for she certainly looks on you as her plaything, not her niece's;
+and you would instantly be the victim of her spite, and of her
+influence over Lucy, if she discovered you have the insolence to
+escape her, and pursue another of her sex. I shall therefore keep
+silence and neutrality. Meantime, in the character, not of her
+guardian, but of your friend, I do strongly advise you not to think
+seriously of her. She will never marry you. She is a good, kind,
+amiable creature, but still she is a girl of the world--has all its
+lessons at her finger ends. Bless your heart, these meek beauties are
+as ambitious as Lucifer, and this one's ambition is fed by constant
+admiration, by daily matrimonial discussions with the old stager, and
+I believe by a good offer every now and then, which she refuses,
+because she is waiting for a better. Come, now, it only wants one good
+wrench--”
+
+David interrupted him mildly: “Then, sir,” said he, thoughtfully; “the
+upshot is that, if she says 'Yes,' you won't say 'No.'”
+
+The mature merchant stared.
+
+“If,” said he, and with this short sentence and a sardonic grin he
+broke off trying
+
+           “To fetter flame with flaxen band.”
+
+So nothing more was said or done that evening worth recording.
+
+The next day, being the day of the masquerade, was devoted by the
+ladies to the making, altering, and trying on of dresses in their
+bedrooms. This turned the downstairs rooms so dark and unlovely that
+the gentlemen deserted the house one after the other. Kenealy and
+Talboys rode to see a cricket match ten miles off. Hardie drove into
+the town of ---- and David paced the gravel walk in hopes that by
+keeping near the house he might find Lucy alone, for he was determined
+to know his fate and end his intolerable suspense.
+
+He had paced the walk about an hour when fortune seemed to favor his
+desires. Lucy came out into the garden. David's heart beat violently.
+To his great annoyance, Mr. Fountain followed her out of the house and
+called her. She stopped, and he joined her; and very soon uncle and
+niece were engaged in a conversation which seemed so earnest that
+David withdrew to another part of the garden not to interfere with
+them.
+
+He waited, and waited, and waited till they should separate; but no,
+they walked more and more slowly, and the conversation seemed to
+deepen in interest. David chafed. If he had known the nature of that
+conversation he would have writhed with torture as well as fretted
+with impatience, for there the hand of her he loved was sought in
+marriage before his eyes, and within a few steps of him. On such
+threads hangs human life. Had he been at the hall door instead of in
+the garden, he might have anticipated Mr. Fountain. As it was, Mr.
+Fountain stole the march on him.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+TO-MORROW Lucy had agreed to sail, and in the boat Mr. Talboys was to
+ask and win her band. But from the first Mr. Fountain had never a
+childlike confidence in the scheme, and his understanding kept
+rebelling more and more.
+
+“'The man that means to pop, pops,” said he; “one needn't go to
+sea--to pop. Terra firma is poppable on, if it is nothing else. These
+young fellows are like novices with a gun: the bird must be in a
+position or they can't shoot it--with their pop-guns. The young sparks
+in my day could pop them down flying. We popped out walking, popped
+out riding, popped dancing, popped psalm-singing. Talboys could not
+pop on horseback, because the lady's pony fidgeted, not his. Well, it
+will be so to-morrow. The boat will misbehave, or the wind will be
+easterly, and I shall be told southerly is the popping wind. The truth
+is, he is faint-hearted. His sires conquered England, and he is afraid
+of a young girl. I'll end this nonsense. He shall pop by proxy.”
+
+In pursuance of this resolve, seeing his niece pass through the hall
+with her garden hat on, he called to her that he would get his hat and
+join her. They took one turn together almost in silence. Fountain was
+thinking how he should best open the subject, and Lucy waiting after
+her own fashion, for she saw by the old man's manner he had something
+to say to her.
+
+“Lucy, my dear, I leave you in a day or two.”
+
+“So soon, uncle.”
+
+“And it depends on you whether I am to go away a happy or a
+disappointed old man.”
+
+At these words, to which she was too cautious to reply in words, Lucy
+wore a puzzled air; but underneath it a keen observer might have
+noticed her cheek pale a little, a very little, and a quiver of
+suppressed agitation pass over her like a current of air in summer
+over a smooth lake.
+
+Receiving no answer, Mr. Fountain went on to remind her that he was
+her only kinsman, Mrs. Bazalgette being her relation by half-blood
+only; and told her that, looking on himself as her father, he had
+always been anxious to see her position in life secured before his own
+death.
+
+“I have been ambitious for you, my dear,” said he, “but not more so
+than your beauty and accomplishments, and your family name entitle us
+to be. Well, my ambition for you and my affection for you are both
+about to be gratified; at least, it now rests with you to gratify
+them. Will you be Mrs. Talboys?”
+
+Lucy looked down, and said demurely, “What a question for a third
+person to put!”
+
+“Should I put it if I had not a right?”
+
+“I don't know.”'
+
+“You ought to know, Lucy.”
+
+“Mr. Talboys has authorized you, dear?”
+
+“He has.”'
+
+“Then this is a formal proposal from Mr. Talboy's?”
+
+“Of course it is,” said the old gentleman, fearlessly, for Lucy's
+manner of putting these questions was colorless; nobody would have
+guessed what she was at.
+
+She now drew her arm round her uncle's neck, and kissed him, which
+made him exult prematurely.
+
+“Then, dear uncle,” said she lovingly, “you must tell Mr. Talboys that
+I thank him for the honor he does me, and that I decline.”
+
+“Accept, you mean?”
+
+“No I don't--ha! ha!”
+
+
+Her laugh died rapidly away at sight of the effect of her words. Mr.
+Fountain started, and his face turned red and pale alternately.
+
+“Refuse my friend--refuse Talboys in that way? Thoughtless girl, you
+don't know what you are doing. His family is all but noble. What am I
+saying? noble? why, half the House of Peers is sprung from the dregs
+of the people, and got there either by pettifogging in the courts of
+law, or selling consciences in the Lower House; and of the other half,
+that are gentlemen of descent, not two in twenty can show a pedigree
+like Talboys. And with that name a princely mansion--antiquity stamped
+on it--stands in its own park, in the middle of its vast estates, with
+title-deeds in black-letter, girl.”
+
+“But, uncle, all this is encumbered--”
+
+“It is false, whoever told you so. There is not a mortgage on any part
+of it--only a few trifling copyholds and pepper-corn rents.”
+
+“You misunderstand me; I was going to say, it is encumbered with a
+gentleman for whom I could never feel affection, because he does not
+inspire me with respect.”
+
+“Nonsense! he inspires universal respect.”
+
+“It must be by his estates, then, not his character. You know, uncle,
+the world is more apt to ask, 'What _has_ he, then what _is_
+he?'”
+
+“He _is_ a polished gentleman.”
+
+“But not a well-bred one.”
+
+“The best bred I ever saw.
+
+“Then you never looked in a glass, dear. No, dear uncle, I will tell
+you. Mr. Talboys has seen the world, has kept good society, is at his
+ease (a great point), and is perfect in externals. But his good
+manners are--what shall I say?--coat deep. His politeness is not proof
+against temptation, however petty. The reason is, it is only a
+spurious politeness. Real politeness is founded and built on the
+golden rule, however delicate and artificial its superstructure may
+be. But, leaving out of the question the politeness of the heart, he
+has not in any sense the true art of good-breeding; he has only the
+common traditions. Put him in a novel situation, with no rules and
+examples to guide him, he would be maladroit as a school-boy. He is
+just the counterpart of Mr. Dodd in that respect. Poor Mr. Dodd is
+always shocking one by violating the commonest rules of society; but
+every now and then he bursts out with a flash of natural courtesy so
+bright, so refined, so original, yet so worthy of imitation, that you
+say to yourself this is genius--the genius of good-breeding.”
+
+Mr. Fountain chafed with impatience during this tirade, in which he
+justly suspected an attempt to fritter away a serious discussion.
+
+“Come off your hobby, Lucy,” cried he, “and speak to me like a woman
+and like my niece. If this is your objection, overcome it for my
+sake.”
+
+“I would, dear,” said Lucy, “but it is only one of my objections, and
+by no means the most serious.”
+
+On being invited to come at once to the latter, Lucy hesitated. “Would
+not that be unamiable on my part? Mr. Talboys has just paid me the
+highest compliment a gentleman can pay a lady; it is for me to decline
+him courteously, not abuse him to his friend and representative.”
+
+“No humbug, Lucy, if you please; I am in no humor for it.”
+
+“We should all be savages without a _little_ of it.”
+
+“I am waiting.”
+
+“Then pledge me your word of honor no word of what I now say to the
+disadvantage of poor Mr. Talboys shall ever reach him.”
+
+“You may take your oath of that.”
+
+“Then he is a detractor, a character I despise.”
+
+“Who does he detract from? I never heard him.”
+
+“From all his superiors--in other words, from everybody he meets. Did
+you ever know him fail to sneer at Mr. Hardie?”
+
+“Oh, that is the offense, is it?”
+
+“No, it is the same with others; there, the other day, Mr. Dodd joined
+us on horseback. He did not dress for the occasion. He had no straps
+on. He came in a hurry to have our society, not to cut a dash. But
+there was Mr. Talboys, who can only do this one thing well, and who,
+thanks to his servant, had straps on, sneering the whole time at Mr.
+Dodd, who has mastered a dozen far more difficult and more honorable
+accomplishments than putting on straps and sitting on horses. But he
+is always backbiting and sneering; he admires nothing and nobody.”
+
+“He has admired you ever since he saw you.”
+
+“What! has he never sneered at me?”
+
+“Never! ungrateful girl, never.”
+
+“How humiliating! He takes me for his inferior. His superiors he
+always sneers at. If he had seen anything good or spirited in me, he
+could not have helped detracting from me. Is not this a serious
+reason--that I despise the person who now solicits my love, honor and
+obedience? Well, then, there is another--a stronger still. But perhaps
+you will call it a woman's reason.”
+
+“I know. You don't like him--that is, you fancy you don't, and can't.”
+
+“No, uncle, it is not that I don't like him. It is that I HATE HIM.”
+
+“You hate him?” and Mr. Fountain looked at her to see if it was his
+niece Lucy who was uttering words so entirely out of character.
+
+“I am but a poor hater. I have but little practice; but, with all the
+power of hating I do possess, I hate that Mr. Talboys. Oh, how
+delicious it is to speak one's mind out nice and rudely. It is a
+luxury I seldom indulge in. Yes, uncle,” said Lucy, clinching her
+white teeth, “I hate that man, and I did hope his proposal would come
+from himself; then there would have been nothing to alloy my quiet
+satisfaction at mortifying one who is so ready to mortify others. But
+no, he has bewitched you; and you take his part, and you look vexed;
+so all my pleasure is turned to pain.”
+
+“It is all self-deception,” gasped Fountain, in considerable
+agitation; “you girls are always deceiving yourselves: you none of you
+hate any man--unless you love him. He tells me you have encouraged him
+of late. You had better tell me that is a lie.”
+
+“A lie, uncle; what an expression! Mr. Talboys is a gentleman; he
+would not tell a falsehood, I presume.”
+
+“Aha! it is true, then, you have encouraged him?”
+
+“A little.”
+
+“There, you see; the moment we come from the generalities to facts,
+what a simpleton you are proved to be. Come, now, did you or did you
+not agree to go in a boat with him?”
+
+“I did, dear.”
+
+“That was a pretty strong measure, Lucy.”
+
+“Very strong, I think. I can tell you I hesitated.”
+
+“Now you see how you have mistaken your own feelings.”
+
+Lucy hung her head. “Oh uncle, you call me simple--and look at you!
+fancy not seeing why I agreed to go--_dans cette galere._ It was
+that Mr. Talboys might declare himself, and so I might get rid of him
+forever. I saw that if I could not bring him to the point, he would
+dangle about me for years, and perhaps, at last, succeed in irritating
+me to rudeness. But now, of course, I shall stay on shore with my
+uncle to-morrow. _Qu'irais je faire dana cette galere?_ you have
+done it all for me. Oh, my dear, dear uncle, I am so grateful to you!”
+
+She showed symptoms of caressing Mr. Fountain, but he recoiled from
+her angrily. “Viper! but no, this is not you. There is a deeper hand
+than you in all this. This is that Mrs. Bazalgette's doings.”
+
+“No, indeed, uncle.”
+
+“Give me a proof it is not.”
+
+“With pleasure; any proof that is in my power.”
+
+“Then promise me not to marry Mr. Hardie.”
+
+“My dear uncle, Mr. Hardie has never asked me.”
+
+“But he will.”
+
+“What right have I to say so? What right have I to constitute Mr.
+Hardie my admirer? I would not for all the world put it into any
+gentleman's power to say, 'Why say “no,” Miss Fountain, before I have
+asked you to say “yes”?' Oh!”
+
+And, with this, Lucy put her face into her hands, but they were not
+large enough to hide the deep blush that suffused her whole face at
+the bare idea of being betrayed into an indelicacy of this sort.
+
+“How could he say that? how could he know?” said Mr. Fountain,
+pettishly.
+
+“Uncle, I cannot, I dare not. You and my aunt hate one another; so you
+might be tempted to tell her, and she would be sure to tell him.
+Besides, I cannot; my very instinct revolts from it. It would not be
+modest. I love you, uncle. Let me know your wishes, and have some
+faith in my affection, but pray do not press me further. Oh, what have
+I done, to be spoken of with so many gentlemen!”
+
+Lucy was in evident agitation, and the blushes glowed more and more
+round her snowy hands and between her delicate fingers; and there is
+something so sacred about the modesty alarmed of an intelligent young
+woman--it is a feeling which, however fantastical, is so genuine in
+her, and so manifestly intense beyond all we can ourselves feel of the
+kind, that no man who is not utterly stupid or depraved can see it
+without a certain awe. Even Mr. Fountain, who looked on Lucy's
+distress as transcendent folly with a dash of hypocrisy, could not go
+on making her cheek burn so. “There! there!” cried he, “don't torment
+yourself, Lucy. I will spare your fanciful delicacy, though you have
+no pity on me--on your poor old uncle, whose heart you will break if
+you decline this match.”
+
+At these words, and the old man's change from anger to sadness, Lucy
+looked up in dismay, and the vivid color died, like a retiring wave,
+out of her cheek.
+
+“You look surprised, Lucy. What! do you think this will not be a
+heartbreaking disappointment to me? If you knew how I have schemed for
+it--what I have done and endured to bring it about! To quarter the
+arms of Fontaine and Talboys! I put by the 5,000 pounds directly, and
+as much more of my own, that you should not go into that noble family
+without a proper settlement. It was the dream of my heart; I could
+have died contented the next hour. More fool I to care for anybody but
+myself. Your selfish people escape these bitter disappointments. Well,
+it is a lesson. From this hour I will live for myself and care for
+nobody, for nobody cares for me.”
+
+These words, uttered with great agitation, and, I believe, with
+perfect sincerity, on his own unselfishness and hard fate, were
+terrible to Lucy. She wreathed her arms suddenly round him.
+
+“Oh, uncle,” she cried, despairingly, “kill me! send me to Heaven!
+send me to my mother, but don't stab me with such bitter words;” and
+she trembled with an emotion so much more powerful and convulsing than
+his, in which temper had a large share, that she once more cowed him.
+
+“There! there!” he muttered, “I don't want to kill you, child, God
+knows, or to hurt you in any way.”
+
+Lucy trembled, and tried to smile. The good nature, which was the
+upper crust of this man's character, got the better of him.
+
+“There! there! don't distress yourself so. I know who I have to thank
+for all this.”
+
+“She has not the power,” said Lucy, in a faint voice, “to make me
+ungrateful to you.”
+
+Mind is more rapid than lightning. At this moment, in the middle of a
+sentence, it flashed across Lucy that her aunt had convinced her, sore
+against her will, that there was a strong element of selfishness in
+Mr. Fountain. “But it is that he deceives himself,” thought Lucy. “He
+would sacrifice my happiness to his hobby, and think he has done it
+for love of me.” Enlightened by this rapid reflection, she did not say
+to him as one of his own sex would, “Look in your own heart, and you
+will see that all this is not love of me, but of your own schemes.”
+ Oh, dear, no, that would not have been the woman. She took him round
+the neck, and, fixing her sapphire eyes lovingly on his, she said, “It
+is for love of me you set your heart on this great match? You wish to
+see me well settled in the world, and, above all, happy?”
+
+“Of course it is. I told you so. What other object can I have?”
+
+“Then, if you saw me wretched, and degraded in my own eyes, your heart
+would bleed for your poor niece--too late. Well, uncle, I love you,
+too, and I save you this day from remorse. Oh, think what it must be
+to hate and despise a man, and link yourself body and soul to that man
+for life. Oh, think and shudder with me. I have a quick eye. I have
+seen your lip curl with contempt when that fool has been talking--ah!
+you blush. You are too much his superior in everything but fortune not
+to despise him at heart. See the thing as it is. Speak to me as you
+would if my mother stood here beside us, uncle, and to speak to me,
+you must look her in the face. Could you say to me before her, 'I love
+you; marry a man we both despise!'?”
+
+Mr. Fountain made no answer. He was disconcerted. Nothing is so easy
+to resist as logic solo. We see it, as a general rule, resisted with
+great success in public and private every day; but when it comes in
+good company, a voice of music, an angel face, gentle, persuasive
+caresses, and imploring eyes, it ceases to revolt the understanding.
+And so, caught in his own trap, foiled, baffled, soothed, caressed,
+all in one breath, Mr. Fountain hung his head, and could not
+immediately reply.
+
+Lucy followed up her advantage. “No,” cried she; “say to me, 'I love
+you, Lucy; marry nobody; stay with your uncle, and find your happiness
+in contributing to his comfort.'”
+
+“What is the use my saying that, when I have got Mother Bazalgette
+against me, and her shopkeeper?”
+
+“Never mind, uncle, you say it, and time will show whether your
+influence is small with me, and my affections small for you”; and she
+looked in his face with glistening eyes.
+
+“Well, then,” said he, “I do say it, and I suppose that means I must
+urge you no more about poor Talboys.”
+
+A shower of kisses descended upon him that moment. Moral: Lose no time
+in sealing a good bargain.
+
+“Come, now, Lucy, you must do me a favor.”
+
+“Oh, thank you! thank you! what is it?”
+
+“Ah! but it is about Talboys too.”
+
+“Never mind,” faltered Lucy, “if it is anything short of--” (full
+stop).
+
+“It is a long way short of that. Look here, Lucy, I must tell you the
+truth. He intends to ask your hand himself: he confided this to me,
+but he never authorized me to commit him as I have done, so that this
+conversation cannot be acted on: it must be a secret between you and
+me.”
+
+“Oh, dear! and I thought I had got rid of him so nicely.”
+
+“Don't be alarmed,” groaned Fountain; “such matches as this can always
+be dropped; the difficulty is to bring them on. All I ask of you,
+then, is not to make mischief between me and my friend, the proudest
+man in England. If you don't value his friendship, I do. You must not
+let him know I have got him insulted by a refusal. For instance, you
+had better go out sailing with him to-morrow as if nothing had passed.
+Will your affection for me carry you as far as that?”
+
+The proposal was wormwood to Lucy. So she smiled and said eagerly: “Is
+that all? Why, I will do it with pleasure, dear. It is not like being
+in the same boat with him for life, you know. Can you give me nothing
+more than that to do for you?”
+
+“No; it does not do to test people's affection too severely. You have
+shown me that. Go on with your walk, Lucy. I shall go in.”
+
+“May I not come with you?”
+
+“No; my head aches with all this; if I don't mind I shall eat no
+dinner. Agitation and vexation, don't agree with me. I have carefully
+avoided them all my life. I must go in and lie down for an hour”; and
+he left her rather abruptly.
+
+She looked after him; her subtle eye noticed directly that he walked a
+little more feebly than usual. She ascribed this to his
+disappointment, justly perhaps, for at his age the body has less
+elastic force to resist a mental blow. The sight of him creeping away
+disappointed, and leaning heavier than usual on his stick, knocked at
+her cool but affectionate heart. She began to cry bitterly. When he
+was quite out of sight, she turned and paced the gravel slowly and
+sadly. It was new to her to refuse her uncle anything, still more
+strange to have to refuse him a serious wish. She was prepared,
+thoroughly prepared, for the proposal, but not to find the old man's
+heart so deeply set upon it. A wild impulse came over her to call him
+back and sacrifice herself; but the high spirit and intelligence that
+lay beneath her tenderness and complaisance stood firm. Yet she felt
+almost guilty, and very, very unhappy, as we call it at her age. She
+kept sighing; “Poor uncle!” and paced the gravel very slowly, hanging
+her sweet head, and crying as she went.
+
+
+At the end of the walk David Dodd stood suddenly before her. He came
+flurried on his own account, but stopped thunder-struck at her tears.
+“What is the matter, Miss Lucy?”' said he, anxiously.
+
+“Oh, nothing, Mr. Dodd;” and they flowed afresh.
+
+“Can I do anything for you, Miss Lucy?”
+
+“No, Mr. Dodd.”
+
+“Won't you tell me what is the matter? Are you not friends with me
+to-day?”
+
+“I was put out by a very foolish circumstance, Mr. Dodd, and it is one
+with which I shall not trouble you, nor any person of sense. I prefer
+to retain your sympathy by not revealing the contemptible cause of my
+babyish--There!” She shook her head proudly, as if tears were to be
+dispersed like dewdrops. “There!” she repeated; and at this second
+effort she smiled radiantly.
+
+“It is like the sun coming out after a shower,” cried David
+rapturously.
+
+“That reminds me I must be _going_ in, Mr. Dodd.”
+
+“Don't say that, Miss Lucy. What for?”
+
+“To arrange another shower, one of pearls, on a dress I am to wear
+to-night.”
+
+David sighed. “Ah! Miss Lucy, at sight of me you always make for the
+hall door.”
+
+Lucy colored. “Oh, do I? I really was not aware of that. Then I
+suppose I am afraid of you. Is that what you would insinuate? “'
+
+“No, Miss Lucy, you are not afraid of me; but I sometimes fear--” and
+he hesitated.
+
+“It must blow very hard that day,” said Lucy, with a world of
+politeness. Her tongue was too quick for him. He found it so, and
+announced the fact after his fashion. “I can't tack fast enough to
+follow you,” said he despondently.
+
+“But you are not required to follow me,” replied this amiable eel,
+with hypocritical benignity; “I am going to my aunt's room to do what
+I told you. I leave you in charge of the quarter-deck.” So saying, she
+walked slowly up the steps, and left David standing sorrowfully on the
+gravel. At the top step Miss Lucy turned and inquired gently when he
+was to sail. He told her the ship was expected to anchor off the fort
+to-morrow, but she would not sail till she had got all her passengers
+on board.
+
+“Oh!” said Lucy, with an air of reflection. She then leaned in an easy
+posture against the wall, and, whether it was that she relented a
+little, or that, having secured her retreat, she was now indifferent
+to flight, certain it is that she did after her own fashion what many
+a daughter of Eve has done before her, and many a duchess and many a
+dairymaid will do after La Fountain and I are gone from earth. A
+minute ago it had been, “She must go directly.” The more opposition to
+her departure, the more inexorable the necessity for her going;
+opposition withdrawn, and the door open, she stayed no end.
+
+Full twenty minutes did that young lady stand there unsolicited, and
+chat with David Dodd in the kindest, sweetest, most amicable way
+imaginable.
+
+
+She little knew she had an auditor--a female auditor, keen as a lynx.
+
+All this day Reginald George Bazalgette, Esq., might have been defined
+“a pest in search of a playmate.” Tom had got a holiday. Lucy only
+came out of her workshop to be seized by Mr. Fountain. David, who was
+waiting in the garden for Lucy, begged Reginald to excuse him for
+once. The young gentleman had recourse as a _pis aller_ to his
+mamma. He invaded her bedroom, and besought her piteously to play at
+battledoor. That lady, sighing deeply at being taken from her dress,
+consented. Her soul not being in it, she played very badly. Her cub
+did not fail to tell her so. “Why, I can keep up a hundred with Mr.
+Dodd,” said he.
+
+“Oh, we all know Mr. Dodd is perfection,” said the lady with a sneer.
+She was piqued with David. He had gone and left her in a brutal way,
+to make his apologies to Lucy.
+
+“No, he is not,” said Reginald. “I have found him out. He is as unjust
+as the rest of them.”
+
+“Dear me! and, pray, what has he done?”
+
+“I will tell you, mamma, if you will promise not to tell papa, because
+he told me not to listen, and I didn't listen, mamma, because, you
+know, a gentleman always keeps his word; but they talked so loud the
+words would come into my ear; I could not keep them out. Mamma, are
+there any naughty ladies here?”
+
+“No, my dear.”
+
+“Then what did papa mean, warning Mr. Dodd against one?”
+
+Mrs. Bazalgette began to listen as he wished.
+
+“Oh, he called her all the names. He said she was a statue of
+flirtation.”
+
+“Who? Lucy?”
+
+“Lucy? no! the naughty lady--the one that had twelve husbands. He kept
+warning him, and warning him, and then Mr. Dodd and papa they began to
+quarrel almost, because Mr. Dodd said the naughty lady was quite
+young, and papa said she was ever so old. Mr. Dodd said she was
+twenty-one. But papa told him she must be more than that, because she
+had a child that would be fifteen years old; only it died. How old
+would sister Emily be if she was alive, mamma? La, mamma, how pretty
+you are: you have got red cheeks like Lucy--redder, oh, ever so much
+redder--and in general they are so pale before dinner. Let me kiss
+you, mamma. I do love the ladies when their cheeks are red.”
+
+“There! there! now go on, dear; tell me some more.”
+
+“It is very interesting, isn't it, dear mamma?”
+
+“It is amusing, at all events.”
+
+“No, it is not amusing--at least, what came after, isn't: it is
+wicked, it is unjust, it is abominable.”
+
+“Tell me, dear.”
+
+“It turned out it wasn't the naughty lady Mr. Dodd was in love for,
+and who do you think he is in love of?”
+
+“I have not an idea.”
+
+“MY LUCY!!!”
+
+“Nonsense, child.”
+
+“No, no, mamma, it is not. He owned it plump.”
+
+“Are you quite sure, love?”
+
+“Upon my honor.”
+
+“What did they say next?”
+
+“Oh, next papa began to talk his fine words that I don't know what the
+meaning of them is one bit. But Mr. Dodd, he could make them out, I
+suppose, for he said, 'So, then, the upshot is--' There, now, what is
+upshot? I don't know. How stupid grown-up people are; they keep using
+words that one doesn't know the meaning of.”
+
+“Never mind, love! tell me. What came _after_ upshot?” said Mrs.
+Bazalgette, soothingly, with great apparent calmness and flashing eye.
+
+“How kind you are to-day, mamma! That is twice you have called me
+love, and three times dear; only think. I should love you if you were
+always so kind, and your cheeks as red as they are now.”
+
+“Never mind my cheeks. What did Mr. Dodd say? Try and
+remember--come--'The upshot was--'”
+
+“The upshot was--what was the upshot? I forget. No, I remember; the
+upshot was, if Lucy said 'yes,' papa would not say 'no;' that meant to
+marry him. Now didn't you promise me her ever so long ago--the day you
+and I agreed if I went a whole day without being naughty once I should
+have her for ever and ever? and I did go.”
+
+“Go to Lucy's room, and tell her to come to me,” said Mrs. Bazalgette,
+in a stern, thoughtful voice, which startled poor Reginald, coming so
+soon after the _calinerie._ However, he told her it was no use
+his going to Lucy's room, for she was out in the garden; he had seen
+her there walking with Mr. Fountain. Reginald then ran to the window
+which commanded the garden, to look for Lucy. He had scarcely reached
+it when he began to squeak wildly, “Come here! come here! come here!”
+ Mrs. Bazalgette was at the window in a moment, and lo! at the end of
+the garden, walking slowly side by side, were Lucy and Mr. Dodd.
+
+Ridiculous as it may appear, a pang of jealousy shot through the
+married flirt's heart that made her almost feel sick. This was
+followed at the interval of half a second by as pretty a flame of
+hatred as ever the _spretoe injuria formoe_ lighted up in a
+coquette's heart. Doubt drove in its smaller sting besides, and at
+sight of the couple she resolved to have better evidence than
+Reginald's, especially as to Lucy's sentiments. The plan she hit upon
+was effective, but vulgar, and must not be witnessed by a boy of
+inconvenient memory and mistimed fluency. She got rid of him with
+high-principled dexterity. “Reginald,” said she, sadly, “you are a
+naughty boy, a disobedient boy, to listen when your papa told you not,
+and to tell me a pack of falsehoods. I must either tell your papa, or
+I must punish you myself; I prefer to do it myself, he would whip you
+so”; with this she suddenly opened her dressing-room door, and pushed
+the terrible infant in, and locked the door. She then told him through
+the keyhole he had better cease yelling, because, if he kept quiet,
+his punishment would only last half an hour, and she flew downstairs.
+There was a large hot-house with two doors, one of which came very
+near to the house door that opened into the garden. Mrs. Bazalgette
+entered the hothouse at the other end, and, hidden by the exotic trees
+and flowers, made rapidly for the door Lucy and David must pass. She
+found it wide open. She half shut it, and slipped behind it, listening
+like a hare and spying like a hawk through the hinges. And, strange as
+it may appear, she had an idea she should make a discovery. As the
+finished sportsman watches a narrow ride in the wood, not despairing
+by a snap-shot to bag his hare as she crosses it, though seen but for
+a moment, so the Bazalgette felt sure that, as the couple passed her
+ambush, something, either in the two sentences they might utter, or,
+more probably, in their tones and general manner, would reveal to one
+of her experience on what footing they were.
+
+A shrewd calculation! But things will be things. They take such turns,
+I might without exaggeration say twists, that calculation is baffled,
+and prophecy dissolved into pitch and toss. This thing turned just as
+not expected. _Primo,_ instead of getting only a snap-shot, Mrs.
+Bazalgette heard every word of a long conversation; and,
+_secundo,_ when she had heard it she could not tell for certain
+on what footing the lady and gentleman were. At first, from their
+familiarity, she inclined to think they were lovers; but, the more she
+listened, the more doubtful she seemed. Lucy was the chief speaker,
+and what she said showed an undisguised interest in her companion; but
+the subject accounted in great measure for that; she was talking of
+his approaching voyage, of the dangers and hardships of his
+profession, and of his return two years hence, his chances of
+promotion, etc. But here was no proof positive of love; they were
+acquaintances of some standing. Then Lucy's manner struck her as
+rather amicable than amorous. She was calm, kind, self-possessed, and
+almost voluble. As for David, he only got in a word here and there.
+When he did, there was something so different in his voice from
+anything he had ever bestowed on _her,_ that she hated him, and
+longed to stick scissors into him from the rear, unseen. At last Lucy
+suddenly recollected, or seemed to recollect, she was busy, and
+retired hastily--so hastily that David saw too late his opportunity
+lost. But the music of her voice had so charmed him that he did not
+like to interrupt it even to speak of that which was nearest his
+heart. David sighed deeply, standing there alone.
+
+Mrs. Bazalgette clinched her little fists and looked round for the
+means of vengeance. David went down on his knees. La Bazalgette glared
+through the crack, and wondered what on earth he was at now. Oh! he
+was praying. “He loves her: he is eccentricity itself; so he is
+praying for her, and on _my_ doorsteps” (the householder wounded
+as well as the flirt). It was lucky she had not “a thunderbolt in her
+eye”--Shakespeare, or a celestial messenger of the wrong sort would
+have descended on the devout mariner. It was more than Mrs. Bazalgette
+could bear: she had now and then, not often, unladylike impulses. One
+of them had set her crouching behind the door of an outhouse, and
+listening through a crack; and now she had another, an irresistible
+one: it was, to take that empty flower-pot, fling it as hard as ever
+she could at the devotee, then shut the door quick, fly out at the
+other door, and leave her faithless swain in the agony of knowing
+himself detected and exposed by some unknown and undiscoverable enemy.
+
+For a vengeance extemporized in less than half a second this was very
+respectable. Well, she clawed the flower-pot noiselessly, put her
+other hand on the door, cast a hasty glance at the means of retreat,
+and--things took another twist: she heard the rustle of a coming gown,
+and drew back again, and out came Lucy, and nearly ran over David, who
+was not on his knees after all, but down on his nose, prostrate
+Orientally. The fact is, Lucy, among her other qualities, good and
+bad, was a born housewife, and solicitously careful of certain odds
+and ends called property. She found she had dropped one of her gloves
+in the garden, and she came back in a state of disproportionate
+uneasiness to find it, and nearly ran over David Dodd.
+
+“What _are_ you doing, Mr. Dodd?”
+
+David arose from his Oriental position, and, being a young man whose
+impulse always was to tell the simple truth, replied, “I was kissing
+the place where you stood so long.”
+
+He did not feel he had done anything extraordinary, so he gave her
+this information composedly; but her face was scarlet in an instant;
+and he, seeing that, began to blush too. For once Lucy's tact was
+baffled; she did not know what on earth to say, and she stood blushing
+like a girl of fifteen.
+
+
+Then she tried to turn it off.
+
+“Mr. Dodd, how can you be so ridiculous?” said she, affecting humorous
+disdain.
+
+But David was not to be put down now; he was launched.
+
+“I am not ridiculous for loving and worshiping you, for you are worthy
+of even more love than any human heart can hold.”
+
+“Oh, hush, Mr. Dodd. I must not hear this.”
+
+“Miss Lucy, I can't keep it any longer--you must, you shall hear me.
+You can despise my love if you will, but you _shall_ know it
+before you reject it.”
+
+“Mr. Dodd, you have every right to be heard, but let me persuade you
+not to insist. Oh, why did I come back?”
+
+“The first moment I saw you, Miss Lucy, it was a new life to me. I
+never looked twice at any girl before. It is not your beauty only--oh,
+no! it is your goodness--goodness such as I never thought was to be
+found on earth. Don't turn your head from me; I know my defects; could
+I look on you and not see them? My manners are blunt and rude--oh, how
+different from yours! but you could soon make me a fine gentleman, I
+love you so. And I am only the first mate of an Indiaman; but I should
+be a captain next voyage, Miss Lucy, and a sailor like me has no
+expenses; all he has is his wife's. The first lady in the land will
+not be petted as you will, if you will look kindly on me. Listen to
+me,” trying to tempt her. “No, Miss Lucy, I have nothing to offer you
+worth your acceptance, only my love. No man ever loved woman as I love
+you; it is not love, it is worship, it is adoration! Ah! she is going
+to speak to me at last!”
+
+Lucy presented at this moment a strange contrast of calmness and
+agitation. Her bosom heaved quickly, and she was pale, but her voice
+was calm, and, though gentle, decided.
+
+“I know you love me, Mr. Dodd, and I feared this. I have tried to save
+you the mortification of being declined by one who, in many things, is
+your inferior. I have even been rude and unkind to you. Forgive me for
+it. I meant it kindly. I regret it now. Mr. Dodd, I thank you for the
+honor you do me, but I cannot accept your love.” There was a pause,
+but David's tongue seemed glued to the roof of his mouth. He was not
+surprised, yet he was stupefied when the blow came.
+
+At last he gasped out, “You love some other man?”
+
+Lucy was silent.
+
+“Answer me, for pity's sake; give me something to help me.”
+
+“You have no right to ask me such a question, but--I have no
+attachment, Mr. Dodd.”
+
+“Ah! then one word more. Is it because you cannot love me, or because
+I am poor, and only first mate of an Indiaman?”
+
+“_That_ I will not answer. You have no right to question a lady
+why she--Stay! you wish to despise me. Well, why not, if that will
+cure you of this unfortunate--Think what you please of me, Mr. Dodd,”
+ murmured Lucy, sadly.
+
+“Ah! you know I can't,” cried David, despairingly.
+
+“I know that you esteem me more than I deserve. Well, I esteem you,
+Mr. Dodd. Why, then, can we not be friends? You have only to promise
+me you will never return to this subject--come!”
+
+“Me promise not to love you! What is the use? Me be your friend, and
+nothing more, and stand looking on at the heaven that is to be
+another's, and never to be mine? It is my turn to decline. Never.
+Betrothed lovers or strangers, but nothing between! It would drive me
+mad. Away from you, and out of sight of your sweet face, I may make
+shift to live, and go through my duty somehow, for my mother's and
+sister's sake.”
+
+“You are wiser than I was, Mr. Dodd. Yes, we must part.”
+
+“Of course we must. I have got my answer, and a kinder one than I
+deserve; and now what is the polite thing for me to do, I wonder?”
+ David said this with terrible bitterness.
+
+“You frighten me,” sighed Lucy.
+
+“Don't you be frightened, sweet angel; there! I have been used to obey
+orders all my life, and I am like a ship tossed in the breakers, and
+you are calm--calm as death. Give me my orders, for God's sake.”
+
+“It is not for me to command you, Mr. Dodd. I have forfeited that
+right. But listen to her who still asks to be your friend, and she
+will tell you what will be best for you, and kindest and most generous
+to her.”
+
+“Tell me about that last; the other is a waste of words.”
+
+“I will, then. Your sister is somewhere in the neighborhood.”
+
+“She is at ----; how did you know?”
+
+“I saw her on your arm. I am glad she is so near--Oh, so glad! Bid my
+uncle and aunt good-by; make some excuse. Go to your sister at once.
+_She_ loves you. She is better than I am, if you will but see us
+as we really are. Go to her at once,” faltered Lucy, who disliked Eve,
+and Eve her.
+
+“I will! I will! I have thought too little of my own flesh and blood.
+Shall I go now?”
+
+“Yes,” murmured Lucy softly, trying to disarm the fatal word. “Forget
+me--and--forgive me!” and, with this last word scarce audible, she
+averted her face, and held out her hand with angelic dignity, modesty
+and pity.
+
+The kind words and the gentle action brought down the stout heart that
+had looked death in the face so often without flinching. “Forgive you,
+sweet angel!” he cried; “I pray Heaven to bless you, and to make you
+as happy as I am desolate for your sake. Oh, you show me more and more
+what I lose this day. God bless you! God bless--” and David's heart
+filled to choking, and he burst out sobbing despairingly, and the hot
+tears ran suddenly from his eyes over her hand as he kissed and kissed
+it. Then, with an almost savage feeling of shame (for these were not
+eyes that were wont to weep), he uttered one cry of despair and ran
+away, leaving her pale and panting heavily.
+
+She looked piteously at her hand, wet with a hero's tears, and for the
+second time to-day her own began to gush. She felt a need of being
+alone. She wanted to think on what she had done. She would hide in the
+garden. She ran down the steps; lo! there was Mr. Hardie coming up the
+gravel-walk. She uttered a little cry of impatience, and dashed
+impetuously into the hot-house, driving the half-open door before her
+with her person as well as her arm.
+
+A scream of terror and pain issued from behind it, with a crash of
+pottery.
+
+Lucy wheeled round at the sound, and there was her aunt, flattened
+against the flower-frame.
+
+Lucy stood transfixed.
+
+But soon her look of surprise gave way to a frown; ay! and a somber
+one.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI.
+
+THAT ready-minded lady extricated herself from the pots, and wriggled
+out of the moral situation. “I was a listener, dear! an unwilling
+listener; but now I do not regret it. How nobly you behaved!” and with
+this she came at her with open arms, crying, “My own dear niece.”
+
+Her own dear niece recoiled with a shiver, and put up both her hands
+as a shield.
+
+“Oh, don't touch me, please. I never heard of a lady listening!!!!”
+
+She then turned her back on her aunt in a somewhat uncourtier-like
+manner, and darted out of the place, every fiber of her frame strung
+up tight with excitement. She felt she was not the calm, dispassionate
+being of yesterday, and hurried to her own room and locked herself in.
+
+Mrs. Bazalgette remained behind in a state of bitter mortification,
+and breathing fury on her small scale. But what could she do? David
+would be out of her reach in a few minutes, and Lucy was scarce
+vulnerable.
+
+In the absence of any definite spite, she thought she could not go
+wrong in thwarting whatever Lucy wished, and her wish had been that
+David should go. Besides, if she kept him in the house, who knows, she
+might pique him with Lucy, and even yet turn him her way; so she lay
+in wait for him in the hall. He soon appeared with his bag in his
+hand. She inquired, with great simplicity, where he was going. He told
+her he was going away. She remonstrated, first tenderly, then almost
+angrily. “We all counted on you to play the violin. We can't dance to
+the piano alone.”
+
+“I am very sorry, but I have got my orders.” Then this subtle lady
+said, carelessly, “Lucy will be _au desespoir._ She will get no
+dancing. She said to me just now, 'Aunt, do try and persuade Mr. Dodd
+to stay over the ball. We shall miss him so.'”
+
+“When did she say that?”
+
+“Just this minute. Standing at the door there.”
+
+“Very well; then I'll stay over the ball.” And without a word more he
+carried his bag and violin-case up to his room again. Oh, how La
+Bazalgette hated him! She now resigned all hope of fighting with him,
+and contented herself with the pleasure of watching him and Lucy
+together. One would be wretched, and the other must be uncomfortable.
+
+Lucy did not come down to dinner; she was lying down with headache.
+She even sent a message to Mrs. Bazalgette to know whether she could
+be dispensed with at the ball. Answer, “Impossible!” At half-past
+eight she got up, put on her costume, took it off again, and dressed
+in white watered silk. Her assumption of a character was confined to
+wearing a little crown rising to a peak in front. Many of the guests
+had arrived when she glided into the room looking every inch a queen.
+David was dazzled at her, and awestruck at her beauty and mien, and at
+his own presumption.
+
+Her eye fell on him. She gave a little start, but passed on without a
+word. The carpets had been taken up, and the dancing began.
+
+Mrs. Bazalgette arranged that Lucy and David should play pianoforte
+and violin until some lady could be found to take her part.
+
+I incline to think Mrs. Bazalgette, spiteful as mortified vanity is
+apt to be, did not know the depth of anguish her subtle vengeance
+inflicted on David Dodd.
+
+He was pale and stern with the bitter struggle for composure. He
+ground his teeth, fixed his eyes on the music-book, and plowed the
+merry tunes as the fainting ox plows the furrow. He dared not look at
+Lucy, nor did he speak to her more than was necessary for what they
+were doing, nor she to him. She was vexed with him for subjecting
+himself and her to unnecessary pain, and in the eye of society--her
+divinity.
+
+Another unhappy one was Mr. Fountain. He sat disconsolate on a seat
+all alone. Mrs. Bazalgette fluttered about like a butterfly, and
+sparkled like a Chinese firework.
+
+Two young ladies, sisters, went to the piano to give Miss Fountain an
+opportunity of dancing. She danced quadrilles with four or five
+gentlemen, including her special admirers. She declined to waltz: “I
+have a little headache; nothing to speak of.”
+
+She then sat down to the piano again. “I can play alone, Mr. Dodd; you
+have not danced at all.”
+
+“I am not in the humor.”
+
+“Very well.”
+
+This time they played some of the tunes they had rehearsed together
+that happy evening, and David's lip quivered.
+
+Lucy eyed him unobserved.
+
+“Was this wise--to subject yourself to this?”
+
+“I must obey orders, whatever it costs me--'ri tum ti tum ti tum ti
+tum.'”
+
+“Who ordered you to neglect my advice?--'ri tum tum tum.'”
+
+_“You_ did--'ri tum ti tum tiddy iddy.'”
+
+A look of silent disdain: “Ri tum, ti tum, tiddy iddy.” (Ah! perdona
+for relating things as they happen, and not as your grand writers
+pretend they happen.)
+
+Between the quadrilles she asked an explanation.
+
+“Your aunt met me with my bag in my hand, and told me you wanted me to
+play to the company.”
+
+When he said this, David heard a sound like the click of a trigger. He
+looked up; it was Lucy clinching her teeth convulsively. But time was
+up: the woman of the world must go on like the prizefighter. The
+couples were waiting.
+
+“Ri tum ti tum ti tum ti tum tiddy iddy.” For all that, she did not
+finish the tune. In the middle of it she said to David, “'Ri tum ti
+tum--' can you get through this without me?--'ri tum.'”
+
+“If I can get through life without you, I can surely get through this
+twaddle: 'ri tum ti tum ti tum ti tum tiddy iddy.'” Lucy started from
+her seat, leaving David plowing solo. She started from her seat and
+stood a moment, looking like an angel stung by vipers. Her eye went
+all round the room in one moment in search of some one to blight. It
+surprised Mr. Hardie and Mrs. Bazalgette sitting together and casting
+ironical glances pianoward: “So she has been betraying to Mr. Hardie
+the secret she gained by listening,” thought Lucy. The pair were
+probably enjoying David's mortification, his misery.
+
+She walked very slowly down the room to this couple. She looked them
+long and full in the face with that confronting yet overlooking glance
+which women of the world can command on great occasions. It fell, and
+pressed on them both like lead, they could not have told you why. They
+looked at one another ruefully when she had passed them, and then
+their eyes followed her. They saw her walk straight up to her uncle,
+and sit down by him, and take his hand. They exchanged another uneasy
+look.
+
+“Uncle,” said Lucy, speaking very quickly, “you are unhappy. I am the
+cause. I am come to say that I promise you not to marry anyone my aunt
+shall propose to me.”
+
+“My dear girl, then you won't marry that shopkeeper there?”
+
+“What need of names, still less of epithets? I will marry no friend of
+hers.”
+
+“Ah! now you are my brother's daughter again.”
+
+“No, I love you no better than I did this morning; but the--”
+
+Celestial happiness diffused itself over old Fountain's face, and Lucy
+glided back to the piano just as the quadrille ended.
+
+“Give me your arm, Mr. Dodd,” said she, authoritatively. She took his
+arm, and made the tour of the room leaning on him, and chatting gayly.
+
+She introduced him to the best people, and contrived to appear to the
+whole room joyous and flattered, leaning on David's arm.
+
+The young fellows envied him so.
+
+Every now and then David felt her noble white arm twitch convulsively,
+and her fingers pinch the cloth of his sleeve where it was loose.
+
+She guided him to the supper-room. It was empty. “Oblige me with a
+glass of water.”
+
+He gave it her. She drank it.
+
+“Mr. Dodd, the advice I gave you with my own lips I never retracted.
+My aunt imposed upon you. It was done to mortify you. It has failed,
+as you may have observed. My head aches so, it is intolerable. When
+they ask you where I am, say I am unwell, and have retired to my room.
+I shall not be at breakfast; directly after breakfast go to your
+sister, and tell her your friend Lucy declined you, though she knows
+your value, and would not let you be mortified by nullities and
+heartless fools. Good-by, Mr. Dodd; try and believe that none of us
+you leave in this house are worth remembering, far less regretting.”
+
+She vanished haughtily; David crept back to the ball-room. It seemed
+dark by comparison now she who lent it luster was gone. He stayed a
+few minutes, then heavy-hearted to bed.
+
+The next morning he shook hands with Mr. Bazalgette, the only one who
+was up, kissed the terrible infant, who, suddenly remembering his many
+virtues, formally forgave him his one piece of injustice, and, as he
+came, so he went away, his bag on his shoulder and his violin-case in
+his hand.
+
+
+He went to Cousin Mary and asked for Eve. Cousin Mary's face turned
+red: “You will find her at No. 80 in this street. She is gone into
+lodgings.” The fact is, the cousins had had a tiff, and Eve had left
+the house that moment.
+
+Oh! my sweet, my beloved heroines--you young vipers, when will you
+learn to be faultless, like other people? You have turned my face into
+a peony, blushing for you at every fourth page.
+
+David came into her apartment. He smiled sweetly, but sadly. “Well, it
+is all over. I have offered, and been declined.”
+
+At seeing him so quiet and resigned, Eve burst out crying.
+
+“Don't you cry, dear,” said David. “It is best so. It is almost a
+relief. Anything before the suspense I was enduring.”
+
+Then Eve, recovering her spirits by the help of anger, began to abuse
+Lucy for a cold-hearted, deceitful girl; but David stopped her
+sternly.
+
+“Not a word against her--not a word. I should hate anyone that
+miscalled her. She speaks well of you, Eve; why need you speak ill of
+her? She and I parted friends, and friends let us be. There is no hate
+can lie alongside love in a true heart. No, let nobody speak of her at
+all to me. I shan't; my thoughts, they are my own. 'Go to your
+sister,' said she, and here I am; and I beg your pardon, Eve, for
+neglecting you as I have of late.”
+
+“Oh, never mind _that,_ David; _our_ affection will outlast
+this folly many a long year.”
+
+“Please God! Your hand in mine, Eve, my lamb, and let us talk of
+ourselves and mother: the time is short.”
+
+They sat hand in hand, and never mentioned Lucy's name again; and,
+strange to say, it was David who consoled Eve; for, now the battle was
+lost, her spirit seemed to have all deserted her, and she kept
+bursting out crying every now and then irrelevantly.
+
+It was three in the afternoon. David was sitting by the window, and
+Eve packing his chest in the same room, not to be out of his sight a
+minute, when suddenly he started up and cried, “There she is,” and an
+instinctive unreasonable joy illumined his face; the next moment his
+countenance fell.
+
+The carriage passed down the street.
+
+“I remember now,” muttered David, “I heard she was to go sailing, and
+Mr. Talboys was to be skipper of the boat. Ah! well.”
+
+“Well, let them sail, David. It is not your business.”
+
+“That it is not, Eve--nobody's less than mine.
+
+“Eve, there is plenty of wind blowing up from the nor'east.”
+
+“Is there? I am afraid that will bring your ship down quick.”
+
+“Yes; but it is not that. I am afraid that lubber won't think of
+looking to windward.”
+
+“Nonsense about the wind; it is a beautiful day. Come, David, it is no
+use lighting against nature. Put on your hat, then, and run down to
+the beach, and see the last of her; only, for my sake, don't let the
+others see you, to jeer you.”
+
+“No, no.”
+
+“And mind and be back to dinner at four. I have got a nice roast fowl
+for you.”
+
+“Ay ay.”
+
+A little before four o'clock a sailor brought a note from David,
+written hastily in pencil. It was sent up to Eve. She read it, and
+clasped her hands vehemently.
+
+“Oh, David, she was born to be your destruction.”
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII.
+
+MR. FOUNTAIN, Miss Fountain, and Mr. Talboys started to go on the
+boating expedition. As they were getting into the boat, Mr. Fountain
+felt a little ill, and begged to be excused. Mr. Talboys offered to
+return with him. He declined: “Have your little sail. I will wait at
+the inn for you.”
+
+This pantomime had, I blush to say, been arranged beforehand. Miss
+Fountain, we may be sure, saw through it, but she gave no sign. A
+lofty impassibility marked her demeanor, and she let them do just what
+they liked with her.
+
+The boat was launched, the foresail set, and Fountain remained on
+shore in anything but a calm and happy state.
+
+But friendships like these are not free from dross; and I must confess
+that among the feelings which crossed his mind was a hope that Talboys
+would pop, and be refused, as _he_ had been. Why should he,
+Fountain, monopolize defeat? We should share all things with a friend.
+
+Meantime, by one of those caprices to which her sex are said to be
+peculiarly subject, Lucy seemed to have given up all intention of
+carrying out her plan for getting rid of Mr. Talboys. Instead of
+leading him on to his fate, she interposed a subtle but almost
+impassable barrier between him and destruction; her manner and
+deportment were of a nature to freeze declarations of love upon the
+human lip. She leaned back languidly and imperially on the luxurious
+cushions, and listlessly eyed the sky and the water, and ignored with
+perfect impartiality all the living creatures in the boat.
+
+Mr. Talboys endeavored in vain to draw her out of this languid mood.
+He selected an interesting subject of conversation to--himself; he
+told her of his feats yachting in the Mediterranean; he did not tell
+her, though, that his yacht was sailed by the master and not by him,
+her proprietor. In reply to all this Lucy dropped out languid
+monosyllables.
+
+At last Talboys got piqued and clapped on sail.
+
+There had not been a breath of air until half an hour before they
+started; but now a stiff breeze had sprung up; so they had smooth
+water and yet plenty of wind, and the boat cut swiftly through-the
+bubbling water.
+
+“She walks well,” said the yachtsman.
+
+Lucy smiled a gracious, though still rather too queenly assent. I
+think the motion was pleasing her. Lively motion is very agreeable to
+her sex.
+
+“This is a very fast boat,” said Mr. Talboys. “I should like to try
+her speed. What do you say, Miss Fountain?”
+
+“With all my heart,” said Lucy, in a tone that expressed her utter
+indifference.
+
+“Here is this lateen-rigged boat creeping down on our quarter; we will
+stand east till she runs down to us, and then we will run by her and
+challenge her.” Accordingly Talboys stood east.
+
+But he did not get his race; for, somewhat to his surprise, the
+lateen-rigged boat, instead of holding her course, which was about
+south-southwest, bore up directly and stood east, keeping about half a
+mile to windward of Talboys.
+
+This puzzled Talboys. “They are afraid to try it,” said he. “If they
+are afraid of us sailing on a wind, they would not have much chance
+with us in beating to windward. A lugger can lie two points nearer the
+wind than a schooner.”
+
+All this science was lost on Lucy. She lay back languid and listless.
+
+Mr. Talboy's crew consisted of a man and a boy. He steered the boat
+himself. He ordered them to go about and sail due west. It was no
+sooner done than, lo and behold, the schooner came about and sailed
+west, keeping always half a mile to windward.
+
+“That boat is following us, Miss Fountain.”
+
+“What for?” inquired she; “is it my uncle coming after us?”
+
+“No; I see no one aboard but a couple of fishermen.”
+
+“They are not fishermen,” put in the boy; “they are
+sailors--coastguard men, likely.”
+
+“Besides,” said Mr. Talboys, “your uncle would run down to us at once,
+but these keep waiting on us and dogging us. Confound their
+impudence.”
+
+“It is all fancy,” said Lucy; “run away as fast as you can that way,”
+ and she pointed down the wind, “and you will see nobody will take the
+trouble to run after us.”
+
+“Hoist the mainsail,” cried Talboys.
+
+They had hitherto been sailing under the foresail only. In another
+minute they were running furiously before the wind with both sails
+set. The boat yawed, and Lucy began to be nervous; still, the
+increased rapidity of motion excited her agreeably. The
+lateen-schooner, sailing under her fore-sail only, luffed directly and
+stood on in the lugger's wake. Lucy's cheek burned, but she said
+nothing.
+
+“There,” cried Talboys, “now do you believe me? I think we gain on
+her, though.”
+
+“We are going three knots to her two, sir,” said the old man, “but it
+is by her good will; that is the fastest boat in the town, sailing on
+a wind; at beating to windward we could tackle her easy enough, but
+not at running free. Ah! there goes her mainsel up; I thought she
+would not be long before she gave us that.”
+
+“Oh, how beautiful!” cried Lucy; “it is like a falcon or an eagle
+sailing down on us; it seems all wings. Why don't we spread wings too
+and fly away?”
+
+“You see, miss,” explained the boatman, “that schooner works her sails
+different from us; going down wind she can carry her mainsel on one
+side of the craft and her foresel on the other. By that she keeps on
+an even keel, and, what is more, her mainsel does not take the wind
+out of her foresel. Bless you, that little schooner would run past the
+fastest frigate in the king's service with the wind dead aft as we
+have got it now; she is coming up with us hand over head, and as stiff
+on her keel as a rock; this is her point of sailing, beating to
+windward is ours. Why, if they ain't reefing the foresel, to make the
+race even; and there go three reefs into her mainsel too.” The old
+boatman scratched his head.
+
+“Who is aboard her, Dick? they are strangers to me.”
+
+By taking in so many reefs the lateen had lowered her rate of sailing,
+and she now followed in their wake, keeping a quarter of a mile to
+windward.
+
+Talboys lost all patience. “Who is it, I wonder, that has the
+insolence to dog us so?” and he looked keenly at Miss Fountain.
+
+She did not think herself bound to reply, and gazed with a superior
+air of indifference on the sky and the water.
+
+“I will soon know,” said Talboys.
+
+“What does it matter?” inquired Lucy. “Probably somebody who is
+wasting his time as we are.”
+
+“The road we are on is as free to him as to us,” suggested the old
+boatman, with a fine sense of natural justice. He added, “But if you
+will take my advice, sir, you will shorten sail, and put her about for
+home. It is blowing half a gale of wind, and the sea will be getting
+up, and that won't be agreeable for the young lady.”
+
+“Gale of wind? Nonsense,” said Talboys; “it is a fine breeze.”
+
+“Oh, thank you, sir,” said Lucy to the old man; “I love the sea, but I
+should not like to be out in a storm.”
+
+The old boatman grinned. “'Storm is a word that an old salt reserves
+for one of those hurricanes that blow a field of turnips flat, and
+teeth down your throat. You can turn round and lean your back against
+it like a post; and a carrion-crow making for the next parish gets
+fanned into another county. That is a storm.”
+
+The old boatman went forward grinning, and he and his boy lowered the
+mainsail. Then Talboys at the helm brought the boat's head round to
+the wind. She came down to her bearings directly, which is as much as
+to say that to Lucy she seemed to be upsetting.
+
+Lucy gave a little scream. The sail, too, made a report like the crack
+of a pistol.
+
+“Oh, what is that?” cried Lucy.
+
+“Wind, mum,” replied the boatman, composedly.
+
+“What is that purple line on the water, sir, out there, a long way
+beyond the other boat?
+
+“Wind, mum.”
+
+“It seems to move. It is coming this way.”
+
+“Ay, mum, that is a thing that always makes to leeward,” said the old
+fellow, grinning. “I'll take in a couple of reefs before it comes to
+us.”
+
+Meantime, the moment the lugger lowered her mainsail, the schooner,
+divining, as it appeared, her intention, did the same, and luffed
+immediately, and was on the new tack first of the two.
+
+“Ay, my lass,” said the old boatman, “you are smartly handled, no
+doubt, but your square stern and your try-hanglar sail they will take
+you to leeward of us pretty soon, do what you can.”
+
+The event seemed to justify this assertion; the little lugger was on
+her best point of sailing, and in about ten minutes the distance
+between the two boats was slightly but sensibly diminished. The
+lateen, no doubt, observed this, for she began to play the game of
+short tacks, and hoisted her mainsail, and carried on till she seemed
+to sail on her beam-ends, to make up, as far as possible, by speed and
+smartness for what she lost by rig in beating to windward.
+
+“They go about quicker than we do,” said Talboys.
+
+“Of course they do; they have not got to dip their sail, as we have,
+every time we tack.”
+
+This was the true solution, but Mr. Talboys did not accept it.
+
+“We are not so smart as we ought to be. Now you go to the helm, and I
+and the boy will dip the lug.”
+
+The old boatman took the helm as requested, and gave the word of
+command to Mr. Talboys. “Stand _by_ the foretack.”
+
+“Yes,” said Mr. Talboys, “here I am.”
+
+“Let _go_ the fore-tack”; and, contemporaneously with the order,
+he brought the boat's head round.
+
+Now this operation is always a nice one, particularly in these small
+luggers, where the lug has to be dipped, that is to say, lowered, and
+raised again on the opposite side of the mast; for the lug should not
+be lowered a moment too soon, or the boat, losing her way, would not
+come round; nor a moment too late, lest the sail, owing to the new
+position the boat is taking under the influence of the rudder, should
+receive the wind while between the wind and the mast, and so the craft
+be taken aback, than which nothing can well happen more disastrous.
+
+Mr. Talboys, though not the accomplished sailor he thought himself,
+knew this as well as anybody, and with the boy's help he lowered the
+sail at the right moment; but, getting his head awkwardly in the way,
+the yard, in coming down, hit him on the nose and nearly knocked him
+on to his beam-ends. It would have been better if it had done so quite
+instead of bounding off his nose on to his shoulder and there resting;
+for, as it was, the descent of the sail being thus arrested half-way
+at the critical moment, and the boat's head coming round all the same,
+a gust of wind caught the sail and wrapped it tight round the mast to
+windward. The boy uttered a cry of terror so significant that Lucy
+trembled all over, and by an uncontrollable impulse leaned
+despairingly back and waved her white handkerchief toward the
+antagonist boat. The old boatman with an oath darted forward with an
+agility he could not have shown ashore.
+
+The effect on the craft was alarming. If the whole sail had been thus
+taken aback, she would have gone down like lead; for, as it was, she
+was driven on her side and at the same time driven back by the stern;
+the whole sea seemed to rise an inch above her gunwale; the water
+poured into her at every drive the gusts of wind gave her, and the
+only wonder seemed why the waves did not run clean over her.
+
+In vain the old boatman, cursing and swearing, tugged at the canvas to
+free it from the mast. It was wrapped round it like Dejanira's shirt,
+and with as fatal an effect; the boat was filling; and as this brought
+her lower in the water, and robbed her of much of her buoyancy, and as
+the fatal cause continued immovable, her destruction was certain.
+
+Every cheek was blanched with fear but Lucy's, and hers was red as
+fire ever since she waved her handkerchief; so powerful is modesty
+with her sex. A true virgin can blush in death's very grasp.
+
+In the midst of this agitation and terror, suddenly the boat was
+hailed. They all looked up, and there was the lateen coming tearing
+down on them under all her canvas, both her broad sails spread out to
+the full, one on each side. She seemed all monstrous wing. The lugger
+being now nearly head to wind, she came flying down on her weather bow
+as if to run past her, then, lowering her foresail, made a broad
+sweep, and brought up suddenly between the lugger and the wind. As her
+foresail fell, a sailor bounded over it on to the forecastle, and
+stood there with one foot on the gunwale, active as Mercury, eye
+glowing, and a rope in his hand.
+
+“Stand by to lower your mast,” roared this sailor in a voice of
+thunder to the boatman of the lugger; and the moment the schooner came
+up into the wind athwart the lugger's bows he bounded over ten feet of
+water into her, and with a turn of the hand made the rope fast to her
+thwart, then hauling upon it, brought her alongside with her head
+literally under the schooner's wing.
+
+He and the old boatman then instantly unstepped the mast and laid it
+down in the boat, sail and all. It was not his great strength that
+enabled them to do this (a dozen of him could not have done it while
+the wind pressed on the mast); it was his address in taking all the
+wind out of the lug by means of the schooner's mainsail. The old man
+never said a word till the work was done; then he remarked, “That was
+clever of you.”
+
+The new-comer took no notice whatever. “Reef that sail, Jack,” he
+cried; “it will be in the lady's face by and by; and heave your bailer
+in here; their boat is full of water.”
+
+“Not so full as it would if you hadn't brought up alongside,” said the
+old boatman.
+
+“Do you want to frighten the lady?” replied the sailor, in his driest
+and least courtier-like way.
+
+“I am not frightened, Mr. Dodd,” said Lucy. “I was, but I am not now.”
+
+“Come and help me get the water out of her, Jack. Stay! Miss Fountain
+had better step into the dry boat, meantime. Now, Jack, look alive;
+lash her longside aft.”
+
+This done, the two sailors, one standing on the lugger's gunwale, one
+on the schooner's, handed Miss Fountain into the schooner, and gave
+her the cushions of the lugger to sit upon. They then went to work
+with a will, and bailed half a ton of water out.
+
+When she was dry David jumped back into his own boat. “Now, Miss
+Fountain, your boat is dry, but the sea is getting up, and I think, if
+I were you, I would stay where you are.”
+
+“I mean to,” said the lady, calmly. “Mr. Talboys, _would_ you
+mind coming into this boat? We shall be safer here; it--it is larger.”
+
+The gentleman thus addressed was embarrassed between two
+mortifications, one on each side him. If he came into David's boat he
+would be second fiddle, he who had gone out of port first fiddle. If
+he stuck to the lugger Lucy would go off with Dodd, and he would look
+like a fool coming ashore without her. He hesitated.
+
+David got impatient. “Come, sir,” he cried, “don't you hear the lady
+invite you? and every moment is precious.” And he held out his hand to
+him.
+
+Talboys decided on taking it, and he even unbent so far as to jump
+vigorously--so vigorously that, David pulling him with force at the
+same moment, he came flying into the schooner like a cannon-ball, and,
+toppling over on his heels, went down on the seat with his head
+resting on the weather gunwale, and his legs at a right angle with his
+back.
+
+“That is one way of boarding a craft,” muttered David, a little
+discontentedly; then to the old boatman: “Here, fling us that
+tarpaulin. I say, here is more wind coming; are you sure you can work
+that lugger, you two?”
+
+“We will be ashore before you can, now there's nobody to bother us,”
+ was the prompt reply.
+
+“Then cast loose; here we are, drifting out to sea.”
+
+The old man cast the rope loose; David hauled it on board, and the
+schooner shot away from her companion and bore up north-north-west,
+leaving the luggar rocking from side to side on the rising waves. But
+the next minute Lucy saw her sail rise, and she bore up and stood
+northeast.
+
+“Good-by to you, little horror,” said Lucy.
+
+“We shall fall in with her a good many times more before we make the
+land,” said David Dodd.
+
+Lucy inquired what he meant; but he had fallen to hauling the sheet
+aft and making the sail stand flatter, and did not answer her. Indeed,
+he seemed much more taken up with Jack than with her, and, above all,
+entirely absorbed in the business of sailing the boat.
+
+She was a little mortified at this behavior, and held her tongue.
+Talboys was sulky, and held his. It was a curious situation. In the
+hurry and bustle, none of the parties had realized it; but now, as the
+boat breasted the waves, and all was silent on board, they had time to
+review their position.
+
+Talboys grew gloomier and gloomier at the poor figure he cut. Lucy
+kept blushing at intervals as she reflected on the obligation she had
+laid herself under to a rejected lover. The rejected lover alone
+seemed to mind his business and nothing else; and, as he was almost
+ludicrously unconscious that he was doing a chivalrous action, a
+misfortune to which those who do these things are singularly liable,
+he did not gild the transaction with a single graceful speech, and
+permitted himself to be more occupied with the sails than with rescued
+beauty.
+
+Succeeding events, however, explained, and in some degree excused,
+this commonplace behavior.
+
+The next time they tacked some spray came flying in, and wetted all
+hands. Lucy laughed. The lugger had also tacked, and the two boats
+were now standing toward each other; when they met the lugger had
+weathered on them some sixty or seventy yards.
+
+A furious rain now came on almost horizontally, and the sailors
+arranged the tarpaulin so as to protect Mr. Talboys and Miss Fountain.
+
+“But you will be wet through yourself, Mr. Dodd. Will you not come
+under shelter too?”
+
+“And who is to sail the boat?” He added, “I am glad to see the rain. I
+hope it will still the wind; if it doesn't, we shall have to try
+something else, that is all.”
+
+“Pray, when do you undertake to land us, Mr. Dodd?” inquired Mr.
+Talboys, superciliously.
+
+“Well, sir, if it does not blow any harder, about eight bells.”
+
+“Eight bells? Why, that means midnight,” exclaimed Talboys.
+
+“Wind and tide both dead against us,” replied David, coolly.
+
+“Oh, Mr. Dodd, tell me the truth: is there any danger?”
+
+“Danger? Not that I see; but it is very uncomfortable, and unbecoming,
+for you to be beating to windward against the tide for so many hours,
+when you ought to be sitting on the sofa at home. However, next time
+you run out of port, I hope those that take charge of you will look to
+the almanac for the tide, and look to windward for the weather: Jack,
+the lugger lies nearer the wind than we do.
+
+“A little, sir.”
+
+“Will you take the helm a minute, Mr. Talboys? and _you_ come
+forward and unbend this.” The two sailors put their heads together
+amidships, and spoke in an undertone. “The wind is rising with the
+rain instead of falling.”
+
+“'Seems so, sir.”
+
+“What do you think yourself?”
+
+“Well, sir, it has been blowing harder and harder ever since we came
+out, and very steady.”
+
+“It will turn out one of those dry nor'easters, Jack.”
+
+“I shouldn't wonder, sir. I wish she was cutter-rigged, sir. A boat
+has no business to be any other rig but cutter; there ought to be a
+nact o' parliam't against these outlandish rigs.”
+
+“I don't know; I have seen wonders done with this lateen rig in the
+Pacific.”
+
+“The lugger forereaches on us, sir.”
+
+“A little, but, for all that, I am glad she is on board our craft; we
+have got more beam, and, if it comes to the worst, we can run. The
+lugger can't with her sharp stern. I'll go to the helm.”
+
+Just as David was stepping aft to take the helm, a wave struck the
+boat hard on the weather bow, close to the gunwale, and sent a bucket
+of salt water flying all over him; he never turned his head even--took
+no more notice of it than a rock does when the sea spits at it. Lucy
+shrieked and crouched behind the tarpaulin. David took the helm, and,
+seeing Talboys white, said kindly: “Why don't you go forward, sir, and
+make yourself snug under the folksel deck? she is sure to wet us abaft
+before we can make the land.”
+
+No. Talboys resisted his inclination and the deadly nausea that was
+creeping over him.
+
+“Thank you, but I like to see what is going on; and” (with an heroic
+attempt at sea-slang) “I like a wet boat.”
+
+They now fell in with the lugger again lying on the opposite tack, and
+a hundred yards at least to windward.
+
+Just before they crossed her wake David sang out to Jack:
+
+“Our masts--are they sound?”
+
+“Bran-new, sir; best Norway pine.”
+
+“What d'ye think?”
+
+“Think we are wasting time and daylight.”
+
+“Then stand _by_ the main sheet.”
+
+“Yes, sir.”
+
+_“Slack_ the main sheet.”
+
+“Ay, ay, sir.”
+
+The boat instantly fell off into the wind, and, as she went round,
+David stood up in the stern-sheets and waved his cap to the men on
+board the lugger, who were watching him. The old man was seen to shake
+his head in answer to the signal, and point to his lug-sail standing
+flat as a board, and the next moment they parted company, and the
+lateen was running close-reefed before the wind.
+
+Mr. Talboys was sitting collapsed in the lethargy that precedes
+seasickness. He started up. “What are you doing?” he shrieked.
+
+“Keep quiet, sir, and don't bother,” said David, with calm sternness,
+and in his deepest tones.
+
+“Pray don't interfere with Mr. Dodd,” said Lucy; “he must know best.”
+
+“You don't see what he is doing, then,” cried Talboys, wildly; “the
+madman is taking us out to sea.”
+
+“Are you taking us out to sea, Mr. Dodd?” inquired Lucy, with dismay.
+
+“I am doing according to my judgment of tide and wind, and the
+abilities of the craft I am sailing,” said David, firmly; “and on
+board my own craft I am skipper, and skipper I will be. Go forward,
+sir, if you please, and don't speak except to obey orders.”
+
+Mr. Talboys, sick, despondent and sulky, went gloomily forward, coiled
+himself up under the forecastle deck, and was silent and motionless.
+
+“Don't send me,” cried Lucy, “for I will not go. Nothing but your eye
+keeps up my courage. I don't mind the water,” added she, hastily and a
+little timidly, anxious to meet every reason that could be urged for
+imprisoning her in the forecastle hold.
+
+“You are all right where you are, miss,” said Jack, cheerfully; “we
+shan't have no more spray come aboard us; it won't come in by the can
+full if it doesn't come by the ton.”
+
+“Will you belay your jaw?” roared David, in a fury that Lucy did not
+comprehend at the time. “What a set of tarnation babblers in one
+little boat.”
+
+“I won't speak any more, Mr. Dodd; I won't speak.”
+
+“Bless your heart, it isn't you I meant. 'Twould be hard if a lady
+might not put her word in. But a man is different. I do love to see a
+man belay his jaw, and wait for orders, and then do his duty; hoist
+the mainsel, you!”
+
+“Ay, ay, sir.”
+
+“Shake out a couple of reefs.”
+
+“Ay, ay, sir.”
+
+And the lateen spread both her great wings like an albatross, and
+leaped and plunged, and flew before the mighty gale.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII.
+
+“THIS is nice. The boat does not upset or tumble as it did. It only
+courtesies and plunges. I like it.”
+
+“The sea has not got up yet, miss,” said Jack.
+
+“Hasn't it? the waves seem very large.”
+
+“Lord love you, wait till we have had four or five hours more of
+this.”
+
+“Belay your jaw, Jack.”
+
+“Ay, ay, sir.”
+
+“Why so, Mr. Dodd?” objected Lucy gently. “I am not so weak as you
+think me. Do not keep the truth from me. I share the danger; let me
+share the sense of danger, too. You shall not blush for me.”
+
+“Danger? There is not a grain of it, unless we make danger by
+inattention--and babbling.”
+
+“You will not do that,” said Lucy.
+
+Equivoque missed fire.
+
+“Not while you are on board,” replied David, simply.
+
+Lucy felt inclined to give him her hand. She had it out half-way; but
+he had lately asked her to marry him, so she drew it back, and her
+eyes rested on the bottom of the boat.
+
+The wind rose higher. The masts bent so that each sail had every
+possible reef taken in. Her canvas thus reduced she scudded as fast as
+before, such was now the fury of the gale. The sea rose so that the
+boat seemed to mount with each wave as high as the second story of a
+house, and go down again to the cellar at every plunge. Talboys,
+prostrated by seasickness in the forehold, lay curled but motionless,
+like a crooked log, and almost as indifferent to life or death. Lucy,
+pale but firm, put no more questions that she felt would not be
+answered, but scanned David Dodd's face furtively yet closely. The
+result was encouraging to her. His cheek was not pale, as she felt her
+own. On the contrary, it was slightly flushed; his eye bright and
+watchful, but lion-like. He gave a word or two of command to Jack
+every now and then very sharply, but without the slightest shade of
+agitation, and Jack's “ay, ay” came back as sharply, but cheerfully.
+
+The principal feature she discerned in both sailors was a very
+attentive, business-like manner. The romantic air with which heroes
+face danger in story was entirely absent; and so, being convinced by
+his yarns that David _was_ a hero, she inferred that their
+situation could not be dangerous, but, as David himself had inferred,
+merely one in which watchfulness was requisite.
+
+
+The sun went down red and angry. The night came on dark and howling.
+No moon. A murky sky, like a black bellying curtain above, and huge
+ebony waves, that in the appalling blackness seemed all crested with
+devouring fire, hemmed in the tossing boat, and growled, and snarled,
+and raged above, below, and around her.
+
+Then, in that awful hour, Lucy Fountain felt her littleness and the
+littleness of man. She cowered and trembled.
+
+The sailors, rough but tender nurses, wrapped shawls round her one
+above the other, “to make her snug for the night,” they said. They
+seemed to her to be mocking her. “Snug? Who could hope to outlive such
+a fearful night? and what did it matter whether she was drowned in one
+shawl or a dozen?”
+
+David being amidships, bailing the boat out, and Jack at the helm, she
+took the opportunity, and got very close to the latter, and said in
+his ear--
+
+“Mr. Jack, we are in danger.”
+
+“Not exactly in danger, miss; but, of course, we must mind our eye.
+But I have often been where I have had to mind my eye, and hope to be
+again.”
+
+“Mr. Jack,” said Lucy, shivering, “what is our danger? Tell me the
+nature of it, then I shall not be so cowardly; will the boat break?”
+
+“Lord bless you, no.”
+
+“Will it upset?”
+
+“No fear of that.”
+
+“Will not the sea swallow us?”
+
+“No, miss. How can the sea swallow us? She rides like a cork, and
+there is the skipper bailing her out, to make her lighter still. No;
+I'll tell you, miss; all we have got to mind is two things; we must
+not let her broach to, and we must not get pooped.”
+
+“But _why_ must we not?”
+
+“_Why?_ Because we _mustn't.”_
+
+“But I mean, what would be the consequence of--broaching to?”
+
+Jack opened his eyes in astonishment. “Why, the sea would run over her
+quarter, and swamp her.”
+
+“Oh!! And if we get pooped?”
+
+“We shall go to Davy Jones, like a bullet.”
+
+“Who is Davy Jones?”
+
+“The Old One, you know--down below. Leastways you won't go there,
+miss; you will go aloft, and perhaps the skipper; but Davy will have
+me; so I won't give him a chance, if I can help it.”
+
+Lucy cried.
+
+“Where are we, Mr. Jack?”
+
+“British Channel.”
+
+“I know that; but whereabouts?”
+
+“Heaven knows; and no doubt the skipper, he knows; but I don't. I am
+only a common sailor. Shall I hail the skipper? he will tell you.”
+
+“No, no, no. He is so angry if we speak.”
+
+“He won't be angry if you speak to him, miss,” said Jack, with a sly
+grin, that brought a faint color into Lucy's cheek; “you should have
+seen him, how anxious he was about you before we came alongside; and
+the moment that lubber went forward to dip the lug, says he, 'Jack,
+there will be mischief; up mainsail and run down to them. I have no
+confidence in that tall boy.' (He do seem a long, weedy, useless sort
+of lubber.) Lord bless you, miss, we luffed, and were running down to
+you long before you made the signal of distress with your little white
+flag.” Lucy's cheeks got redder. “No, miss, if the skipper speaks
+severe to you, Jack Painter is blind with one eye, and can't see with
+t'other.”
+
+Lucy's cheeks were carnation.
+
+But the next moment they were white, for a terrible event interrupted
+this chat. Two huge waves rolled one behind the other, an occurrence
+which luckily is not frequent; the boat, descending into the valley of
+the sea, had the wind taken out of her sails by the high wave that was
+coming. Her sails flapped, she lost her speed, and, as she rose again,
+the second wave was a moment too quick for her, and its combing crest
+caught her. The first thing Lucy saw was Jack running from the helm
+with a loud cry of fear, followed by what looked an arch of fire, but
+sounded like a lion rushing, growling on its prey, and directly her
+feet and ankles were in a pool of water. David bounded aft, swearing
+and splashing through it, and it turned into sparks of white fire
+flying this way and that. He seized the helm, and discharged a loud
+volley of curses at Jack.
+
+“Fling out ballast, ye d--d cowardly, useless lubber,” cried he; and
+while Jack, who had recoiled into his normal state of nerves with
+almost ridiculous rapidity, was heaving out ballast, David discharged
+another rolling volley at him.
+
+“Oh, pray don't!” cried Lucy, trembling like an aspen leaf. “Oh,
+think! we shall soon be in the presence of our Maker--of Him whose
+name you--”
+
+“Not we,” cried David, with broad, cheerful incredulity; “we have lots
+more mischief to do--that lubber and I. And if he thinks he is going
+there, let him end like a man, not like a skulking lubber, running
+from the helm, and letting the craft come up in the wind.”
+
+“No, no, it was the sea he ran from. Who would not?”
+
+“The lubber! If it had been a tiger or a bear I'd say nothing; but
+what is the use of trying to run from the sea? Should have stuck to
+his post, and set that thundering back of his up--it's broad
+enough--and kept the sea out of your boots. The sea, indeed! I have
+seen the sea come on board me, and clear the deck fore and aft, but it
+didn't come in the shape of a cupful o' water and a spoonful o' foam.”
+ Here David's wrath and contempt were interrupted by Jack singing
+waggishly at his work,
+
+           “Cease--rude Boreas--blustering--railer!!”
+
+At which sly hit David was pleased, and burst into a loud, boisterous
+laugh.
+
+Lucy put her hands to her ears. “Oh, don't! don't! this is worse than
+your blasphemies--laughing on the brink of eternity; these are not
+men--they are devils.”
+
+“Do you hear that, Jack? Come, you behave!” roared David.
+
+A faint snarl from Talboys. The water had penetrated him, and roused
+him from a state of sick torpor; he lay in a tidy little pool some
+eight inches deep.
+
+The boat was bailed and lightened, but Lucy's fears were not set at
+rest. What was to hinder the recurrence of the same danger, and with
+more fatal effect? She timidly asked David's permission to let her
+keep the sea out. Instead of snubbing her as she expected, David
+consented with a sort of paternal benevolence tinged with incredulity.
+She then developed her plan; it was, that David, Jack, and she should
+sit in a triangle, and hold the tarpaulin out to windward and fence
+the ocean out. Jack, being summoned aft to council, burst into a
+hoarse laugh; but David checked him.
+
+“There is more in it than you see, Jack--more than she sees, perhaps.
+My only doubt is whether it is possible; but you can try.”
+
+Lucy and Jack then tried to get the tarpaulin out to windward; instead
+of which, it carried them to leeward by the force of the wind. The
+mast brought them up, or Heaven knows where their new invention would
+have taken them. With infinite difficulty they got it down and kneeled
+upon it, and even then it struggled. But Lucy would not be defeated;
+she made Jack gather it up in the middle, and roll it first to the
+right, then to the left, till it became a solid roll with two narrow
+open edges. They then carried it abaft, and lowered it vertically over
+the stern-port; then suddenly turned it round, and sat down. “Crack!”
+ the wind opened it, and wrapped it round the boat and the trio.
+
+“Hallo!” cried David, “it is foul of the rudder;” and, he whipped out
+his knife and made a slit in the stuff. It now clung like a blister.
+
+“There, Mr. Dodd, will not that keep the sea out?” asked Lucy,
+triumphantly.
+
+“At any rate, it may help to keep us ahead of the sea. Why, Jack, I
+seem to feel it lift her; it is as good as a mizzen.”
+
+“But, oh, Mr. Dodd, there is another danger. We may broach to.”
+
+“How can she broach to when I am at the helm? Here is the arm that
+won't let her broach to.”
+
+“Then I feel safe.”
+
+“You are as safe as on your own sofa; it is the discomfort you are put
+to that worries me.”
+
+“Don't think so meanly of me, Mr. Dodd. If it was not for my
+cowardice, I should enjoy this voyage far more than the luxurious ease
+you think so dear to me. I despise it.”
+
+
+“Mr. Dodd, now I am no longer afraid. I am, oh, so sleepy.”
+
+“No wonder--go to sleep. It is the best thing you can do.”
+
+“Thank you, sir. I am aware my conversation is not very interesting.”
+ Having administered this sudden bloodless scratch, to show that, at
+sea or ashore, in fair weather or foul, she retained her sex, Lucy
+disposed herself to sleep.
+
+David, steering the boat with his left hand, arranged the cushion with
+his right. She settled herself to sleep, for an irresistible
+drowsiness had followed the many hours of excitement she had gone
+through. Twice the heavy plunging sea brought her into light contact
+with David. She instantly awoke, and apologized to him with gentle
+dismay for taking so audacious a liberty with that great man,
+commander of the vessel; the third time she said nothing, a sure sign
+she was unconscious.
+
+Then David, for fear she might hurt herself, curled his arm around
+her, and let her head decline upon his shoulder. Her bonnet fell off;
+he put it reverently on the other side the helm. The air now cleared,
+but the gale increased rather than diminished. And now the moon rose
+large and bright. The boat and masts stood out like white stone-work
+against the flint-colored sky, and the silver light played on Lucy's
+face. There she lay, all unconscious of her posture, on the man's
+shoulder who loved her, and whom she had refused; her head thrown back
+in sweet helplessness, her rich hair streaming over David's shoulder,
+her eyes closed, but the long, lovely lashes meeting so that the
+double fringe was as speaking as most eyes, and her lips half open in
+an innocent smile. The storm was no storm to her now. She slept the
+sleep of childhood, of innocence and peace; and David gazed and gazed
+on her, and joy and tenderness almost more than human thrilled through
+him, and the storm was no storm to him either; he forgot the past,
+despised the future, and in the delirium of his joy blessed the sea
+and the wind, and wished for nothing but, instead of the Channel, a
+boundless ocean, and to sail upon it thus, her bosom tenderly grazing
+him, and her lovely head resting on his shoulder, for ever, and ever,
+and ever.
+
+
+Thus they sailed on two hours and more, and Jack now began to nod.
+
+All of a sudden Lucy awoke, and, opening her eyes, surprised David
+gazing at her with tenderness unspeakable. Awaking possessed with the
+notion that she was sleeping at home on a bed of down, she looked
+dumfounded an instant; but David's eyes soon sent the blood into her
+cheek. Her whole supple person turned eel-like, and she glided
+quickly, but not the least bruskly, from him; the latter might have
+seemed discourteous.
+
+“Oh, Mr. Dodd,” she cried, “what am I doing?”
+
+“You have been getting a nice sleep, thank Heaven.”
+
+“Yes, and making use of you even in my sleep; but we all impose on
+your goodness.”
+
+“Why did you awake? You were happy; you felt no care, and I was happy
+seeing you so.”
+
+Lucy's eyes filled. “Kind, true friend,” she murmured, “how can I ever
+thank you as I ought? I little deserved that you should watch over my
+safety as you have done, and, alas! risk your own. Any other but you
+would have borne me malice, and let me perish, and said, 'It serves
+her right.'”
+
+“Malice! Miss Lucy. What for, in Heaven's name?”
+
+“For--for the affront I put upon you; for the--the honor I declined.”
+
+“Hate cannot lie alongside love in a true heart.”
+
+“I see it cannot in a noble one. And then you are so generous. You
+have never once recurred to that unfortunate topic; yet you have
+gained a right to request me--to reconsider--Mr. Dodd, you have saved
+my life!!”
+
+“What! do you praise me because I don't take a mean advantage? That
+would not be behaving like a man.”
+
+“I don't know that. You overrate your sex--and mine. We don't deserve
+such generosity. The proof is, we reward those who are not
+so--delicate.”
+
+“I don't trouble my head about your sex. They are nothing to me, and
+never will be. If you think I have done my duty like a man, and as
+much like a gentleman as my homely education permits, that is enough
+for me, and I shall sail for China as happy as anything on earth can
+make me now.”
+
+Lucy answered this by crying gently, silently, tenderly.
+
+“Don't ye cry. Have I said something to vex you?”
+
+“Oh no, no.”
+
+“Are you alarmed still?”
+
+“Oh, no; I have such faith in you.”
+
+“Then go to sleep again, like a lamb.”
+
+“I will; then I shall not tease you with my conversation.”
+
+“Now there is a way to put it.”
+
+“Forgive me.”
+
+“That I will, if you will take some repose. There, I will lash you to
+my arm with this handkerchief; then you can lie the other way, and
+hold on by the handkerchief--there.”
+
+She closed her eyes and fell apparently to sleep, but really to
+thinking.
+
+Then David nudged Jack, and waked him. “Speak low now, Jack.”
+
+“What is it, sir?”
+
+“Land ahead.”
+
+Jack looked out, and there was a mountain of jet rising out of the
+sea, and, to a landsman's eye, within a stone's throw of them.
+
+“Is it the French coast, sir? I must have been asleep.”
+
+“French coast? no, Channel Island--smallest of the lot.”
+
+“Better give it a wide berth, sir. We shall go smash like a teacup if
+we run on to one of them rocky islands.”
+
+“Why, Jack,” said David, reproachfully, “am I the man to run upon a
+leeshore, and such a night as this?”
+
+“Not likely. You will keep her head for Cherbourg or St. Malo, sir; it
+is our only chance.”
+
+“It is not our only chance, nor our best. We have been running a
+little ahead of this gale, Jack; there is worse in store for us; the
+sea is rolling mountains high on the French coast this morning, I
+know. We are like enough to be pooped before we get there, or swamped
+on some harbor-bar at last.”
+
+“Well, sir, we must take our chance.”
+
+“Take our chance? What! with heads on our shoulders, and an angel on
+board that Heaven has given us charge of? No, I sha'n't take my
+chance. I shall try all I know, and hang on to life by my eyelids.
+Listen to me. 'Knowledge is gold;' a little of it goes a long way. I
+don't know much myself, but I do know the soundings of the British
+Channel. I have made them my study. On the south side of this rocky
+point there is forty fathoms water close to the shore, and good
+anchorage-ground.”
+
+“Then I wish we could jump over the thundering island, and drop on the
+lee side of it; but, as we can't, what's the use?”
+
+“We may be able to round the point.”
+
+“There will be an awful sea running off that point, sir.”
+
+“Of course there will. I mean to try it, for all that.”
+
+“So be it, sir; that is what I like to hear. I hate palaver. Let one
+give his orders, and the rest obey them. We are not above half a mile
+from it now.”
+
+“You had better wake the landsman. We must have a third hand for
+this.”
+
+“No,” said a woman's voice, sweet, but clear and unwavering. “I shall
+be the third hand.”
+
+“Curse it,” cried David, “she has heard us.”
+
+“Every word. And I have no confidence in Mr. Talboys; and, believe me,
+I am more to be trusted than he is. See, my cowardice is all worn out.
+Do but trust me, and you shall find I want neither courage nor
+intelligence.”
+
+David eyed her keenly, and full in the face. She met his glance
+calmly, with her fine nostrils slightly expanding, and her compressed
+lip curving proudly.
+
+“It is all right, Jack. It is not a flash in the pan. She is as steady
+as a rock.” He then addressed her rapidly and business-like, but with
+deference. “You will stand by the helm on this side, and the moment I
+run forward, you will take the helm and hold it in this position. That
+will require all your strength. Come, try it. Well done.”
+
+“How the sea struggles with me! But I am strong, you see,” cried Lucy,
+her brow flushed with the battle.
+
+“Very good; you are strong, and, what is better, resolute. Now,
+observe me: this is port, this is starboard, and this is amidships.”
+
+“I see; but how am I to know which to do?”'
+
+“I shall give you the word of command.”
+
+“And all I have to do is to obey it?”
+
+“That is all; but you will find it enough, because the sea will seem
+to fight you. It will shake the boat to make you leave go, and will
+perhaps dash in your face to make you leave go.”
+
+“Forewarned, forearmed, Mr. Dodd. I will not let go. I will hold on by
+my eyelids sooner than add to your danger.”
+
+“Jack, she is on fire; she gives me double heart.”
+
+“So she does me. She makes it a pleasure.”
+
+They were now near enough the point to judge what they had to do, and
+the appearance of the sea was truly terrible; the waves were all
+broken, and a surge of devouring fire seemed to rage and roar round
+the point, and oppose an impassable barrier between them and the inky
+pool beyond, where safety lay under the lee of the high rocks.
+
+“I don't like it,” said David. “It looks to me like going through a
+strip of hell fire.”
+
+“But it is narrow,” said Lucy.
+
+“That is our chance; and the tide is coming in. We will try it. She
+will drench us, but I don't much think she will swamp us. Are you
+ready, all hands?”
+
+“Oh! please wait a minute, till I do up my hair.”
+
+“Take a minute, but no more.”
+
+“There, it is done. Mr. Dodd, one word. If all should fail, and death
+be inevitable, tell me so just before we perish, and I shall have
+something to say to you. Now, I am ready.”
+
+“Jump forward, Jack.”
+
+“Yes, sir.”
+
+“Stand by to jibe the foresail.”
+
+“Ay, ay, sir.”
+
+“See our sweeps all clear.”
+
+“Ay.”
+
+David now handled the main sheet, and at the same time looked
+earnestly at Lucy, who met his eye with a look of eager attention.
+
+“Starboard a little. That will do. Steady--steady as you go,” As the
+boat yielded to the helm, Jack gathered in on the sheet, took two
+turns round the cleat, and eased away till the sail drew its best: so
+far so good. Both sails were now on the same side of the boat, the
+wind on her port quarter; but now came the dangerous operation of
+coming to the wind, in a rough and broken sea, among the eddies of
+wind and tide so prevalent off headlands. David, with the main sheet
+in his right hand, directed Lucy with his left as well as his voice.
+
+“Starboard the helm--starboard yet--now meet her--so!” and, as she
+rounded to Jack and he kept hauling the sheets aft, and the boat, her
+course and trim altered, darted among the breakers like a brave man
+attacking danger. After the first plunge she went up and down like a
+pickax, coming down almost where she went up; but she held her course,
+with the waves roaring round her like a pack of hell-hounds.
+
+More than half the terrible strip was passed. “Starboard yet,” cried
+David; and she headed toward the high mainland under whose lee was
+calm and safety. Alas! at this moment a snorter of a sea broke under
+her broadside, and hove her to leeward like a cork, and a tide eddy
+catching her under the counter, she came to more than two points, and
+her canvas, thus emptied, shook enough to tear the masts out of her by
+the board.
+
+“Port your helm! PORT! PORT!” roared David, in a voice like the roar
+of a wounded lion; and, in his anxiety, he bounded to the helm
+himself; but Lucy obeyed orders at half a word, and David, seeing
+this, sprang forward to help Jack flatten in the foresheet. The boat,
+which all through answered the helm beautifully, fell off the moment
+Lucy ported the helm, and thus they escaped the impending and terrible
+danger of her making sternway. “Helm amidships!” and all drew again:
+the black water was in sight. But will they ever reach it? She tosses
+like a cork. Bang! A breaker caught her bows, and drenched David and
+Jack to the very bone. She quivered like an aspen-leaf but held on.
+
+“Starboard one point,” cried David, sitting down, and lifting an oar
+out from the boat; but just as Lucy, in obeying the order, leaned a
+little over the lee gunwale with the tiller, a breaker broke like a
+shell upon the boat's broadside abaft, stove in her upper plank, and
+filled her with water; some flew and slapped Lucy in the face like an
+open hand. She screamed, but clung to the gunwale, and griped the
+helm: her arm seemed iron, and her heart was steel. While she clung
+thus to her work, blinded by the spray, and expecting death, she heard
+oars splash into the water, and mellow stentorian voices burst out
+singing.
+
+In amazement she turned, squeezed the brine out of her eyes, and
+looked all round, and lo! the boat was in a trifling bobble of a sea,
+and close astern was the surge of fire raging, and growling, and
+blazing in vain, and the two sailors were pulling the boat, with
+superhuman strength and inspiration, into a monster mill-pool that now
+lay right ahead, black as ink and smooth as oil, singing loudly as
+they rowed:
+
+         “Cheerily oh oh! (pull) cheerily oh oh! (pull)
+          To port we go oh (pull), to port we go (pull).”
+
+FLARE!! a great flaming eye opened on them in the center of the
+universal blackness.
+
+“Look! look!” cried Lucy; “a fire in the mountain.”
+
+It was the lantern of a French sloop anchored close to the shore. The
+crew had heard the sailors' voices. At sight of it David and Jack
+cheered so lustily that Talboys crawled out of the water and glared
+vaguely. The sailors pulled under the sloop's lee quarter: a couple of
+ropes were instantly lowered, the lantern held aloft, ruby heads and
+hands clustered at the gangway, and in another minute the boat's party
+were all upon deck, under a hailstorm of French, and the boat fast to
+her stern.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX.
+
+THE skipper of the ship, hearing a commotion on deck, came up, and,
+taking off his cap, made Lucy a bow in a style remote from an English
+sailor's. She courtesied to him, and, to his surprise, addressed him
+in Parisian French. When he learned she was from England, and had
+rounded that point in an open boat, he was astonished.
+
+“Diables d'Anglais!” said he.
+
+The good-natured Frenchman insisted on Lucy taking sole possession of
+his cabin, in which was a cheerful stove. His crew were just as kind
+to David, Jack, and Talboys. This latter now resumed his right
+place--at the head of mankind; being the only one who could talk
+French, he interpreted for his companions. He improved upon my
+narrative in one particular: he led the Frenchmen to suppose it was he
+who had sailed the boat from England, and weathered the point. Who can
+blame him?
+
+Dry clothes were found them, and grog and beef.
+
+While employed on the victuals, a little Anglo-Frank, aged ten,
+suddenly rolled out of a hammock and offered aid in the sweet accents
+of their native tongue. The sound of the knives and forks had woke the
+urchin out of a deep sleep. David filled the hybrid, and then sent him
+to Lucy's cabin to learn how she was getting on. He returned, and told
+them the lady was sitting on deck.
+
+“Dear me,” said David, “she ought to be in her bed.” He rose and went
+on deck, followed by Mr. Talboys. “Had you not better rest yourself?”
+ said David.
+
+“No, thank you, Mr. Dodd; I had a delicious sleep in the boat.”
+
+Here Talboys put in his word, and made her a rueful apology for the
+turn his pleasure-excursion had taken.
+
+She stopped him most graciously.
+
+“On the contrary, I have to thank you, indirectly, for one of the
+pleasantest evenings I ever spent. I never was in danger before, and
+it is delightful. I was a little frightened at first, but it soon wore
+off, and I feel I should shortly revel in it; only I must have a brave
+man near just to look at, then I gather courage from his eye; do I not
+now, Mr. Dodd?”
+
+“Indeed you do,” said David, simply enough.
+
+Lucy Fountain's appearance and manner bore out her words. Talboys was
+white; even David and Jack showed some signs of a night of watching
+and anxiety; but the young lady's cheek was red and fresh, her eye
+bright, and she shone with an inspired and sprightly ardor that was
+never seen, or never observed in her before. They had found the way to
+put her blood up, after all--the blood of the Funteyns. Such are
+thoroughbreds: they rise with the occasion; snobs descend as the
+situation rises. See that straight-necked, small-nosed mare stepping
+delicately on the turnpike: why, it is Languor in person, picking its
+way among eggs. Now the hounds cry and the horn rings. Put her at
+timber, stream, and plowed field in pleasing rotation, and see her
+now: up ears; open nostril; nerves steel; heart immovable; eye of
+fire; foot of wind. And ho! there! What stuck in that last arable,
+dead stiff as the Rosinantes in Trafalgar Square, all but one limb,
+which goes like a water-wagtail's? Why, by Jove! if it isn't the hero
+of the turnpike road: the gallant, impatient, foaming, champing,
+space-devouring, curveting cocktail.
+
+
+Out of consideration for her male companions' infirmities, and
+observing that they were ashamed to take needful rest while she
+remained on deck, Lucy at length retired to her cabin.
+
+She slept a good many hours, and was awakened at last by the rocking
+of the sloop. The wind had fallen gently, but it had also changed to
+due east, which brought a heavy ground-swell round the point into
+their little haven. Lucy made her toilet, and came on deck blooming
+like a rose. The first person she encountered was Mr. Talboys. She
+saluted him cordially, and then inquired for their companions.
+
+“Oh, they are gone.”
+
+“Gone! What do you mean?”
+
+“Sailed half an hour ago. Look, there is the boat coasting the island.
+No, not that way--westward; out there, just weathering that point
+Don't you see?”
+
+“Are they making a tour of the island, then?”
+
+Here the little Anglo-Frank put in his word. “No, ma'ainselle, gone to
+catch sheep bound for ze East Indeeze.”
+
+“Gone! gone! for good?” and Lucy turned very pale. The next moment
+offended pride sent the blood rushing to her brow. “That is just like
+Mr. Dodd; there is not another gentleman in the world would have had
+the ill-breeding to go off like that to India without even bidding us
+good-morning or good-by. Did he bid _you_ good-by, Mr. Talboys?”
+
+“No.”
+
+“There, now, it is insolent--it is barbarous.” Her vexation at the
+affront David had put on Mr. Talboys soon passed into indignation.
+“This was done to insult--to humiliate us. A noble revenge. You know
+we used sometimes to quiz him a little ashore, especially you; so now,
+out of spite, he has saved our lives, and then turned his back
+arrogantly upon us before we could express our gratitude; that is as
+much as to say he values us as so many dogs or cats, flings us our
+lives haughtily, and then turned his back disdainfully on us. Life is
+not worth having when given so insultingly.”
+
+Talboys soothed the offended fair. “I really don't think he meant to
+insult us; but you know Dodd; he is a good-natured fellow, but he
+never had the slightest pretension to good-breeding.”
+
+“Don't you think,” replied the lady, “it would be as well to leave off
+detracting from Mr. Dodd now that he has just saved your life?”
+
+Talboys opened his eyes. “Why, you began it.”
+
+“Oh, Mr. Talboys, do not descend to evasion. What I say goes for
+nothing. Mr. Dodd and I are fast friends, and nobody will ever succeed
+in robbing me of my esteem for him. But you always hated him, and you
+seize every opportunity of showing your dislike. Poor Mr. Dodd! He has
+too many great virtues not to be envied--and hated.”
+
+Talboys stood puzzled, and was at a loss which way to steer his
+tongue, the wind being so shifty. At last he observed a little
+haughtily that “he never made Mr. Dodd of so much importance as all
+this. He owned he _had_ quizzed him, but it was not his intention
+to quiz him any more; for I do feel under considerable obligations to
+Mr. Dodd; he has brought us safe across the Channel; at the same time,
+I own I should have been more grateful if he had beat against the wind
+and landed us on our native coast; the lugger is there long before
+this, and our boat was the best of the two.”
+
+“Absurd!” replied Lucy, with cold hauteur. “The lugger had a sharp
+stern, but ours was a square stern, so we were obliged to _run;_
+if we had _beat,_ we should all have been drowned directly.”
+
+Talboys was staggered by this sudden influx of science; but he held
+his ground. “There is something in that,” said he; “but still,
+a--a----”
+
+“There, Mr. Talboys,” said the young lady suddenly, assuming extreme
+languor after delivering a facer, “pray do not engage me in an
+argument. I do not feel equal to one, especially on a subject that has
+lost its interest. Can you inform me when this vessel sails?”
+
+“Not till to-morrow morning.”
+
+“Then will you be so kind as to borrow me that little boat? it is
+dangling from the ship, so it must belong to it. I wish to land, and
+see whether he has cast us upon an in- or an uninhabited island.”
+
+The sloop's boat speedily landed them on the island, and Lucy proposed
+to cross the narrow neck of land and view the sea they had crossed in
+the dark. This was soon done, and she took that opportunity of looking
+about for the lateen, for her mind had taken another turn, and she
+doubted the report that David had gone to intercept the East-Indiaman.
+A short glance convinced her it was true. About seven miles to
+leeward, her course west-northwest, her hull every now and then hidden
+by the waves, her white sails spread like a bird's, the lateen was
+flying through the foam at its fastest rate. Lucy gazed at her so long
+and steadfastly that Talboys took the huff, and strolled along the
+cliff.
+
+When Lucy turned to go back, she found the French skipper coming
+toward her with a scrap of paper in his hand. He presented it with a
+low bow; she took it with a courtesy. It was neatly folded, though not
+as letters are folded ashore, and it bore her address. She opened it
+and read:
+
+
+“It was not worth while disturbing your rest just to see us go off.
+God bless you, Miss Lucy! The Frenchman is bound for ----, and will
+take you safe; and mind you don't step ashore till the plank is fast.
+
+“Yours, respectfully,
+
+“DAVID DODD.”
+
+
+That was all. She folded it back thoughtfully into the original folds,
+and turned away. When she had gone but a few steps she stopped and put
+her rejected lover's little note into her bosom, and went slowly back
+to the boat, hanging her sweet head, and crying as she went.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX.
+
+MR. FOUNTAIN remained in the town waiting for his niece's return. Six
+o'clock came--no boat. Eight o'clock--no boat, and a heavy gale
+blowing. He went down to the beach in great anxiety; and when he got
+there he soon found it was shared to the full by many human beings.
+There were little knots of fishermen and sailors discussing it, and
+one poor woman, mother and wife, stealing from group to group and
+listening anxiously to the men's conjectures. But the most striking
+feature of the scene was an old white-haired man, who walked wildly,
+throwing his arms about. The others rather avoided him, but Mr.
+Fountain felt he had a right to speak to him; so he came to him, and
+told him “his niece was on board; and you, too, I fear, have some one
+dear to you in danger.”
+
+The old man replied sorrowfully that “his lovely new boat was in
+danger--in such danger that he should never see her again;” then
+added, going suddenly into a fury, that “as to the two rascally
+bluejackets that were on board of her, and had borrowed her of his
+wife while he was out, all he wished was that they had been swamped to
+all eternity long ago, then they would not have been able to come and
+swamp his dear boat.”
+
+Peppery old Fountain cursed him for a heartless old vagabond, and
+joined the group whose grief and anxiety were less ostentatious, being
+for the other boat that carried their own flesh and blood. But all
+night long that white-haired old man paced the shore, flinging his
+arms, weeping and cursing alternately for his dear schooner.
+
+Oh holy love--of property! how venerable you looked in the moonlight,
+with your white hairs streaming! How well you imitated, how close you
+rivaled, the holiest effusions of the heart, and not for the first
+time nor the last.
+
+“My daughter! my ducats! my ducats! my daughter!” etc.
+
+
+The morning broke; no sign of either boat. The wind had shifted to the
+east, and greatly abated. The fishermen began to have hopes for their
+comrades; these communicated themselves to Mr. Fountain.
+
+It was about one o'clock in the afternoon when this latter observed
+people streaming along the shore to a distant point. He asked a
+coastguard man, whom he observed scanning the place with a glass,
+“What it was?”
+
+The man lowered his voice and said, “Well, sir, it will be something
+coming ashore, by the way the folk are running.”
+
+Mr. Fountain got a carriage, and, urging the driver to use speed, was
+hastily conveyed by the road to a part whence a few steps brought him
+down to the sea. He thrust wildly in among the crowd.
+
+“Make way,” said the rough fellows: they saw he was one of those who
+had the best right to be there.
+
+He looked, and there, scarce fifty yards from the shore, was the
+lugger, keel uppermost, drifting in with the tide. The old man
+staggered, and was supported by a beach man.
+
+When the wreck came within fifteen yards of the shore, she hung, owing
+to the under suction, and could get neither way. The cries of the
+women broke out afresh at this. Then half a dozen stout fellows swam
+in with ropes, and with some difficulty righted her, and in another
+minute she was hauled ashore.
+
+The crowd rushed upon her. She was empty! Not an oar, not a
+boat-hook--nothing. But jammed in between the tiller and the boat they
+found a purple veil. The discovery was announced loudly by one of the
+females, but the consequent outcry was instantly hushed by the men,
+and the oldest fisherman there took it, and, in a sudden dead and
+solemn silence, gave it with a world of subdued meaning to Mr.
+Fountain.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI.
+
+MR. FOUNTAIN'S grief was violent; the more so, perhaps, that it was
+not pure sorrow, but heated with anger and despair. He had not only
+lost the creature he loved better than anyone else except himself, but
+all his plans and all his ambition were upset forever. I am sorry to
+say there were moments when he felt indignant with Heaven, and accused
+its justice. At other times the virtues of her he had lost came to his
+recollection, and he wept genuine tears. Now she was dead he asked
+himself a question that is sometimes reserved for that occasion, and
+then asked with bitter regret and idle remorse at its postponement,
+“What can I do to show my love and respect for her?” The poor old
+fellow could think of nothing now but to try and recover her body from
+the sea, and to record her virtues on her tomb. He employed six men to
+watch the coast for her along a space of twelve miles, and he went to
+a marble-cutter and ordered a block of beautiful white marble. He drew
+up the record of her virtues himself, and spelled her “Fontaine,” and
+so settled that question by brute force.
+
+Oh, you may giggle, but men are not most sincere when they are most
+reasonable, nor most reasonable when most sincere. When a man's heart
+is in a thing, it is in it--wise or nonsensical, it is all one; so it
+is no use talking.
+
+
+I lack words to describe the gloom that fell on Mr. Bazalgette's home
+when the sad tidings reached it. And, indeed, it would be trifling
+with my reader to hang many more pages with black when he and I both
+know Lucy Fontaine is alive all the time.
+
+Meantime the French sloop lay at her anchor, and Lucy fretted with
+impatience. At noon the next day she sailed, and, being a slow vessel,
+did not anchor off the port of ---- till daybreak the day after. Then
+she had to wait for the tide, and it was nearly eleven o'clock when
+Lucy landed. She went immediately to the principal inn to get a
+conveyance. On the road, whom should she meet but Mr. Hardie. He gave
+a joyful start at sight of her, and with more heart than she could
+have expected welcomed her to life again. From him she learned all the
+proofs of her death. This made her more anxious to fly to her aunt's
+house at once and undeceive her.
+
+Mr. Hardie would not let her hire a carriage; he would drive her over
+in half the time. He beckoned his servant, who was standing at the inn
+door, and ordered it immediately. “Meantime, Miss Fountain, if you
+will take my arm, I will show you something that I think will amuse
+you, though _we_ have found it anything but amusing, as you may
+well suppose.” Lucy took his arm somewhat timidly, and he walked her
+to the marble-cutter's shop. “Look there,” said he. Lucy looked and
+there was an unfinished slab on which she read these words:
+
+               Sacred to the Memory
+                       OF
+                  LUCY FONTAINE,
+         WHO WAS DROWNED AT SEA ON THE
+                10TH SEPT., 18--.
+
+      As her beauty endeared her to all eyes,
+         So her modesty, piety, docilit
+
+At this point in her moral virtues the chisel had stopped. Eleven
+o'clock struck, and the chisel went for its beer; for your English
+workman would leave the d in “God” half finished when strikes the hour
+of beer.
+
+The fact is that the shopkeeper had newly set up, was proud of the
+commission, and, whenever the chisel left off, he whipped into the
+workshop and brought the slab out, _pro tem.,_ into his window
+for an advertisement.
+
+Hardie pointed it out to Lucy with a chuckle. Lucy turned pale, and
+put her hand to her heart. Hardie saw his mistake too late, and
+muttered excuses.
+
+Lucy gave a little gasp and stopped him. “Pray say no more; it is my
+fault; if people will feign death, they must expect these little
+tributes. My uncle has lost no time.” And two unreasonable tears
+swelled to her eyes and trickled one after another down her cheeks;
+then she turned her back quickly on the thing, and Mr. Hardie felt her
+arm tremble. “I think, Mr. Hardie,” said she presently, with marked
+courtesy, “I should, under the circumstances, prefer to go home alone.
+My aunt's nerves are sensitive, and I must think of the best way of
+breaking to her the news that I am alive.”
+
+“It would be best, Miss Fountain; and, to tell the truth, I feel
+myself unworthy to accompany you after being so maladroit as to give
+you pain in thinking to amuse you.”
+
+“Oh, Mr. Hardie,” said Lucy, growing more and more courteous, “you are
+not to be called to account for my weakness; that _would_ be
+unjust. I shall have the pleasure of seeing you at dinner?”
+
+“Certainly, since you permit me.”
+
+He put Lucy into the carriage and off she drove. “Come,” thought Mr.
+Hardie, “I have had an escape; what a stupid blunder for me to make!
+She is not angry, though, so it does not matter. She asked me to
+dinner.”
+
+Said Lucy to herself: “The man is a fool! Poor Mr. Dodd! _he_
+would not have shown me my tombstone--to amuse me.” And she dismissed
+the subject from her mind.
+
+She sent away the carriage and entered Mr. Bazalgette's house on foot.
+After some consideration she determined to employ Jane, a girl of some
+tact, to break her existence to her aunt. She glided into the
+drawing-room unobserved, fully expecting to find Jane at work there
+for Mrs. Bazalgette. But the room was empty. While she hesitated what
+to do next, the handle of the door was turned, and she had only just
+time to dart behind a heavy window-curtain, when it opened, and Mrs.
+Bazalgette walked slowly and silently in, followed by a woman. Mrs.
+Bazalgette seated herself and sighed deeply. Her companion kept a
+respectful silence. After a considerable pause, Mrs. Bazalgette said a
+few words in a voice so thoroughly subdued and solemn, and every now
+and then so stifled, that Lucy's heart yearned for her, and nothing
+but the fear of frightening her aunt into a hysterical fit kept her
+from flying into her arms.
+
+“I need not tell you,” said Mrs. Bazalgette, “why I sent for you. You
+know the sad bereavement that has fallen on me, but you cannot know
+all I have lost in her. Nobody can tell what she was to all of us, but
+most of all to me. I was her darling, and she was mine.” Here tears
+choked Mrs. Bazalgette's words, for a while. Recovering herself, she
+paid a tribute to the character of the deceased. “It was a soul
+without one grain of selfishness; all her thoughts were for others,
+not one for herself. She loved us all--indeed, she loved some that
+were hardly worthy of so pure a creature's love; but the reason was,
+she had no eye for the faults of her friends; she pictured them like
+herself, and loved her own sweet image in them. _And_ such a
+temper! and so free from guile. I may truly say her mind was as lovely
+as her person.”
+
+“She was, indeed, a sweet young lady,” sighed the woman.
+
+“She was an angel, Baldwin--an angel sent to bear us company a little
+while, and now she is a saint in Heaven.”
+
+“Ah! ma'am, the best goes first, that is an old saying.”
+
+“So I have heard; but my niece was as healthy as she was lovely and
+good. Everything promised long life. I hoped she would have closed my
+eyes. In the bloom of health one day, and the next lying cold, stark,
+and drenched!! Oh, how terrible! Oh, my poor Lucy! oh! oh! oh!”
+
+“In the midst of life we are in death, ma'am. I am sure it is a
+warning to me, ma'am, as well as to my betters.”
+
+“It, is, indeed, Baldwin, a warning to all of us who have lived too
+much for vanities, to think of this sweet flower, snatched in a moment
+from our bosoms and from the world; we ought to think of it on our
+knees, and remember our own latter end. That last skirt you sent me
+was rather scrimped, my poor Baldwin.”
+
+“Was it, ma'am?”
+
+“Oh, it does not matter; I shall never wear it now; and, under such a
+blow as this, I am in no humor to find fault. Indeed, with my grief I
+neglect my household and my very children. I forget everything; what
+did I send for you for?” and she looked with lack-luster eyes full in
+Mrs. Baldwin's face.
+
+“Jane did not say, ma'am, but I am at your orders.”
+
+“Oh, of course; I am distracted. It was to pay the last tribute of
+respect to her dear memory. Ah! Baldwin, often and often the black
+dress is all; but here the heart mourns beyond the power of grief to
+express by any outward trappings. No matter; the world, the shallow
+world, respects these signs of woe, and let mine be the deepest
+mourning ever worn, and the richest. And out of that mourning I shall
+never go while I live.”
+
+“No, ma'am,” said Baldwin soothingly.
+
+“Do you doubt me?” asked the lady, with a touch of sharpness that did
+not seemed called for by Baldwin's humble acquiescence.
+
+“Oh, no, ma'am; it is a very natural thought under the present
+affliction, and most becoming the sad occasion. Well, ma'am, the
+deepest mourning, if you please, I should say cashmere and crape.”
+
+“Yes, that would be deep. Oh, Baldwin, it is her violent death that
+kills me. Well?”
+
+“Cashmere and crape, ma'am, and with nothing white about the neck and
+arms.”
+
+“Yes; oh yes; but will not that be rather unbecoming?”
+
+“Well, ma'am--” and Baldwin hesitated.
+
+“I hardly see how I _could_ wear that, it makes one look so old.
+Now don't you think black _glace_ silk, and trimmed with
+love-ribbon, black of course, but scalloped--”
+
+“That would be very rich, indeed, ma'am, and very becoming to you;
+but, being so near and dear, it would not be so deep as you are
+desirous of.”
+
+“Why, Baldwin, you don't attend to what I say; I told you I was never
+going out of mourning again, so what is the use of your proposing
+anything to me that I can't wear all my life? Now tell me, can I
+always wear cashmere and crape?”
+
+“Oh no, ma'am, that is out of the question; and if it is for a
+permanency, I don't see how we could improve on _glace_ silk,
+with crape, and love-ribbons. Would you like the body trimmed with
+jet, ma'am?”
+
+“Oh, don't ask me; I don't know. If my darling had only died
+comfortably in her bed, then we could have laid out her sweet remains,
+and dressed them for her virgin tomb.”
+
+“It would have been a satisfaction, ma'am.”
+
+“A sad one, at the best; but now the very earth, perhaps, will never
+receive her. Oh yes, anything you like--the body trimmed with jet, if
+you wish it, and let me see, a gauze bodice, goffered, fastened to the
+throat. That is all, I think; the sleeves confined at the wrist just
+enough not to expose the arm, and yet look light--you understand.”
+
+“Yes, ma'am.”
+
+“She kissed me just before she went on that fatal excursion, Baldwin;
+she will never kiss me again--oh! oh! You must call on Dejazet for me,
+and bespeak me a bonnet to match; it is not to be supposed I can run
+about after her trumpery at such a time; besides, it is not usual.”
+
+“Indeed, ma'am, you are in no state for it; I will undertake any
+purchases you may require.”
+
+“Thank you, my good Baldwin; you are a good, kind, feeling, useful
+soul. Oh, Baldwin, if it had pleased Heaven to take her by disease, it
+would have been bad enough to lose her; but to be drowned! her clothes
+all wetted through and through; her poor hair drenched, too; and then
+the water is so cold at this time of year--oh! oh! Send me a cross of
+jet, and jet beads, with the dress, and a jet brooch, and a set of jet
+buttons, in case--besides--oh! oh! oh!--I expect every moment to see
+her carried home, all pale and wetted by the nasty sea--oh! oh!--and
+an evening dress of the same--the newest fashion. I leave it to you;
+don't ask me any questions about it, for I can't and won't go into
+that. I can try it on when it is made--oh! oh! oh!--it does not do to
+love any creature as I loved my poor lost Lucy--and a black fan---oh!
+oh!--and a dozen pair of black kid gloves--oh!--and a
+mourning-ring--and--”
+
+“Stop, aunt, or your love for me will be your ruin!” said Lucy,
+coldly, and stood suddenly before the pair, looking rather cynical.
+
+“What, Lucy! alive! No, her ghost--ah! ah!”
+
+“Be calm, aunt; I am alive and well. Now, don't be childish, dear; I
+have been in danger, but here I am.”
+
+Mrs. Bazalgette and Mrs. Baldwin flew together, and trembled in one
+another's arms. Lucy tried to soothe them, but at last could not help
+laughing at them. This brought Baldwin to her senses quicker than
+anything; but Mrs. Bazalgette, who, like many false women, was
+hysterical, went off into spasms--genuine ones. They gave her
+salts--in vain. Slapped her hands--in vain.
+
+Then Lucy cried to Baldwin, “Quick! the tumbler; I must sprinkle her
+face and bosom.”
+
+“Oh, don't spoil my lilac gown!” gasped the sufferer, and with a
+mighty effort she came to. She would have come back from the edge of
+the grave to shield silk from water. Finally she wreathed her arms
+round Lucy, and kissed her so tenderly, warmly and sobbingly, that
+Lucy got over the shock of her shallowness, and they kissed and cried
+together most joyously, while Baldwin, after a heroic attempt at
+jubilation, retired from the room with a face as long as your arm.
+_A bas les revenants!!_ She went to the housekeeper's room. The
+housekeeper persuaded her to stay and take a bit of dinner, and soon
+after dinner she was sent for to Mrs. Bazalgette's room.
+
+Lucy met her coming out of it. “I fear I came _mal apropos,_ Mrs.
+Baldwin; if I had thought of it, I would have waited till you had
+secured that munificent order.”
+
+“I am much obliged to you, miss, I am sure; but you were always a
+considerate young lady. You'll be glad to learn, miss, it makes no
+difference; I have got the order; it is all right.”
+
+“That is fortunate,” replied Lucy, kindly, “otherwise I should have
+been tempted to commit an extravagance with you myself. Well, and what
+is my aunt's new dress to be now?”
+
+“Oh, the same, miss.”
+
+“The same? why, she is not going into mourning on my return? ha! ha!”
+
+“La bless you, miss, mourning? you can't call that
+mourning--_glace_ silk and love-ribbons scalloped out, and
+cetera. Of course it was not my business to tell her so; but I could
+not help thinking to myself, if that is the way my folk are going to
+mourn for me, they may just let it alone. However, that is all over
+now; and your aunt sent for me, and says she, 'Black becomes
+_me;_ you will make the dresses all the same.'” And Baldwin
+retired radiant.
+
+Lucy put her hand to her bosom. “Make the dresses all the same--all
+the same, whether I am alive or dead. No, I will not cry; no, I will
+not. Who is worth a tear? what is worth a tear? All the same. It is
+not to be forgotten--nor forgiven. Poor Mr. Dodd!!”
+
+
+Mr. Fountain learned the good news in the town, so his meeting with
+Lucy was one of pure joy. Mr. Talboys did not hear anything. He had
+business up in London, and did not stay ten minutes in ----.
+
+The house revived, and _jubilabat, jubilabat._ But after the
+first burst of triumph things went flat. David Dodd was gone, and was
+missed; and Lucy was changed. She looked a shade older, and more than
+one shade graver; and, instead of living solely for those who happened
+to be basking in her rays, she was now and then comparatively
+inattentive, thoughtful, and _distraite._
+
+Mr. Fountain watched her keenly; ditto Mrs. Bazalgette. A slight
+reaction had taken place in both their bosoms. “Hang the girl! there
+were we breaking our hearts for her, and she was alive.” She had
+“_beguiled_ them of their tears.”--Othello. But they still
+loved her quite well enough to take charge of her fate.
+
+A sort of itch for settling other people's destinies, and so gaining a
+title to their curses for our pragmatical and fatal interference, is
+the commonest of all the forms of sanctioned lunacy.
+
+Moreover, these two had imbibed the spirit of rivalry, and each was
+stimulated by the suspicion that the other was secretly at work.
+
+Lucy's voluntary promise in the ballroom was a double sheet-anchor to
+Mr. Fountain. It secured him against the only rival he dreaded.
+Talboys, too, was out of the way just now, and the absence of the
+suitor is favorable to his success, where the lady has no personal
+liking for him. To work went our Machiavel again, heart and soul, and
+whom do you think he had the cheek, or, as the French say, the
+forehead, to try and win over?--Mrs. Bazalgette.
+
+This bold step, however, was not so strange as it would have been a
+month ago. The fact is, I have brought you unfairly close to this
+pair. When you meet them in the world you will be charmed with both of
+them, and recognize neither. There are those whose faults are all on
+the surface: these are generally disliked; there are those whose
+faults are all at the core: they charm creation. Mrs. Bazalgette is
+allowed by both sexes to be the most delightful, amiable woman in the
+county, and will carry that reputation to her grave. Fountain is “the
+jolliest old buck ever went on two legs.” I myself would rather meet
+twelve such agreeable humbugs--six of a sex--_at dinner_ than the
+twelve apostles, and so would you, though you don't know it. These
+two, then, had long ere this found each other mighty agreeable. The
+woman saw the man's vanity, and flattered it. The man the woman's, and
+flattered it. Neither saw--am I to say?--his own or her own, or what?
+Hang language!!! In short, they had long ago oiled one another's
+asperities, and their intercourse was smooth and frequent: they were
+always chatting together--strewing flowers of speech over their mines
+and countermines.
+
+Mr. Fountain, then, who, in virtue of his sex, had the less patience,
+broke ground.
+
+“My dear Mrs. Bazalgette, I would not have missed this visit for a
+thousand pounds. Certainly there is nothing like contact for rubbing
+off prejudices. I little thought, when I first came here, the
+principal attraction of the place would prove to be my fair hostess.”
+
+“I know you were prejudiced, my dear Mr. Fountain. I can't say I ever
+had any against you, but certainly I did not know half your good
+qualities. However, your courtesy to me when I invaded you at Font
+Abbey prepared me for your real character; and now this visit, I
+trust, makes us friends.”
+
+“Ah! my dear Mrs. Bazalgette, one thing only is wanting to make you my
+benefactor as well as friend--if I could only persuade you to withdraw
+your powerful opposition to a poor old fellow's dream.”
+
+“What poor old fellow?”
+
+“Me.”
+
+“You? why, you are not so very old. You are not above fifty.”
+
+“Ah! fair lady, you must not evade me. Come, can nothing soften you?”
+
+“I don't know what you mean, Mr. Fountain”; and the mellifluous tones
+dried suddenly.
+
+“You are too sagacious not to know everything; you know my heart is
+set on marrying my niece to a man of ancient family.”
+
+“With all my heart. You have only to use your influence with her. If
+she consents, I will not oppose.”
+
+“You cruel little lady, you know it is not enough to withdraw
+opposition; I can't succeed without your kind aid and support.”
+
+“Now, Mr. Fountain, I am a great coward, but, really, I could almost
+venture to scold you a little. Is not a poor little woman to be
+allowed to set her heart on things as well as a poor old gentleman who
+does not look fifty? You know my poor little heart is bent on her
+marrying into our own set, yet you can ask me to influence her the
+other way--me, who have never once said a word to her for my own
+favorites! No; the fairest, kindest, and best way is to leave her to
+select her own happiness.”
+
+“A fine thing it would be if young people were left to marry who they
+like,” retorted Fountain. “My dear lady, I would never have asked your
+aid so long as there was the least chance of her marrying Mr. Hardie;
+but, now that she has of her own accord declined him--”
+
+“What is that? declined Mr. Hardie? when did he ever propose for her?”
+
+“You misunderstand me. She came to me and told me she would never
+marry him.”
+
+“When was that? I don't believe it.”
+
+“It was in the ball-room.”
+
+Mrs. Bazalgette reflected; then she turned very red. “Well, sir,” said
+she, “don't build too much on that; for four months ago she made me a
+solemn promise she would never marry any lover you should find her,
+and she repeated that promise in your very house.”
+
+“I don't believe it, madam.”
+
+“That is polite, sir. Come, Mr. Fountain, you are agitated and cross,
+and it is no use being cross either with me or with Lucy. You asked my
+co-operation. You gentlemen can ask anything; and you are wise to do
+these droll things; that is where you gain the advantage over us poor
+cowards of women. Well, I will co-operate with you. Now listen. Lucy's
+_penchant_ is neither for Mr. Hardie, nor Mr. Talboys, but for
+Mr. Dodd.”
+
+“You don't mean it?”
+
+“Oh, she does not care _much_ for him; she has refused him to my
+knowledge, and would again; besides, he is gone to India, so there is
+an end of _him._ She seems a little languid and out of spirits;
+it may be because he _is_ gone. Now, then, is the very time to
+press a marriage upon her.”
+
+“The very worst time, surely, if she is really such an idiot as to be
+fretting for a fellow who is away.”
+
+Mrs. Bazalgette informed her new ally condescendingly that he knew
+nothing of the sex he had undertaken to tackle.
+
+“When a cold-blooded girl like this, who has no strong attachment, is
+out of spirits, and all that sort of thing, then is the time she falls
+to any resolute wooer. She will yield if we both insist, and we
+_will_ insist. Only keep your temper, and let nothing tempt you
+to say an unkind word to her.”
+
+She then rang the bell, and desired that Miss Fountain might be
+requested to come into the drawing-room for a minute.
+
+“But what are you going to do?”
+
+“Give her the choice of two husbands--Mr. Talboys or Mr. Hardie.”
+
+“She will take neither, I am afraid.”
+
+“Oh, yes, she will.”
+
+“Which?”
+
+“Ah! the one she dislikes the least.”
+
+“By Jove, you are right--you are an angel.” And the old gentleman in
+his gratitude to her who was outwitting him, and vice versa,
+kissed Mrs. Bazalgette's hand with great devotion, in which act he was
+surprised by Lucy, who floated through the folding-doors. She said
+nothing, but her face volumes.
+
+“Sit down, love.”
+
+“Yes, aunt.”
+
+She sat down, and her eye mildly bored both relatives, like, if you
+can imagine a gentle gimlet, worked by insinuation, not force.
+
+Then the favored Fountain enjoyed the inestimable privilege of
+beholding a small bout of female fence.
+
+The accomplished actress of forty began.
+
+The novice held herself apparently all open with a sweet smile, the
+eye being the only weapon that showed point.
+
+“My love, your uncle and I, who were not always just to one another,
+have been united by our love for you.”
+
+“So I observed as I came in--ahem!”
+
+“Henceforth we are one where your welfare is concerned, and we have
+something serious to say to you now. There is a report, dearest,
+creeping about that you have formed an unfortunate attachment--to a
+person beneath you.”
+
+“Who told you that, aunt? Name, as they say in the House.”
+
+“No matter; these things are commonly said without foundation in this
+wicked world; but, still, it is always worth our while to prove them
+false, not, of course, directly--_'qui s'excuse s'accuse'_--but
+indirectly.”
+
+“I agree with you, and I shall do so in my uncle's presence. You were
+present, aunt--though uninvited--when the gentleman you allude to
+offered me what I consider a great honor, and you heard me decline it;
+you are therefore fully able to contradict that report, whose source,
+by the by, you have not given me, and of course you will contradict
+it.”
+
+Mrs. Bazalgette colored a little. But she said affectionately: “These
+silly rumors are best contradicted by a good marriage, love, and that
+brings me to something more important. We have two proposals for you,
+and both of them excellent ones. Now, in a matter where your happiness
+is at stake, your uncle and I are determined not to let our private
+partialities speak. We do press you to select one of these offers, but
+leave you quite free as to which you take. Mr. Talboys is a gentleman
+of old family and large estates. Mr. Hardie is a wealthy, and able,
+and rising man. They are both attached to you; both excellent matches.
+
+“Whichever you choose your uncle and I shall both feel that an
+excellent position for life is yours, and no regret that you did not
+choose our especial favorite shall stain our joy or our love.” With
+this generous sentiment tears welled from her eyes, whereat Fountain
+worshiped her and felt his littleness.
+
+But Lucy was of her own sex, and had observed what an unlimited
+command of eye-water an hysterical female possesses. She merely bowed
+her head graciously, and smiled politely. Thus encouraged to proceed,
+her aunt dried her eyes with a smile, and with genial cheerfulness
+proceeded: “Well, then, dear, which shall it be--Mr. Talboys?”
+
+Lucy opened her eyes _so_ innocently. “My dear aunt, I wonder at
+that question from you. Did you not make me promise you I would never
+marry that gentleman, nor any friend of my uncle's?”
+
+“And did you?” cried Fountain.
+
+“I did,” replied the penitent, hanging her head. “My aunt was so kind
+to me about something or other, I forget what.”
+
+Fountain bounced up and paced the room.
+
+Mrs. Bazalgette lowered her voice: “It is to be Mr. Hardie, then?”
+
+“Mr. Hardie!!!” cried Lucy, rather loudly, to attract her uncle's
+attention.
+
+“Oh, no, the same objection applies there; I made my uncle a solemn
+promise not to marry any friend of yours, aunt. Poor uncle! I refused
+at first, but he looked so unhappy my resolution failed, and I gave my
+promise. I will keep it, uncle. Don't fear me.”
+
+It caused Mrs. Bazalgette a fierce struggle to command her temper.
+Both she and Fountain were dumb for a minute; then elastic Mrs.
+Bazalgette said:
+
+“We were both to blame; you and I did not really know each other. The
+best thing we can do now is to release the poor girl from these silly
+promises, that stand in the way of her settlement in life.”
+
+“I agree, madam.”
+
+“So do I. There, Lucy, choose, for we both release you.”
+
+“Thank you,” said Lucy gravely; “but how can you? No unfair advantage
+was taken of me; I plighted my word knowingly and solemnly, and no
+human power can release persons of honor from a solemn pledge.
+Besides, just now you would release me; but you might not always be in
+the same mind. No, I will keep faith with you both, and not place my
+truth at the mercy of any human being nor of any circumstance. If that
+is all, please permit me to retire. The less a young lady of my age
+thinks or talks about the other sex, the more time she has for her
+books and her needle;” and, having delivered this precious sentence,
+with a deliberate and most deceiving imitation of the pedantic prude,
+she departed, and outside the door broke instantly into a joyous
+chuckle at the expense of the plotters she had left looking moonstruck
+in one another's faces. If the new allies had been both Fountain, the
+apple of discord this sweet novice threw down between them would have
+dissolved the alliance, as the sly novice meant it to do; but, while
+the gentleman went storming about the room ripe for civil war, the
+lady leaned back in her chair and laughed heartily.
+
+“Come, Mr. Fountain, it is no use your being cross with a female, or
+she will get the better of you. She has outwitted us. We took her for
+a fool, and she is a clever girl. I'll--tell--you--what, she is a very
+clever girl. Never mind that, she is only a girl; and, if you will be
+ruled by me, her happiness shall be secured in spite of her, and she
+shall be engaged in less than a week.”
+
+Fountain recognized his superior, and put himself under the lady's
+orders--in an evil hour for Lucy.
+
+The poor girl's triumph over the forces was but momentary; her ground
+was not tenable. The person promised can release the person who
+promises--_volenti non fit injuria._ Lucy found herself attacked
+with female weapons, that you and I, sir, should laugh at; but they
+made her miserable. Cold looks; short answers; solemnity; distance;
+hints at ingratitude and perverseness; kisses intermitted all day, and
+the parting one at night degraded to a dignified ceremony. Under this
+impalpable persecution the young thoroughbred, that had steered the
+boat across the breakers, winced and pined.
+
+She did not want a husband or a lover, but she could not live without
+being loved. She was not sent into the world for that. She began
+secretly to hate the two gentlemen that had lost her her relations'
+affection, and she looked round to see how she could get rid of them
+without giving fresh offense to her dear aunt and uncle. If she could
+only make it their own act! Now a man in such a case inclines to give
+the obnoxious parties a chance of showing themselves generous and
+delicate; he would reveal the whole situation to them, and indicate
+the generous and manly course; but your thorough woman cannot do this.
+It is physically as well as morally impossible to her. Misogynists say
+it is too wise, and not cunning enough. So what does Miss Lucy do but
+turn round and make love to Captain Kenealy? And the cold virgin being
+at last by irrevocable fate driven to love-making, I will say this for
+her, she did not do it by halves. She felt quite safe here. The
+good-natured, hollow captain was fortified against passion by
+self-admiration. She said to herself: “Now here is a peg with a
+military suit hanging to it; if I can only fix my eyes on this piece
+of wood and regimentals, and make warm love to it, the love that poets
+have dreamed and romances described, I may surely hope to disgust my
+two admirers, and then they will abandon me and despise me. Ah! I
+could love them if they would only do that.”
+
+Well, for a young lady that had never, to her knowledge, felt the
+tender passion, the imitation thereof which she now favored that
+little society with was a wonderful piece of representation. Was
+Kenealy absent, behold Lucy uneasy and restless; was he present; but
+at a distance, her eye demurely devoured him; was he near her, she
+wooed him with such a god-like mixture of fire, of tenderness, of
+flattery, of tact; she did so serpentinely approach and coil round the
+soldier and his mental cavity, that all the males in creation should
+have been permitted to defile past (like the beasts going into the
+ark), and view this sweet picture a moment, and infer how women would
+be wooed, and then go and do it. Effect:
+
+Talboys and Hardie mortified to the heart's core; thought they had
+altogether mistaken her character. “She is a love-sick fool.”
+
+On Bazalgette: “Ass! Dodd was worth a hundred of him.”
+
+On Kenealy: made him twirl his mustache.
+
+On Fountain: filled him with dismay. There remained only one to be
+hoodwinked.
+
+           SCENA.
+
+A letter is brought in and handed to Captain Kenealy. He reads it, and
+looks a little--a very little--vexed. Nobody else notices it.
+
+Lucy. “What is the matter? Oh, what has occurred?”
+
+Kenealy. “Nothing particulaa.”
+
+Lucy. “Don't deceive us: it is an order for you to join the
+horrid army.” (Clasps her hands.) “You are going to leave us.”
+
+Kenealy. “No, it is from my tailaa. He waunts to be paed.”
+ (Glares astonished.)
+
+Lucy. “Pay the creature, and nevermore employ him.”
+
+Kenealy. “Can't. Haven't got the money. Uncle won't daie. The
+begaa knows I can't pay him, that is the reason why he duns.”
+
+Lucy. “He knows it? then what business has he to annoy you
+thus? Take my advice. Return no reply. That is not courteous. But when
+the sole motive of an application is impertinence, silent contempt is
+the course best befitting your dignity.”
+
+Kenealy (twirling his mustache). “Dem the fellaa. Shan't take
+any notice of him.”
+
+Mrs. Bazalgette (to Lucy in passing). “Do you think we are all
+fools?”
+
+_Ibi omnis effusus amor;_ for La Bazalgette undeceived her ally
+and Mr. Hardie, and the screw was put harder still on poor Lucy. She
+was no longer treated like an equal, but made for the first time to
+feel that her uncle and aunt were her elders and superiors, and, that
+she was in revolt. All external signs of affection were withdrawn, and
+this was like docking a strawberry of its water. A young girl may have
+flashes of spirit, heroism even, but her mind is never steel from top
+to toe; it is sure to be wax in more places than one.
+
+“Nobody loves me now that poor Mr. Dodd is gone,” sighed Lucy. “Nobody
+ever will love me unless I consent to sacrifice myself. Well, why not?
+I shall never love any gentleman as others of my sex can love. I will
+go and see Mrs. Wilson.”
+
+So she ordered out her captain, and rode to Mrs. Wilson, and made her
+captain hold her pony while she went in. Mrs. Wilson received her with
+a tenor scream of delight that revived Lucy's heart to hear, and then
+it was nothing but one broad gush of hilarity and cordiality--showed
+her the house, showed her the cows, showed her the parlor at last, and
+made her sit down.
+
+“Come, set ye down, set ye down, and let me have a downright good look
+at ye. It is not often I clap eyes on ye, or on anything like ye, for
+that matter. Aren't ye well, my dear?”
+
+“Oh yes.”
+
+“Are ye sure? Haven't ye ailed anything since I saw ye up at the
+house?”
+
+“No, dear nurse.”
+
+“Then you are in care. Bless you, it is not the same face--to a
+stranger, belike, but not to the one that suckled you. Why, there is
+next door to a wrinkle on your pretty brow, and a little hollow under
+your eye, and your face is drawn like, and not half the color. You are
+in trouble or grief of some sort, Miss Lucy; and--who knows?--mayhap
+you be come to tell it your poor old nurse. You might go to a worse
+part. Ay! what touches you will touch me, my nursling dear, all one as
+if it was your own mother.”
+
+“Ah! _you_ love me,” cried Lucy; “I don't know why you love me
+so; I have not deserved it of you, as I have of others that look
+coldly on me. Yes, you love me, or you would not read my face like
+this. It is true, I am a little--Oh, nurse, I am unhappy;” and in a
+moment she was weeping and sobbing in Mrs. Wilson's arms.
+
+The Amazon sat down with her, and rocked to and fro with her as if she
+was still a child. “Don't check it, my lamb,” said she; “have a good
+cry; never drive a cry back on your heart”; and so Lucy sobbed and
+sobbed, and Mrs. Wilson rocked her.
+
+When she had done sobbing she put up a grateful face and kissed Mrs.
+Wilson. But the good woman would not let her go. She still rocked with
+her, and said, “Ay, ay, it wasn't for nothing I was drawed so to go to
+your house that day. I didn't know you were there; but I was drawed. I
+WAS WANTED. Tell me all, my lamb; never keep grief on your heart; give
+it a vent; put a part on't on me; I do claim it; you will see how much
+lighter your heart will feel. Is it a young man?”
+
+“Oh no, no; I hate young men; I wish there were no such things. But for
+them no dissension could ever have entered the house. My uncle and
+aunt both loved me once, and oh! they were so kind to me. Yes; since
+you permit me, I will tell you all.”
+
+And she told her a part.
+
+She told her the whole Talboys and Hardie part.
+
+Mrs. Wilson took a broad and somewhat vulgar view of the distress.
+
+“Why, Miss Lucy,” said she, “if that is all, you can soon sew up their
+stockings. You don't depend on _them,_ anyways: you are a young
+lady of property.”
+
+“Oh, am I?”
+
+“Sure. I have heard your dear mother say often as all her money was
+settled on you by deed. Why, you must be of age, Miss Lucy, or near
+it.”
+
+“The day after to-morrow, nurse.”
+
+“There now! I knew your birthday could not be far off. Well, then, you
+must wait till you are of age, and then, if they torment you or put on
+you, 'Good-morning,' says you; 'if we can't agree together, let's
+agree to part,' says you.”
+
+“What! leave my relations!!”
+
+“It is their own fault. Good friends before bad kindred! They only
+want to make a handle of you to get 'em rich son-in-laws. You pluck up
+a sperrit, Miss Lucy. There's no getting through the world without a
+bit of a sperrit. You'll get put upon at every turn else; and if they
+don't vally you in that house, why, off to another; y'ain't chained to
+their door, I do suppose.”
+
+“But, nurse, a young lady cannot live by herself: there is no instance
+of it.”
+
+“All wisdom had a beginning. 'Oh, shan't I spoil the pudding once I
+cut it?' quoth Jack's wife.”
+
+“What would people say?”
+
+“What could they say? You come to me, which I am all the mother you
+have got left upon earth, and what scandal could they make out of
+that, I should like to know? Let them try it. But don't let me catch
+it atween their lips, or down they do go on the bare ground, and their
+caps in pieces to the winds of heaven;” and she flourished her hand
+and a massive arm with a gesture free, inspired, and formidable.
+
+“Ah! nurse, with you I should indeed feel safe from every ill. But,
+for all that, I shall never go beyond the usages of society. I shall
+never leave my aunt's house.”
+
+“I don't say as you will. But I shall get your room ready this
+afternoon, and no later.”
+
+“No, nurse, you must not do that.”
+
+“Tell'ee I shall. Then, whether you come or not, there 'tis. And when
+they put on you, you have no call to fret. Says you, 'There's my room
+awaiting, and likewise my welcome, too, at Dame Wilson's; I don't need
+to stand no more nonsense here than I do choose,' says you. Dear
+heart! even a little foolish, simple thought like that will help keep
+your sperrit up. You'll see else--you'll see.”
+
+“Oh, nurse, how wise you are! You know human nature.”
+
+“Well, I am older than you, miss, a precious sight; and if I hadn't
+got one eye open at this time of day, why, when should I, you know?”
+
+
+After this, a little home-made wine forcibly administered, and then
+much kissing, and Lucy rode away revivified and cheered, and quite
+another girl. Her spirits rose so that she proposed to Kenealy to
+extend their ride by crossing the country to ----. She wanted to buy
+some gloves.
+
+“Yaas,” said the assenter; and off they cantered.
+
+In the glove-shop who should Lucy find but Eve Dodd. She held out her
+hand, but Eve affected not to observe, and bowed distantly. Lucy would
+not take the hint. After a pause she said:
+
+“Have you any news of Mr. Dodd?”
+
+“I have,” was the stiff reply.
+
+“He left us without even saying good-by.”
+
+“Did he?”
+
+“Yes, after saving all our lives. Need I say that we are anxious, in
+our turn, to hear of his safety? It was still very tempestuous when he
+left us to catch the great ship, and he was in an open boat.”
+
+“My brother is alive, Miss Fountain, if that is what you wish to
+know.”
+
+“Alive? is he not well? has he met with any accident? any misfortune?
+is he in the East Indiaman? has he written to you?”
+
+“You are very curious: it is rather late in the day; but, if I am to
+speak about my brother, it must be at home, and not in an open shop. I
+can't trust my feelings.”
+
+“Are you going home, Miss Dodd?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“Shall I come with you?”
+
+“If you like: it is close by.”
+
+Lucy's heart quaked. Eve was so stern, and her eyes like basilisks'.
+
+“Sit down, Miss Fountain, and I will tell you what you have done for
+my brother. I did not court this, you know; I would have avoided your
+eye if I could; it is your doing.”
+
+“Yes, Miss Dodd,” faltered Lucy, “and I should do it again. I have a
+right to inquire after his welfare who saved my life.”
+
+“Well, then, Miss Fountain, his saving your life has lost him his ship
+and ruined him for life.”
+
+“Oh!”
+
+“He came in sight of the ship; but the captain, that was jealous of
+him like all the rest, made all sail and ran from him: he chased her,
+and often was near catching her, but she got clear out of the Channel,
+and my poor David had to come back disgraced, ruined for life, and
+broken-hearted. The Company will never forgive him for deserting his
+ship. His career is blighted, and all for one that never cared a straw
+for him. Oh, Miss Fountain, it was an evil day for my poor brother
+when first he saw your face!” Eve would have said more, for her heart
+was burning with wrath and bitterness, but she was interrupted.
+
+Lucy raised both her hands to Heaven, and then, bowing her head, wept
+tenderly and humbly.
+
+A woman's tears do not always affect another woman; but one reason is,
+they are very often no sign of grief or of any worthy feeling. The
+sex, accustomed to read the nicer shades of emotion, distinguishes
+tears of pique, tears of disappointment, tears of spite, tears
+various, from tears of grief. But Lucy's was a burst of regret so
+sincere, of sorrow and pity so tender and innocent that it fell on
+Eve's hot heart like the dew.
+
+“Ah! well,” she cried, “it was to be, it was to be; and I suppose I
+oughtn't to blame you. But all he does for you tells against himself,
+and that does seem hard. It isn't as if he and you were anything to
+one another; then I shouldn't grudge it so much. He has lost his
+character as a seaman.”
+
+“Oh dear!”
+
+“He valued it a deal more than his life. He was always ready to throw
+THAT away for you or anybody else. He has lost his standing in the
+_service.”_
+
+“Oh!”
+
+“You see he has no interest, like some of them; he only got on by
+being better and cleverer than all the rest; so the Company won't
+listen to any excuses from him, and, indeed, he is too proud to make
+them.”
+
+“He will never be captain of a ship now?”
+
+“Captain of a ship! Will he ever leave the bed of sickness he lies
+on?”
+
+“The bed of sickness! Is he ill? Oh, what have I done?”
+
+“Is he ill? What! do you think my brother is made of iron? Out all
+night with you--then off, with scarce a wink of sleep; then two days
+and two nights chasing the _Combermere,_ sometimes gaining,
+sometimes losing, and his credit and his good name hanging on it; then
+to beat back against wind, heartbroken, and no food on board--”
+
+“Oh, it is too horrible.”
+
+“He staggered into me, white as a ghost. I got him to bed: he was in a
+burning fever. In the night he was lightheaded, and all his talk was
+about you. He kept fretting lest you should not have got safe home. It
+is always so. We care the most for those that care the least for us.”
+
+“Is he in the Indiaman?”
+
+“No, Miss Fountain, he is not in the Indiaman,” cried Eve, her wrath
+suddenly rising again; “he lies there, Miss Fountain, in that room, at
+death's door, and you to thank for it.”
+
+At this stab Lucy uttered a cry like a wounded deer. But this cry was
+followed immediately by one of terror: the door opened suddenly, and
+there stood David Dodd, looking as white as his sister had said, but,
+as usual, not in the humor to succumb. “Me at death's port, did you
+say?” cried he, in a loud tone of cheerful defiance; “tell that to the
+marines!!”
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII.
+
+“I HEARD your voice, Miss Lucy; I would know it among a million; so I
+rigged myself directly. Why, what is the matter?”
+
+“Oh, Mr. Dodd,” sobbed Lucy, “she has told me all you have gone
+through, and I am the wicked, wicked cause!”
+
+David groaned. “If I didn't think as much. I heard the mill going. Ah!
+Eve, my girl, your jawing-tackle is too well hung. Eve is a good
+sister to me, Miss Lucy, and, where I am concerned, let her alone for
+making a mountain out of a mole-hill. If you believe all she says, you
+are to blame. The thing that went to my heart was to see my skipper
+run out his stunsel booms the moment he saw me overhauling him; it was
+a dirty action, and him an old shipmate. I am glad now I couldn't
+catch her, for if I had my foot would not have been on the deck two
+seconds before his carcass would have been in the Channel. And pray,
+Eve, what has Miss Fountain got to do with that? the dirty lubber
+wasn't bred at her school, or he would not have served an old messmate
+so.
+
+“Belay all that, and let's hear something worth hearing. Now, Miss
+Lucy, you tell me--oh, Lord, Eve, I say, isn't the thundering old
+dingy room bright now?--you spin me your own yarn, if you will be so
+good. Here you are, safe and sound, the Lord be praised! But I left
+you under the lee of that thundering island: wasn't very polite, was
+it? but you will excuse, won't you? Duty, you know--a seaman must
+leave his pleasure for his duty. Tell me, now, how did you come on?
+Was the vessel comfortable? You would not sail till the wind fell? Had
+you a good voyage? A tiresome one, I am afraid: the sloop wasn't built
+for fast sailing. When did you land?”
+
+To this fire of eager questions Lucy was in no state to answer. “Oh,
+no, Mr. Dodd,” she cried, “I can't. I am choking. Yes, Miss Dodd, I am
+the heartless, unfeeling girl you think me.” Then, with a sudden dart,
+she took David's hand and kissed it, and, both her hands hiding her
+blushing face, she fled, and a single sob she let fall at the door was
+the last of her. So sudden was her exit, it left both brother and
+sister stupefied.
+
+“Eve, she is offended,” said David, with dismay.
+
+“What if she is?” retorted Eve; “no, she is not offended; but I have
+made her feel at last, and a good job, too. Why should she escape? she
+has done all the mischief. Come, you go to bed.”
+
+“Not I; I have been long enough on my beam-ends. And I have heard her
+voice, and have seen her face, and they have put life into me. I shall
+cruise about the port. I have gone to leeward of John Company's favor,
+but there are plenty of coasting-vessels; I may get the command of
+one. I'll try; a seaman never strikes his flag while there's a shot in
+the locker.”
+
+
+“Here, put me up, Captain Kenealy! Oh, do pray make haste! don't
+dawdle so!” Off cantered Lucy, and fanned her pony along without
+mercy. At the door of the house she jumped off without assistance, and
+ran to Mr. Bazalgette's study, and knocked hastily, and that gentleman
+was not a little surprised when this unusual visitor came to his side
+with some signs of awe at having penetrated his sanctum, but evidently
+driven by an overpowering excitement. “Oh, Uncle Bazalgette! Oh, Uncle
+Bazalgette!”
+
+“Why, what is the matter? Why, the child is ill. Don't gasp like that,
+Lucy. Come, pluck up courage; I am sure to be on your side, you know.
+What is it?”
+
+“Uncle, you are always so kind to me; you know you are.”
+
+“Oh, am I? Noble old fellow!”
+
+“Oh, don't make me laugh! ha! ha! oh! oh! oh! ha! oh!”
+
+“Confound it, I have sent her into hysterics; no, she is coming round.
+Ten thousand million devils, has anybody been insulting the child in
+my house? They have. My wife, for a guinea.”
+
+“No, no, no. It is about Mr. Dodd.”
+
+“Mr. Dodd? oho!”
+
+“I have ruined him.”
+
+“How have you managed that, my dear?”
+
+Then Lucy, all in a flutter, told Mr. Bazalgette what the reader has
+just learned.
+
+He looked grave. “Lucy,” said he, “be frank with me. Is not Mr. Dodd
+in love with you?”
+
+“I _will_ be frank with _you,_ dear uncle, because you are
+frank. Poor Mr. Dodd did love me once; but I refused him, and so his
+good sense and manliness cured him directly.”
+
+“So, now that he no longer loves you, you love him; that is so like
+you girls.”
+
+“Oh, no, uncle; how ridiculous! If I loved Mr. Dodd, I could repair
+the cruel injuries I have done him with a single word. I have only to
+recall my refusal, and he--But I do not love Mr. Dodd. Esteem him I
+do, and he has saved my life; and is he to lose his health, and his
+character, and his means of honorable ambition for that? Do you not
+see how shocking this is, and how galling to my pride? Yes, uncle, I
+_have_ been insulted. His sister told me to my face it was an
+evil day for him when he and I first met--that was at Uncle
+Fountain's.”
+
+“Well, and what am I to do, Lucy?”
+
+“Dear Uncle, what I thought was, if you would be so kind as to use
+your influence with the Company in his favor. Tell them that if he did
+miss his ship it was not by a fault, but by a noble virtue; tell them
+that it was to save a fellow creature's life--a young lady's life--one
+that did not deserve it from him, your own niece's; tell them it is
+not for your honor he should be disgraced. Oh, uncle, you know what to
+say so much better than I do.”
+
+Bazalgette grinned, and straightway resolved to perpetrate a practical
+joke, and a very innocent one. “Well,” said he, “the best way I can
+think of to meet your views will be, I think, to get him appointed to
+the new ship the Company is building.”
+
+Lucy opened her eyes, and the blood rushed to her cheek. “Oh uncle, do
+I hear right? a ship? Are you so powerful? are you so kind? do you
+love your poor niece so well as all this? Oh, Uncle Bazalgette!”
+
+“There is no end to my power,” said the old man, solemnly; “no limit
+to my goodness, no bounds to my love for my poor niece. Are you in a
+hurry, my poor niece? Shall we have his commission down to-morrow, or
+wait a month?”
+
+“To-morrow? is it possible? Oh, yes! I count the minutes till I say to
+his sister, 'There, Miss Dodd, I have friends who value me too highly
+to let me lie under these galling obligations.' Dear, dear uncle, I
+don't mind being under them to you, because I love you” (kisses).
+
+“And not Mr. Dodd?”
+
+“No, dear; and that is the reason I would rather give him a ship
+than--the only other thing that would make him happy. And really, but
+for your goodness, I should have been tempted to--ha! ha! Oh, I am so
+happy now. No; much as I admire my preserver's courage and delicacy
+and unselfishness and goodness, I don't love him; so, but for this, he
+MUST have been unhappy for life, and then I should have been miserable
+forever.”
+
+“Perfectly clear and satisfactory, my dear. Now, if the commission is
+to be down to-morrow, you must not stay here, because I have other
+letters to write, to go by the same courier that takes my application
+for the ship.”
+
+“And do you really think I will go till I have kissed you, Uncle
+Bazalgette?”
+
+“On a subject so important, I hardly venture to give an opin--hallo!
+kissing, indeed? Why, it is like a young wolf flying at horseflesh.”
+
+“Then that will teach you not to be kinder to me than anybody else
+is.”
+
+Lucy ran out radiant and into the garden. Here she encountered
+Kenealy, and, coming on him with a blaze of beauty and triumph, fired
+a resolution that had smoldered in him a day or two.
+
+He twirled his mustache and--popped briefly.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII.
+
+AFTER the first start of rueful astonishment, the indignation of the
+just fired Lucy's eyes.
+
+She scolded him well. “Was this his return for all her late kindness?”
+
+She hinted broadly at the viper of Aesop, and indicated more faintly
+an animal that, when one bestows the choicest favors on it, turns and
+rends one. Then, becoming suddenly just to the brute creation, she
+said: “No, it is only your abominable sex that would behave so
+perversely, so ungratefully.”
+
+“Don't understand,” drawled Kenealy, “I thought you would laike it.”
+
+“Well, you see, I don't laike it.”
+
+“You seemed to be getting rather spooney on me.”
+
+“Spooney! what is that? one of your mess-room terms, I suppose.”
+
+“Yaas; so I thought you waunted me to pawp.”
+
+“Captain Kenealy, this subterfuge is unworthy of you. You know
+perfectly well why I distinguished you. Others pestered me with their
+attachments and nonsense, and you spared me that annoyance. In return,
+I did all in my power to show you the grateful friendship I thought
+you worthy of. But you have broken faith; you have violated the clear,
+though tacit understanding that subsisted between us, and I am very
+angry with you. I have some little influence left with my aunt, sir,
+and, unless I am much mistaken, you will shortly rejoin the army,
+sir.”
+
+“What a boa! what a dem'd boa!”
+
+“And don't swear; that is another foolish custom you gentlemen have;
+it is almost as foolish as the other. Yes, I'll tell my aunt of you,
+and then you will see.”
+
+“What a boa! How horrid spaiteful you are.”
+
+“Well, I am rather vindictive. But my aunt is ten times worse, as her
+deserter shall find, unless--”
+
+“Unless whawt?”
+
+“Unless you beg my pardon directly.” And at this part of the
+conversation Lucy was fain to turn her head away, for she found it
+getting difficult to maintain that severe countenance which she
+thought necessary to clothe her words with terror, and subjugate the
+gallant captain.
+
+“Well, then, I apolojaize,” said Kenealy.
+
+“And I accept your apology; and don't do it again.”
+
+“I won't, 'pon honaa. Look heah; I swear I didn't mean to affront yah;
+I don't waunt yah to mayrry me; I only proposed out of civility.”
+
+“Come, then, it was not so black as it appeared. Courtesy is a good
+thing; and if you thought that, after staying a month in a house, you
+were bound by etiquette to propose to the marriageable part of it, it
+is pardonable, only don't do it again, _please.”_
+
+“I'll take caa--I'll take caa. I say your tempaa is not--quite--what
+those other fools think it is--no, by Jove;” and the captain glared.
+
+“Nonsense: I am only a little fiendish on this one point. Well, then,
+steer clear of it, and you will find me a good crechaa on every
+other.”
+
+Kenealy vowed he would profit by the advice.
+
+“Then there is my hand: we are friends again.”
+
+“You won't tell your aunt, nor the other fellaas?”
+
+“Captain Kenealy, I am not one of your garrison ladies; I am a young
+person who has been educated; your extra civility will never be known
+to a soul: and you shall not join the army but as a volunteer.”
+
+“Then, dem me, Miss Fountain, if I wouldn't be cut in pieces to
+oblaige you. Just you tray me, and you'll faind, if I am not very
+braight, I am a man of honah. If those ether begaas annoy you, jaast
+tell me, and I'll parade 'em at twelve paces, dem me.”
+
+“I must try and find some less insane vent for your friendly feelings;
+and what can I do for you?”
+
+“Yah couldn't go on pretending to be spooney on me, could yah?”
+
+“Oh, no, no. What for?”
+
+“I laike it; makes the other begaas misable.”
+
+“What worthy sentiments! it is a sin to balk them. I am sure there is
+no reason why I should not appear to adore you in public, so long as
+you let me keep my distance in private; but persons of my sex cannot
+do just what they would like. We have feelings that pull us this way
+and that, and, after all this, I am afraid I shall never have the
+courage to play those pranks with you again; and that is a pity, since
+it amused you, and teased those that tease me.”
+
+In short, the house now contained two “holy alliances” instead of one.
+Unfortunately for Lucy, the hostile one was by far the stronger of the
+two; and even now it was preparing a terrible coup.
+
+This evening the storm that was preparing blew good to one of a
+depressed class, which cannot fail to gratify the just.
+
+Mrs. Bazalgette. “Jane, come to my room a minute; I have
+something for you. Here is a cashmere gown and cloak; the cloak I
+want; I can wear it with anything; but you may have the gown.”
+
+“Oh, thank you, mum; it is beautiful, and a'most as good as new. I am
+sure, mum, I am very much obliged to you for your kindness.”
+
+“No, no, you are a good girl, and a sensible girl. By the by, you
+might give me your opinion upon something. Does Miss Lucy prefer any
+one of our guests? You understand me.”
+
+“Well, mum, it is hard to say. Miss Lucy is as reserved as ever.”
+
+“Oh, I thought she might--ahem!”
+
+“No, mum, I do assure you, not a word.”
+
+“Well, but you are a shrewd girl; tell me what you think: now, for
+instance, suppose she was compelled to choose between, say Mr. Hardie
+and Mr. Talboys, which would it be?”
+
+“Well, mum, if you ask my opinion, I don't think Miss Lucy is the one
+to marry a fool; and by all accounts, there's a deal more in Mr.
+Hardies's head than what there isn't in Mr. Talboysese's.”
+
+“You are a clever girl. You shall have the cloak as well, and, if my
+niece marries, you shall remain in her service all the same.”
+
+“Thank you kindly, mum. I don't desire no better mistress, married or
+single; and Mr. Hardies is much respected in the town, and heaps o'
+money; so miss and me we couldn't do no better, neither of us. Your
+servant, mum, and thanks you for your bounty”; and Jane courtesied
+twice and went off with the spoils.
+
+In the corridor she met old Fountain. “Stop, Jane,” said he, “I want
+to speak to you.”
+
+“At your service, sir.”
+
+“In the first place, I want to give you something to buy a new gown”;
+and he took out a couple of sovereigns. “Where am I to put them? in
+your breast-pocket?”
+
+“Put them under the cloak, sir,” murmured Jane, tenderly. She loved
+sovereigns.
+
+He put his hand under the heap of cashmere, and a quick little claw
+hit the coins and closed on them by almighty instinct.
+
+“Now I want to ask your opinion. Is my niece in love with anyone?”
+
+“Well, Mr. Fountains, if she is she don't show it.”
+
+“But doesn't she like one man better than another?”
+
+“You may take your oath of that, if we could but get to her mind.”
+
+“Which does she like best, this Hardie or Mr. Talboys? Come, tell me,
+now.”
+
+“Well, sir, you know Mr. Talboys is an old acquaintance, and like
+brother and sister at Font Abbey. I do suppose she have been a scare
+of times alone with him for one, with Mr. Hardie's. That she should
+take up with a stranger and jilt an old acquaintance, now is it
+feasible?”
+
+“Why, of course not. It was a foolish question; you are a young woman
+of sense. Here's a 5 pound note for you. You must not tell I spoke to
+you.”
+
+“Now is it likely, sir? My character would be broken forever.”
+
+“And you shall be with my niece when she is Mrs. Talboys.”
+
+“I might do worse, sir, and so might she. He is respected far and
+wide, and a grand house, and a carriage and four, and everything to
+make a lady comfortable. Your servant, sir, and wishes you many
+thanks.”
+
+“And such as Jane was, all true servants are.”
+
+The ancients used to bribe the Oracle of Delphi. Curious.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV.
+
+Lucy's twenty-first birthday dawned, but it was not to her the gay
+exulting day it is to some. Last night her uncle and aunt had gone a
+step further, and, instead of kissing her ceremoniously, had evaded
+her. They were drawing matters to a climax: once of age, each day
+would make her more independent in spirit as in circumstances. This
+morning she hoped custom would shield her from unkindness for one day
+at least. But no, they made it clear there was but one way back to
+their smiles. Their congratulations at the breakfast-table were cold
+and constrained; her heart fell; and long before noon on her birthday
+she was crying. Thus weakened, she had to encounter a thoroughly
+prepared attack. Mr. Bazalgette summoned her to his study at one
+o'clock, and there she found him and Mrs. Bazalgette and Mr. Fountain
+seated solemnly in conclave. The merchant was adding up figures.
+
+“Come, now, business,” said he. “Dick has added them up: his figures
+are in that envelope; break the seal and open it, Lucy. If his total
+corresponds with mine, we are right; if not, I am wrong, and you will
+all have to go over it with me till we are right.” A general groan
+followed this announcement. Luckily, the sum totals corresponded to a
+fraction.
+
+Then Mr. Bazalgette made Lucy a little speech.
+
+“My dear, in laying down that office which your amiable nature has
+rendered so agreeable, I feel a natural regret on your account that
+the property my colleague there and I have had to deal with on your
+account has not been more important. However, as far as it goes, we
+have been fortunate. Consols have risen amazingly since we took you
+off land and funded you. The rise in value of your little capital
+since your mother's death is calculated on this card. You have, also,
+some loose cash, which I will hand over to you immediately. Let me
+see--eleven hundred and sixty pounds and five shillings. Write your
+name in full on that paper, Lucy.”
+
+He touched a bell; a servant came. He wrote a line and folded it,
+inclosing Lucy's signature.
+
+“Let this go to Mr. Hardie's bank immediately. Hardie will give you
+three per cent for your money. Better than nothing. You must have a
+check-book. He sent me a new one yesterday. Here it is; you shall have
+it. I wonder whether you know how to draw a check?”
+
+“No, uncle.”
+
+“Look here, then. You note the particulars first on this counter-foil,
+which thus serves in some degree for an account-book. In drawing the
+check, place the sum in letters close to these printed words, and the
+sum in figures close to the pound. For want of this precaution, the
+holder of the check has been known to turn a 10 pound check into 110
+pounds.”
+
+“Oh how wicked!”
+
+“Mind what you say. Dexterity is the only virtue left in England; so
+we must be on our guard, especially in what we write with our name
+attached.”
+
+“I must say, Mr. Bazalgette, you are unwise to put such a sum of money
+into a young girl's hands.”
+
+“The young girl has been a woman an hour and ten minutes, and come
+into her property, movables, and cash aforesaid.”
+
+“If you were her real friend, you would take care of her money for her
+till she marries.”
+
+“The eighth commandment, my dear, the eighth commandment, and other
+primitive axioms: _suum cuique,_ and such odd sayings: 'Him as
+keeps what isn't hisn, soon or late shall go to prison,' with similar
+apothegms. Total: let us keep the British merchant and the Newgate
+thief as distinct as the times permit. Fountain and Bazalgette,
+account squared, books closed, and I'm off!”
+
+“Oh, uncle, pray stay!” said Lucy. “When you are by me, Rectitude and
+Sense seem present in person, and I can lean on them.”
+
+“Lean on yourself; the law has cut your leading-strings. Why patch
+'em? It has made you a woman from a baby. Rise to your new rank.
+Rectitude and Sense are just as much wanted in the town of ----, where
+I am due, as they are in this house. Besides, Sense has spoken
+uninterrupted for ten minutes; prodigious! so now it is Nonsense's
+turn for the next ten hours.” He made for the door; then suddenly
+returning, said: “I will leave a grain of sense, etc., behind me. What
+is marriage? Do you give it up? Marriage is a contract. Who are the
+parties? the papas and mammas, uncles and aunts? By George, you would
+think so to hear them talk. No, the contract is between two parties,
+and these two only. It is a printed contract. Anybody can read it
+gratis. None but idiots sign a contract without reading it; none but
+knaves sign a contract which, having read, they find they cannot
+execute. Matrimony is a mercantile affair; very well, then, import
+into it sound mercantile morality. Go to market; sell well; but, d--n
+it all, deliver the merchandise as per sample, viz., a woman warranted
+to love, honor and obey the purchaser. If you swindle the other
+contracting party in the essentials of the contract, don't complain
+when you are unhappy. Are shufflers entitled to happiness? and what
+are those who shuffle and prevaricate in a church any better than
+those who shuffle and prevaricate in a counting-house?” and the brute
+bolted.
+
+“My husband is a worthy man,” said Mrs. Bazalgette, languidly, “but
+now and then he makes me blush for him.”
+
+“Our good friend is a humorist,” replied Fountain, good-humoredly,
+“and dearly loves a paradox”; and they pooh-poohed him without a
+particle of malice.
+
+Then Mrs. Bazalgette turned to Lucy, and hoped that she did her the
+justice to believe she had none but affectionate motives in wishing to
+see her speedily established.
+
+“Oh no, aunt,” said Lucy. “Why should you wish to part with me? I give
+you but little trouble in your great house.”
+
+“Trouble, child? you know you are a comfort to have in any house.”
+
+This pleased Lucy; it was the first gracious word for a long time.
+Having thus softened her, Mrs. Bazalgette proceeded to attack her by
+all the weaknesses of her sex and age, and for a good hour pressed her
+so hard that the tears often gushed from Lucy's eyes over her red
+cheeks. The girl was worn by the length of the struggle and the
+pertinacity of the assault. She was as determined as ever to do
+nothing, but she had no longer the power to resist in words. Seeing
+her reduced to silence, and not exactly distinguishing between
+impassibility and yielding, Mrs. Bazalgette delivered the
+_coup-de-grace._
+
+“I must now tell you plainly, Lucy, that your character is compromised
+by being out all night with persons of the other sex. I would have
+spared you this, but your resistance compels those who love you to
+tell you all. Owing to that unfortunate trip, you are in such a
+situation that you _must_ marry.”
+
+“The world is surely not so unjust as all this,” sighed Lucy.
+
+“You don't know the world as I do,” was the reply. “And those who live
+in it cannot defy it. I tell you plainly, Lucy, neither your uncle nor
+I can keep you any longer, except as an engaged person. And even that
+engagement ought to be a very short one.”
+
+“What, aunt? what, uncle? your house is no longer mine?” and she
+buried her head upon the table.
+
+“Well, Lucy,” said Mr. Fountain, “of course we would not have told you
+this yesterday. It would have been ungenerous. But you are now your
+own mistress; you are independent. Young persons in your situation can
+generally forget in a day or two a few years of kindness. You have now
+an opportunity of showing us whether you are one of that sort.”
+
+Here Mrs. Bazalgette put in her word. “You will not lack people to
+encourage you in ingratitude--perhaps my husband himself; but if he
+does, it will make a lasting breach between him and me, of which you
+will have been the cause.”
+
+“Heaven forbid!” said Lucy, with a shudder. “Why should dear Mr.
+Bazalgette be drawn into my troubles? He is no relation of mine, only
+a loyal friend, whom may God bless and reward for his kindness to a
+poor fatherless, motherless girl. Aunt, uncle, if you will let me stay
+with you, I will be more kind, more attentive to you than I have been.
+Be persuaded; be advised. If you succeeded in getting rid of me, you
+might miss me, indeed you might. I know all your little ways so well.”
+
+“Lucy, we are not to be tempted to do wrong,” said Mrs. Bazalgette,
+sternly. “Choose which of these two offers you will accept. Choose
+which you please. If you refuse both, you must pack up your things,
+and go and live by yourself, or with Mr. Dodd.”
+
+“Mr. Dodd? why is his name introduced? Was it necessary to insult me?”
+ and her eyes flashed.
+
+“Nobody wishes to insult you, Lucy. And I propose, madam, we give her
+a day to consider.”
+
+“Thank you, uncle.”
+
+“With all my heart; only, until she decides, she must excuse me if I
+do not treat her with the same affection as I used, and as I hope to
+do again. I am deeply wounded, and I am one that cannot feign.”
+
+“You need not fear me, aunt; my heart is turned to ice. I shall never
+intrude that love on which you set no value. May I retire?”
+
+Mrs. Bazalgette looked to Mr. Fountain, and both bowed acquiescence.
+Lucy went out pale, but dry-eyed; despair never looked so lovely, or
+carried its head more proudly.
+
+“I don't like it,” said Mr. Fountain. “I am afraid we have driven the
+poor girl too hard.”
+
+“What are you afraid of, pray?”
+
+“She looked to me just like a woman who would go and take an ounce of
+laudanum. Poor Lucy! she has been a good niece to me, after all;” and
+the water stood in the old bachelor's eyes.
+
+Mrs. Bazalgette tapped him on the shoulder and said archly, but with a
+tone that carried conviction, “She will take no poison. She will hate
+us for an hour; then she will have a good cry: to-morrow she will come
+to our terms; and this day next year she will be very much obliged to
+us for doing what all women like, forcing her to her good with a
+little harshness.”
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV.
+
+SAID Lucy as she went from the door, “Thank Heaven, they have insulted
+me!”
+
+This does not sound logical, but that is only because the logic is so
+subtle and swift. She meant something of this kind: “I am of a
+yielding nature; I might have sacrificed myself to retain their
+affection; but they have roused a vice of mine, my pride, against
+them, so now I shall be immovable in right, thanks to my wicked pride.
+Thank Heaven, they have insulted me!” She then laid her head upon her
+bed and moaned, for she was stricken to the heart. Then she rose and
+wrote a hasty note, and, putting it in her bosom, came downstairs and
+looked for Captain Kenealy. He proved to be in the billiard-room,
+playing the spotted ball against the plain one. “Oh, Captain Kenealy,
+I am come to try your friendship; you said I might command you.”
+
+“Yaas!”
+
+“Then _will_ you mount my pony, and ride with this to Mrs.
+Wilson, to that farm where I kept you waiting so long, and you were
+not angry as anyone else would have been?”
+
+“Yaas!”
+
+“But not a soul must see it, or know where you are gone.”
+
+“All raight, Miss Fountain. Don't you be fraightened; I'm close as the
+grave, and I'll be there in less than haelf an hour.”
+
+“Yes; but don't hurt my dear pony either; don't beat him; and, above
+all, don't come back without an answer.”
+
+“I'll bring you an answer in an hour and twenty minutes.” The captain
+looked at his watch, and went out with a smartness that contrasted
+happily with his slowness of speech.
+
+Lucy went back to her own room and locked herself in, and with
+trembling hands began to pack up her jewels and some of her clothes.
+But when it came to this, wounded pride was sorely taxed by a host of
+reminiscences and tender regrets, and every now and then the tears
+suddenly gushed and fell upon her poor hands as she put things out, or
+patted them flat, to wander on the world.
+
+While she is thus sorrowfully employed, let me try and give an outline
+of the feelings that had now for some time been secretly growing in
+her, since without their co-operation she would never have been driven
+to the strange step she now meditated.
+
+Lucy was a very unselfish and very intelligent girl. The first trait
+had long blinded her to something; the second had lately helped to
+open her eyes.
+
+If ever you find a person quick to discover selfishness in others, be
+sure that person is selfish; for it is only the selfish who come into
+habitual collision with selfishness, and feel how sharp-pointed a
+thing it is. When Unselfish meets Selfish, each acts after his kind;
+Unselfish gives way, Selfish holds his course, and so neither is
+thwarted, and neither finds out the other's character.
+
+Lucy, then, of herself, would never have discovered her relatives'
+egotism. But they helped her, and she was too bright not to see
+anything that was properly pointed out to her.
+
+When Fountain kept showing and proving Mrs. Bazalgette's egotism, and
+Mrs. Bazalgette kept showing and proving Mr. Fountain's egotism, Lucy
+ended by seeing both their egotisms, as clearly as either could
+desire; and, as she despised egotism, she lost her respect for both
+these people, and let them convince her they were both persons against
+whom she must be on her guard.
+
+This was the direct result of their mines and countermines heretofore
+narrated, but not the only result. It followed indirectly, but
+inevitably, that the present holy alliance failed. Lucy had not
+forgotten the past; and to her this seemed not a holy, but an unholy,
+hollow, and empty alliance.
+
+“They hate one another,” said she, “but it seems they hate me worse,
+since they can hide their mutual dislike to combine against poor me.”
+
+Another thing: Lucy was one of those women who thirst for love, and,
+though not vain enough to be always showing they think they ought to
+be beloved, have quite secret _amour propre_ enough to feel at
+the bottom of their hearts that they were sent here to that end, and
+that it is a folly and a shame not to love them more or less.
+
+If ever Madame Ristori plays “Maria Stuarda” within a mile of you, go
+and see her. Don't chatter: you can do that at home; attend to the
+scene; the worst play ever played is not so unimproving as chit-chat.
+Then, when the scaffold is even now erected, and the poor queen, pale
+and tearful, palpitates in death's grasp, you shall see her suddenly
+illumined with a strange joy, and hear her say, with a marvelous burst
+of feminine triumph,
+
+           “I have been _amata molto!!!”_
+
+Uttered, under a scaffold, as the Italian utters it, this line is a
+revelation of womanhood.
+
+The English virgin of our humbler tale had a soul full of this
+feeling, only she had never learned to set the love of sex above other
+loves; but, mark you, for that very reason, a mortal insult to her
+heart from her beloved relatives was as mortifying, humiliating and
+unpardonable as is, to other high-spirited girls, an insult from their
+favored lover.
+
+What could she do more than she had done to win their love? No, their
+hearts were inaccessible to her.
+
+“They wish to get rid of me. Well, they shall. They refuse me their
+houses. Well, I will show them the value of their houses to me. It was
+their hearts I clung to, not their houses.”
+
+
+A tap came to Lucy's door.
+
+“Who is that? I am busy.”
+
+“Oh, miss!” said an agitated voice, “may I speak to you--the captain!”
+
+“What captain?” inquired Lucy, without opening the door.
+
+“Knealys, miss.
+
+“I will come out to you. Now. Has Captain Kenealy returned already?”
+
+“La! no, miss. He haven't been anywhere as I know of. He had them
+about him as couldn't spare him.”
+
+“Something is the matter, Jane. What is it?”
+
+Jane lowered her voice mysteriously. “Well, miss, the captain is--in
+trouble.”
+
+“Oh, dear, what has happened?”
+
+“Well, the fact is, miss, the captain's--took”
+
+“I cannot understand you. Pray speak intelligibly.”
+
+“Arrested, miss.”
+
+“Captain Kenealy arrested! Oh, Heaven! for what crime?”
+
+“La, miss, no crime at all--leastways not so considered by the gentry.
+He is only took in payment of them beautiful reg-mentals. However,
+black or red, he is always well put on. I am sure he looks just out of
+a band-box; and I got it all out of one of the men as it's a army
+tailor, which he wrote again and again, and sent his bill, and the
+captain he took no notice; then the tailor he sent him a writ, and the
+captain he took no notice; then the tailor he lawed him, but the
+captain he kep' on a taking no more notice nor if it was a dog a
+barking, and then a putting all them ere barks one after another in a
+letter, and sending them by the post; so the end is, the captain is
+arrested; and now he behooves to attend a bit to what is a going on
+around an about him, as the saying is, and so he is waiting to pay you
+his respects before he starts for Bridewell.”
+
+“My fatal advice! I ruin all my friends.”
+
+“Keep dark,” says he; “don't tell a soul except Miss Fountain.”
+
+“Where is he? Oh?”
+
+Jane offered to show her that, and took her to the stable yard.
+Arriving with a face full of tender pity and concern, Lucy was not a
+little surprised to find the victim smoking cigars in the center of
+his smoking captors. The men touched their hats, and Captain Kenealy
+said: “Isn't it a boa, Miss Fountain? they won't let me do your little
+commission. In London they will go anywhere with a fellaa.”
+
+“London ye knows,” explained the assistant, “but this here is full of
+hins and houts, and folyidge.”
+
+“Oh, sir,” cried Lucy to the best-dressed captor, “surely you will not
+be so cruel as to take a gentleman like Captain Kenealy to prison?”
+
+“Very sorry, marm, but we 'ave no hoption: takes 'em every day; don't
+we, Bill?”
+
+Bill nodded.
+
+“But, sir, as it is only for money, can you not be induced
+by--by--money--”
+
+“Bill, lady's going to pay the debtancosts. Show her the ticket. Debt
+eighty pund, costs seven pund eighteen six.”
+
+“What! will you liberate him if I pay you eighty-eight pounds?”
+
+“Well, marm, to oblige you we will; won't we, Bill?”
+
+He winked. Bill nodded.
+
+“Then pray stay here a minute, and this shall be arranged to your
+entire satisfaction”; and she glided swiftly away, followed by Jane,
+wriggling.
+
+“Quite the lady, Bill.”
+
+“Kevite. Captn is in luck. Hare ve to be at the vedding, capn?”
+
+“Dem your impudence! I'll cross-buttock yah!”
+
+“Hold your tongue, Bill--queering a gent. Draw it mild, captain.
+Debtancosts ain't paid yet. Here they come, though.”
+
+Lucy returned swiftly, holding aloft a slip of paper.
+
+“There, sir, that is a check for 90 pounds; it is the same thing as
+money, you are doubtless aware.” The man took it and inspected it
+keenly.
+
+“Very sorry, marm, but can't take it. It's a lady's check.”
+
+“What! is it not written properly?”
+
+“Beautiful, marm. But when we takes these beautiful-wrote checks to
+the bank, the cry is always, 'No assets.'”
+
+“But Uncle Bazalgette said everybody would give me money for it.”
+
+“What! is Mr. Bazalgette your uncle, marm? then you go to him, and get
+his check in place of yours, and the captain will be free as the birds
+in the hair.”
+
+“Oh, thank you, sir,” cried Lucy, and the next minute she was in Mr.
+Bazalgette's study. “Uncle, don't be angry with me: it is for no
+unworthy purpose; only don't ask me; it might mortify another; but
+_would_ you give me a check of your own for mine? They will not
+receive mine.”
+
+Mr. Bazalgette looked grave, and even sad; but he sat quietly down
+without a word, and drew her a check, taking hers, which he locked in
+his desk. The tears were in Lucy's eyes at his gravity and his
+delicacy. “Some day I will tell you,” said she. “I have nothing to
+reproach myself, indeed--indeed.”
+
+“Make the rogue--or jade--give you a receipt,” groaned Bazalgette.
+
+“All right, marm, this time. Captain, the world is hall before you
+where to chewse. But this is for ninety, marm;” and he put his hand
+very slowly into his pocket.
+
+“Do me the favor to keep the rest for your trouble, sir.”
+
+“Trouble's a pleasure, marm. It is not often we gets a tip for taking
+a gent. Ve are funk shin hairies as is not depreciated, mam, and the
+more genteel we takes 'em the rougher they cuts; and the very women no
+more like you nor dark to light; but flies at us like ryal Bengal
+tigers, through taking of us for the creditors.”
+
+“Verehas we hare honly servants of the ke veen;” suggested No. 2,
+hashing his mistress's English.
+
+“Stow your gab, Bill, and mizzle. Let the captain thank the lady.
+Good-day, marm.”
+
+
+“Oh, my poor friend, what language! and my ill advice threw you into
+their company!”
+
+Captain Kenealy told her, in his brief way, that the circumstance was
+one of no import, except in so far as it had impeded his discharge of
+his duty to her. He then mounted the pony, which had been waiting for
+him more than half an hour.
+
+“But it is five o'clock,” said Lucy; “you will be too late for
+dinner.”
+
+“Dinner be dem--d,” drawled the man of action, and rode off like a
+flash.
+
+“It is to be, then,” said Lucy, and her heart ebbed. It had ebbed and
+flowed a good many times in the last hour or two.
+
+Captain Kenealy reappeared in the middle of dinner. Lucy scanned his
+face, but it was like the outside of a copy-book, and she was on
+thorns. Being too late, he lost his place near her at dinner, and she
+could not whisper to him. However, when the ladies retired he opened
+the door, and Lucy let fall a word at his feet: “Come up before the
+rest.”
+
+Acting on this order, Kenealy came up, and found Lucy playing sad
+tunes softly on the piano and Mrs. Bazalgette absent. She was trying
+something on upstairs. He gave Lucy a note from Mrs. Wilson. She
+opened it, and the joyful color suffused her cheek, and she held out
+her hand to him; but, as she turned her head away mighty prettily at
+the same time, she did not see the captain was proffering a second
+document, and she was a little surprised when, instead of a warm
+grasp, all friendship and no love, a piece of paper was shoved into
+her delicate palm. She took it; looked first at Kenealy, then at it,
+and was sore puzzled.
+
+The document was in Kenealy's handwriting, and at first Lucy thought
+it must be intended as a mere specimen of caligraphy; for not only was
+it beautifully written, but in letters of various sizes. There were
+three gigantic vowels, I. O. U. There were little wee notifications of
+time and place, and other particulars of medium size. The general
+result was that Henry Kenealy O'd Lucy Fountain ninety pound for value
+received per loan. Lucy caught at the meaning. “But, my dear friend,”
+ said she, innocently, “you mistake. I did not lend it you; I meant to
+give it you. Will you not accept it? Are we not friends?”
+
+“Much oblaiged. Couldn't do it. Dishonable.”
+
+“Oh, pray do not let me wound your pride. I know what it is to have
+one's pride wounded; call it a loan if you wish. But, dear friend,
+what am I to do with this?”
+
+“When you want the money, order your man of business to present it to
+me, and, if I don't pay, lock me up, for I shall deserve it.”
+
+“I think I understand. This is a memorandum--a sort of reminder.”
+
+“Yaas.”
+
+“Then clearly I am not the person to whom it should be given. No; if
+you want to be reminded of this mighty matter, put this in your desk;
+if it gets into mine, you will never see it again; I will give you
+fair warning. There--hide it--quick--here they come.”
+
+They did come, all but Mr. Bazalgette, who was at work in his study.
+Mr. Talboys came up to the piano and said gravely, “Miss Fountain, are
+you aware of the fate of the lugger--of the boat we went out in?”
+
+Indeed I am. I have sent the poor widow some clothes and a little
+money.”
+
+“I have only just been informed of it,” said Mr. Talboys, “and I feel
+under considerable obligations to Mr. Dodd.”
+
+“The feeling does you credit.”
+
+“Should you meet him, will you do me the honor to express my gratitude
+to him?”
+
+“I would, with pleasure, Mr. Talboys, but there is no chance whatever
+of my seeing Mr. Dodd. His sister is staying in Market Street, No. 80,
+and if you would call on them or write to them, it would be a
+kindness, and I think they would both feel it.”
+
+“Humph!” said Talboys, doubtfully. Here a servant stepped up to Miss
+Fountain. “Master would be glad to see you in his study, miss.”
+
+
+“I have got something for you, Lucy. I know what it is, so run away
+with it, and read it in your own room, for I am busy.” He handed her a
+long sealed packet. She took it, trembling, and flew to her own room
+with it, like a hawk carrying off a little bird to its nest. She broke
+the enormous seal and took out the inclosure. It was David Dodd's
+commission. He was captain of the _Rajah,_ the new ship of eleven
+hundred tons' burden.
+
+While she gazes at it with dilating eye and throbbing heart, I may as
+well undeceive the reader. This was not really effected in forty-eight
+hours. Bazalgette only pretended that, partly out of fun, partly out
+of nobility. Ever since a certain interview in his study with David
+Dodd, who was a man after his own heart, he had taken a note, and had
+worked for him with “the Company;” for Bazalgette was one of those
+rare men who reduce performance to a certainty long before they
+promise. His promises were like pie-crust made to be eaten, and eaten
+hot.
+
+Lucy came out of her room, and at the same moment issued forth from
+hers Mrs. Bazalgette in a fine new dress. It was that black
+_glace;_ silk, divested of gloom by cheerful accessories, in
+which she had threatened to mourn eternally Lucy's watery fate. Fire
+flashed from the young lady's eyes at the sight of it. She went down
+to her uncle, muttering between her ivory teeth: “All the same--all
+the same;” and her heart flowed. The next minute, at sight of Mr.
+Bazalgette it ebbed. She came into his room, saying: “Oh, Uncle
+Bazalgette, it is not to thank you--that I can never do worthily; it
+is to ask another favor. Do, pray, let me spend this evening with you;
+let me be where you are. I will be as still as a mouse. See, I have
+brought some work; or, if you _would_ but let me help you.
+Indeed, uncle, I am not a fool. I am very quick to learn at the
+bidding of those I love. Let me write your letters for you, or fold
+them up, or direct them, or something--do, pray!”
+
+“Oh, the caprices of young ladies! Well, can you write large and
+plain? Not you.”
+
+“I can _imitate_ anything or anybody.”
+
+“Imitate this hand then. I'll walk and dictate, you sit and write.”
+
+“Oh, how nice!”
+
+“Delicious! The first is to--Hetherington. Now, Lucy, this is a
+dishonest, ungrateful old rogue, who has made thousands by me, and now
+wants to let me into a mine, with nothing in it but water. It would
+suck up twenty thousand pounds as easily as that blotting-paper will
+suck up our signature.”
+
+“Heartless traitor! monster!” cried Lucy.
+
+“Are you ready?”
+
+“Yes,” and her eye flashed and the pen was to her a stiletto.
+
+Bazalgette dictated, “My dear Sir--”
+
+“What? to a cheat?”
+
+“Custom, child. I'll have a stamp made. Besides, if we let them see we
+see through them, they would play closer and closer--”
+
+“My dear Sir--In answer to yours of date 11th instant, I regret to
+say--that circumstances prevent--my closing--with your obliging--and
+friendly offer.”
+
+
+They wrote eight letters; and Lucy's quick fingers folded up
+prospectuses, and her rays brightened the room. When the work was
+done, she clung round Mr. Bazalgette and caressed him, and seemed
+strangely unwilling to part with him at all; in fact, it was twelve
+o'clock, and the drawing-room empty, when they parted.
+
+At one o'clock the whole house was dark except one room, and both
+windows of that room blazed with light. And it happened there was a
+spectator of this phenomenon. A man stood upon the grass and eyed
+those lights as if they were the stars of his destiny.
+
+It was David Dodd. Poor David! he had struck a bargain, and was to
+command a coasting vessel, and carry wood from the Thames to our
+southern ports. An irresistible impulse brought him to look, before he
+sailed, on the place that held the angel who had destroyed his
+prospects, and whom he loved as much as ever, though he was too proud
+to court a second refusal.
+
+“She watches, too,” thought David, “but it is not for me, as I for
+her.”
+
+At half past one the lights began to dance before his wearied eyes,
+and presently David, weakened by his late fever, dozed off and forgot
+all his troubles, and slept as sweetly on the grass as he had often
+slept on the hard deck, with his head upon a gun.
+
+Luck was against the poor fellow. He had not been unconscious much
+more than ten minutes when Lucy's window opened and she looked out;
+and he never saw her. Nor did she see him; for, though the moon was
+bright, it was not shining on him; he lay within the shadow of a tree.
+But Lucy did see something--a light upon the turnpike road about forty
+yards from Mr. Bazalgette's gates. She slipped cautiously down, a
+band-box in her hand, and, unbolting the door that opened on the
+garden, issued out, passed within a few yards of Dodd, and went round
+to the front, and finally reached the turnpike road. There she found
+Mrs. Wilson, with a light-covered cart and horse, and a lantern. At
+sight of her Mrs. Wilson put out the light, and they embraced; then
+they spoke in whispers.
+
+“Come, darling, don't tremble; have you got much more?”
+
+“Oh, yes, several things.”
+
+“Look at that, now! But, dear heart, I was the same at your age, and
+should be now, like enough. Fetch them all, as quick as you like. I am
+feared to leave Blackbird, or I'd help you down with 'em.”
+
+“Is there nobody with you to take care of us?”
+
+“What do you mean--men folk? Not if I know it.”
+
+“You are right. You are wise. Oh, how courageous!” And she went back
+for her finery. And certain it is she had more baggage than I should
+choose for a forced march.
+
+But all has an end--even a female luggage train; so at last she put
+out all her lights and came down, stepping like a fairy, with a large
+basket in her hand.
+
+Now it happened that by this time the moon's position was changed, and
+only a part of David lay in the shade; his head and shoulders
+glittered in broad moonlight; and Lucy, taking her farewell of a house
+where she had spent many happy days, cast her eyes all around to bid
+good-by, and spied a man lying within a few paces, and looking like a
+corpse in the silver sheen. She dropped her basket; her knees knocked
+together with fear, and she flew toward Mrs. Wilson. But she did not
+go far, for the features, indistinct as they were by distance and pale
+light, struck her mind, and she stopped and looked timidly over her
+shoulder. The figure never moved. Then, with beating heart, she went
+toward him slowly and so stealthily that she would have passed a mouse
+without disturbing it, and presently she stood by him and looked down
+on him as he lay.
+
+And as she looked at him lying there, so pale, so uncomplaining, so
+placid, under her windows, this silent proof of love, and the thought
+of the raging sea this helpless form had steered her through, and all
+he had suffered as well as acted for her, made her bosom heave, and
+stirred all that was woman within her. He loved her still, then, or
+why was he here? And then the thought that she had done something for
+him too warmed her heart still more toward him. And there was nothing
+for her to repel now, for he lay motionless; there was nothing for her
+to escape--he did not pursue her; nothing to negative--he did not
+propose anything to her. Her instinct of defense had nothing to lay
+hold of; so, womanlike, she had a strong impulse to wake him and be
+kind to him--as kind as she could be without committing herself. But,
+on the other hand, there was shy, trembling, virgin modesty, and shame
+that he should detect her making a midnight evasion, and fear of
+letting him think she loved him.
+
+While she stood thus, with something drawing her on and something
+drawing her back, and palpitating in every fiber, Mrs. Wilson's voice
+was heard in low but anxious tones calling her. A feather turned the
+balanced scale. She must go. Fate had decided for her. She was called.
+Then the sprites of mischief tempted her to let David know she _had
+been_ near him. She longed to put his commission into his pocket;
+but that was impossible. It was at the very bottom of her box. She
+took out her tablets, wrote the word “Adieu,” tore out half the leaf,
+and, bending over David, attached the little bit of paper by a pin to
+the tail of his coat. If he had been ever so much awake he could not
+have felt her doing it; for her hand touching him, and the white paper
+settling on his coat, was all done as lights a spot of down on still
+water from the bending neck of a swan.
+
+
+“No, dear Mrs. Wilson, we must not go yet. I will hold the horse, and
+you must go back for me for something.”
+
+“I'm agreeable. What is it? Why, what is up? How you do pant!”
+
+“I have made a discovery. There is a gentleman lying asleep there on
+the wet grass.”
+
+“Lackadaisy! why, you don't say so.”
+
+“It is a friend; and he will catch his death.”
+
+“Why, of course he will. He will have had a drop too much, Miss Lucy.
+I'll wake him, and we will take him along home with us.”
+
+“Oh, not for the world, nurse. I would not have him see what I am
+doing, oh, not for all the world!”
+
+“Where is he?”
+
+“In there, under the great tree.”
+
+“Well, you get into the cart, miss, and hold the reins”; and Mrs.
+Wilson went into the grounds and soon found David.
+
+She put her hand on his shoulder, and he awoke directly, and looked
+surprised at Mrs. Wilson.
+
+“Are you better, sir?” said the good woman. “Why, if it isn't the
+handsome gentleman that was so kind to me! Now do ee go in, sir--do ee
+go in. You will catch your death o' cold.” She made sure he was
+staying at the house.
+
+David looked up at Lucy's windows. “Yes, I will go home, Mrs. Wilson;
+there is nothing to stay for now”; and he accompanied her to the cart.
+But Mrs. Wilson remembered Lucy's desire not to be seen; so she said
+very loud, “I'm sure it's very lucky me and _my niece_ happened
+to be coming home so late, and see you lying there. Well, one good
+turn deserves another. Come and see me at my farm; you go through the
+village of Harrowden, and anybody there will tell you where Dame
+Wilson do live. I _would_ ask you to-night, but--” she hesitated,
+and Lucy let down her veil.
+
+“No, thank you, not now; my sister will be fretting as it is.
+Good-morning”; and his steps were heard retreating as Mrs. Wilson
+mounted the cart.
+
+“Well, I should have liked to have taken him home and warmed him a
+bit,” said the good woman to Lucy; “it is enough to give him the
+rheumatics for life. However, he is not the first honest man as has
+had a drop too much, and taken 's rest without a feather-bed. Alack,
+miss, why, you are all of a tremble! What ails _you?_ I'm a fool
+to ask. Ah! well, you'll soon be at home, and naught to vex you. That
+is right; have a good cry, do. Ay, ay, _'tis_ hard to be forced
+to leave our nest. But all places are bright where love abides; and
+there's honest hearts both here and there, and the same sky above us
+wherever we wander, and the God of the fatherless above that; and
+better a peaceful cottage than a palace full of strife.” And with many
+such homely sayings the rustic consoled her nursling on their little
+journey, not quite in vain.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI.
+
+NEXT morning the house was in an uproar. Servants ran to and fro, and
+the fish-pond was dragged at Mr. Fountain's request. But on these
+occasions everybody claims a right to speak, and Jane came into the
+breakfast-room and said: “If you please, mum, Miss Lucy isn't in the
+pond, for she have taken a good part of her clothes, and all her
+jewels.”
+
+This piece of common sense convinced everybody on the spot except Mrs.
+Bazalgette. That lady, if she had decided on “making a hole in the
+water,” would have sat on the bank first, and clapped on all her
+jewels, and all her richest dresses, one on the top of another.
+Finally, Mr. Bazalgette, who wore a somber air, and had not said a
+word, requested everybody to mind their own business. “I have a
+communication from Lucy,” said he, “and I do not at present disapprove
+the step she has taken.”
+
+All eyes turned with astonishment toward him, and the next moment all
+voices opened on him like a pack of hounds. But he declined to give
+them any further information. Between ourselves he had none to give.
+The little note Lucy left on his table merely begged him to be under
+no anxiety, and prayed him to suspend his judgment of her conduct till
+he should know the whole case. It was his strong good sense which led
+him to pretend he was in the whole secret. By this means he
+substituted mystery for scandal, and contrived that the girl's folly
+might not be irreparable.
+
+At the same time he was deeply indignant with her, and, above all,
+with her hypocrisy in clinging round him and kissing him the very
+night she meditated flight from his house.
+
+“I must find the girl out and get her back;” said he, and directly
+after breakfast he collected his myrmidons and set them to discover
+her retreat.
+
+The outward frame-work of the holy alliance remained standing, but
+within it was dissolving fast. Each of the allies was even now
+thinking how to find Lucy and make a separate peace. During the
+flutter which now subsided, one person had done nothing but eat
+pigeon-pie. It was Kenealy, captain of horse.
+
+Now eating pigeon-pie is not in itself a suspicious act, but ladies
+are so sharp. Mrs. Bazalgette said to herself, “This creature alone is
+not a bit surprised (for Bazalgette is fibbing); why is this creature
+not surprised? humph! Captain Kenealy,” said she, in honeyed tones,
+“what would you advise us to do?”
+
+“Advertaize,” drawled the captain, as cool as a cucumber.
+
+“Advertise? What! publish her name?”
+
+“No, no names. I'll tell you;” and he proceeded to drawl out very
+slowly, from memory, the following advertisement. N. B.--The captain
+was a great reader of advertisements, and of little else.
+
+
+           “WANDERAA, RETARN.
+
+“If L. F. will retarn--to her afflicted--relatives--she shall be
+received with open aams. And shall be forgotten and forgiven--and
+reunaited affection shall solace every wound.”
+
+
+“That is the style. It always brings 'em back--dayvilish good
+paie--have some moa.”
+
+Mr. Fountain and Mrs. Bazalgette raised an outcry against the
+captain's advice, and, when the table was calm again, Mrs. Bazalgette
+surprised them all by fixing her eyes on Kenealy, and saying quietly,
+“You know where she is.” She added more excitedly: “Now don't deny it.
+On your honor, sir, have you no idea where my niece is?”
+
+“Upon my honah, I have an idea.”
+
+“Then tell me.”
+
+“I'd rayther not.”
+
+“Perhaps you would prefer to tell me in private?”
+
+“No; prefer not to tell at all.”
+
+Then the whole table opened on him, and appealed to his manly feeling,
+his sense of hospitality, his humanity--to gratify their curiosity.
+
+Kenealy stretched himself out from the waist downward, and delivered
+himself thus, with a double infusion of his drawl:--
+
+“See yah all dem--d first.”
+
+
+At noon on the same day, by the interference of Mrs. Bazalgette, the
+British army was swelled with Kenealy, captain of horse.
+
+The whole day passed, and Lucy's retreat was not yet discovered. But
+more than one hunter was hemming her in.
+
+
+The next day, being the second after her elopement with her nurse, at
+eleven in the forenoon, Lucy and Mrs. Wilson sat in the little parlor
+working. Mrs. Wilson had seen the poultry fed, the butter churned, and
+the pudding safe in the pot, and her mind was at ease for a good hour
+to come, so she sat quiet and peaceful. Lucy, too, was at peace. Her
+eye was clear; and her color coming back; she was not bursting with
+happiness, for there was a sweet pensiveness mixed with her sweet
+tranquillity; but she looked every now and then smiling from her work
+up at Mrs. Wilson, and the dame kept looking at her with a motherly
+joy caused by her bare presence on that hearth. Lucy basked in these
+maternal glances. At last she said: “Nurse.”
+
+“My dear?”
+
+“If you had never done anything for me, still I should know you loved
+me.”
+
+“Should ye, now?”
+
+“Oh yes; there is the look in your eye that I used to long to see in
+my poor aunt's, but it never came.”
+
+“Well, Miss Lucy, I can't help it. To think it is really you setting
+there by my fire! I do feel like a cat with one kitten. You should
+check me glaring you out o' countenance like that.”
+
+“Check you? I could not bear to lose one glance of that honest tender
+eye. I would not exchange one for all the flatteries of the world. I
+am so happy here, so tranquil, under my nurse's wing.”
+
+With this declaration came a little sigh.
+
+Mrs. Wilson caught it. “Is there nothing wanting, dear?”
+
+“No.”
+
+“Well, I do keep wishing for one thing.”
+
+“What is that?”
+
+“Oh, I can't help my thoughts.”
+
+“But you can help keeping them from me, nurse.”
+
+“Well, my dear, I am like a mother; I watch every word of yours and
+every look; and it is my belief you deceive yourself a bit: many a
+young maid has done that. I do judge there is a young man that is more
+to you than you think for.”
+
+“Who on earth is that, nurse?” asked Lucy, coloring.
+
+“The handsome young gentleman.”
+
+“Oh, they are all handsome--all my pests.”
+
+“The one I found under your window, Miss Lucy; he wasn't in liquor; so
+what was he there for? and you know you were not at your ease till you
+had made me go and wake him, and send him home; and you were all of a
+tremble. I'm a widdy now, and can speak my mind to men-folk all one as
+women-folk; but I've been a maid, and I can mind how I was in those
+days. Liking did use to whisper me to do so and so; Shyness up and
+said, 'La! not for all the world; what'll he think?'”
+
+“Oh, nurse, do you believe me capable of loving one who does not love
+me?”
+
+“No. Who said he doesn't love you? What was he there for? I stick to
+that.”
+
+“Now, nurse, dear, be reasonable; if Mr. Dodd loved me, would he go to
+sleep in my presence?”
+
+“Eh! Miss Lucy, the poor soul was maybe asleep before you left your
+room.”
+
+“It is all the same. He slept while I stood close to him ever so long.
+Slept while I--If I loved anybody as these gentlemen pretend they
+love us, should I sleep while the being I adored was close to me?”
+
+“You are too hard upon him. 'The spirit is willing but the flesh is
+weak.' Why, miss, we do read of Eutychus, how he snoozed off setting
+under Paul himself--up in a windy--and down a-tumbled. But parson says
+it wasn't that he didn't love religion, or why should Paul make it his
+business to bring him to life again, 'stead of letting un lie for a
+warning to the sleepy-headed ones. ''Twas a wearied body, not a heart
+cold to God,' says our parson.”
+
+“Now, nurse, I take you at your word. If Eutychus had been Eutycha,
+and in love with St. Paul, Eutycha would never have gone to sleep,
+though St. Paul preached all day and all night; and if Dorcas had
+preached instead of St. Paul, and Eutychus been in love with her, he
+would never have gone to sleep, and you know it.”
+
+At this home-thrust Mrs. Wilson was staggered, but the next moment her
+sense of discomfiture gave way to a broad expression of triumph at her
+nursling's wit.
+
+“Eh! Miss Lucy,” cried she, showing a broadside of great white teeth
+in a rustic chuckle, “but ye've got a tongue in your head. Ye've sewed
+up my stocking, and 'tisn't many of them can do that.” Lucy followed
+up her advantage.
+
+“And, nurse, even when he was wide awake and stood by the cart, no
+inward sentiment warned him of my presence; a sure sign he did not
+love me. Though I have never experienced love, I have read of it, and
+know all about it.” [_Jus-tice des Femmes!_]
+
+“Well, Miss Lucy, have it your own way; after all, if he loves you he
+will find you out.”
+
+“Of course he would, and you will see he will do nothing of the kind.”
+
+“Then I wish I knew where he was; I would pull him in at my door by
+the scruf of the neck.”
+
+“And then I should jump out at the window. Come, try on your new cap,
+nurse, that I have made for you, and let us talk about anything you
+like except gentlemen. Gentlemen are a sore subject with me. Gentlemen
+have been my ruin.”
+
+“La, Miss Lucy!”
+
+“I assure you they have; why, have they not set my uncle's heart
+against me, and my aunt's, and robbed me of the affection I once had
+for both? I believe gentlemen to be the pests of society; and oh! the
+delight of being here in this calm retreat, where love dwells, and no
+gentleman can find me. Ah! ah! Oh! What is that?”
+
+For a heavy blow descended on the door. “That is Jenny's
+_knock,”_ said Mrs. Wilson; dryly. “Come in, Jenny.” The servant,
+thus invited, burst the door open as savagely as she had struck it,
+and announced with a knowing grin, “A GENTLEMAN--_for Miss
+Fountain!!”_
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII.
+
+DAVID and Eve sat together at their little breakfast, and pressed each
+other to eat; but neither could eat. David's night excursion had
+filled Eve with new misgivings. It was the act of a madman; and we
+know the fears that beset her on that head, and their ground. He had
+come home shivering, and she had forced him to keep his bed all that
+day. He was not well now, and bodily weakness, added to his other
+afflictions, bore his spirit down, though nothing could cow it.
+
+“When are you to sail?” inquired Eve, sick-like.
+
+“In three days. Cargo won't be on board before.”
+
+“A coasting vessel?”
+
+“A man can do his duty in a coaster as well as a merchantman or a
+frigate.” But he sighed.
+
+“Would to God you had never seen her!”
+
+“Don't blame her--blame me. I had good advice from my little sister,
+but I was willful. Never mind, Eve, I needn't to blush for loving her;
+she is worthy of it all.”
+
+“Well, think so, David, if you can.” And Eve, thoroughly depressed,
+relapsed into silence. The postman's rap was heard, and soon after a
+long inclosure was placed in Eve's hand.
+
+Poor little Eve did not receive many letters; and, sad as she was, she
+opened this with some interest; but how shall I paint its effect? She
+kept uttering shrieks of joy, one after another, at each sentence. And
+when she had shrieked with joy many times, she ran with the large
+paper round to David. “You are captain of the _Rajah!_ ah! the
+new ship! ah! eleven hundred tons! Oh, David! Oh, my heart! Oh! oh!
+oh!” and the poor little thing clasped her arms round her brother's
+neck, and kissed him again and again, and cried and sobbed for joy.
+
+All men, and most women, go through life without once knowing what it
+is to cry for joy, and it is a comfort to think that Eve's pure and
+deep affection brought her such a moment as this in return for much
+trouble and sorrow. David, stout-hearted as he was, was shaken as the
+sea and the wind had never yet shaken him. He turned red and white
+alternately, and trembled. “Captain of the _Rajah!_ It is too
+good--it is too good! I have done nothing _for it”;_ and he was
+incredulous.
+
+Eve was devouring the inclosure. “It is her doing,” she cried; “it is
+all her doing.”
+
+“Whose?”
+
+“Who do you think? I am in the air! I am in heaven! Bless her--oh,
+God, bless her for this. Never speak against cold-blooded folk before
+me; they have twice the principle of us hot ones: I always said so.
+She is a good creature; she is a true friend; and you accused her of
+ingratitude!”
+
+“That I never did.”
+
+“You did--_Rajah_--he! he! oh!--and I defended her. Here, take
+and read that: is that a commission or not? Now you be quiet, and let
+us see what she says. No, I can't; I cannot keep the tears out of my
+eyes. Do take and read it, David; I'm blind.”
+
+David took the letter, kissed it, and read it out to Eve, and she kept
+crowing and shedding tears all the time.
+
+
+“DEAR MISS DODD--I admire too much your true affection for your
+brother to be indifferent to your good opinion. Think of me as
+leniently as you can. Perhaps it gives me as much pleasure to be able
+to forward you the inclosed as the receipt of it, I hope, may give
+you.
+
+“It would, I think, be more wise, and certainly more generous, not to
+let Mr. Dodd think he owes in any degree to me that which, if the
+world were just, would surely have been his long ago. Only, some few
+months hence, when it can do him no harm, I could wish him not to
+think his friend Lucy was ungrateful, or even cold in his service, who
+saved her life, and once honored her with so warm an esteem. But all
+this I confide to your discretion and your justice. Dear Miss Dodd,
+those who give pain to others do not escape it themselves, nor is it
+just they should. My insensibility to the merit of persons of the
+other sex has provoked my relatives; they have punished me for
+declining Mr. Dodd's inferiors with a bitterness Mr. Dodd, with far
+more cause, never showed me; so you see at each turn I am reminded of
+his superiority.
+
+“The result is, I am separated from my friends, and am living all
+alone with my dear old nurse, at her farmhouse.
+
+“Since, then, I am unhappy, and you are generous, you will, I think,
+forgive me all the pain I have caused you, and will let me, in bidding
+you adieu, subscribe myself,
+
+                                 “Yours affectionately,
+
+                                 “LUCY FOUNTAIN”
+
+
+“It is the letter of a sweet girl, David, with a noble heart; and she
+has taken a noble revenge of me for what I said to her the other day,
+and made her cry, like a little brute as I am. Why, how glum you
+look!”
+
+“Eve,” said David, “do you think I will accept this from her without
+herself?”
+
+“Of course you will. Don't be too greedy, David. Leave the girl in
+peace; she has shown you what she will do and what she won't. One such
+friend as this is worth a hundred lovers. Give me her dear little
+note.”
+
+While Eve was persuing it, David went out, but soon returned, with his
+best coat on, and his hat in his hand. Eve asked in some surprise
+where he was going in such a hurry.
+
+“To her.”
+
+“Well, David, now I come to read her letter quietly, it is a woman's
+letter all over; you may read it which way you like. What need had she
+to tell me she has just refused offers? And then she tells me she is
+all alone. That sounds like a hint. The company of a friend might he
+agreeable. Brush your coat first, at any rate; there's something white
+on it; it is a paper; it is pinned on. Come here. Why, what is this?
+It is written on. 'Adieu.'” And Eve opened her eyes and mouth as well.
+
+She asked him when he wore the coat last.
+
+“The day before yesterday.”
+
+“Were you in company of any girls?”
+
+“Not I.”
+
+“But this is written by a girl, and it is pinned on by a girl; see how
+it is quilted in!! that's proof positive. Oh! oh! oh! look here. Look
+at these two 'Adieus'--the one in the letter and this; they are the
+same--precisely the same. What, in Heaven's name, is the meaning of
+this? Were you in her company that night?”
+
+“No.”
+
+“Will you swear that?”
+
+“No, I can't swear it, because I was asleep a part of the time; but
+waking in her company I was not.”
+
+“It is her writing, and she pinned it on you.”
+
+“How can that be, Eve?”
+
+“I don't know; I am sure she did, though. Look at this 'Adieu' and
+that; you'll never get it out of my head but what one hand wrote them
+both. You are so green, a girl would come behind you and pin it on
+you, and you never feel her.”
+
+While saying these words, Eve slyly repinned it on him without his
+feeling or knowing anything about it.
+
+David was impatient to be gone, but she held him a minute to advise
+him.
+
+“Tell her she must and shall. Don't take a denial. If you are
+cowardly, she will be bold; but if you are bold and resolute, she will
+knuckle down. Mind that; and don't go about it with such a face as
+that, as long as my arm. If she says 'No,' you have got the ship to
+comfort you. Oh! I am so happy!”
+
+“No, Eve,” said David, “if she won't give me herself, I'll never take
+her ship. I'd die a foretopman sooner;” and, with these parting words,
+he renewed all his sister's anxiety. She sat down sorrowfully, and the
+horrible idea gained on her that there was mania in David's love for
+Lucy.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII.
+
+DAVID had one advantage over others that were now hunting Lucy. Mrs.
+Wilson had unwittingly given him pretty plain directions how to find
+her farmhouse; and as Eve, in the exercise of her discretion, or
+indiscretion, had shown David Lucy's letter, he had only to ride to
+Harrowden and inquire. But, on the other hand, his competitors were a
+few miles nearer the game, and had a day's start.
+
+David got a horse and galloped to Harrowden, fed him at the inn, and
+asked where Mrs. Wilson's farm was. The waiter, a female, did not
+know, but would inquire. Meantime David asked for two sheets of paper,
+and wrote a few lines on each; then folded them both (in those days
+envelopes were not), but did not seal them. Mrs. Wilson's farm turned
+out to be only two miles from Harrowden, and the road easy to find. He
+was soon there; gave his horse to one of the farm-boys, and went into
+the kitchen and asked if Miss Fountain lived there. This question
+threw him into the hands of Jenny, who invited him to follow her, and,
+unlike your powdered and noiseless lackey, pounded the door with her
+fist, kicked it open with her foot, and announced him with that
+thunderbolt of language which fell so inopportunely on Lucy's
+self-congratulations.
+
+The look Mrs. Wilson cast on Lucy was droll enough; but when David's
+square shoulders and handsome face filled up the doorway, a second
+look followed that spoke folios.
+
+Lucy rose, and with heightened color, but admirable self-possession,
+welcomed David like a valued friend.
+
+Mrs. Wilson's greeting was broad and hearty; and, very soon after she
+had made him sit down, she bounced up, crying: “You will stay dinner
+now you be come, and I must see as they don't starve you.” So saying,
+out she went; but, looking back at the door, was transfixed by an
+arrow of reproach from her nursling's eye.
+
+Lucy's reception of David, kind as it was, was not encouraging to one
+coming on David's errand, for there was the wrong shade of amity in
+it.
+
+In times past it would have cooled David with misgivings, but now he
+did not give himself time to be discouraged; he came to make a last
+desperate effort, and he made it at once.
+
+“Miss Lucy, I have got the _Rajah,_ thanks to you.”
+
+“Thanks to me, Mr. Dodd? Thanks to your own high character and merit.”
+
+“No, Miss Lucy, you know better, and I know better, and there is your
+own sweet handwriting to prove it.”
+
+“Miss Dodd has showed you my letter?”
+
+“How could she help it?”
+
+“What a pity! how injudicious!”
+
+“The truth is like the light; why keep it out? Yes; what I have worked
+for, and battled the weather so many years, and been sober and
+prudent, and a hard student at every idle hour--that has come to me in
+one moment from your dear hand.”
+
+“It is a shame.”
+
+“Bless you, Miss Lucy,” cried David, not noting the remark.
+
+Lucy blushed, and the water stood in her eyes. She murmured softly:
+“You should not say Miss Lucy; it is not customary. You should say
+Lucy, or Miss Fountain.”
+
+This _apropos_ remark by way of a female diversion.
+
+“Then let me say Lucy to-day, for perhaps I shall never say that, or
+anything that is sweet to say again. Lucy, you know what I came for?”
+
+“Oh, yes, to receive my congratulations.”
+
+“More than that, a great deal--to ask you to go halves in the
+_Rajah.”_
+
+Lucy's eyebrows demanded an explanation.
+
+“She is worth two thousand a year to her commander; and that is too
+much for a bachelor.”
+
+Lucy colored and smiled. “Why, it is only just enough for bachelors to
+live upon.”
+
+“It is too much for me alone under the circumstances,” said David,
+gravely; and there was a little silence.
+
+“Lucy, I love you. With you the _Rajah_ would be a godsend. She
+will help me keep you in the company you have been used to, and were
+made to brighten and adorn; but without you I cannot take her from
+your hand, and, to speak plain, I won't.”
+
+“Oh, Mr. Dodd!”
+
+“No, Lucy; before I knew you, to command a ship was the height of my
+ambition--her quarter-deck my Heaven on earth; and this is a clipper,
+I own it; I saw her in the docks. But you have taught me to look
+higher. Share my ship and my heart with me, and certainly the ship
+will be my child, and all the dearer to me that she came to us from
+her I love. But don't say to me, 'Me you shan't have; you are not good
+enough for that; but there is a ship for you in my place.' I wouldn't
+accept a star out of the firmament on those terms.”
+
+“How unreasonable! On the contrary you should say, 'I am doubly
+fortunate: I escape a foolish, weak companion for life, and I have a
+beautiful ship.' But friendship such as mine for you was never
+appreciated; I do you injustice; you only talk like that to tease me
+and make me unhappy.”
+
+“Oh, Lucy, Lucy, did you ever know me--”
+
+“There, now, forgive me; and own you are not in earnest.”
+
+“This will show you,” said David, sadly; and he took out two letters
+from his bosom. “Here are two letters to the secretary. In one I
+accept the ship with thanks, and offer to superintend her when her
+rigging is being set up; and in this one I decline her altogether,
+with my humble and sincere thanks.”
+
+“Oh yes, you are very humble, sir,” said Lucy. “Now--dear
+friend--listen to reason. You have others--”
+
+“Excuse my interrupting you, but it is a rule with me never to reason
+about right and wrong; I notice that whoever does that ends by
+choosing wrong. I don't go to my head to find out my duty, I go to my
+heart; and what little manhood there is in me all cries out against me
+compounding with the woman I love, and taking a ship instead of her.”
+
+“How unkind you are! It is not as if I was under no obligations to
+you. Is not my life worth a ship? an angel like me?”
+
+“I can't see it so. It was a greater pleasure to me to save your life,
+as you call it, than it could be to you. I can't let that into the
+account. A woman is a woman, but a man is a man; and I will be under
+no obligation to you but one.”
+
+“What arrogance!”
+
+“Don't you be angry; I'll love you and bless you all the same. But I
+am a man, and a man I'll die, whether I die captain of a ship or of a
+foretop. Poor Eve!”
+
+“See how power tries people, and brings out their true character.
+Since you commanded the _Rajah_ you are all changed. You used to
+be submissive; now you must have your own way entirely. You will fling
+my poor ship in my face unless I give you--but this is really using
+force--yes, Mr. Dodd, this is using force. Somebody has told you that
+my sex yield when downright compulsion is used. It is true; and the
+more ungenerous to apply it;” and she melted into a few placid tears.
+
+David did not know this sign of yielding in a woman, and he groaned at
+the sight and hung his head.
+
+“Advise me what I had better do.”
+
+To this singular proposal, David, listening to the ill advice of the
+fiend Generosity, groaned out, “Why should you be tormented and made
+cry?”
+
+“Why indeed?”
+
+“Nothing can change me; I advise you to cut it short.”
+
+“Oh, do you? very well. Why did you say 'poor Eve'?”
+
+“Ah, poor thing! she cried for joy when she read your letter, but when
+I go back she will cry for grief;” and his voice faltered.
+
+“I will cut this short, Mr. Dodd; give me that paper.”
+
+“Which?”
+
+“The wicked one, where you refuse my _Rajah_.”
+
+David hesitated.
+
+“You are no gentleman, sir, if you refuse a lady. Give it me this
+instant,” cried Lucy, so haughtily and imperiously that David did not
+know her, and gave her the letter with a half-cowed air.
+
+She took it, and with both her supple white hands tore it with
+insulting precision exactly in half. “There, sir and there, sir”
+ (exactly in four); “and there” (in eight, with malicious exactness);
+“and there”; and, though it seemed impossible to effect another
+separation, yet the taper fingers and a resolute will reduced it to
+tiny bits. She then made a gesture to throw them in the fire, but
+thought better of it and held them.
+
+David looked on, almost amused at this zealous demolition of a thing
+he could so easily replace. He said, part sadly, part doggedly, part
+apologetically, “I can write another.”
+
+“But you will not. Oh, Mr. Dodd, don't you see?!”
+
+He looked up at her eagerly. To his surprise, her haughty eagle look
+had gone, and she seemed a pitying goddess, all tenderness and
+benignity; only her mantling, burning cheek showed her to be woman.
+
+She faltered, in answer to his wild, eager look. “Was I ever so rude
+before? What right have I to tear your letter unless I--”
+
+The characteristic full stop, and, above all, the heaving bosom, the
+melting eye, and the red cheek, were enough even for poor simple
+David. Heaven seemed to open on him. His burning kisses fell on the
+sweet hands that had torn his death-warrant. No resistance. She
+blushed higher, but smiled. His powerful arm curled round her. She
+looked a little scared, but not much. He kissed her sweet cheek: the
+blush spread to her very forehead at that, but no resistance. As the
+winged and rapid bird, if her feathers be but touched with a speck of
+bird-lime, loses all power of flight, so it seemed as if that one
+kiss, the first a stranger had ever pressed on Lucy's virgin cheek,
+paralyzed her eel-like and evasive powers; under it her whole supple
+frame seemed to yield as David drew her closer and closer to him, till
+she hid her forehead and wet eyelashes on his shoulder, and murmured:
+
+“How could I let _you_ be unhappy?!”
+
+Neither spoke for a while. Each felt the other's heart beat; and David
+drank that ecstasy of silent, delirious bliss which comes to great
+hearts once in a life.
+
+Had he not earned it?
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX.
+
+By some mighty instinct Mrs. Wilson knew when to come in. She came to
+the door just one minute after Lucy had capitulated, and, turning the
+handle, but without opening the door, bawled some fresh directions to
+Jenny: this was to enable Lucy to smooth her ruffled feathers, if
+necessary, and look Agnes. But Lucy's actual contact with that honest
+heart seemed to have made a change in her; instead of doing Agnes, she
+confronted (after a fashion of her own) the situation she had so long
+evaded.
+
+“Oh, nurse!” she cried, and wreathed her arms round her.
+
+“Don't cry, my lamb! I can guess.”
+
+“Cry? Oh no; I would not pay him so poor a compliment. It was to say,
+'Dear nurse, you must love Mr. Dodd as well as me now.'”
+
+The dame received this indirect intelligence with hearty delight.
+
+“That won't cost me much trouble,” said she. “He is the one I'd have
+picked out of all England for my nursling. When a young man is kind to
+an old woman, it is a good sign; but la! his face is enough for me:
+who ever saw guile in such a face as that. Aren't ye hungry by this
+time? Dinner will be ready in about a minute.”
+
+“Nurse, can I speak to you a word?”
+
+“Yes, sure.”
+
+It was to inquire whether she would invite Miss Dodd.
+
+“She loves her brother very dearly, and it is cruel to separate them.
+Mr. Dodd will be nearly always here now, will he not?”
+
+“You may take your davy of that.”
+
+In a very few minutes a note was written, and Mrs. Wilson's eldest
+son, a handsome young farmer, started in the covered cart with his
+mother's orders “to bring the young lady willy-nilly.”
+
+
+The holy allies both openly scouted Kenealy's advice, and both slyly
+stepped down into the town and acted on it. Mr. Fountain then returned
+to Font Abbey. Their two advertisements appeared side by side, and
+exasperated them.
+
+After dinner Mrs. Wilson sent Lucy and David out to take a walk. At
+the gate they met with a little interruption; a carriage drove up; the
+coachman touched his hat, and Mrs. Bazalgette put her head out of the
+window.
+
+“I came to take you back, love.”
+
+David quaked.
+
+“Thank you, aunt; but it is not worth while now.”
+
+“Ah!” said Mrs. Bazalgette, casting a venomous look on David; “I am
+too late, am I? Poor girl!”
+
+Lucy soothed her aunt with the information that she was much happier
+now than she had been for a long time past. For this was a
+fencing-match.
+
+“May I have a word in private with my niece?” inquired Mrs.
+Bazalgette, bitterly, of David.
+
+“Why not?” said David stoutly; but his heart turned sick as he
+retired. Lucy saw the look of anxiety.
+
+“Lucy,” said Mrs. Bazalgette, “you left me because you are averse to
+matrimony, and I urged you to it; of course, with those sentiments,
+you have no idea of marrying that man there. I don't suspect you of
+such hypocrisy, and therefore I say come home with me, and you shall
+marry nobody; your inclination shall be free as air.”
+
+“Aunt,” said Lucy, demurely, “why didn't you come yesterday? I always
+said those who love me best would find me first, and you let Mr. Dodd
+come first. I am so sorry!”
+
+“Then your pretended aversion to marriage was all hypocrisy, was it?”
+
+Lucy informed her that marriage was a contract, and the contracting
+parties two, and no more--the bride and bridegroom; and that to sign a
+contract without reading it is silly, and meaning not to keep it is
+wicked. “So,” said she, “I read the contract over in the prayer-book
+this morning, for fear of accidents.”
+
+My reader may, perhaps, be amused at this admission; but Mrs.
+Bazalgette was disgusted, and inquired, “What stuff is the girl
+talking now?”
+
+“It is called common sense. Well, I find the contract is one I can
+carry out with Mr. Dodd, and with nobody else. I can love him a
+little, can honor him a great deal, and obey him entirely. I begin
+now. There he is; and if you feel you cannot show him the courtesy of
+making him one in our conversation, permit me to retire and relieve
+his solitude.”
+
+“Mighty fine; and if you don't instantly leave him and come home, you
+shall never enter my house again.”
+
+“Unless sickness or trouble should visit your house, and then you will
+send for me, and I shall come.”
+
+Mrs. Bazalgette (to the coachman).--“Home!”
+
+Lucy made her a polite obeisance, to keep up appearances before the
+servants and the farm-people, who were gaping. She, whose breeding was
+inferior, flounced into a corner without returning it. The carriage
+drove off.
+
+David inquired with great anxiety whether something had not been said
+to vex her.
+
+“Not in the least,” replied Lucy, calmly. “Little things and little
+people can no longer vex me. I have great duties to think of and a
+great heart to share them with me. Let us walk toward Harrowden; we
+may perhaps meet a friend.”
+
+Sure enough, just on this side Harrowden they met the covered cart,
+and Eve in it, radiant with unexpected delight. The engaged ones--for
+such they had become in those two miles--mounted the cart, and the two
+men sat in front, and Eve and Lucy intertwined at the back, and opened
+their hearts to each other.
+
+Eve. And you have taken the paper off again?
+
+Lucy. What paper? It was no longer applicable.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXX.
+
+I HAVE already noticed that Lucy, after capitulation, laid down her
+arms gracefully and sensibly. When she was asked to name a very early
+day for the wedding, she opposed no childish delay to David's
+happiness, for the _Rajah_ was to sail in six weeks and separate
+them. So the license was got, and the wedding-day came; and all Lucy's
+previous study of the contract did not prevent her from being deeply
+affected by the solemn words that joined her to David in holy
+matrimony.
+
+She bore up, though, stoutly; for her sense of propriety and courtesy
+forbade her to cloud a festivity. But, when the post-chaise came to
+convey bride and bridegroom on their little tour, and she had to leave
+Mrs. Wilson and Eve for a whole week, the tears would not be denied;
+and, to show how perilous a road matrimony is, these two risked a
+misunderstanding on their wedding-day, thus: Lucy, all alone in the
+post-chaise with David, dissolved--a perfect Niobe--gushing at short
+intervals. Sometimes a faint explanation gurgled out with the tears:
+“Poor Eve! her dear little face was working so not to cry. Oh! oh! I
+should not have minded so much if she had cried right out.” Then,
+again, it was “Poor Mrs. Wilson! I was only a week with her, for all
+her love. I have made a c--at's p--paw of her--oh!”
+
+Then, again, “Uncle Bazalgette has never noticed us; he thinks me a
+h--h--ypocrite.” But quite as often they flowed without any
+accompanying reason.
+
+Now if David had been a poetaster, he would have said: “Why these
+tears? she has got me. Am I not more than an equivalent to these puny
+considerations?” and all this salt water would have burned into his
+vanity like liquid caustic. If he had been a poet, he would have said:
+“Alas! I make her unhappy whom I hoped to make happy”; and with this
+he would have been sad, and so prolonged her sadness, and perhaps
+ended by sulking. But David had two good things--a kind heart and a
+skin not too thin: and such are the men that make women happy, in
+spite of their weak nerves and craven spirits.
+
+He gave her time; soothed her kindly; but did not check her weakness
+dead short.
+
+At last my Lady Chesterfield said to him, penitently, “This is a poor
+compliment to you, Mr. Dodd”; and then Niobized again, partly, I
+believe, with regret that she was behaving so discourteously.
+
+“It is very natural,” said David, kindly, “but we shall soon see them
+all again, you know.”
+
+Presently she looked in his radiant face, with wet eyes, but a
+half-smile. “You amaze me; you don't seem the least terrified at what
+we have done.”
+
+“Not a bit,” cried David, like a cheerful horn: “I have been in worse
+peril than this, and so have you. Our troubles are all over; I see
+nothing but happiness ahead.” He then drew a sunny picture of their
+future life, to all which she listened demurely; and, in short, he
+treated her little feminine distress as the summer sun treats a mist
+that tries to vie with it. He soon dried her up, and when they reached
+their journey's end she was as bright as himself.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXI.
+
+THEY had been married a week. A slight change, but quite distinct to
+an observer of her sex, bloomed in Lucy's face and manner. A new
+beauty was in her face--the blossom of wifehood. Her eyes, though not
+less modest, were less timid than before; and now they often met
+David's full, and seemed to sip affection at them. When he came near
+her, her lovely frame showed itself conscious of his approach. His
+queen, though he did not know it, was his vassal. They sat at table at
+a little inn, twenty miles from Harrowden, for they were on their
+return to Mrs. Wilson. Lucy went to the window while David settled the
+bill. At the window it is probable she had her own thoughts, for she
+glided up behind David, and, fanning his hair with her cool, honeyed
+breath, she said, in the tone of a humble inquirer seeking historical
+or antiquarian information, “I want to ask you a question, David: are
+you happy _too?”_
+
+David answered promptly, but inarticulately; so his reply is lost to
+posterity. Conjecture alone survives.
+
+
+One disappointment awaited Lucy at Mrs. Wilson's. There were several
+letters for both David and her, but none from Mr. Bazalgette. She knew
+by that she had lost his respect. She could not blame him, for she saw
+how like disingenuousness and hypocrisy her conduct must look to him.
+“I must trust to time and opportunity,” she said, with a sigh. She
+proposed to David to read all her letters, and she would read all his.
+He thought this a droll idea; but nothing that identified him with his
+royal vassal came amiss. The first letter of Lucy's that David opened
+was from Mr. Talboys.
+
+
+“DEAR MADAM--I have heard of your marriage with Mr. Dodd, and desire
+to offer both you and him my cordial congratulations.
+
+“I feel under considerable obligation to Mr. Dodd; and, should my
+house ever have a mistress, I hope she will be able to tempt you both
+to renew our acquaintance under my roof, and so give me once more that
+opportunity I have too little improved of showing you both the sincere
+respect and gratitude with which I am,
+
+“Your very faithful servant,
+
+“REGINALD TALBOYS.”
+
+
+Lucy was delighted with this note. “Who says it was nothing to have
+been born a gentleman?”
+
+The second letter was from Reginald No. 2; and, if I only give the
+reader a fragment of it, I still expect his gratitude, all one as if I
+had disinterred a fragment of Orpheus or Tiresias.
+
+     Dear lucy.
+     It is very ungust of you to go and
+     Mary other peeple wen you
+     Promised me. but it is mr. dod.
+     So i dont so much mind i like
+     Mr. dod. he is a duc. and they all
+     Say i am too litle and jane says
+     Sailors always end by been
+     Drouned so it is only put off.
+     But you reely must keep your
+     Promise to me. wen i am biger
+     And mr. Dod is drouned. my
+     Ginny pigs--
+
+
+Here a white hand drew the pleasing composition out of David's hand,
+and dropped it on the floor; two piteous, tearful eyes were bent on
+him, and a white arm went tenderly round his neck to save him from the
+threatened fate.
+
+At this sight Eve pounced on the horrid scroll, and hurled it, with
+general acclamation, into the flames.
+
+Thus that sweet infant revenged himself, and, like Sampson, hit
+hardest of all at parting--in tears and flame vanished from written
+fiction, and, I conclude, went back to Gavarni.
+
+There was a letter from Mr. Fountain--all fire and fury. She was never
+to write or speak to him any more. He was now looking out for a youth
+of good family to adopt and to make a Fontaine of by act of
+Parliament, etc., etc. A fusillade of written thunderbolts.
+
+There was another from Mrs. Bazalgette, written with cream--of tartar
+and oil--of vitriol. She forgave her niece and wished her every
+happiness it was possible for a young person to enjoy who had deceived
+her relations and married beneath her. She felt pity rather than
+anger; and there was no reason why Mr. and Mrs. Dodd should not visit
+her house, as far as she was concerned; but Mr. Bazalgette was a man
+of very stern rectitude, and, as she could not make sure that he would
+treat them with common courtesy after what had passed, she thought a
+temporary separation might be the better course for all parties.
+
+I may as well take this opportunity of saying that these two egotists
+carried out the promise of their respective letters. Mr. Fountain
+blustered for a year or two, and then showed manifest signs of
+relenting.
+
+Mrs. Bazalgette kept cool, and wrote, in oils, twice a year to Mrs.
+Dodd:
+
+“ET GARDAIT TOUT DOUCEMENT UNE HAINE IRRECONCILIABLE.”
+
+
+Lucy had to answer these letters. In signing one of them, she took a
+look at her new signature and smiled. “What a dear, quaint little name
+mine is!” said she. “Lucy Dodd;” and she kissed the signature.
+
+           A Month after Marriage.
+
+The Dodds took a house in London and Eve came up to them. David was
+nearly all day superintending the ship, but spent the whole evening
+with his wife at home. Zeal always produces irritation. The servant
+that is anxious for his employer's interest is sure to get into a
+passion or two with the deadness, indifference and heartless injustice
+of the genuine hireling. So David was often irritated and worried, and
+in hot water, while superintending the _Rajah,_ but the moment he
+saw his own door, away he threw it all, and came into the house like a
+jocund sunbeam. Nothing wins a woman more than this, provided she is
+already inclined in the man's favor. As the hour that brought David
+approached, Lucy's spirits and Eve's used both to rise by
+anticipation, and that anticipation his hearty, genial temper never
+disappointed.
+
+
+One day Lucy came to David for information. “David, there is a
+singular change in me. It is since we came to London. I used to be a
+placid girl; now I am a fidget.”
+
+“I don't see it, love.”
+
+“No; how should you, dear? It always goes away when you come. Now
+listen. When five o'clock comes near, I turn hot and restless, and can
+hardly keep from the window; and if you are five minutes after your
+time, I really cannot keep from the window; and my nerves _se
+crispent,_ and I cannot sit still. It is very foolish. What does it
+mean? Can you tell me?”
+
+“Of course I can. I am just the same when people are unpunctual. It is
+inexcusable, and nothing is so vexing. I ought to be--”
+
+“Oh David, what nonsense! it is not that. Could I ever be vexed with
+my David?”
+
+“Well, then, there is Eve; we'll ask her.”
+
+“If you dare, sir!” and Mrs. Dodd was carnation.
+
+           Four years after the above events
+
+Two ladies were gossiping.
+
+1st Lady. “What I like about Mrs. Dodd is that she is so truthful.”
+
+2d Lady. “Oh, is she?”
+
+1st Lady. “Yes, she is indeed. Certainly she is not a woman that
+blurts out unpleasant things without any necessity; she is kind and
+considerate in word and deed, but she is always true. She has got an
+eye that meets you like a little lion's eye, and a tongue without
+guile. I do love Mrs. Dodd dearly.”
+
+
+Two Qui his were talking in Leadenhall Street.
+
+1st Qui hi. “Well, so you are going out again.”
+
+2d Qui hi. “Yes; they have offered me a commissionership. I must make
+another lac for the children.”
+
+1st Qui hi. “When do you sail?”
+
+2d Qui hi. “By the first good ship. I should like a good ship.”
+
+1st Qui hi. “Well, then, you had better go out with Gentleman Dodd.”
+
+2d Qui hi. “Gentleman Dodd? I should prefer Sailor Dodd. I don't want
+to founder off the Cape.”
+
+1st Qui hi. “Oh, but this is a first-rate sailor, and a first-rate
+fellow altogether.”
+
+2d Qui hi. “Then why do you call him 'Gentleman Dodd'?”
+
+1st Qui hi. “Oh, because he is so polite. He won't stand an oath
+within hearing of his quarter-deck, and is particularly kind and
+courteous to the passengers, especially to the ladies. His ship is
+always full.”
+
+2d Qui hi. “Is it? Then I'll go out with 'Gentleman Dodd.'”
+
+                          --------------
+
+
+TO MY MALE READERS.
+
+I SEE with some surprise that there still linger in the field of
+letters writers who think that, in fiction, when a personage speaks
+with an air of conviction, the sentiments must be the author's own.
+(When two of his personages give each other the lie, which represents
+the author? both?)
+
+I must ask you to shun this error; for instance, do not go and take
+Eve Dodd's opinion of my heroine, or Mrs. Bazalgette's, for mine.
+
+Miss Dodd, in particular, however epigrammatic she may appear, is
+shallow: her criticism _peche par la base._ She talks too much as
+if young girls were in the habit of looking into their own minds, like
+little metaphysicians, and knowing all that goes on there; but, on the
+contrary, this is just what women in general don't do, and young women
+can't do.
+
+No male will quite understand Lucy Fountain who does not take
+“instinct” and “self-deception” into the account. But with those two
+dews and your own intelligence, you cannot fail to unravel her, and
+will, I hope, thank me in your hearts for leaving you something to
+study, and not clogging my sluggish narrative with a mass of comment
+and explanation.
+
+
+The End.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's Love Me Little, Love Me Long, by Charles Reade
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+   PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN"
+   "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" >
+
+<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en">
+  <head>
+    <title>
+      Love Me Little, Love Me Long, by Charles Reade
+    </title>
+    <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve">
+
+    body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify}
+    P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; }
+    H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; }
+    hr  { width: 50%; text-align: center;}
+    .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; }
+    blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;}
+    .mynote    {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;}
+    .toc       { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;}
+    .toc2      { margin-left: 20%;}
+    div.fig    { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; }
+    div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; }
+    .figleft   {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;}
+    .figright  {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;}
+    .pagenum   {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal;
+               margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%;
+               text-align: right;}
+    pre        { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;}
+
+</style>
+  </head>
+  <body>
+
+
+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Love Me Little, Love Me Long, by Charles Reade
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Love Me Little, Love Me Long
+
+Author: Charles Reade
+
+
+Release Date: November, 2003 [Etext #4607]
+This file was first posted on February 18, 2002
+Last Updated: March 5, 2018
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LOVE ME LITTLE, LOVE ME LONG ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by James Rusk and David Widger
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+    <div style="height: 8em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h1>
+      LOVE ME LITTLE, LOVE ME LONG
+    </h1>
+    <h2>
+      By Charles Reade
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <b>CONTENTS</b>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_PREF"> PREFACE </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I. </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II. </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III. </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV. </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V. </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI. </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII. </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII. </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX. </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X. </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI. </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII. </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII. </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV. </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV. </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI. </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII. </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII. </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX. </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XX. </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER XXI. </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER XXII. </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0023"> CHAPTER XXIII. </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0024"> CHAPTER XXIV. </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0025"> CHAPTER XXV. </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0026"> CHAPTER XXVI. </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0027"> CHAPTER XXVII. </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0028"> CHAPTER XXVIII. </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0029"> CHAPTER XXIX. </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0030"> CHAPTER XXX. </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0031"> CHAPTER XXXI. </a>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_PREF" id="link2H_PREF">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      PREFACE
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      SHOULD these characters, imbedded in carpet incidents, interest the public
+      at all, they will probably reappear in more potent scenes. This design,
+      which I may never live to execute, is, I fear, the only excuse I can at
+      present offer for some pages, forming the twelfth chapter of this volume.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER I.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      NEARLY a quarter of a century ago, Lucy Fountain, a young lady of beauty
+      and distinction, was, by the death of her mother, her sole surviving
+      parent, left in the hands of her two trustees, Edward Fountain, Esq., of
+      Font Abbey, and Mr. Bazalgette, a merchant whose wife was Mrs. Fountain's
+      half-sister.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They agreed to lighten the burden by dividing it. She should spend half
+      the year with each trustee in turn, until marriage should take her off
+      their hands.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Our mild tale begins in Mr. Bazalgette's own house, two years after the
+      date of that arrangement.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The chit-chat must be your main clue to the characters. In life it is the
+      same. Men and women won't come to you ticketed, or explanation in hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Lucy, you are a great comfort in a house; it is so nice to have some one
+      to pour out one's heart to; my husband is no use at all.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Aunt Bazalgette!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In that way. You listen to my faded illusions, to the aspirations of a
+      nature too finely organized, ah! to find its happiness in this rough,
+      selfish world. When I open my bosom to him, what does he do? Guess now&mdash;whistles.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then I call that rude.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So do I; and then he whistles more and more.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; but, aunt, if any serious trouble or grief fell upon you, you would
+      find Mr. Bazalgette a much greater comfort and a better stay than poor
+      spiritless me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, if the house took fire and fell about our ears, he would come out of
+      his shell, no doubt; or if the children all died one after another, poor
+      dear little souls; but those great troubles only come in stories. Give me
+      a friend that can sympathize with the real hourly mortifications of a too
+      susceptible nature; sit on this ottoman, and let me go on. Where was I
+      when Jones came and interrupted us? They always do just at the interesting
+      point.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Miss Fountain's face promptly wreathed itself into an expectant smile. She
+      abandoned her hand and her ear, and leaned her graceful person toward her
+      aunt, while that lady murmured to her in low and thrilling tones&mdash;his
+      eyes, his long hair, his imaginative expressions, his romantic projects of
+      frugal love; how her harsh papa had warned Adonis off the premises; how
+      Adonis went without a word (as pale as death, love), and soon after, in
+      his despair, flung himself&mdash;to an ugly heiress; and how this
+      disappointment had darkened her whole life, and so on.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Perhaps, if Adonis had stood before her now, rolling his eyes, and his
+      phrases hot from the annuals, the flourishing matron might have sent him
+      to the servants' hall with a wave of her white and jeweled hand. But the
+      melody disarms this sort of brutal criticism&mdash;a woman's voice
+      relating love's young dream; and then the picture&mdash;a matron still
+      handsome pouring into a lovely virgin's ear the last thing she ought; the
+      young beauty's eyes mimicking sympathy; the ripe beauty's soft, delicious
+      accents&mdash;purr! purr! purr!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Crash overhead! a window smashed aie! aie! clatter! clatter! screams of
+      infantine rage and feminine remonstrance, feet pattering, and a general
+      hullabaloo, cut the soft recital in two. The ladies clasped hands, like
+      guilty things surprised.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy sprang to her feet; the oppressed one sank slowly and gracefully
+      back, inch by inch, on the ottoman, with a sigh of ostentatious
+      resignation, and gazed, martyr-like, on the chandelier.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Will you not go up to the nursery?&rdquo; cried Lucy, in a flutter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, dear,&rdquo; replied the other, faintly, but as cool as a marble slab; &ldquo;you
+      go; cast some of your oil upon those ever-troubled waters and then come
+      back and let us try once more.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Miss Fountain heard but half this sentence; she was already gliding up the
+      stairs. She opened the nursery door, and there stood in the middle of the
+      room &ldquo;Original Sin.&rdquo; Its name after the flesh was Master Reginald. It was
+      half-past six, had been baptized in church, after which every child
+      becomes, according to polemic divines of the day, &ldquo;a little soul of
+      Christian fire&rdquo; until it goes to a public school. And there it straddled,
+      two scarlet cheeks puffed out with rage, soft flaxen hair streaming,
+      cerulean eyes glowing, the poker grasped in two chubby fists. It had poked
+      a window in vague ire, and now threatened two females with extinction if
+      they riled it any more.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The two grown-up women were discovered, erect, but flat, in distant
+      corners, avoiding the bayonet and trusting to their artillery.
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+     &ldquo;Wicked boy!&rdquo;
+      &ldquo;Naughty boy!&rdquo; (grape.)
+     &ldquo;Little ruffian!&rdquo; etc.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      And hints as to the ultimate destination of so sanguinary a soul (round
+      shot).
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! here's miss. Oh, miss, we are so glad you are come up; don't go anigh
+      him, miss; he is a tiger.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Miss Fountain smiled, and went gracefully on one knee beside him. This
+      brought her angelic face level with the fallen cherub's. &ldquo;What is the
+      matter, dear?&rdquo; asked she, in a tone of soft pity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The tiger was not prepared for this: he dropped his poker and flung his
+      little arm round his cousin's neck.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I love YOU. Oh! oh! oh!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, dear; then tell me, now&mdash;what is the matter? What have you been
+      doing?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Noth&mdash;noth&mdash;nothing&mdash;it's th&mdash;them been na&mdash;a&mdash;agging
+      me!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nagging you?&rdquo; and she smiled at the word and a tiger's horror of it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who has been nagging you, love?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Th&mdash;those&mdash;bit&mdash;bit&mdash;it.&rdquo; The word was unfortunately
+      lost in a sob. It was followed by red faces and two simultaneous yells of
+      remonstrance and objurgation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I must ask you to be silent a minute,&rdquo; said Miss Fountain, quietly.
+      &ldquo;Reginald, what do you mean by&mdash;by&mdash;nagging?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Reginald explained. &ldquo;By nagging he meant&mdash;why&mdash;nagging.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, then, what had they been doing to him?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      No; poor Reginald was not analytical, dialectical and critical, like
+      certain pedanticules who figure in story as children. He was a terrible
+      infant, not a horrible one.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They won't fight and they won't make it up, and they keep nagging,&rdquo; was
+      all could be got out of him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come with me, dear,&rdquo; said Lucy, gravely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; assented the tiger, softly, and went out awestruck, holding her
+      hand, and paddling three steps to each of her serpentine glides.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Seated in her own room, tiger at knee, she tried topics of admonition.
+      During these his eyes wandered about the room in search of matter more
+      amusing, so she was obliged to bring up her reserve.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And no young lady will ever marry you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't want them to, cousin; I wouldn't let them; you will marry me,
+      because you promised.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did I?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, you know you did&mdash;upon your honor; and no lady or gentleman
+      ever breaks their word when they say that; you told me so yourself,&rdquo; added
+      he of the inconvenient memory.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! but there is another rule that I forgot to tell you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That no lady ever marries a gentleman who has a violent temper.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, don't they?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; they would be afraid. If you had a wife, and took up the poker, she
+      would faint away, and die&mdash;perhaps!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, dear!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I should.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But, cousin, you would not <i>want</i> the poker taken to you; you never
+      nag.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Perhaps that is because we are not married yet.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What, then, when we are, shall you turn like the others?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Impossible to say.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, then&rdquo; (after a moment's hesitation), &ldquo;I'll marry you all the same.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No! you forget; I shall be afraid until your temper mends.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll mend it. It is mended now. See how good I am now,&rdquo; added he, with
+      self-admiration and a shade of surprise.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't call this mending it, for I am not the one that offended you;
+      mending it is promising me never, never to call naughty names again. How
+      would you like to be called a dog?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'd kill 'em.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There, you see&mdash;then how can you expect poor nurse to like it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You don't understand, cousin&mdash;Tom said to George the groom that Mrs.
+      Jones was an&mdash;old&mdash;stingy&mdash;b&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't want to hear anything about Tom.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He is such a clever fellow, cousin. So I think, if Jones is an old one,
+      those two that keep nagging me must be young ones. What do you think
+      yourself?&rdquo; asked Reginald, appealing suddenly to her candor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And no doubt it was Tom that taught you this other vulgar word
+      'nagging,'&rdquo; was the evasive reply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, that was mamma.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy colored, wheeled quickly, and demanded severely of the terrible
+      infant: &ldquo;Who is this Tom?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What! don't you know Tom?&rdquo; Reginald began to lose a grain of his respect
+      for her. &ldquo;Why, he helps in the stables; oh, cousin, he is such a nice
+      fellow!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Reginald, I shall never marry you if you keep company with grooms, and
+      speak their language.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well!&rdquo; sighed the victim, &ldquo;I'll give up Tom sooner than you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank you, dear; now I <i>am</i> flattered. One struggle more; we must go
+      together and ask the nurses' pardon.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Must we? ugh!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes&mdash;and kiss them&mdash;and make it up.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Reginald made a wry face; but, after a pause of solemn reflection, he
+      consented, on condition that Lucy would keep near him, and kiss him
+      directly afterward.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shall be sure to do that, because you will be a good boy then.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Outside the door Reginald paused: &ldquo;I have a favor to ask you, cousin&mdash;a
+      great favor. You see I am so very little, and you are so big; now the
+      husband ought to be the biggest.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Quite my own opinion, Reggy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, dear, now if you would be so kind as not to grow any older till I
+      catch you up, I shall be so very, very, very much obliged to you, dear.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will try, Reggy. Nineteen is a very good age. I will stay there as long
+      as my friends will let me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank you, cousin.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But that is not what we have in hand.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The nurses were just agreeing what a shame it was of miss to take that
+      little vagabond's part against them, when she opened the door. &ldquo;Nurse,
+      here is a penitent&mdash;a young gentleman who is never going to use rude
+      words, or be violent and naughty again.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;La! miss, why, it is witchcraft&mdash;the dear child&mdash;soon up and
+      soon down, as a boy should.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Beg par'n, nurse&mdash;beg par'n, Kitty,&rdquo; recited the dear child, late
+      tiger, and kissed them both hastily; and, this double formula gone
+      through, ran to Miss Fountain and kissed her with warmth, while the nurses
+      were reciting &ldquo;little angel,&rdquo; &ldquo;all heart,&rdquo; etc.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To take the taste out of my mouth,&rdquo; explained the penitent, and was left
+      with his propitiated females; and didn't they nag him at short intervals
+      until sunset! But, strong in the contemplation of his future union with
+      Cousin Lucy, this great heart in a little body despised the pins and
+      needles that had goaded him to fury before.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy went down to the drawing-room. She found Mrs. Bazalgette leaning with
+      one elbow on the table, her hand shading her high, polished forehead; her
+      grave face reflecting great mental power taxed to the uttermost. So Newton
+      looked, solving Nature.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Miss Fountain came in full of the nursery business, but, catching sight of
+      so much mind in labor, approached it with silent curiosity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The oracle looked up with an absorbed air, and delivered itself very
+      slowly, with eye turned inward.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am afraid&mdash;I don't think&mdash;I quite like my new dress.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That <i>is</i> unfortunate.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That would not matter; I never like anything till I have altered it; but
+      here is Baldwin has just sent me word that her mother is dying, and she
+      can't undertake any work for a week. Provoking! could not the woman die
+      just as well after the ball?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, aunt!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And my maid has no more taste than an owl. What on earth am I to do?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wear another dress.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What other can I?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nothing can be prettier than your white mousseline de soie with the
+      tartan trimming.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, I have worn that at four balls already; I won't be known by my
+      colors, like a bird. I have made up my mind to wear the jaune, and I will,
+      in spite of them all; that is, if I can find anybody who cares enough for
+      me to try it on, and tell me what it wants.&rdquo; Lucy offered at once to go
+      with her to her room and try it on.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No&mdash;no&mdash;it is so cold there; we will do it here by the fire.
+      You will find it in the large wardrobe, dear. Mind how you carry it. Lucy!
+      lots of pins.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Bazalgette then rang the bell, and told the servant to say she was
+      out if anyone called, no matter who.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Meantime Lucy, impressed with the gravity of her office, took the dress
+      carefully down from the pegs; and as it would have been death to crease
+      it, and destruction to let its hem sweep against any of the inferior forms
+      of matter, she came down the stairs and into the room holding this female
+      weapon of destruction as high above her head as Judith waves the sword of
+      Holofernes in Etty's immortal picture.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The other had just found time to loosen her dress and lock one of the
+      doors. She now locked the other, and the rites began. Well!!??
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It fits you like a glove.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Really? tell the truth now; it is a sin to tell a story&mdash;about a new
+      gown. What a nuisance one can't see behind one!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I could fetch another glass, but you may trust my word, aunt. This point
+      behind is very becoming; it gives distinction to the waist.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, Baldwin cuts these bodies better than Olivier; but the worst of her
+      is, when it comes to the trimming you have to think for yourself. The
+      woman has no mind; she is a pair of hands, and there is an end of her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I must confess it is a little plain, for one thing,&rdquo; said Lucy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, you little goose, you don't think I am going to wear it like this.
+      No. I thought of having down a wreath and bouquet from Foster's of violets
+      and heart's-ease&mdash;the bosom and sleeves covered with blond, you know,
+      and caught up here and there with a small bunch of the flowers. Then, in
+      the center heart's-ease of the bosom, I meant to have had two of my
+      largest diamonds set&mdash;hush!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The door-handle worked viciously; then came rap! rap! rap! rap!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tic&mdash;tic&mdash;tic; this is always the way. Who is there? Go away;
+      you can't come here.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But I want to speak to you. What the deuce are you doing?&rdquo; said through
+      the keyhole the wretch that owned the room in a mere legal sense.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We are trying a dress. Come again in an hour.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Confound your dresses! Who is we?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Lucy has got a new dress.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Aunt!&rdquo; whispered Lucy, in a tone of piteous expostulation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, if it is Lucy. Well, good-by, ladies. I am obliged to go to London at
+      a moment's notice for a couple of days. You will have done by when I come
+      back, perhaps,&rdquo; and off went Bazalgette whistling, but not best pleased.
+      He had told his wife more than once that the drawing-rooms and
+      dining-rooms of a house are the public rooms, and the bedrooms the private
+      ones.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy colored with mortification. It was death to her to annoy anyone; so
+      her aunt had thrust her into a cruel position.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Poor Mr. Bazalgette!&rdquo; sighed she.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Fiddle de dee. Let him go, and come back in a better temper&mdash;set
+      transparent; so then, backed by the violet, you know, they will imitate
+      dewdrops to the life.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Charming! Why not let Olivier do it for you, as poor Baldwin cannot?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because Olivier works for the Claytons, and we should have that Emily
+      Clayton out as my double; and as we visit the same houses&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And as she is extremely pretty&mdash;aunt, what a generalissima you are!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pretty! Snub-nosed little toad. No, she is not pretty. But she is
+      eighteen; so I can't afford to dress her. No. I see I shall have to
+      moderate my views for this gown, and buy another dress for the flowers and
+      diamonds. There, take it off, and let us think it calmly over. I never act
+      in a hurry but I am sorry for it afterward&mdash;I mean in things of real
+      importance.&rdquo; The gown was taken off in silence, broken only by occasional
+      sighs from the sufferer, in whose heart a dozen projects battled fiercely
+      for the mastery, and worried and sore perplexed her, and rent her inmost
+      soul fiercely divers ways.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Black lace, dear,&rdquo; suggested Lucy, soothingly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. B. curled her arm lovingly round Lucy's waist. &ldquo;Just what I was
+      beginning to think,&rdquo; said she, warmly. &ldquo;And we can't both be mistaken, can
+      we? But where can I get enough?&rdquo; and her countenance, that the cheering
+      coincidence had rendered seraphic, was once more clouded with doubt.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, you have yards of it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, but mine is all made up in some form or other, and it musses one's
+      things so to pick them to pieces.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So it does, dear,&rdquo; replied Lucy, with gentle but genuine feeling.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It would only be for one night, Lucy&mdash;I should not hurt it, love&mdash;you
+      would not like to fetch down your Brussels point scarf, and see how it
+      would look, would you? We need not cut the lace, dear; we could tack it on
+      again the next morning; you are not so particular as I am&mdash;you look
+      well in anything.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy was soon seated denuding herself and embellishing her aunt. The
+      latter reclined with grace, and furthered the work by smile and gesture.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You don't ask me about the skirmish in the nursery.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Their squabbles bore me, dear; but you can tell me who was the most in
+      fault, if you think it worth while.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Reginald, then, I am afraid; but it is not the poor boy; it is the
+      influence of the stable-yard; and I do advise and entreat you to keep him
+      out of it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Impossible, my dear; you don't know boys. The stable is their paradise.
+      When he grows older his father must interfere; meantime, let us talk of
+      something more agreeable.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; you shall go on with your story. You had got to his look of despair
+      when your papa came in that morning.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I have no time for anybody's despair just now; I can think of nothing
+      but this detestable gown. Lucy, I suspect I almost wish I had made them
+      put another breadth into the skirt.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Luncheon, ma'am.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy begged her aunt to go down alone; she would stay and work.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, you must come to luncheon; there is a dish on purpose for you&mdash;stewed
+      eels.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Eels; why, I abhor them; I think they are water-serpents.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who is it that is so fond of them, then?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is you, aunt.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So it is. I thought it had been you. Come, you must come down, whether
+      you eat anything or not. I like somebody to talk to me while I am eating,
+      and I had an idea just now&mdash;it is gone&mdash;but perhaps it will come
+      back to me: it was about this abominable gown. O! how I wish there was not
+      such a thing as dress in the world!!!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      While Mrs. Bazalgette was munching water-snakes with delicate zeal, and
+      Lucy nibbling cake, came a letter. Mrs. Bazalgette read it with
+      heightening color, laid it down, cast a pitying glance on Lucy, and said,
+      with a sigh, &ldquo;Poor girl!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy turned a little pale. &ldquo;Has anything happened?&rdquo; she faltered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Something is going to happen; you are to be torn away from here, where
+      you are so happy&mdash;where we all love you, dear. It is from that
+      selfish old bachelor. Listen: 'Dear madam, my niece Lucy has been due here
+      three days. I have waited to see whether you would part with her without
+      being dunned. My curiosity on that point is satisfied, and I have now only
+      my affection to consult, which I do by requesting you to put her and her
+      maid into a carriage that will be waiting for her at your door twenty-four
+      hours after you receive this note. I have the honor to be, madam,' an old
+      brute!!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you can smile; but that is you all over; you don't care a straw
+      whether you are happy or miserable.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't I?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not you; you will leave this, where you are a little queen, and go and
+      bury yourself three months with that old bachelor, and nobody will ever
+      gather from your face that you are bored to death; and here we are asked
+      to the Cavendishes' next Wednesday, and the Hunts' ball on Friday&mdash;you
+      are such a lucky girl&mdash;our best invitations always drop in while you
+      are with us&mdash;we go out three times as often during your months as at
+      other times; it is your good fortune, or the weather, or something.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dear aunt, this was your own arrangement with Uncle Fountain. I used to
+      be six months with each in turn till you insisted on its being three. You
+      make me almost laugh, both you and Uncle Fountain; what <i>do</i> you see
+      in me worth quarreling for?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will tell you what <i>he</i> sees&mdash;a good little spiritless thing&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am larger than you, dear.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, in body&mdash;that he can make a slave of&mdash;always ready to
+      nurse him and his foe, or to put down your work and to take up his&mdash;to
+      play at his vile backgammon.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Piquet, please.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where is the difference?&mdash;to share his desolation, and take half his
+      blue devils on your own shoulders, till he will hyp you so that to get
+      away you will consent to marry into his set&mdash;the county set&mdash;some
+      beggarly old family that came down from the Conquest, and has been going
+      down ever since; so then he will let you fly&mdash;with a string: you must
+      vegetate two miles from him; so then he can have you in to Backquette and
+      write his letters: he will settle four hundred a year on you, and you will
+      be miserable for life.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Poor Uncle Fountain, what a schemer he turns out!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Men all turn out schemers when you know them, Miss Impertinence. Well,
+      dear, I have no selfish views for you. I love my few friends too
+      single-heartedly for that; but I <i>am</i> sad when I see you leaving us
+      to go where you are not prized.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Indeed, aunt, I am prized at Font Abbey. I am overrated there as I am
+      here. They all receive me with open arms.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So is a hare when it comes into a trap,&rdquo; said Mrs. Bazalgette, sharply,
+      drawing upon a limited knowledge of grammar and field-sports.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No&mdash;Uncle Fountain really loves me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;As much as I do?&rdquo; asked the lady, with a treacherous smile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very nearly,&rdquo; was the young courtier's reply. She went on to console her
+      aunt's unselfish solicitude, by assuring her that Font Abbey was not a
+      solitude; that dinners and balls abounded, and her uncle was invited to
+      them all.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You little goose, don't you see? all those invitations are for your sake,
+      not his. If we could look in on him now we should find him literally in
+      single cursedness. Those county folks are not without cunning. They say
+      beauty has come to stay with the beast; we must ask the beast to dinner,
+      so then beauty will come along with him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What other pleasure awaits you at Font Abbey?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The pleasure of giving pleasure,&rdquo; replied Lucy, apologetically.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! that is your weakness, Lucy. It is all very well with those who won't
+      take advantage; but it is the wrong game to play with all the world. You
+      will be made a tool of, and a slave of, and use of. I speak from
+      experience. You know how I sacrifice myself to those I love; luckily, they
+      are not many.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not so many as love you, dear.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Heaven forbid! but you are at the head of them all, and I am going to
+      prove it&mdash;by deeds, not words.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy looked up at this additional feature in her aunt's affection.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You must go to the great bear's den for three months, but it shall be the
+      last time!&rdquo; Lucy said nothing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You will return never to quit us, or, at all events, not the
+      neighborhood.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That&mdash;would be nice,&rdquo; said the courtier warmly, but hesitatingly;
+      &ldquo;but how will you gain uncle's consent?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;By dispensing with it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; but the means, aunt?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A husband!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy started and colored all over, and looked askant at her aunt with
+      opening eyes, like a thoroughbred filly just going to start all across the
+      road. Mrs. Bazalgette laid a loving hand on her shoulder, and whispered
+      knowingly in her ear: &ldquo;Trust to me; I'll have one ready for you against
+      you come back this time.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, please don't! pray don't!&rdquo; cried Lucy, clasping her hands in
+      feeble-minded distress.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In this neighborhood&mdash;one of the right sort.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am so happy as I am.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You will be happier when you are quite a slave, and so I shall save you
+      from being snapped up by some country wiseacre, and marry you into our own
+      set.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Merchant princes,&rdquo; suggested Lucy, demurely, having just recovered her
+      breath and what little sauce there was in her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, merchant princes&mdash;the men of the age&mdash;the men who could
+      buy all the acres in the country without feeling it&mdash;the men who make
+      this little island great, and a woman happy, by letting her have
+      everything her heart can desire.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You mean everything that money can buy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course. I said so, didn't I?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So, then, you are tired of me in the house?&rdquo; remonstrated Lucy, sadly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, ingrate; but you will be sure to marry soon or late.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, I will not, if I can possibly help it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But you can't help it; you are not the character to help it. The first
+      man that comes to you and says: 'I know you rather dislike me' (you could
+      not hate anybody, Lucy,) 'but if you don't take me I shall die of a broken
+      fiddlestick,' you will whine out, 'Oh, dear! shall you? Well, then, sooner
+      than disoblige you, here&mdash;take me!'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Am I so weak as this?&rdquo; asked Lucy, coloring, and the water coming into
+      her eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't be offended,&rdquo; said the other, coolly; &ldquo;we won't call it weakness,
+      but excess of complaisance; you can't say no to anybody.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yet I have said it,&rdquo; replied Lucy, thoughtfully.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have you? When? Oh, to me. Yes; where I am concerned you have sometimes a
+      will of your own, and a pretty stout one; but never with anybody else.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The aunt then inquired of the niece, &ldquo;frankly, now, between ourselves,&rdquo;
+       whether she had no wish to be married. The niece informed her in
+      confidence that she had not, and was puzzled to conceive how the bare idea
+      of marriage came to be so tempting to her sex. Of course, she could
+      understand a lady wishing to marry, if she loved a gentleman who was
+      determined to be unhappy without her; but that women should look about for
+      some hunter to catch instead of waiting quietly till the hunter caught
+      them, this puzzled her; and as for the superstitious love of females for
+      the marriage rite in cases when it took away their liberty and gave them
+      nothing amiable in return, it amazed her. &ldquo;So, aunt,&rdquo; she concluded, &ldquo;if
+      you really love me, driving me to the altar will be an unfortunate way of
+      showing it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      While listening to this tirade, which the young lady delivered with great
+      serenity, and concluded with a little yawn, Mrs. Bazalgette had two
+      thoughts. The first was: &ldquo;This girl is not flesh and blood; she is made of
+      curds and whey, or something else;&rdquo; the second was: &ldquo;No, she is a shade
+      hypocriticaler than other girls&mdash;before they are married, that is
+      all;&rdquo; and, acting on this latter conviction, she smiled a lofty
+      incredulity, and fell to counting on her fingers all the moneyed bachelors
+      for miles.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At this Lucy winced with sensitive modesty, and for once a shade of
+      vexation showed itself on her lovely features. The quick-sighted,
+      keen-witted matron caught it, and instantly made a masterly move of
+      feigned retreat. &ldquo;No,&rdquo; cried she, &ldquo;I will not tease you anymore, love;
+      just promise me not to receive any gentleman's addresses at Font Abbey,
+      and I will never drive you from my arms to the altar.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I promise that,&rdquo; cried Lucy, eagerly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Upon your honor?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Upon my honor.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Kiss me, dear. I know you won't deceive me now you have pledged your
+      honor. This solemn promise consoles me more than you can conceive.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am so glad; but if you knew how little it costs me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All the better; you will be more likely to keep it,&rdquo; was the dry reply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The conversation then took a more tender turn. &ldquo;And so to-morrow you go!
+      How dull the house will be without you! and who is to keep my brats in
+      order now I have no idea. Well, there is nothing but meeting and parting
+      in this world; it does not do to love people, does it? (ah!) Don't cry,
+      love, or I shall give way; my desolate heart already brims over&mdash;no&mdash;now
+      don't cry&rdquo; (a little sharply); &ldquo;the servants will be coming in to take
+      away the things.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Will you c&mdash;c&mdash;come and h&mdash;help me pack, dear?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Me, love? oh no! I could not bear the sight of your things put out to go
+      away. I promised to call on Mrs. Hunt this afternoon; and you must not
+      stop in all day yourself&mdash;I cannot let your health be sacrificed; you
+      had better take a brisk walk, and pack afterward.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank you, aunt. I will go and finish my drawing of Harrowden Church to
+      take with me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, don't go there; the meadows are wet. Walk upon the Hatton road; it is
+      all gravel.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; only it is so ugly, and I have nothing to do that way.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But I'll give you something to do,&rdquo; said Mrs. Bazalgette, obligingly.
+      &ldquo;You know where old Sarah and her daughter live&mdash;the last cottages on
+      that road; I don't like the shape of the last two collars they made me;
+      you can take them back, if you like, and lend them one of yours I admire
+      so for a pattern.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That I will, with pleasure.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Shall you come back through the garden? If you don't&mdash;never mind;
+      but, if you do, you may choose me a bouquet. The servants are incapable of
+      a bouquet.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will; thank you, dear. How kind and thoughtful of you to give me
+      something to occupy me now that I am a little sad.&rdquo; Mrs. Bazalgette
+      accepted this tribute with a benignant smile, and the ladies parted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The next morning a traveling-carriage, with four smoking post-horses, came
+      wheeling round the gravel to the front door. Uncle Fountain's factotum got
+      down from the dicky, packed Lucy's imperial on the roof, and slung a box
+      below the dicky; stowed her maid away aft, arranged the foot-cushion and a
+      shawl or two inside, and, half obsequiously, half bumptiously, awaited the
+      descent of his fair charge.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then, upstairs, came a sudden simultaneous attack of ardent lips, and a
+      long, clinging embrace that would have graced the most glorious,
+      passionate, antique love. Sculpture outdone, the young lady went down, and
+      was handed into the carriage. Her ardent aunt followed presently, and
+      fired many glowing phrases in at the window; and, just as the carriage
+      moved, she uttered a single word quite quietly, as much as to say, Now,
+      this I mean. This genuine word, the last Aunt Bazalgette spoke, had been,
+      two hundred years before, the last word of Charles the First. Note the
+      coincidences of history.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The two postboys lifted their whips level to their eyes by one instinct,
+      the horses tightened the traces, the wheels ground the gravel, and Lucy
+      was whirled away with that quiet, emphatic post-dict ringing in her ears,
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Remember!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Font Hill was sixty miles off: they reached it in less than six hours.
+      There was Uncle Fountain on the hall steps to receive her, and the comely
+      housekeeper, Mrs. Brown, ducking and smiling in the background. While the
+      servants were unpacking the carriage, Mr. Fountain took Lucy to her
+      bedroom. Mrs. Brown had gone on before to see for the third time whether
+      all was comfortable. There was a huge fire, all red; and on the table a
+      gigantic nosegay of spring flowers, with smell to them all.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh how nice, after a journey!&rdquo; said Lucy, mowing down Uncle Fountain and
+      Mrs. Brown with one comprehensive smile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Brown flamed with complacency.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What!&rdquo; cried her uncle; &ldquo;I suppose you expected a black fire and
+      impertinent apologies by way of substitute for warmth; a stuffy room, and
+      damp sheets, roasted, like a woodcock, twenty minutes before use.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, uncle, dear, I expected every comfort at Font Abbey.&rdquo; Brown retired
+      with a courtesy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Aha! What! you have found out that it is all humbug about old bachelors
+      not knowing comfort? Do bachelors ever put their friends into damp sheets?
+      No; that is the women's trick with their household science. Your sex have
+      killed more men with damp sheets than ever fell by the sword.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yet nobody erects monuments to us,&rdquo; put in Lucy, slyly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She missed fire. Uncle Fountain, like most Englishmen, could take in a pun
+      by the ear, but wit only by the eye. &ldquo;Do you remember when Mrs. Bazalgette
+      put you into the linen sponge, and killed you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Killed me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Certainly, as far as in her lay. We can but do our best; well, she did
+      hers, and went the right way to work.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You see I survive.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;By a miracle. Dinner is at six.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very well, dear.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; but six in this house means sixty minutes after five and sixty
+      minutes before seven. I mention this the first day because you are just
+      come from a place where it means twenty minutes to seven; also let me
+      observe that I think I have noticed soup and potatoes eat better hot than
+      cold, and meat tastes nicer done to a turn than&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To a cinder?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ha! ha! and come with an appetite, please.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Uncle, no tyranny, I beg.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tyranny? you know this is Liberty Hall; only when I eat I expect my
+      companion to-eat too; besides, there is nothing to be gained by humbug
+      to-day. There will be only us two at dinner; and when I see young ladies
+      fiddling with an asparagus head instead of eating their dinner, it don't
+      fall into the greenhorn's notion&mdash;exquisite creature! all soul! no
+      stomach! feeds on air, ideas, and quadrille music&mdash;no; what do you
+      think I say?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Something flattering, I feel sure.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;On the contrary, something true. I say hypocrite! Been grubbing like a
+      pig all day, so can't eat like a Christian at meal time; you can't humbug
+      me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Alas! so I see. That decides me to be candid&mdash;and hungry.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I am off; I don't stick to my friends and bore them with my affairs
+      like that egotistical hussy, Jane Bazalgette. I amuse myself, and leave
+      them to amuse themselves; that is my notion of politeness. I am going to
+      see my pigs fed, then into the village. I am building a new blacksmith's
+      shop there (you must come and look at it the first thing to-morrow); and
+      at six, if you want to find me&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shall peep behind the soup-tureen.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And there I shall be, if I am alive.&rdquo; At dinner the old boy threw himself
+      into the work with such zeal that soon after the cloth was removed, from
+      fatigue and repletion, he dropped asleep, with his shoulder toward Lucy,
+      but his face instinctively turned toward the fire. Lucy crept away on
+      tiptoe, not to disturb him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In about an hour he bustled into the drawing-room, ordered tea, blew up
+      the footman because the cook had not water boiling that moment, drank
+      three cups, then brightened up, rubbed his hands, and with a cheerful,
+      benevolent manner, &ldquo;Now, Lucy,&rdquo; cried he, &ldquo;come and help me puzzle out
+      this tiresome genealogy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A smile of warm assent from Lucy, and the old bachelor and the blooming
+      Hebe were soon seated with a mountain of parchments by their side, and a
+      tree spreading before them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was not a finite tree like an elm or an oak; no, it was a banyan tree;
+      covered an acre, and from its boughs little suckers dropped to earth, and
+      turned to little trees, and had suckers in their turn, and &ldquo;confounded the
+      confusion.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Uncle Fountain's happiness depended, <i>pro tem,</i> on proving that he
+      was a sucker from the great bough of the Fontaines of Melton; and why?
+      Because, this effected, he had only to go along that bough by an
+      established pedigree to the great trunk of the Funteyns of Salle, and the
+      first Funteyn of Salle was said to be (and this he hoped to prove true)
+      great-grandson of Robert de Fontibus, son of John de Fonte.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Now Uncle Fountain could prove himself the shoot of George his father (a
+      step at which so many pedigrees halt), who was the shoot of William, who
+      was the shoot of Richard; but here came a gap of eighty years between him
+      and that Fountain, younger son of Melton, to whom he wanted to hook on.
+      Now the logic of women, children, and criticasters is a thing of gaps;
+      they reason as marches a kangaroo; but to mathematicians, logicians, and
+      genealogists, a link wanting is a chain broken. This blank then made Uncle
+      Fountain miserable, and he cried out for help. Lucy came with her young
+      eyes, her woman's patience, and her own complaisance. A great ditch yawned
+      between a crocheteer and a rotten branch he coveted. Our Quinta Curtia
+      flung herself, her eyesight, and her time into that ditch.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Twelve o'clock came, and found them still wallowing in modern antiquity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Bless me!&rdquo; cried Mr. Fountain when John brought up the bed-candles, &ldquo;how
+      time flies when one is really employed.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, indeed, uncle;&rdquo; and by a gymnastic of courtesy she first crushed and
+      then so molded a yawn that it glided into society a smile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We have spent a delightful evening, Lucy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thanks to you, uncle.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I hope you will sleep well, child.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am sure I shall, dear,&rdquo; said she, sweetly and inadvertently.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER II.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      A LARGE aspiration is a rarity; but who has not some small ambition, none
+      the less keen for being narrow&mdash;keener, perhaps? Mrs. Bazalgette
+      burned to be great by dress; Mr. Fountain, member of a sex with higher
+      aims, aspired to be great in the county.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Unluckily, his main property was in the funds. He had acres in &mdash;&mdash;shire;
+      but so few that, some years ago, its lord lieutenant declined to make him
+      an injustice of the peace. That functionary died, and on his death the
+      mortified aspirant bought a coppice, christened it Springwood, and under
+      cover of this fringe to his three meadows, applied to the new lord
+      lieutenant as M'Duff approached M'Beth. The new man made him a magistrate;
+      so now he aspired to be a deputy lieutenant, and attended all the boards
+      of magistrates, and turnpike trusts, etc., and brought up votes and
+      beer-barrels at each election, and, in, short, played all the cards in his
+      pack, Lucy included, to earn that distinction.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      We may as well confess that there lurked in him a half-unconscious hope
+      that some day or other, in some strange collision or combination of
+      parties, a man profound in county business, zealous in county interests,
+      personally obnoxious to nobody, might drop into the seat of county member;
+      and, if this should be, would not he have the sense to hold his tongue
+      upon the noisy questions that waste Parliament's time, and the nation's;
+      but, on the first of those periodical attacks to which the wretched
+      landowner is subject, wouldn't he speak, and show the difference between a
+      mere member of the Commons and a member for the county?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      If anyone had asked this man plump which is the most important, England or
+      &mdash;&mdash;shire, he would have certainly told you England; but our
+      opinions are not the notions we repeat, and can defend by reasons or even
+      by facts: our opinions are the notions we feel and act on.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Could you have looked inside Mr. Fountain's head, you would have seen
+      ideas corresponding to the following diagrams:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      [drawing]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Fountain courted the stomach of the county.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Without this, he knew, an angel could not reach its heart; and here one of
+      his eccentricities broke out. He drew a line, in his dictatorial way,
+      between dinner and feeding parties. &ldquo;A dinner party is two rubbers. Four
+      gentlemen and four ladies sit round a circular table; then each can hear
+      what anyone says, and need not twist the neck at every word. Foraging
+      parties are from fourteen to thirty, set up and down a plank, each
+      separated from those he could talk to as effectually as if the ocean
+      rolled between, and bawling into one person's ear amid the din of knives,
+      forks, and multitude. I go to those long strings of noisy duets because I
+      must, but I give <i>society</i> at home.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The county people had just strength of mind to like the old boy's sociable
+      dinners, though not to imitate them, and an invitation from him was very
+      rarely declined when Lucy was with him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And she was in her glory. She could carry complaisance such a long way at
+      Font Abbey&mdash;she was mistress of the house.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She listened with a wonderful appearance of interest to county matters,
+      i.e., to minute scandal and infinitesimal politics; to the county cricket
+      match and archery meeting; to the past ball and the ball to come. In the
+      drawing-room, when a cold fit fell on the coterie, she would glide to one
+      egotist after another, find out the monotope, and set the critter Peter's,
+      the Place de Concorde, the Square of St. Mark, Versailles, the Alhambra,
+      the Apollo Belvidere, the Madonna of the Chair, and all the glories of
+      nature and the feats of art could not warm. So, then, the fine gentleman
+      began to act&mdash;to walk himself out as a person who had seen and could
+      give details about anything, but was exalted far above admiring anything
+      <i>(quel grand homme! rien ne peut lui plaire);</i> and on this, while the
+      women were gazing sweetly on him, and revering his superiority to all
+      great impressions, and the men envying, rather hating, but secretly
+      admiring him too, she who had launched him bent on him a look of soft
+      pity, and abandoned him to admiration.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Poor Mr. Talboys,&rdquo; thought she, &ldquo;I fear I have done him an ill turn by
+      drawing him out;&rdquo; and she glided to her uncle, who was sitting apart, and
+      nobody talking to him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Talboys, started by Lucy, ambled out his high-pacing <i>nil admirantem</i>
+      character, and derived a little quiet self-satisfaction. This was the
+      highest happiness he was capable of; so he was not ungrateful to Miss
+      Fountain, who had procured it him, and partly for this, partly because he
+      had been kind to her and lent her a pony, he shook hands with her somewhat
+      cordially at parting. As it happened, he was the last guest.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have won that, man's heart, Lucy,&rdquo; cried Mr. Fountain, with a mixture
+      of surprise and pride.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy made no reply. She looked quickly into his face to see if he was
+      jesting.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Writing, Lucy&mdash;so late?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Only a few lines, uncle. You shall see them; I note the more remarkable
+      phenomena of society. I am recalling a conversation between three of our
+      guests this evening, and shall be grateful for your opinion on it. There!
+      Read it out, please.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Luttrell. &ldquo;We missed you at the archery meeting&mdash;ha! ha! ha!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Willis. &ldquo;Mr. Willis would not let me go&mdash;he! he! he!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. James. &ldquo;Well, at all events&mdash;he! he!&mdash;you will come to the
+      flower show.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Willis. &ldquo;Oh yes!&mdash;he! he!&mdash;I am so fond of flowers&mdash;ha!
+      ha!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Luttrell. &ldquo;So am I. I adore them&mdash;he! he!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Willis. &ldquo;How sweetly Miss Malcolm sings&mdash;he! he!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Luttrell. &ldquo;Yes, she shakes like a bird&mdash;ha! ha!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. James. &ldquo;A little Scotch accent though&mdash;he! he!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Luttrell. &ldquo;She is Scotch&mdash;he! he!&rdquo; (To John offering her tea.)
+      &ldquo;No more, thank you&mdash;he! he!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. James. &ldquo;Shall you go the Assize sermon?&mdash;ha! ha!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Willis. &ldquo;Oh, yes&mdash;he! he!&mdash;the last was very dry&mdash;he!
+      he! Who preaches it this term?&mdash;he!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. James. &ldquo;The Bishop&mdash;he! he!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Willis. &ldquo;Then I shall certainly go; he is such a dear preacher&mdash;he!
+      he!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Just tell me what is the precise meaning of 'ha! ha!' and what of 'he!
+      he!'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The precise meaning? There you puzzle me, uncle.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I mean, what do you mean by them?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I put 'ha! ha!' when they giggle, and 'he! he!' when they only
+      chuckle.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then this is a caricature, my lady?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, dear, you know I have no satire in me; it is taken down to the
+      letter, and I fear I must trouble you for the solution.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, the solution is, they are three fools.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, uncle, begging your pardon, they are not,&rdquo; replied Lucy, politely but
+      firmly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, then, three d&mdash;d fools.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy winced at the participle, but was two polite to lecture her elder.
+      &ldquo;They have not that excuse,&rdquo; said she; &ldquo;they are all sensible women, who
+      discharge the duties of life with discretion except society; and they can
+      discriminate between grave and gay whenever they are not at a party; and
+      as for Mrs. Luttrell, when she is alone with me she is a sweet, natural
+      love.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They cackled&mdash;at every word&mdash;like that&mdash;the whole
+      evening!!??&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Except when you told that funny story about the Irish corporal who was
+      attacked by a mastiff, and killed him with his halberd, and, when he was
+      reproached by his captain for not being content to repel so valuable an
+      animal with the butt end of his lance, answered&mdash;ha! ha!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So, then, he answered 'Haw! haw!' did he?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now, uncle! No; he answered, 'So I would, your arnr, if he had run at me
+      with his tail!' Now, that was genuine wit, mixed with quite enough fun to
+      make an intelligent person laugh; and then you told it so drolly&mdash;ha!
+      ha!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They did not laugh at <i>that?&rdquo;</i>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sat as grave as judges.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you tell me they are not fools.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I must repeat, they have not that excuse. Perhaps their risibility had
+      been exhausted. After laughing three hours <i>a propos de rien,</i> it is
+      time to be serious out of place. I will tell you what they <i>did</i>
+      laugh at, though. Miss Malcolm sang a song with a title I dare not
+      attempt. There were two lines in it which I am going to mispronounce; but
+      you are not Scotch, so I don't care for <i>you,</i> uncle, darling.
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+      &ldquo;'He had but a saxpence; he break it in twa,
+        And he gave me the half o't when he gaed awa.'
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They laughed at that; a general giggle went round.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I must confess, I don't see much to laugh at in that, Lucy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It would be odd if you did, uncle, dear; why, it is pathetic.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pathetic? Oh, is it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You naughty, cunning uncle, you know it is; it is pathetic, and almost
+      heroic. Consider, dear: in a world where the very newspapers show how
+      mercenary we all are, a poor young man is parted from his love. He has but
+      one coin to go through the world with, and what does he do with it? Scheme
+      to make the sixpence a crown, and to make the crown a pound? No; he breaks
+      this one treasure in two, that both the poor things may have a silver
+      token of love and a pledge of his return. I am sure, if the poet had been
+      here, he would have been quite angry with us for laughing at that line.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Keep your temper. Why, this is new from you, Lucy; but you women of sugar
+      can all cauterize your own sex; the theme inspires you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Uncle, how dare you! Are you not afraid I shall be angry one of these
+      days, dear!!? The gentlemen were equally concerned in this last enormity.
+      Poor Jemmy, or Jammy, with his devotion and tenderness that soothed, and
+      his high spirit that supported the weaker vessel, was as funny to our male
+      as to our female guests&mdash;so there. I saw but one that understood him,
+      and did not laugh at him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Talboys, for a pound.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Talboys? no! <i>You,</i> dear uncle; you did not laugh; I noticed it
+      with all a niece's pride.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course I didn't. Can I hear a word these ladies mew? can I tell in
+      what language even they are whining and miauling? I have given up trying
+      this twenty years and more.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I return to my question,&rdquo; said Lucy hastily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And I to my solution; your three graces are three d&mdash;d fools. If you
+      can account for it in any other way, do.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, uncle dear. If you had happened to agree with me beforehand, I would;
+      but as you do not, I beg to be excused. But keep the paper, and the next
+      time listen to the talk and unmeaning laughter; you will find I have not
+      exaggerated, and some day, dear, I will tell you how my mamma used to
+      account for similar monstrosities in society.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Here is a mysterious little toad. Well, Lucy, for all this you enjoyed
+      yourself. I never saw you in better spirits.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am glad you saw that,&rdquo; said Lucy, with a languid smile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And how Talboys came out.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He did,&rdquo; sighed Lucy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Here the young lady lighted softly on an ottoman, and sank gracefully back
+      with a weary-o'-the-world air; and when she had settled down like so much
+      floss silk, fixing her eye on the ceiling, and doling her words out
+      languidly yet thoughtfully&mdash;just above a whisper, &ldquo;Uncle, darling,&rdquo;
+       inquired she, &ldquo;where are the men we have all heard of?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How should I know? What men?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where are the men of sentiment, that can understand a woman, and win her
+      to reveal her real heart, the best treasure she has, uncle dear?&rdquo; She
+      paused for a reply; none coming, she continued with decreasing energy:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where are the men of spirit? the men of action? the upright, downright
+      men, that Heaven sends to cure us of our disingenuousness? Where are the
+      heroes and the wits?&rdquo; (an infinitesimal yawn); &ldquo;where are the real men?
+      And where are the women to whom such men can do homage without degrading
+      themselves? where are the men who elevate a woman without making her
+      masculine, and the women who can brighten and polish, and yet not soften
+      the steel of manhood&mdash;tell me, tell me instantly,&rdquo; said she, with
+      still greater languor and want of earnestness, and her eyes remained fixed
+      on the ceiling in deep abstraction.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They are all in this house at this moment,&rdquo; said Mr. Fountain, coolly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who, dear? I fear I was not attending to you. How rude!!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Horrid. I say the men and women you inquire for are all in this house of
+      mine;&rdquo; and the old gentleman's eyes twinkled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Uncle! Heaven forgive you, and&mdash;oh, fie!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They are, upon my soul.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then they must be in some part of it I have not visited. Are they in the
+      kitchen?&rdquo; (with a little saucy sneer.)
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, they are in the library.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In the lib&mdash;Ah! <i>le malin!&rdquo;</i>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They were never seen in the drawing-room, and never will be.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yet surely they must have lived in nature before they were embalmed in
+      print,&rdquo; said Lucy, interrogating the ceiling again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The nearest approach you will meet to these paragons is Reginald
+      Talboys,&rdquo; said Fountain, stoutly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Uncle, I do love you;&rdquo; and Lucy rose with Juno-like slowness and dignity,
+      and, leaning over the old boy, kissed him with sudden small fury.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why?&rdquo; asked he, eagerly, connecting this majestic squirt of affection
+      with his last speech.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because you are such a nice, dear, <i>sarcastic</i> thing. Let us drink
+      tea in the library to-morrow, then that will be an approach to&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      With this illegitimate full stop the conversation ended, and Miss Fountain
+      took a candle and sauntered to bed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In church next Sunday Lucy observed a young lady with a beaming face, who
+      eyed her by stealth in all the interstices of devotion. She asked her
+      uncle who was that pretty girl with a <i>nez retrousse.</i>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A cocked nose? It must be my little friend, Eve Dodd. I didn't know she
+      was come back.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What a pretty face to be in such&mdash;such a&mdash;such an impossible
+      bonnet. It has come down from another epoch.&rdquo; This not maliciously, but
+      with a sort of tender, womanly concern for beauty set off to the most
+      disadvantage.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;O, hang her bonnet! She is full of fun; she shall drink tea with us; she
+      is a great favorite of mine.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They quickened their pace, and caught Eve Dodd just as she took a flying
+      leap over some water that lay in her path, and showed a charming ankle. In
+      those days female dress committed two errors that are disappearing: it
+      revealed the whole foot by day, and hid a section of the bosom at night.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      After the usual greetings, Mr. Fountain asked Eve if she would come over
+      and drink tea with him and his niece.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Miss Dodd colored and cast a glance of undisguised admiration at Miss
+      Fountain, but she said: &ldquo;Thank you, sir; I am much obliged, but I am
+      afraid I can't come. My brother would miss me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What&mdash;the sailor? Is he at home?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, sir; came home last night&rdquo;; and she clapped her hands by way of
+      comment. &ldquo;He has been with my mother all church-time; so now it is my
+      turn, and I don't know how to let him out of my sight yet awhile.&rdquo; And she
+      gave a glance at Miss Fountain, as much as to say, &ldquo;You understand.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, Eve,&rdquo; said Mr. Fountain good-humoredly, &ldquo;we must not separate
+      brother and sister,&rdquo; and he was turning to go.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Perhaps, uncle,&rdquo; said Lucy, looking not at Mr. Fountain, but at Eve&mdash;&ldquo;Mr.&mdash;Mr.&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;David Dodd is my brother's name,&rdquo; said Eve, quickly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. David Dodd might be persuaded to give us the pleasure of his company
+      too.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh yes, if I may bring dear David with me,&rdquo; burst out the child of
+      nature, coloring again with pleasure.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It will add to the obligation,&rdquo; said Lucy, finishing the sentence in
+      character.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So that is settled,&rdquo; said Mr. Fountain, somewhat dryly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As they were walking home together, the courtier asked her uncle rather
+      coldly, &ldquo;Who are these we have invited, dear?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who are they? A pretty girl and a man she wouldn't come without.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And who is the gentleman? What is he?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A marine animal&mdash;first mate of a ship.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;First mate? mate? Is that what in the novels is called boatswain's mate?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Haw! haw! haw! I say, Lucy, ask him when he comes if he is the bosen's
+      mate. How little Eve will blaze!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then I shall ask him nothing of the kind. Do tell me! I know admirals&mdash;they
+      swear&mdash;and captains, and, I think, lieutenants, and, <i>above all,</i>
+      those little loves of midshipmen, strutting with their dirks and cocked
+      hats, like warlike bantams, but I never met 'mates.' Mates?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is because you have only been introduced to the Royal Navy; but
+      there is another navy not so ornamental, but quite as useful, called the
+      East India Company's.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am ashamed to say I never heard of it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I dare say not. Well, in this navy there are only two kinds of superior
+      officers&mdash;the mates and the captain. There are five or six mates.
+      Young Dodd has been first mate some time, so I suppose he will soon be a
+      captain.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Uncle!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Will this&mdash;mate&mdash;swear?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Clearly.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There, now. I do not like swearing on a Sunday. That wicked old admiral
+      used to make me shudder.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh,&rdquo; said Mr. Fountain, playing upon innocence, &ldquo;he swore by the Supreme
+      Being, 'I bet sixpence.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Lucy, in a low, soft voice of angelic regret.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! he was in the Royal Navy. But this is a merchantman; you don't think
+      he will presume to break into the monopoly of the superior branch. He will
+      only swear by the wind and weather. Thunder and squalls! Donner and
+      blitzen! Handspikes and halyards! these are the innocent execrations of
+      the merchant service&mdash;he! he! ho!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Uncle, can you be serious?&rdquo; asked Lucy, somewhat coldly; &ldquo;if so, be so
+      good as to tell me, is this gentleman&mdash;a&mdash;gentleman?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; replied the other, coolly, &ldquo;he is what I call a nondescript; like
+      an attorney, or a surgeon, or a civil engineer, or a banker, or a
+      stock-broker, and all that sort of people. He can be a gentleman if he is
+      thoroughly bent on it; you would in his place, and so should I; but these
+      skippers don't turn their mind that way. Old families don't go into the
+      merchant service. Indeed, it would not answer. There they rise by&mdash;by&mdash;mere
+      maritime considerations.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then, uncle,&rdquo; began Lucy, with dignified severity, &ldquo;permit me to say
+      that, in inviting a nondescript, you showed&mdash;less consideration for
+      me than&mdash;you&mdash;are in the habit&mdash;of doing, dearest.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, have a headache, and can't come down.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So I certainly should; but, most unfortunately, I have an objection to
+      tell fibs on a Sunday.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are quite right; we should rest from our usual employments one
+      day-ha! ha! and so go at it fresher to-morrow&mdash;haw! ho! Come, Lucy,
+      don't you be so exclusive. Eve Dodd is a merry girl. She comes and amuses
+      me when you are not here, and David, by all accounts, is a fine young
+      fellow, and as modest as a girl of fifteen; they will make me laugh,
+      especially Eve, and it would be hard at my age, I think, if I might not
+      ask whom I like&mdash;to tea.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So it would,&rdquo; put in Lucy, hastily; she added, coaxing, &ldquo;it shall have
+      its own way&mdash;it shall have what makes it laugh.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Long before eight o'clock the Fountains had forgotten that they had
+      invited the Dodds.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Not so Eve. She was all in a flutter, and hesitated between two dresses,
+      and by some blessed inspiration decided for the plainest; but her
+      principal anxiety was, not about herself, but about David's deportment
+      before the Queen of Fashion, for such report proclaimed Miss Fountain.
+      &ldquo;And those fine ladies are so satirical,&rdquo; said Eve to herself; &ldquo;but I will
+      lecture him going along.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Dinner time, and, by consequence, tea time, came earlier in those days;
+      so, about eight o'clock, a tall, square-shouldered young fellow was
+      walking in the moonlight toward Font Abbey, Eve holding his hand, and
+      tripping by his side, and lecturing him on deportment very gravely while
+      dancing around him and pulling him all manner of ways, like your solid
+      tune with your gamboling accompaniment, a combination now in vogue. All of
+      a sudden, without with your leave or by your leave, the said David caught
+      this light fantastic object up in his arms, and carried it on one
+      shoulder.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On this she gave a little squeak; then, without a moment's interval,
+      continued her lecture as if nothing had happened. She looked down from her
+      perch like a hen from a ladder, and laid down the law to David with
+      seriousness and asperity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And just please to remember that they are people a long way above us&mdash;at
+      least above what we are now, since father fell into trouble; so don't you
+      make too free; and Miss Fountain is the finest of all the fine ladies in
+      the county.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then I am sorry we are going.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, you are not; she is a beautiful girl.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That alters the case.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, it does not. Don't chatter so, David, interrupting forever, but
+      listen and mind what I say, or I'll never take you anywhere again.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are you sure you are taking me now?&rdquo; asked David, dryly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why not, Mr. David?&rdquo; retorted Eve, from his shoulder. &ldquo;Didn't I hear you
+      tell how you took the <i>Combermere</i> out of harbor, and how you brought
+      her into port; she didn't take you out and bring you home, eh?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Had me there, though.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; and, what is more, you are not skipper of the <i>Combermere</i> yet,
+      and never will be; but I am skipper of you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ashore&mdash;not a doubt of it,&rdquo; said David, with cool indifference. He
+      despised terrestrial distinction, courting only such as was marine.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then I command you to let me down this instant. Do you hear, crew!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; objected David; &ldquo;if I put you overboard you can't command the
+      vessel, and ten to one if the craft does not founder for want of
+      seawomanship on the quarterdeck. However,&rdquo; added he, in a relenting tone,
+      &ldquo;wait till we get to that puddle shining on ahead, and then I'll disembark
+      you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, David, do let me down, that's a good soul. I am tired,&rdquo; added she,
+      peevishly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tired! of what?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of doing nothing, stupid; there, let me down, dear; won't you, darling!
+      then take that, love&rdquo; (a box of the ear).
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I've got it,&rdquo; said David, dryly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Keep it, then, till the next. No, he won't let me down. He has got both
+      my hands in one of his paws, and he will carry me every foot of the way
+      now&mdash;I know the obstinate pig.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We all have our little characters, Eve. Well, I have got your wrists, but
+      you have got your tongue, and that is the stronger weapon of the two, you
+      know; and you are on the poop, so give your orders, and the ship shall be
+      worked accordingly; likewise, I will enter all your remarks on
+      good-breeding into my log.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Here, unluckily, David tapped his forehead to signify that the log in
+      question was a metaphorical one, the log of memory. Eve had him again
+      directly. She freed a claw. &ldquo;So this is your log, is it?&rdquo; cried she,
+      tapping it as hard as she could; &ldquo;well, it does sound like wood of some
+      sort. Well, then, David, dear&mdash;you wretch, I mean&mdash;promise me
+      not to laugh loud.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I will not; it is odds if I laugh at all. I wish we were to moor
+      alongside mother, instead of running into this strange port.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stuff! think of Miss Fountain's figure-head&mdash;nor tell too many
+      stories&mdash;and, above all, for heaven's sake, do keep the poor dear old
+      sea out of sight for once.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ay, ay, that stands to reason.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      By this time they were at Font Abbey, and David deposited his fair burden
+      gently on the stone steps of the door. She opened it without ceremony, and
+      bustled into the dining-room, crying, &ldquo;I have brought David, sir; and here
+      he is;&rdquo; and she accompanied David's bow with a corresponding movement of
+      her hand, the knuckles downward.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The old gentleman awoke with a start, rubbed his eyes, shook hands with
+      the pair, and proposed to go up to Lucy in the drawing-room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Now, it happened unluckily that Miss Fountain had been to the library and
+      taken down one or two of those men and women who, according to her uncle,
+      exist only on paper, and certain it is she was in charming company when
+      she heard her visitors' steps and voices coming up the stairs. Had those
+      visitors seen the vexed expression of her face as she laid down the book
+      they would have instantly 'bout ship and home again; but that sour look
+      dissolved away as they came through the open door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On coming in they saw a young lady seated on a sofa.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Apparently she did not see them enter. Her face <i>happened</i> to be
+      averted; but, ere they had taken three steps, she turned her face, saw
+      them, rose, and took two steps to meet them, all beaming with courtesy,
+      kindness and quiet satisfaction at their arrival.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She gave her hand to Eve.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This is my brother, Miss Fountain.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Miss Fountain instantly swept David a courtesy with such a grace and flow,
+      coupled with an engaging smile, that the sailor was fascinated, and gazed
+      instead of bowing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Eve had her finger ready to poke him, when he recovered himself and bowed
+      low.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Eve played the accompaniment with her hand, knuckles down.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They sat down. Cups of tea, etc., were brought round to each by John. It
+      was bad tea, made out of the room. Catch a human being making good tea in
+      which it is not to share.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Fountain was only half awake.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Eve was more or less awed by Lucy. David, tutored by Eve, held his tongue
+      altogether, or gave short answers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This must be what the novels call a sea-cub!&rdquo; thought Miss Fountain.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The friends, Propriety and Restraint, presided over the innocent banquet,
+      and a dismal evening set in.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The first infraction of this polite tranquillity came, I blush to say,
+      from the descendant of John de Fonte. He exploded in a yawn of magnitude;
+      to cover this, the young lady began hastily to play her old game of
+      setting people astride their topic, and she selected David Dodd for the
+      experiment. She put on a warm curiosity about the sea, and ships, and the
+      countries men visit in them. Then occurred a droll phenomenon: David
+      flashed with animation, and began full and intelligent answers; then,
+      catching his sister's eye, came to unnatural full stops; and so warmly and
+      skillfully was he pressed that it cost him a gigantic effort to avoid
+      giving much amusement and instruction. The courtier saw this hesitation,
+      and the vivid flashes of intelligence, and would not lose her prey. She
+      drew him with all a woman's tact, and with a warmth so well feigned that
+      it set him on real fire. His instinct of politeness would not let him go
+      on all night giving short answers to inquiring beauty. He turned his eye,
+      which glowed now like a live coal, toward that enticing voice, and
+      presently, like a ship that has been hanging over the water ever so long
+      on the last rollers, with one gallant glide he took the sea, and towed
+      them all like little cockle-boats in his wake. From sea to sea, from port
+      to port, from tribe to tribe, from peril to peril, from feat to feat,
+      David whirled his wonderstruck hearers, and held them panting by the
+      quadruple magic of a tuneful voice, a changing eye, an ardent soul, and
+      truth at first-hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They sat thrilled and surprised, most of all Miss Fountain. To her, things
+      great and real had up to that moment been mere vague outlines seen through
+      a mist. Moreover, her habitual courtesy had hitherto drawn out pumps; but
+      now, when least expected, all in a moment, as a spark fires powder, it let
+      off a man.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A sailor is a live book of travels. Check your own vanity (if you possibly
+      can) and set him talking, you shall find him full of curious and
+      profitable matter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Fountains did not know this, and, even if they had, Dodd would have
+      taken them by surprise; for, besides being a sailor and a sea-enthusiast,
+      he was a fellow of great capacity and mental vigor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He had not skimmed so many books as we have, but I fear he had sucked
+      more. However, his main strength did not lie there. He was not a paper
+      man, and this&mdash;oh! men of paper and oh! C. R. in particular&mdash;gave
+      him a tremendous advantage over you that Sunday evening.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The man whose knowledge all comes from reading accumulates a great number
+      of what?&mdash;facts? No, of the shadows of facts; shadows often so thin,
+      indistinct and featureless, that, when one of the facts themselves runs
+      against him in real life, he does not know his old friend, round about
+      which he has written a smart leader in a journal and a ponderous trifle in
+      the Polysyllabic Review.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But this sailor had stowed into his mental hold not fact-shadows, but the
+      glowing facts all alive, O. For thirteen years, man and boy, he had beat
+      about the globe, with real eyes, real ears, and real brains ever at work.
+      He had drunk living knowledge like a fish, and at fountainheads.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Yet, to utter intellectual wealth nobly, two things more are indispensable
+      the gift of language and a tunable voice, which last does not always come
+      by talking with tempests.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Well, David Dodd had sucked in a good deal of language from books and
+      tongues; not, indeed, the Norman-French and demi-Latin and jargon of the
+      schools, printed for English in impotent old trimestrials for the further
+      fogification of cliques, but he had laid by a fair store of the best&mdash;of
+      the monosyllables&mdash;the Saxon&mdash;the soul and vestal fire of the
+      great English tongue.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So he was never at a loss for words, simple, clear, strong, like blasts of
+      a horn.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His voice at this period was mellow and flexible. He was a mimic, too; the
+      brighter things he had seen, whether glories of nature or acts of man, had
+      turned to pictures in this man's mind. He flashed these pictures one after
+      another upon the trio; he peopled the soft and cushioned drawing-room with
+      twenty different tribes and varieties of man, barbarous, semi-barbarous,
+      and civilized; their curious customs, their songs and chants, and dances,
+      and struts, and actual postures.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The aspect of famous shores from the sea, glittering coasts, dark straits,
+      volcanic rocks defying sea and sky, and warm, delicious islands clothed
+      with green, that burst on the mariner's sight after rugged places and
+      scowling skies.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The adventures of one unlucky ship, the <i>Connemara,</i> on a single
+      whaling cruise on the coast of Peru. The first slight signs of a gale,
+      seen only by the careful skipper. The hasty preparations for it: all hands
+      to shorten sail; then the moaning of the wind high up in the sky. All
+      hands to reef sail now&mdash;the whirl and whoo of the gale as it came
+      down on them. The ship careening as it caught her, the speaking-trumpet&mdash;the
+      captain howling his orders through it amid the tumult.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The floating icebergs&mdash;the ship among them, picking her way in and
+      out a hundred deaths. Baffled by the unyielding wind off Cape Horn,
+      sailing six weeks on opposite tacks, and ending just where they began,
+      weather-bound in sight of the gloomy Horn. Then the terrors of a
+      land-locked bay, and a lee shore; the ship tacking, writhing, twisting, to
+      weather one jutting promontory; the sea and safety is on the other side of
+      it; land and destruction on this&mdash;the attempt, the hope, the failure;
+      then the stout-hearted, skillful captain would try one rare maneuver to
+      save the ship, cargo, and crew. He would club-haul her, &ldquo;and if that
+      fails, my lads, there is nothing but up mainsail, up helm, run her slap
+      ashore, and lay her bones on the softest bit of rock we can pick.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Long ere this the poor ship had become a live thing to all these four, and
+      they hung breathless on her fate.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then he showed how a ship is club-hauled, and told how nobly the old <i>Connemara</i>
+      behaved (ships are apt to when well handled&mdash;double-barreled guns
+      ditto), and how the wind blew fiercer, and the rocks seemed to open their
+      mouths for her, and how she hung and vibrated between safety and
+      destruction, and at last how she writhed and slipped between Death's lips,
+      yet escaped his teeth, and tossed and tumbled in triumph on the great but
+      fair fighting sea; and how they got at last to the whaling ground, and
+      could not find a whale for many a weary day, and the novices said: &ldquo;They
+      were all killed before we sailed;&rdquo; and how, as uncommon ill luck is apt to
+      be balanced by uncommon good luck, one fine evening they fell in with a
+      whole shoal of whales at play, jumping clean into the air sixty feet long,
+      and coming down each with a splash like thunder; even the captain had
+      never seen such a game; and how the crew were for lowering the boats and
+      going at them, but the captain would not let them; a hundred playful
+      mountains of fish, the smallest weighing thirty ton, flopping down
+      happy-go-lucky, he did not like the looks of it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The boat will be at the mercy of chance among all those tails, and we are
+      not lucky enough to throw at random. No; since the beggars have taken to
+      dancing, for a change, let them dance all night; to-morrow they shall pay
+      the piper.&rdquo; How, at peep of day, the man at the mast-head saw ten whales
+      about two leagues off on the weather-bow; how the ship tacked and stood
+      toward them; how she weathered on one of monstrous size, and how he and
+      the other youngsters were mad to lower the boat and go after it, and how
+      the captain said: &ldquo;Ye lubbers, can't ye see that is a right whale, and not
+      worth a button? Look here away over the quarter at this whale. See how low
+      she spouts. She is a sperm whale, and worth seven hundred pounds if she
+      was only dead and towed alongside.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'That she shall be in about a minute,' cried one; and, indeed, we were
+      all in a flame; the boat was lowered, and didn't I worship the skipper
+      when he told me off to be one of her crew!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was that eager to be in at that whale's death, I didn't recollect there
+      might be smaller brutes in danger.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Just before the oars fell into the water, the skipper looked down over
+      the bulwarks, and says he to one of us that had charge of the rope that is
+      fast to the boat at one end and to the harpoon at the other, 'Now, Jack
+      you are a new hand; mind all I told you last night, or your mother will
+      see me come ashore without you, and that will vex her; and, my lads,
+      remember, if there is a single lubberly hitch in that line, you will none
+      of you come up the ship's side again.'
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'All right, captain,' says Jack, and we pulled off singing,
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+     &ldquo;'And spring to your oars, and, make your boat fly,
+       And when you come near her beware of her eye,'
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      till the coxswain bade us hold our lubberly tongues, and not frighten the
+      whales; however, we soon found we wanted all our breath for our work, and
+      more too.&rdquo; Then David painted the furious race after the whale, and how
+      the boat gradually gained, and how at last, as he was grinding his teeth
+      and pulling like mad, he heard a sound ahead like a hundred elephants
+      wallowing; and now he hoped to see the harpooner leave his oar, and rise
+      and fling his weapon; &ldquo;but that instant, up flukes, a tower of fish was
+      seen a moment in the air, with a tail-fin at the top of it just about the
+      size of this room we are sitting in, ladies, and down the whale sounded;
+      then it was pull on again in her wake, according as she headed in
+      sounding; pull for the dear life; and after a while the oarsmen saw the
+      steerman's eyes, prying over the sea, turn like hot coals. The men caught
+      fire at this, and put their very backbones into each stroke, and the boat
+      skimmed and flew. Suddenly the steersman cried out fiercely, 'Stand up,
+      harpoon! Up rose the harpooner, <i>his</i> eye like a hot coal now. The
+      men saw nothing; they must pull fiercer than ever. The harpooner balanced
+      his iron, swayed his body lightly, and the harpoon hissed from him. A soft
+      thud&mdash;then a heaving of the water all round, a slap that sounded like
+      a church tower falling flat upon an acre of boards, and drenched, and
+      blinded, and half smothered us all in spray, and at the same moment away
+      whirled the boat, dancing and kicking in the whale's foaming, bubbling
+      wake, and we holding on like grim death by the thwarts, not to be spun out
+      into the sea.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Delightful!&rdquo; cried Miss Fountain; &ldquo;the waves bounded beneath you like a
+      steed that knows its rider. Pray continue.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, Miss Fountain. Now of course you can see that, if the line ran out
+      too easy, the whale would leave us astern altogether, and if it jammed or
+      ran too hard, she would tow us under water.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course we see,&rdquo; said Eve, ironically; &ldquo;we understand everything by
+      instinct. Hang explanations when I'm excited; go ahead, do!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then I won't explain how it is or why it is, but I'll just let you know
+      that two or three hundred fathom of line are passed round the boat from
+      stem to stern and back, and carried in and out between the oarsmen as they
+      sit. Well, it was all new to me then; but when the boat began jumping and
+      rocking, and the line began whizzing in and out, and screaming and smoking
+      like&mdash;there now, fancy a machine, a complicated one, made of
+      poisonous serpents, the steam on, and you sitting in the middle of the
+      works, with not an inch to spare, on the crankest, rockingest, jumpingest,
+      bumpingest, rollingest cradle that ever&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;David!&rdquo; said Eve, solemnly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hallo!&rdquo; sang out David.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, yes, do!&rdquo; cried Lucy, slightly clasping her hands.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If this little black ugly line was to catch you, it would spin you out of
+      the boat like a shuttlecock; if it held you, it would cut you in two, or
+      hang you to death, or drown you all at one time; and if it got jammed
+      against anything alive or dead that could stand the strain, it would take
+      the boat and crew down to the coral before you could wink twice.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, dear!&rdquo; said Lucy; &ldquo;then I don't think I like it now; it is too
+      terrible. Pray go on, Mr.&mdash;Mr.&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, Miss Fountain, when a novice like me saw this black serpent
+      twisting and twirling, and smoking and hissing in and out among us, I
+      remembered the skipper's words, and I hailed Jack&mdash;it was he had laid
+      the line&mdash;he was in the bow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Jack,' said I.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Hallo!&rdquo; said he.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'For God's sake, are there any hitches in the line?' said I.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Not as I <i>knows</i> on,' says he, much cooler than you sit there; and
+      that is a sailor all over. Well, she towed us about a mile, and then she
+      was blown, and we hauled up on the line, and came up with her, and drove
+      lances into her, till she spouted blood instead of salt water, and went
+      into her flurry, and rolled suddenly over our way dead, and was within a
+      foot of smashing us to atoms; but if she had it would only have been an
+      accident, for she was past malice, poor thing. Then we took possession,
+      planted our flagstaff in her spouting-hole, you know, and pulled back to
+      the ship, and she came down and anchored to the whale, and then, for the
+      first time, I saw the blubber stripped off a whale and hoisted by tackles
+      into the ship's hold, which is as curious as any part of the business, but
+      a dirtyish job, and not fit for the present company, and I dare say that
+      is enough about whales.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No! no! no!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, then, shall I tell you how one old whale knocked our boat clean
+      into the air, bottom uppermost, and how we swam round her and managed to
+      right her?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And went back to the ship and had your tea in bed and your clothes
+      dried?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, Eve,&rdquo; replied David, with the utmost simplicity; &ldquo;we got in and to
+      work again, and killed the whale in less than half an hour, and planted
+      our flag on her, and away after another.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then he told them how they harpooned one right whale, and by good luck
+      were able to make her fast to the stern of the ship. &ldquo;And, if you will
+      believe me, Miss Fountain, though there was just a breath on and off right
+      aft, and the foresail, jib and mizzen all set to catch it, she towed the
+      ship astern a good cable's length, and the last thing was she broke the
+      harpoon shaft just below the line, and away she swam right in the wind's
+      eye.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And there was an end of her and your nasty, cruel, harpoon, and&mdash;oh,
+      I'm so pleased!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, there wasn't, Eve; we heard of both fish and harpoon again, but not
+      for a good many years.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Dodd!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, Miss Fountain. It is curious, like many things that fall out at sea,
+      but not so wonderful as her towing a ship of four hundred tons, with the
+      foresail, mizzen, and jib all aback. Well, sir, did you ever hear of
+      Nantucket? It is a port in the United States; and our harpooner happened
+      to be there full four years after we lost this whale. Some Yankee whalers
+      were treating him to the best of grog, and it was brag Briton, brag
+      Yankee, according to custom whenever these two met. Well, our man had no
+      more invention than a stone; so he was getting the worst of it till he
+      bethought him of this whale; so he up and told how he had struck a right
+      whale in the Pacific, and she had towed the ship with her sails aback, at
+      least her foresail, mizzen, and jib, only he didn't tell it short like me,
+      but as long as the Red Sea, with the day and the hour, the latitude
+      (within four or five degrees, I take it), and what we had done a week
+      before, and what we had not done, all by way of prologue, and for fear of
+      weathering the horn&mdash;tic, tic&mdash;the point of the story too soon.
+      When he had done there was a general howl of laughter, and they began to
+      cap lies with him, and so they bantered him most cruelly, by all accounts;
+      but at last a long silent chap, weather-beaten to the color of rosewood,
+      put in his word.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'What was the ship's name, mate?'
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'The <i>Connemara</i>,' says he.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'And what is your name?' So he told him, 'Jem Green.'
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The other brings a great mutton fist down on the table, and makes all the
+      glasses dance. 'You stay at your moorings till I come back,' says he. 'I
+      have got something belonging to you, Jem Green,' and he sheered off. The
+      others lay to and passed the grog. Presently the long one comes back with
+      a harpoon steel in his hand; there was <i>Connemara</i> stamped on it, and
+      also 'James Green' graved with a knife. 'Is that yours?' 'Is my hand
+      mine?' says Jem; 'but wasn't there a broken shaft to it!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'There was,' says the Yankee harpooner; 'I cut it out.'
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Well!' says Jem, 'that is the harpoon we were fast by to this very
+      whale. Where did you kill her?'
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'In the Greenland seas.' And he whips out his private log. 'Here you
+      are,' says he; 'March 25, 1820, latitude so and so, killed a right whale;
+      lost half the blubber, owing to the carcass sinking; cut an English
+      harpoon out of her.'
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Avast there, mate!' cried Jem, and he whips, out <i>his</i> log;
+      'overhaul that.' The other harpooner overhauled it. 'Mates, look, here,'
+      says he; 'I reckon we hain't fathomed the critters yet. The Britisher
+      struck her in the Pacific on the 5th of March, and we killed her off
+      Greenland on the 25th, five thousand miles of water by the lowest
+      reckoning.' By this time there were a dozen heads jammed together, like
+      bees swarming, over the two logs. 'She got a wound in the Pacific!
+      &ldquo;Hallo!&rdquo; says she; &ldquo;this is no sea for a lady to live in;&rdquo; so she up helm,
+      and right away across the pole into the Atlantic, and met her death.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your story has an interest you little suspect, young gentleman. If this
+      is true, the northwest passage is proved.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That has been proved a hundred times, sir, and in a hundred ways; the
+      only riddle is to find it. The man that tells you there is not a northwest
+      passage is no sailor, and the fish that can't find it is not a whale; for
+      there is not a young suckling no bigger than this room that does not know
+      that passage as well as a mid on his first voyage knows the way to the
+      mizzen-top through lubber's hole. How tired you must be of whales,
+      ladies?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh no.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Kill us one more, David. I love bloodshed&mdash;to hear of.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, now, I don't think that can be Miss Fountain's taste, to look at
+      her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then David told them how he had fallen in with a sperm whale, dead of
+      disease, floating as high as a frigate; how, with a very light breeze, the
+      skipper had crept down toward her; how, at half a mile distance the stench
+      of her was severe, but, as they neared her, awful; then so intolerable
+      that the skipper gave the crew leave to go below and close the lee ports.
+      So there were but two men left on the brig's deck, and a ship's company
+      that a hurricane would not have driven from their duty skulked before a
+      foul smell; but such a smell! a smell that struck a chill and a loathing
+      to the heart, and soul, and marrow-bone; a smell like the gases in a foul
+      mine; &ldquo;it would have suffocated us in a few moments if we had been shut up
+      along with it.&rdquo; Then he told how the skipper and he stuffed their noses
+      and ears with cotton steeped in aromatic vinegar, and their mouths with
+      pig-tail (by which, as it subsequently appeared, Lucy understood pork or
+      bacon in some form unknown to her narrow experience), and lighted short
+      pipes, and breached the brig upon the putrescent monster, and grappled to
+      it, and then the skipper jumped on it, a basket slung to his back, and a
+      rope fast under his shoulders in case of accident, and drove his spade in
+      behind the whale's side-fin.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;His spade, Mr. Dodd?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;His whale-spade; it is as sharp as a razor;&rdquo; and how the skipper dug a
+      hole in the whale as big as a well and four feet deep, and, after a long
+      search, gave a shout of triumph, and picked out some stuff that looked
+      like Gloucester cheese; and, when he had nearly filled his basket with
+      this stuff, he slacked the grappling-iron, and David hauled him on board,
+      and the carcass dropped astern, and the captain sang out for rum, and
+      drank a small tumbler neat, and would have fainted away, spite of his
+      precautions, but for the rum, and how a heavenly perfume was now on deck
+      fighting with that horrid odor; and how the crew smelled it, and crept
+      timidly up one by one, and how &ldquo;the Glo'ster cheese was a great favorite
+      of yours, ladies. It was the king of perfumes&mdash;amber-gas; there is
+      some of it in all your richest scents; and the knowing skipper had made a
+      hundred guineas in the turn of the hand. So knowledge is wealth, you see,
+      and the sweet can be got out of the sour by such as study nature.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't preach, David, especially after just telling a fib. A hundred
+      guineas!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am wrong,&rdquo;' said David.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very wrong, indeed.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There were eight pounds; and he sold it at a guinea the ounce to a
+      wholesale chemist, so that looks to me like 128 pounds.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then David left the whales, and encouraged by bright eyes and winning
+      smiles, and warm questions, sang higher strains.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ships in dire distress at sea, yet saved by God's mercy, and the cool,
+      invincible courage of captain and crew&mdash;great ships run ashore&mdash;the
+      waves breaking them up&mdash;the rigging black with the despairing crew,
+      eying the watery death that tumbled and gaped and roared for them below;
+      and then little shore boats, manned by daring hearts, launched into the
+      surf, and going out to the great ship and her peril, risking more life for
+      the chance of saving life. And he did not present the bare skeletons of
+      daring acts; those grand morgues, the journals, do that. There lie the dry
+      bones of giant epics waiting Genius's hand to make them live. He gave them
+      not only the broad outward facts&mdash;the bones; but those smaller
+      touches that are the body and soul of a story, true or false, wanting
+      which the deeds of heroes sound an almanac; above all, he gave them
+      glimpses, not only of what men acted, but what they felt: what passed in
+      the hearts of men perishing at sea, in sight of land, houses, fires on the
+      hearth, and outstretched hands, and in the hearts of the heroes that ran
+      their boats into the surf and Death's maw to save them, and of the lookers
+      on, admiring, fearing, shivering, glowing, and of the women that sobbed
+      and prayed ashore with their backs to the sea, just able to risk lover,
+      husband, and son for the honor of manhood and the love of Christ, but not
+      able to look on at their own flesh and blood diving so deep, and lost so
+      long in cockle-shells between the hills of waves.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Such great acts, great feelings, great perils, and the gushes that crowned
+      all of holy triumph when the boats came in with the dripping and saved,
+      and man for a moment looked greater than the sea and the wind and death,
+      this seaman poured hot from his own manly heart into quick and womanly
+      bosoms, that heaved visibly, and glowed with admiring sympathy, and
+      fluttered with gentle fear.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And after a while, though not at first, David's yarns began to contain a
+      double interest to one of the party&mdash;Miss Fountain. Those who live to
+      please get to read character at sight, and David, though in these more
+      noble histories he scarcely named himself, was laying a full-length
+      picture of his own mind bare to these keen feminine eyes. As for old
+      Fountain, he was charmed, and saw nothing more than David showed him
+      outright. But the women sat flashing secret intelligence backward and
+      forward from eye to eye after the manner of their sex.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you see?&rdquo; said one lady's eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; replied the other. &ldquo;He was concerned in this feat, though he does
+      not say so.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, you agree with me? Then we are right,&rdquo; replied the first pair of
+      speakers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There again: look; this sailor, whom he describes as a fellow that
+      happened to be ashore at that foreign port with nothing better to do, and
+      who went out with the English smugglers to save the brig when the natives
+      durst not launch a boat?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Himself! not a doubt of it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And so the blue and hazel lightning went dancing to and fro; ay, even when
+      the tale took a sorrowful turn, and dimmed these bright orbs of
+      intelligence, the lightning struggled through the dew, and David was read
+      and discussed by gleams, and glances, and flashes, without a word spoken.
+      And he, all unconscious that he sat between a pair of telegraphs, and
+      heating more and more under his great recollections and his hearers'
+      sympathy, inthralled them with his tuneful voice, his glowing face, his
+      lion eye, and his breathing, burning histories. Heart to dare and do, yet
+      heart to feel, and brain and tongue to tell a deed well, are rare allies,
+      yet here they met.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He mastered his hearers, and played on their breasts as David played the
+      harp, and perhaps Achilles; Bochsa never, nor any of his tribe. He made
+      the old man forget his genealogies, his small ambition, his gout, his
+      years, and be a boy again an hour or two in thought, and blood, and early
+      fire. He made the women's bosoms pant and swell, and seem to aspire to be
+      the nests and cradles of heroes, and their eyes flash and glisten, and
+      their cheeks flush and grow pale by turns; and the four little papered
+      walls that confined them seemed to fall without noise, and they were away
+      in thought out of a carpeted temple of wax, small talk, nonentity, and
+      nonentities, away to sea-breezes that they almost felt in their hair and
+      round their temples as their hearts rose and fell upon a broad swell of
+      passion, perils, waves, male men, realities. The spell was at its height,
+      when the sea-wizard's eye fell on the mantel-piece. Died in a moment his
+      noble ardor: &ldquo;Why, it is eight bells,&rdquo; said he, servilely; then, doggedly,
+      &ldquo;time to turn in.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hang that clock!&rdquo; shouted Mr. Fountain; &ldquo;I'll have it turned out of the
+      room.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Said Lucy, with gentle enthusiasm, &ldquo;It must be beautiful to be a sailor,
+      and to have seen the real world, and, above all, to be brave and strong
+      like Mr. &mdash;&mdash;,. must it not, uncle?&rdquo; and she looked askant at
+      David's square shoulders and lion eye, and for the first time in her life
+      there crossed her an undefined instinct that this gentleman must be the
+      male of her species.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;As for his courage,&rdquo; said Eve, &ldquo;that we have only his own word for.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      David grinned.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not even that,&rdquo; replied Lucy, &ldquo;for I observed he spoke but little of
+      himself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I did not notice that,&rdquo; said Eve, pertly; &ldquo;but as for his strength, he
+      certainly is as strong as a great bear, and as rude. What do you think? my
+      lord carried me all the way from the top of the green lane to your house,
+      and I am no feather.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, a skein of silk,&rdquo; put in David.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I asked the gentleman politely to put me down, and he wouldn't, so then I
+      boxed his ears.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, how could you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, bless you, he never hits me again; he is too great a coward. And the
+      great mule carried me all the more&mdash;carried me to your very door.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I almost think&mdash;I believe I could guess why he carried you, if you
+      will not be offended at my assuming the interpreter,&rdquo; said Lucy, looking
+      at Eve and speaking at David. &ldquo;You have thin shoes on, Miss Dodd; now I
+      remember the gravel ends at green lane, and the grass begins; so, from
+      what we know of Mr. Dodd, perhaps he carried you that you might not have
+      damp feet.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nothing of the kind&mdash;yes, it was, though, by his coloring up. La!
+      David, dear boy!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is a man alongside for but to keep a girl out of mischief?&rdquo; said
+      David, bruskly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pray convert all your sex to that view,&rdquo; laughed Lucy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So now they were going. Then Mr. Fountain thanked David for the pleasant
+      evening he had given them; then David blushed and stammered. He had a
+      veneration for old age&mdash;another of his superstitions.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Her uncle's lead gave Lucy an opportunity she instantly seized. &ldquo;Mr. Dodd,
+      you have taken us into a new world of knowledge; we never were so
+      interested in our lives.&rdquo; At this pointblank praise David blushed, and was
+      anything but comfortable, and began to back out of it all with a curt bow.
+      Then, as the ladies can advance when a man of merit retreats, Lucy went
+      the length of putting out her hand with a sweet, grateful smile; so he
+      took it, and, in the ardor of encouraging so much spirit and modesty, she
+      unconsciously pressed it. On this delicious pressure, light as it was, he
+      raised his full brown eye, and gave her such a straightforward look of
+      manly admiration and pleasure that she blushed faintly and drew back a
+      little in her turn.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, Davy, dear, how do you like the Fountains?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Eve, she is a clipper!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And the old gentleman?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He was very friendly. What do <i>you</i> think of her?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She is an out-and-out woman of the world, and very agreeable, as
+      insincere people generally are. I like her because she was so polite to
+      you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, that is your reading of her, is it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The rest of the walk passed almost in silence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Uncle, I am not sleepy to-night.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who is? that young rascal has set me on fire with his yarns. Who would
+      have thought that awkward cub had so much in him?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Awkward, but not a cub; say rather a black swan; and you know, uncle, a
+      swan is an awkward thing on land, but when it takes the water it is
+      glorious, and that man was glorious; but&mdash;Da&mdash;vid Do&mdash;dd.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know whether he was glorious, but I know he amused me, and I'll
+      have him to tea three times a week while he lasts.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Uncle, do you believe such an unfortunate combination of sounds is his
+      real name?&rdquo; asked Lucy, gravely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, who would be mad enough to feign such a name?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is true; but now tell me&mdash;if he should ever, think of marrying
+      with such a name?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then there will be two David Dodd's in the world, Mr. and Mrs.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't think so; he will be merciful, and take her name instead of she
+      his; he is so good-natured.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ordinary sponsors would have been content with Samuel or Nathan; but no,
+      this one's must, call in 'apt alliteration's artful aid,' and have the two
+      'd's.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy assented with a smile, and so, being no longer under the spell of the
+      enthusiast and the male, the genealogist and the fine lady took the rise
+      out of what Miss Fountain was pleased to call his impossible title,
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Da&mdash;vid Dodd.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER III.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      LUCY was not called on to write any more formal invitations to Mr.
+      Talboys. Her uncle used merely to say to her: &ldquo;Talboys dines with us
+      to-day.&rdquo; She made no remark; she respected her uncle's preference; besides&mdash;the
+      pony! Of these trios Mr. Fountain was the true soul. He had to blow the
+      coals of conversation right and left. It is very good of me not to compare
+      him to the Tropic between two frigid zones. At first he took his nap as
+      usual; for he said to himself: &ldquo;Now I have started them they can go on.&rdquo;
+       Besides, he had seen pictures in the shop windows of an old fellow dozing
+      and then the young ones &ldquo;popping.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Dozing off with this idea uppermost, he used to wake with his eyes shut
+      and his ears wide open; but it was to hear drowsy monosyllables dropping
+      out at intervals like minute-guns, or to find Lucy gone and Talboys
+      reading the coals. Then the schemer sighed, and took to strong coffee soon
+      after dinner, and gave up his nap, and its loss impaired his temper the
+      rest of the evening.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He indemnified himself for these sleepless dinners by asking David Dodd
+      and his sister to tea thrice a week on the off-nights; this joyous pair
+      amused the old gentleman, and he was not the man to deny himself a
+      pleasure without a powerful motive.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What, again so soon?&rdquo; hazarded Lucy, one day that he bade her invite
+      them. &ldquo;I hardly know how to word my invitation; I have exhausted the
+      forms.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If you say another word, I'll make them come every night. Am I to have no
+      amusement?&rdquo; he added, in a deep tone of reproach; &ldquo;they make me laugh.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! I forgot; forgive me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Little hypocrite; don't they you too, pray? Why, you are as dull as
+      ditchwater the other evenings.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Me, dear, dull with you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, Miss Crocodile, dull with a pattern uncle and his friend&mdash;and
+      your admirer.&rdquo; He watched her to see how she would take this last word.
+      Catch her taking it at all. &ldquo;I am never dull with you, dear uncle,&rdquo; said
+      she; &ldquo;but a third person, however estimable, is a certain restraint, and
+      when that person is not very lively&mdash;&rdquo; Here the explanation came
+      quietly to an untimely end, like those old tunes that finish in the middle
+      or thereabouts.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But that is the very thing; what do I ask them for to-night but to thaw
+      Talboys?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To thaw Talboys? he! he!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy seemed so tickled by this expression that the old gentleman was sorry
+      he had used it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I mean, they will make him laugh.&rdquo; Then, to turn it off, he said hastily,
+      &ldquo;And don't forget the fiddle, Lucy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, yes, dear, please let me forget that, and then perhaps they may
+      forget to bring it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, you pressed him to bring it; I heard you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did I?&rdquo; said Lucy, ruefully.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am sure I thought you were mad after a fiddle, you seconded Eve so
+      warmly; so that was only your extravagant politeness after all. I am glad
+      you are caught. I like a fiddle, so there is no harm done.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Yes, reader, you have hit it. Eve, who openly quizzed her brother, but
+      secretly adored him, and loved to display all his accomplishments, had
+      egged on Mr. Fountain to ask David to bring his violin next time. Lucy had
+      shivered internally. &ldquo;Now, of all the screeching, whining things that I
+      dislike, a violin!&rdquo;&mdash;and thus thinking, gushed out, &ldquo;Oh, pray do, Mr.
+      Dodd,&rdquo; with a gentle warmth that settled the matter and imposed on all
+      around.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This evening, then, the Dodds came to tea.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They found Lucy alone in the drawing-room, and Eve engaged her directly in
+      sprightly conversation, into which they soon drew David, and,
+      interchanging a secret signal, plied him with a few artful questions, and&mdash;launched
+      him. But the one sketch I gave of his manner and matter must serve again
+      and again. Were I to retail to the reader all the droll, the spirited, the
+      exciting things he told his hearers, there would be no room for my own
+      little story; and we are all so egotistical! Suffice it to say, the living
+      book of travels was inexhaustible; his observation and memory were really
+      marvelous, and his enthusiasm, coupled with his accuracy of detail, had
+      still the power to inthrall his hearers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Dodd,&rdquo; said Lucy, &ldquo;now I see why Eastern kings have a story-teller
+      always about them&mdash;a live story-teller. Would not you have one, Miss
+      Dodd, if you were Queen of Persia?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Me? I'd have a couple&mdash;one to make me laugh; one miserable.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;One would be enough if his resources were equal to your brother's. Pray
+      go on, Mr. Dodd. It was madness to interrupt you with small talk.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      David hung his head for a moment, then lifted it with a smile, and sailed
+      in the spirit into the China seas, and there told them how the Chinamen
+      used to slip on board his ship and steal with supernatural dexterity, and
+      the sailors catch them by the tails, which they observing, came ever with
+      their tails soaped like pigs at a village feast; and how some foolhardy
+      sailors would venture into the town at the risk of their lives; and how
+      one day they had to run for it, and when they got to the shore their boat
+      was stolen, and they had to 'bout ship and fight it out, and one fellow
+      who knew the natives had loaded the sailors' guns with currant jelly. Make
+      ready&mdash;present&mdash;fire! In a moment the troops of the Celestial
+      Empire smarted, and were spattered with seeming gore, and fled yelling.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then he told how a poor comrade of his was nabbed and clapped in prison,
+      and his hands and feet were to be cut off at sunrise; himself at noon. It
+      was midnight, and strict orders from the quarterdeck had been issued that
+      no man should leave the ship: what was to be done? It was a moonlight
+      night. They met, silent as death, between decks&mdash;daren't speak above
+      a whisper, for fear the officers should hear them. His messmate was crying
+      like a child. One proposed one thing, one another; but it was all
+      nonsense, and we knew it was, and at sunrise poor Tom must die.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At last up jumps one fellow, and cries, &ldquo;Messmates, I've got it; Tom isn't
+      dead yet.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This was the moment Mr. Fountain and Mr. Talboys chose for coming into the
+      drawing-room, of course. Mr. Fountain, with a shade of hesitation and
+      awkwardness, introduced the Dodds to Mr. Talboys: he bowed a little
+      stiffly, and there was a pause. Eve could not repress a little movement of
+      nervous impatience. &ldquo;David is telling us one of his nonsensical stories,
+      sir,&rdquo; said she to Mr. Fountain, &ldquo;and it is so interesting; go on, David.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, but,&rdquo; said David, modestly, &ldquo;it isn't everybody that likes these
+      sea-yarns as you do, Eve. No, I'll belay, and let my betters get a word in
+      now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are more merciful than most story-tellers, sir,&rdquo; said Talboys.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Eve tossed her head and looked at Lucy, who with a word could have the
+      story go on again. That young lady's face expressed general complacency,
+      politeness, and <i>tout m'est egal.</i> Eve could have beat her for not
+      taking David's part. &ldquo;Doubleface!&rdquo; thought she. She then devoted herself
+      with the sly determination of her sex to trotting David out and making him
+      the principal figure in spite of the new-corner.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But, as fast as she heated him, Talboys cooled him. We are all great at
+      something or other, small or great. Talboys was a first-rate freezer. He
+      was one of those men who cannot shine, but can eclipse. They darken all
+      but a vain man by casting a dark shadow of trite sentences on each
+      luminary. The vain man insults them directly, and so gets rid of them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Talboys kept coming across honest enthusiastic David with little remarks,
+      each skillfully discordant with the rising sentiment. Was he droll,
+      Talboys did a bit of polite gravity on him; was he warm in praise of some
+      gallant action, chill irony trickled on him from T.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His flashes of romance were extinguished by neat little dicta, embodying
+      sordid and false, but current views of life. The gauze wings of eloquence,
+      unsteeled by vanity, will not bear this repeated dabbing with prose glue,
+      so David collapsed and Talboys conquered&mdash;&ldquo;spell&rdquo; benumbed &ldquo;charm.&rdquo;
+       The sea-wizard yielded to the petrifier, and &ldquo;could no more,&rdquo; as the poets
+      say. Talboys smiled superior. But, as his art was a purely destructive
+      one, it ended with its victim; not having an idea of his own in his skull,
+      the commentator, in silencing his text, silenced himself and brought the
+      society to a standstill. Eve sat with flashing eyes; Lucy's twinkled with
+      sly fun: this made Eve angrier. She tried another tack.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You asked David to bring his fiddle,&rdquo; said she, sharply, &ldquo;but I suppose
+      now&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Has he brought it?&rdquo; asked Mr. Fountain, eagerly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, he has; I made him&rdquo; (with a glance of defiance at Talboys).
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Fountain rang the bell directly and sent for the fiddle. It came.
+      David took it and tuned it, and made it discourse. Lucy leaned a little
+      back in her chair, wore her &ldquo;<i>tout m'est egal</i> face,&rdquo; and Eve watched
+      her like a cat. First her eyes opened with a mild astonishment, then her
+      lips parted in a smile; after a while a faint color came and went, and her
+      eyes deepened and deepened in color, and glistened with the dewy light of
+      sensibility.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A fiddle wrought this, or rather genius, in whose hand a jews-harp is the
+      lyre of Orpheus, a fiddle the harp of David, a chisel a hewer of heroic
+      forms, a brush or a pen the scepter of souls, and, alas! a nail a
+      picklock.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Inside every fiddle is a soul, but a coy one. The nine hundred and
+      ninety-nine never win it. They play rapid tunes, but the soul of beautiful
+      gayety is not there; slow tunes, very slow ones, wherein the spirit of
+      whining is mighty, but the sweet soul of pathos is absent; doleful, not
+      nice and tearful. Then comes the Heaven-born fiddler,* who can make
+      himself cry with his own fiddle. David had a touch of this witchcraft.
+      Though a sound musician and reasonably master of his instrument, he could
+      not fly in a second up and down it, tickling the fingerboard and
+      scratching the strings without an atom of tone, as the mechanical monkeys
+      do that boobies call fine players.
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+     * This is a definition of the Heaven-born fiddler by Pate
+     Bailey, a gypsy tinker and celestial violinist. Being asked
+     for a test of proficiency on that instrument, he replied
+     that no man is a fiddler &ldquo;till he can gar himsel greet wi a
+     feddle.&rdquo;
+
+     &ldquo;Great Orpheus played so well he moved Old Nick,
+      But these move nothing but their fiddlestick.&rdquo; *
+
+     * See how unjust satire is! Don't they move their finger-
+     nails?
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      But he could make you laugh and crow with his fiddle, and could make you
+      jump up, aetat. 60, and snap your fingers at old age and propriety, and
+      propose a jig to two bishops and one master of the rolls, and, they
+      declining, pity them without a shade of anger, and substitute three
+      chairs; then sit unabashed and smiling at the past; and the next minute he
+      could make you cry, or near it. In a word he could evoke the soul of that
+      wonderful wooden shell, and bid it discourse with the souls and hearts of
+      his hearers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Meantime Lucy Fountain's face would have interested a subtle student of
+      her sex.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Her sensibility to music was great, and the feeling strains stole into her
+      nature, and stirred the treasures of the deep to the surface. Eve, a keen
+      if not a profound observer, was struck by the rising beauty of this
+      countenance, over which so many moods chased one another. She said to
+      herself: &ldquo;Well, David is right, after all; she is a lovely girl. Her
+      features are nothing out of the way. Her nose is neither one thing nor the
+      other, but her expression is beautiful. None of your wooden faces for me.
+      And, dear heart, how her neck rises! La! how her color comes and goes!
+      Well, I do love the fiddle myself dearly; and now, if her eyes are not
+      brimming; I could kiss her! La! David,&rdquo; cried she, bursting the bounds of
+      silence, &ldquo;that is enough of the tune the old cow died of; take and play
+      something to keep our hearts up&mdash;do.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Eve's good-humor and mirth were restored by David's success, and now
+      nothing would serve her turn but a duet, pianoforte and violin. Miss
+      Fountain objected, &ldquo;Why spoil the violin?&rdquo; David objected too, &ldquo;I had
+      hoped to hear the piano-forte, and how can I with a fiddle sounding under
+      my chin?&rdquo; Eve overruled both peremptorily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, Miss Dodd, what shall we select? But it does not matter; I feel
+      sure Mr. Dodd can play <i>a livre ouvert.&rdquo;</i>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not he,&rdquo; said Eve, hypocritically, being secretly convinced he could.
+      &ldquo;Can you play 'a leevre ouvert,' David?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who is it by, Miss Fountain?&rdquo; Lucy never moved a muscle.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      After a rummage a duet was found that looked promising, and the
+      performance began. In the middle David stopped.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ha! ha! David's broke down,&rdquo; shrieked Eve, concealing her uneasiness
+      under fictitious gayety. &ldquo;I thought he would.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I beg your pardon,&rdquo; explained David to Miss Fountain, &ldquo;but you are out of
+      time.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Am I?&rdquo; said Lucy, composedly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And have been, more or less, all through.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;David, you forget yourself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no; set me right, by all means, Mr. Dodd. I am not a hardened
+      offender.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is it not just possible the violin may be the instrument that is out of
+      time?&rdquo; suggested Talboys, insidiously.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; said David, simply, &ldquo;I was right enough.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Let us try again, Mr. Dodd. Play me a few bars first in exact time. Thank
+      you. Now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All went merry as a marriage bell&rdquo; for a page and a half; then David,
+      fiddling away, cried out, &ldquo;You are getting too fast; 'ri tum tiddy, iddy
+      ri tum ti;&rdquo; then, by stamping and accenting very strongly, he kept the
+      piano from overflowing its bounds. The piece ended. Eve rubbed her hands.
+      &ldquo;Now you'll catch it, Mr. David!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am afraid I gave you a great deal of trouble, Mr. Dodd.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <i>&ldquo;En revanche,</i> you gave us a great deal of pleasure,&rdquo; put in Mr.
+      Talboys.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy turned her head and smiled graciously. &ldquo;But piano-forte players play
+      so much by themselves, they really forget the awful importance of time.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I profit by your confession that they do sometimes play by themselves,&rdquo;
+       said Mr. Talboys. &ldquo;Be merciful, and let us hear you by yourself.&rdquo;' Eve
+      turned as red as fire.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      David backed the request sincerely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy played a piece composed expressly for the piano by a pianist of the
+      day. David sat on her left hand and watched intently how she did it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When it was over, Talboys did a bit of rapture; Eve another.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is playing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I would not have believed it if I had not seen it done,&rdquo; said David.
+      &ldquo;Eve, you should have seen her beautiful fingers thread in and out among
+      the keys; it was like white fire dancing; and as for her hand, it is not
+      troubled with joints like ours, I should say.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The music, Mr. Dodd,&rdquo; said Lucy, severely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, the music! Well, I could hardly take on me to say. You see I heard it
+      by the eye, and that was all in its favor; but I should say the music
+      wasn't worth a button.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;David!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How you run off with one's words, Eve! I mean, played by anybody but her.
+      Why, what was it, when you come to think? Up and down the gamut, and then
+      down and up. No more sense in it than <i>a b c</i>&mdash;a scramble to the
+      main-masthead for nothing, and back to no good. I'd as lief see you play
+      on the table, Miss Fountain.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Poor Moscheles!&rdquo; said Lucy, dryly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Revenge is in your power,&rdquo; said Talboys; &ldquo;play no more; punish us all for
+      this one heretic.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy reflected a moment; she then took from the canterbury a thick old
+      book. &ldquo;This was my mother's. Her taste was pure in music, as in
+      everything. I shall be sorry if you do not <i>all</i> like this,&rdquo; added
+      she, softly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was an old mass; full, magnificent chords in long succession, strung
+      together on a clear but delicate melody. She played it to perfection: her
+      lovely hands seemed to grasp the chords. No fumbling in the base; no
+      gelatinizing in the treble. Her touch, firm and masterly, yet feminine,
+      evoked the soul of her instrument, as David had of his, and she thought of
+      her mother as she played. These were those golden strains from which all
+      mortal dross seems purged. Hearing them so played, you could not realize
+      that he who writ them had ever eaten, drunk, smoked, snuffed, and hated
+      the composer next door. She who played them felt their majesty and purity.
+      She lifted her beaming eye to heaven as she played, and the color receded
+      from her cheek; and when her enchantment ended she was silent, and all
+      were silent, and their ears ached for the departed charm.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then she looked round a mute inquiry.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Talboys applauded loudly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But the tear stood in David's eye, and he said nothing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, David,&rdquo; said Eve, reproachfully, &ldquo;I'm sure if that does not please
+      you&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Please me,&rdquo; cried David, a little fretfully; &ldquo;more shame for me if it
+      does not. Please is not the word. It is angel music, I call it&mdash;ah!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, you need not break your heart for that: he is going to cry&mdash;ha!
+      ha!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm no such thing,&rdquo; cried David, indignantly, and blew his nose&mdash;promptly,
+      with a vague air of explanation and defiance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But why the male of my species blows its nose to hide its sensibility a
+      deeper than I must decide.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Talboys for some time had not been at his ease. He had been playing
+      too, and an instrument he hated&mdash;second fiddle. He rose and joined
+      Mr. Fountain, who was sitting half awake on a distant sofa.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Aha!&rdquo; thought Eve, exulting, &ldquo;we have driven him away.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Judge her mortification when Lucy, after shutting the piano, joined her
+      uncle and Mr. Talboys. Eve whispered David: &ldquo;Gone to smooth him down: the
+      high and mighty gentleman wasn't made enough of.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Every one in their turn,&rdquo; said David, calmly; &ldquo;that is manners. Look! it
+      is the old gentleman she is being kind to. She could not be unkind to
+      anyone, however.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Eve put her lips to David's ear: &ldquo;She will be unkind to you if you are
+      ever mad enough to let her see what I see,&rdquo; said she, in a cutting
+      whisper.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What do you see? More than there is to see, I'll wager,&rdquo; said David,
+      looking down.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! that is the way with young men, the moment they take a fancy; their
+      sister is nothing to them, their best friend loses their confidence.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't ye say that, Eve&mdash;now don't say that!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no, David, never mind me. I am cross. And if you saw a sore heart in
+      store for anyone you had a regard for, wouldn't you be cross? Young men
+      are so stupid, they can't read a girl no more than Hebrew. If she is civil
+      and affable to them, oh, they are the man directly, when, instead of that,
+      if it was so, she would more likely be shy and half afraid to come near
+      them. David, you are in a fool's paradise. In company, and even in
+      flirtation, all sorts meet and part again; but it isn't so with marriage.
+      There 'it is beasts of a kind that in one are joined, and birds of a
+      feather that came together.' Like to like, David. She is a fine lady and
+      she will marry a fine gentleman, and nothing else, with a large income. If
+      she knew what has been in your head this month past, she would open her
+      eyes and ask if the man was mad.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She has a right to look down on me, I know,&rdquo; murmured David, humbly;
+      &ldquo;but&rdquo; (his eye glowing with sudden rapture) &ldquo;she doesn't&mdash;she
+      doesn't.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Look down on you! You are better company than she is, or anyone she can
+      get in this-out-of-the-way place; it is her interest to be civil to you. I
+      am too hard upon her. She is a lady&mdash;a perfect lady&mdash;and that is
+      why she is above giving herself airs. No, David, she is not the one to
+      treat us with disrespect, if we don't forget ourselves. But if ever you
+      let her see that you are in love with her, you will get an affront that
+      will make your cheek burn and my heart smart&mdash;so I tell you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hush! I never told you I was in love with her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Never told me? Never told me? Who asked you to tell me? I have eyes, if
+      you have none.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Eve,&rdquo; said David imploringly, &ldquo;I don't hear of any lover that she has. Do
+      you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; said Eve carelessly. &ldquo;But who knows? She passes half the year a
+      hundred miles from this, and there are young men everywhere. If she was a
+      milkmaid, they'd turn to look at her with such a face and figure as that,
+      much more a young lady with every grace and every charm. She has more than
+      one after her that we never see, take my word.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Eve had no sooner said this than she regretted it, for David's face
+      quivered, and he sighed like one trying to recover his breath after a
+      terrible blow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      What made this and the succeeding conversation the more trying and
+      peculiar was, that the presence of other persons in the room, though at a
+      considerable distance, compelled both brother and sister, though anything
+      but calm, to speak <i>sotto voce.</i> But in the history of mankind more
+      strange and incongruous matter has been dealt with in an undertone, and
+      with artificial and forced calmness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My poor David!&rdquo; said Eve sorrowfully; &ldquo;you who used to be so proud, so
+      high-spirited, be a man! Don't throw away such a treasure as your
+      affection. For my sake, dear David, your sister's sake, who does love you
+      so very, very dearly!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And I love you, Eve. Thank you. It was hard lines. Ah! But it is
+      wholesome, no doubt, like most bitters. Yes. Thank you, Eve. I do admire
+      her v-very much,&rdquo; and his voice faltered a little. &ldquo;But I am a man for all
+      that, and I'll stand to my own words. I'll never be any woman's slave.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is right, David.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will not give hot for cold, nor my heart for a smile or two. I can't
+      help admiring her, and I do hope she will be&mdash;happy&mdash;ah!&mdash;whoever
+      she fancies. But, if I am never to command her, I won't carry a willow at
+      my mast-head, and drift away from reason and manhood, and my duty to you,
+      and mother, and myself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! David, if you could see how noble you look now. Is it a promise,
+      David? for I know you will keep your word if once you pass it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There is my hand on it, Eve.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The brother and sister grasped hands, and when David was about to withdraw
+      his, Eve's soft but vigorous little hand closed tighter and kept it
+      firmer, and so they sat in silence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Eve.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My dear!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now don't you be cross.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, dear. Eve is sad, not cross; what is it?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, Eve&mdash;dear Eve.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't be afraid to speak your mind to me&mdash;why should you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, then, Eve, now, if she had not some little kindness for me, would
+      she be so pleased with these thundering yarns I keep spinning her, as old
+      as Adam, and as stale as bilge-water? You that are so keen, how comes it
+      you don't notice her eyes at these times? I feel them shine on me like a
+      couple of suns. They would make a statue pay the yarn out. Who ever
+      fancied my chat as she does?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;David,&rdquo; said Eve, quietly, &ldquo;I have thought of all this; but I am
+      convinced now there is nothing in it. You see, David, mother and I are
+      used to your yarns, and so we take them as a matter of course; but the
+      real fact is, they are very interesting and very enticing, and you tell
+      them like a book. You came all fresh to this lady, and, as she is very
+      quick, she had the wit to see the merit of your descriptions directly. I
+      can see it myself <i>now.</i> All young women like to be amused, David,
+      and, above all, <i>excited;</i> and your stories are very exciting; that
+      is the charm; that is what makes her eyes fire; but if that puppy there,
+      or that book-shelf yonder, could tell her your stories, she would look at
+      either the puppy or the book-stand with just the same eyes she looks on
+      you with, my poor David.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't say so, Eve. Let me think there is some little feeling for me
+      inside those sweet eyes, that look so kind on me&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And on me, and on everybody. It is her manner. I tell you she is so to
+      all the world. She isn't the first I've met. Trust me to read a woman,
+      David; what can you know?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know nothing; but they tell me you can fathom one another better than
+      any man ever could,&rdquo; said David, sorrowfully.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'David, just now you were telling as interesting a story as ever was. You
+      had just got to the thrilling part.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, had I? What was I saying?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can't tell you to the very word; I am not your sweetheart any more than
+      she is; but one of the sailors was in danger of his life, and so on. You
+      never told me the story before; I was not worth it. Well, just then does
+      not that affected puppy choose his time to come meandering in?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Puppy! I call him a fine gentleman.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, there isn't so much odds. In he comes; your story is broken off
+      directly. Does she care? No, she has got one of her own set; he is not a
+      very bright one; he is next door to a fool. No matter; before he came, to
+      judge by her crocodile eyes, she was hot after your story; the moment he
+      did come, she didn't care a pin for you <i>nor</i> your story. I gave her
+      more than one opening to bring it on again; not she. I tell you, you are
+      nothing but a <i>pass</i> time;* you suit her turn so long as none of her
+      own set are to be had. If she would leave you for such a jackanapes as
+      that, what would she do for a real gentleman? such a man as she is a
+      woman, for instance, and as if there weren't plenty such in her own set&mdash;oh,
+      you goose!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+     * I write this word as the lady thought proper to pronounce
+     it.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      David interrupted her. &ldquo;I have been a vain fool, and it is lucky no one
+      has seen it but you,&rdquo; and he hid his face in his hands a moment; then,
+      suddenly remembering where he was, and that this was an attitude to
+      attract attention, he tried to laugh&mdash;a piteous effort; then he
+      ground his teeth and said: &ldquo;Let us go home. All I want now is to get out
+      of the house. It would have been better for me if I had never set foot in
+      it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hush! be calm, David, for Heaven's sake. I am only waiting to catch her
+      eye, and then we'll bid them good-evening.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very well, I'll wait&rdquo;; and David fixed his eyes sadly and doggedly on the
+      ground. &ldquo;I won't look at her if I can help it,&rdquo; said he, resolutely, but
+      very sadly, and turned his head away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now, David,&rdquo; whispered Eve.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      David rose mechanically and moved with his sister toward the other group.
+      Miss Fountain turned at their approach. Somewhat to David's surprise, Eve
+      retreated as quickly as she had advanced.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We are to stay.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What for?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She made me a signal.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not that I saw,&rdquo; said David, incredulously.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What! didn't you see her give me a look?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I did. But what has that to do with it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That look was as much as to say, Please stay a little longer; I have
+      something to say to you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good Heavens!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think it is about a bonnet, David. I asked her to put me in the way of
+      getting one made like hers. She does wear heavenly bonnets.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ay. I did well to listen to you, Eve; you see I can't even read her face,
+      much less her heart. I saw her look up, but that was all. How is a poor
+      fellow to make out such craft as these, that can signal one another a
+      whole page with a flash of the eye? Ah!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There, David, he is going. Was I right?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Talboys was, in fact, taking leave of Miss Fountain. The old gentleman
+      convoyed his friend. As the door closed on them Miss Fountain's face
+      seemed to catch fire. Her sweet complacency gave way to a half-joyous,
+      half-irritated small energy. She came gliding swiftly, though not
+      hurriedly, up to Eve. &ldquo;Thank you for seeing.&rdquo; Then she settled softly and
+      gradually on an ottoman, saying, &ldquo;Now, Mr. Dodd.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      David looked puzzled. &ldquo;What is it?&rdquo; and he turned to his interpreter, Eve.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But it was Lucy who replied: &ldquo;'His messmate was crying like a child. At
+      sunrise poor Tom must die. Then up rose one fellow' (we have not any idea
+      who one fellow means in these narratives&mdash;have we, Miss Dodd?) 'and
+      cried, &ldquo;I have it, messmates. Tom isn't dead yet.&rdquo;' Now, Mr. Dodd, between
+      that sentence and the one that is to follow all that has happened in this
+      room was a hideous dream. On that understanding we have put up with it. It
+      is now happily dispersed, and we&mdash;go ahead again.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I see, Eve, she thinks she would like some more of that China yarn.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Her sentiments are not so tame. She longs for it, thirsts for it, and
+      must and will have it&mdash;if you will be so very obliging, Mr. Dodd.&rdquo;
+       The contrast between all this singular vivacity of Miss Fountain and the
+      sudden return to her native character and manner in the last sentence
+      struck the sister as very droll&mdash;seemed to the brother so winning,
+      that, scarcely master of himself, he burst out: &ldquo;You shan't ask me twice
+      for that, or anything I can give you;&rdquo; and it was with burning cheeks and
+      happy eyes he resumed his tale of bold adventure and skill on one side, of
+      numbers, danger and difficulty on the other. He told it now like one
+      inspired, and both the young ladies hung panting and glowing on his words.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      David and Eve went home together.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      David was in a triumphant state, but waited for Eve to congratulate him.
+      Eve was silent.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At last David could refrain no longer. &ldquo;Why, you say nothing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No. Common sense is too good to be wasted; don't go so fast.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No. There&mdash;I heave to for convoy to close up. Would it be wasted on
+      me? ha! ha!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To-night. There you go pelting on again.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Eve, I can't help it. I feel all canvas, with a cargo of angels' feathers
+      and sunshine for ballast.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Moonshine.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sun, moon, and stars, and all that is bright by night or day. I'll tell
+      you what to do; you keep your head free, and come on under easy sail; I'll
+      stand across your bows with every rag set and drawing, so then I shall be
+      always within hail.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This sober-minded maneuver was actually carried out. The little corvette
+      sailed steadily down the middle of the lane; the great merchantman went
+      pitching and rolling across her bows; thus they kept together, though
+      their rates of sailing were so different.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Merry Eve never laughed once, but she smiled, and then sighed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      David did not heed her. All of a moment his heart vented itself in a
+      sea-ditty so loud, and clear, and mellow, that windows opened, and out
+      came nightcapped heads to hear him carol the lusty stave, making night
+      jolly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Meantime, the weather being balmy, Mr. Fountain had walked slowly with Mr.
+      Talboys in another direction. Mr. Talboys inquired, &ldquo;Who were these
+      people?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, only two humble neighbors,&rdquo; was the reply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I never met them anywhere. They are received in the neighborhood?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not in society, of course.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't understand you. Have not I just met them here?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is not the way to put it,&rdquo; said the old gentleman, a little
+      confused. &ldquo;You did not meet them; you did me and my niece the honor to
+      dine with us, and the Dodds dropped in to tea&mdash;quite another matter.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, is it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is it not? I see you have been so long out of England you have forgotten
+      these little distinctions; society would go to the deuce without them. We
+      ask our friends, and persons of our own class, to dinner, but we ask who
+      we like to tea in this county. Don't you like her? She is the prettiest
+      girl in the village.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pretty and pert.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ha! ha! that is true. She is saucy enough, and amusing in proportion.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is the man I alluded to.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What, David? ay, a very worthy lad. He is a downright modest,
+      well-informed young man.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't doubt his general merits, but let me ask you a serious question:
+      his evident admiration of Miss Fountain?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;His ad-mi-ration of Miss Fountain?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is it agreeable to you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is a matter of consummate indifference to me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But not, I think, to her. She showed a submission to the cub's
+      impertinence, and a desire to please instead of putting him down, that
+      made me suspect. Do you often ask Mr. Dodd&mdash;what a name!&mdash;to
+      tea?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My dear friend, I see that, with all your accomplishments, you have
+      something to learn. You want insight into female character. Now I, who
+      must go to school to you on most points, can be of use to you here.&rdquo; Then,
+      seeing that Talboys was mortified at being told thus gently there was a
+      department of learning he had not fathomed, he added: &ldquo;At all events, I
+      can interpret my own niece to you. I have known her much longer than you
+      have.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Talboys requested the interpreter to explain the pleasure his niece
+      took in Mr. Dodd's fiddle.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Part politeness, part sham. Why, she wanted not to ask them this evening,
+      the fiddle especially. I'll give you the clue to Lucy; she is a female
+      Chesterfield, and the droll thing is she is polite at heart as well. Takes
+      it from her mother: she was something between an angel and a duchess.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Politeness does not account for the sort of partiality she showed for
+      these Dodds while I was in the room.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pure imagination, my dear friend. I was there; and had so monstrous a
+      phenomenon occurred I must have seen it. If you think she could really
+      prefer their society to yours, you are as unjust to her as yourself. She
+      may have concealed her real preference out of <i>finesse,</i> or perhaps
+      she has observed that our inferiors are touchy, and ready to fancy we
+      slight them for those of our own rank.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Talboys shrugged his shoulders; he was but half convinced. &ldquo;Her enthusiasm
+      when the cub scraped the fiddle went beyond mere politeness.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Beyond other people's, you mean. Nothing on earth ever went beyond hers&mdash;ha!
+      ha! ha! To-morrow night, if you like, we will have my gardener, Jack
+      Absolom, in to tea.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, I thank you. I have no wish to go beyond Mr. and Miss Dodd.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, only for an experiment. The first minute Jack will be wretched, and
+      want to sink through the floor; but in five minutes you will fancy Lucy
+      will have made Jack Absolom at home in my drawing-room. He will be laying
+      down the law about Jonquilles, and she all sweetness, curiosity, and
+      enthusiasm outside&mdash;<i>ennui</i> in.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Can her eyes glisten out of politeness?&rdquo; inquired Talboys, with a subdued
+      sneer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why not?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They could shed tears, perhaps, for the same motive?&rdquo; said Talboys, with
+      crushing irony.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well! Hum! I'd back them at four to seven.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Talboys was silent, and his manner showed that he was a little
+      mortified at a subject turning to joke which he had commenced seriously.
+      He must stop this annoyance. He said severely, &ldquo;It is time to come to an
+      understanding with you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At these words, and, above all, at their solemn tone, the senior pricked
+      his ears and prepared his social diplomacy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have visited very frequently at your house, Mr. Fountain.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Never without being welcome, my dear sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have, I think, divined one reason of my very frequent visits here.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have not been vain enough to attribute them entirely to my own
+      attractions.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You approve the homage I render to that other attraction?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Unfeignedly.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Am I so fortunate as to have her suffrage, too?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have no better means of knowing than you have.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Indeed! I was in hopes you might have sounded her inclinations.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have scrupulously avoided it,&rdquo; replied the veteran. &ldquo;I had no right to
+      compromise you upon mere conjecture, however reasonable. I awaited your
+      authority to take any move in so delicate a matter. Can you blame me? On
+      one side my friend's dignity, on the other a young lady's peace of mind,
+      and that young lady my brother's daughter.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You were right, my dear sir; I see and appreciate your reserve, your
+      delicacy, though I am about to remove its cause. I declare myself to you
+      your niece's admirer; have I your permission to address her?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have, and my warmest wishes for your success.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank you. I think I may hope to succeed, provided I have a fair chance
+      afforded me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will take care you shall have that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I should prefer not to have others buzzing about the lady whose affection
+      I am just beginning to gain.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You pay this poor sailor an amazing compliment,&rdquo; said Mr. Fountain, a
+      little testily; &ldquo;if he admires Lucy it can only be as a puppy is struck
+      with the moon above. The moon does not respond to all this wonder by
+      descending into the whelp's jaws&mdash;no more will my niece. But that is
+      neither here nor there; you are now her declared suitor, and you have a
+      right to stipulate; in short, you have only to say the word, and 'exeunt
+      Dodds,' as the play-books say.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dodds? I have no objection to the lady. Would it not be possible to
+      invite her to tea alone?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Quite possible, but useless. She would not stir out without her brother.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She seems a little person likely to give herself airs. Well, then, in
+      that case, though as you say I am no doubt raising Mr. Dodd to a false
+      importance, still&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Say no more; we should indulge the whims of our friends, not attack them
+      with reasons. You will see the Dodds no more in my house.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, as to that, just as you please. Perhaps they would be as well out of
+      it,&rdquo; said Talboys, with a sudden affectation of carelessness. &ldquo;I must not
+      take you too far. Good-night.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Go-o-d night!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Poor David. He was to learn how little real hold upon society has the man
+      who can only instruct and delight it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Fountain bustled home, rubbing his hands with delight. &ldquo;Aha!&rdquo; thought
+      he; &ldquo;jealous! actually jealous! absurdly jealous! That is a good sign. Who
+      would have thought so proud a man could be jealous of a sailor? I have
+      found out your vulnerable point, my friend. I'll tell Lucy; how she will
+      laugh. David Dodd! Now we know how to manage him, Lucy and I. If he
+      freezes back again, we have but to send for David Dodd and his fiddle.&rdquo; He
+      bustled home, and up into the drawing-room to tell Lucy Mr. Talboys had at
+      last declared himself. His heart felt warm. He would settle six thousand
+      pounds on Mrs. Talboys during his life and his whole fortune after his
+      death.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He found the drawing-room empty. He rang the bell. &ldquo;Where is Miss
+      Fountain?&rdquo; John didn't know, but supposed she had gone to her room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You don't know? You never know anything. Send her maid to me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The maid came and courtesied demurely at the door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tell your mistress I want to speak to her directly&mdash;before she
+      undresses.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The maid went out, and soon returned to say that her mistress had retired
+      to rest; but that, if he pleased, she would rise, and just make a
+      demi-toilet, and come to him. This smooth and fair-sounding proposal was
+      not, I grieve to say, so graciously received as offered. &ldquo;Much obliged,&rdquo;
+       snapped old Fountain. &ldquo;Her <i>demi-toilette</i> will keep me another hour
+      out of my bed, and I get no sleep after dinner now <i>among you.</i> Tell
+      her to-morrow at breakfast time will do.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER IV.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      DAVID DODD was so radiant and happy for a day or two that Eve had not the
+      heart to throw cold water on him again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Three days elapsed, and no invitation to Font Abbey; on this his happiness
+      cooled of itself. But when day after day rolled by, and no Font Abbey, he
+      was dashed, uneasy, and, above all, perplexed. What could be the reason?
+      Had he, with his rough ways, offended her? Had she been too dignified to
+      resent it at the time? Was he never to go to Font Abbey again? Eve's first
+      feeling was unmixed satisfaction. We have seen already that she expected
+      no good from this rash attachment. For a single moment her influence and
+      reasons had seemed to wean David from it; but his violent agitation and
+      joy at two words of kindly curiosity from Miss Fountain, and the instant
+      unreasonable revival of love and hope, showed the strange power she had
+      acquired over him. It made Eve tremble.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But now the Fountains were aiding her to cure this folly. She had read
+      them right, had described them to David aright. A wind of caprice had
+      carried him and her into Font Abbey; another such wind was carrying them
+      out. No event had happened. Mr. and Miss Fountain had been seen more than
+      once in the village of late. &ldquo;They have dropped us, and thank Heaven!&rdquo;
+       said Eve, in her idiomatic way.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She pitied David deeply, and was kinder and kinder to him now, to show him
+      she felt for him; but she never mentioned the Font Abbey people to him
+      either to praise or blame them, though it was all she could do to suppress
+      her satisfaction at the turn their insolent caprice had taken.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      That satisfaction was soon clouded. This time, instead of rousing himself
+      and his pride, David sank into a moody despondency; varied by occasional
+      fretfulness. His appetite went, and his bright color, and his elastic
+      step. This silent sadness was so new in him, such a contrast to his
+      natural temperature, large, genial, and ever cheerful, that Eve could not
+      bear it. &ldquo;I must shake him out of this, at all hazards,&rdquo; thought she: yet
+      she put off the experiment, and put it off, partly in hopes that David
+      would speak first, partly because she saw the wound she would probe was
+      deep, and she winced beforehand for her patient.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Meantime, prolonged doubt and suspense now goaded with their intolerable
+      stings the active spirit that chill misgivings had at first benumbed.
+      Spurred into action by these torments, David had already watched several
+      days in the neighborhood of Font Abbey, determined to speak to Miss
+      Fountain, and find out whether he had given her offense; for this was
+      still his uppermost idea. Having failed in this attempt at an interview
+      with her, he was now meditating a more resolute course, and he paced the
+      little gravel-walk at home debating in himself the pros and cons. Raising
+      his head suddenly, he saw his sister walking slowly at the other end of
+      the path. She was coming toward him, but her eyes were bent thoughtfully
+      on the ground. David slipped behind some bushes, not to have his
+      unhappiness and his meditations interrupted. The lover and the lunatic
+      have points in common.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He had been there some time when a grave little voice spoke quietly to him
+      from the lawn. &ldquo;David, I want to speak to you.&rdquo; David came out.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Here am I.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I knew where you were. Don't do that again, sir, please, or you'll
+      catch it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I didn't think you saw me,&rdquo; said David, somewhat confusedly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What has that to do with it, stupid? David,&rdquo; continued she, assuming a
+      benevolent, cheerful, and somewhat magnificent nonchalance, &ldquo;I sometimes
+      wonder you don't come to me with your troubles. I might advise you as well
+      as here and there one. But perhaps you think now, because I am naturally
+      gay, I am not sensible. You mustn't go by that altogether. Manner is very
+      deceiving. The most foolishly conducted men and women ever I met were as
+      grave as judges, and as demure as cats after cream. Bless you, there is
+      folly in every heart. Your slow ones bottle it up for use against the day
+      wisdom shall be most needed. My sort let it fizz out at their mouths in
+      their daily talk, and keep their good sense for great occasions, like the
+      present.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have we drifted among the proverbs of Solomon?&rdquo; inquired David, dryly.
+      &ldquo;No need to make so many tacks, Eve. Haven't I seen your sense and
+      profited by it&mdash;I and one or two more? Who but you has steered the
+      house this ten years, and commanded the lubberly crew?&rdquo; *
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+     * The reader must not be misled by the familiar phraseology
+     of these two speakers to suppose that anything the least
+     droll or humorous was intended by either of them at any part
+     of this singular dialogue. Their hearts were sad and their
+     faces grave.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And then again, David, where the heart is concerned, young women are
+      naturally in advance of young men.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;God knows. He made them both. I don't.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, all the world knows it. And then, besides, I am five years older
+      than you.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So mother says; but I don't know how to believe it. No one would say so
+      to look at you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll tell you, David. Folk that have small features look a deal younger
+      than their years; and you know poor father used to say my face was the
+      pattern of a flat-iron. So nobody gives me my age; but I am five good
+      years older than you, only you needn't go and tell the town crier.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, Eve?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, then, put all these together, and now, why not come to me for
+      friendly advice and the voice of reason?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Reason! reason! there are other lights besides reason.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Jack-o'-lantern, eh? and Will-o'-the-wisp.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Eve, nobody can advise me that can't feel for me. Nobody can feel for me
+      that doesn't know my pain; and you don't know that, because you were never
+      in love.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, then, if I had ever been in love, you would listen.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;As I would to an angel from Heaven.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And be advised by me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why not? for then you'd be competent to advise; but now you haven't an
+      idea what you are talking about.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What a pity! Don't you think it would be as well if you were not to speak
+      to me so sulky?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I ask your pardon; Eve. I did not mean to offend you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Davy, dear&mdash;for God's sake what is this chill that has come between
+      you and me? You are a man. Speak out like a man.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      David turned his great calm, sorrowful eye full upon her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, then, Eve, if the truth must be told, I am disappointed in you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, David.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A little. You are not the girl I took you for. You know which way my
+      fancy lies, yet you keep steering me in the teeth of it; then you see how
+      down-hearted I am this while, but not a word of comfort or hope comes from
+      you, and me almost dried up for want of one.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Make one word of it, David&mdash;I am not a sister to you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't say that, but you might be kinder; you are against me just when I
+      want you with me the most.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now this is what I like,&rdquo; said Eve, cheerfully; &ldquo;this is plain speaking.
+      So now it is my turn, my lad. Do you remember Balaam and his ass?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sure,&rdquo; said David; but, used as he was to Eve's transitions, he couldn't
+      help staring a little at being carried eastward ho so suddenly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then what did the ass say when she broke silence at last?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, you know, Eve; I take shame to say I don't remember her very words,
+      but the tune of them I do. Why, she sang out, 'Avast there! it is first
+      fault, so you needn't be so hasty with your thundering rope's end.&rdquo;'
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There! You'd make a nice commentator. You haven't taken it up one bit;
+      you are as much in the dark as our parson. He preached on her the very
+      Sunday you came home, and it was all I could do to help whipping up into
+      the pulpit, and snatching away his book, and letting daylight in on them.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      David was scandalized at the very idea of such a breach of discipline.
+      &ldquo;That is ridiculous,&rdquo; said he; &ldquo;one can't have two skippers in a church
+      any more than in a ship, brig, or bark. But you can let daylight in on
+      me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I mean. To begin: the ass was in the right and Balaam in the wrong; so
+      what becomes of your 'first fault?' She was frugal of her words, but every
+      syllable was a needle; the worst is, some skins are so thick our needles
+      won't enter 'em. Says she, 'This seven years you have known me; always
+      true to the bridle and true to you. Did ever I disobey you before? Then
+      why go and fancy I do it without some great cause that you can't see?'
+      Then the man's eyes were open, and he saw it was destruction his old
+      friend had run back from, and galled his foot to save his life; so of
+      course he thanked her, and blessed her then. Not he. He was too much of a
+      man.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ay, ay, I see; but what is the moral? for I have no heart to expound
+      riddles.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I'll tell you the moral sooner than you'll like, perhaps. The ass is
+      a type, David. In Holy Writ you know almost everything is a type. When a
+      thing means one thing and stands for another, that's a type.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ducks can swim&mdash;at least I've heard so. Now if you could tell me
+      what she is a type of?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What, the ass? Don't you know? Why, of women, to be sure&mdash;of us poor
+      creatures of burden, underrated and misunderstood all the world over. And
+      Balaam he stands for men, and for you at the head of them,&rdquo; cried she,
+      turning round with flashing eyes on David; &ldquo;you have known me and my true
+      affection more than seven years, or seventeen. I carried you in my arms
+      when you were a year old and I was six. You were my little curly-headed
+      darling, and have been from that day to this. Did ever I cross you, or be
+      cold or unkind to you, till the other day?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, Eve, no, no, no! Come sit beside me.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then shouldn't you have said, 'Don't slobber <i>me;</i> I won't have it;
+      you and I are bad friends.' Oughtn't you to have said, 'Eve could never
+      give herself the pain of crossing me' (no, there isn't a man in the world
+      with gumption enough to say that&mdash;that is a woman's thought); but at
+      least you might have said, 'She sees rocks ahead that I can't.' (Balaam
+      couldn't see the drawn sword ahead, but there it was.) it was for you to
+      say, 'My sister Eve would not change from gay to grave all at once, and
+      from indulging me in everything to thwarting me and vexing me, unless she
+      saw some great danger threatening your peace of mind, your career in life,
+      your very reason, perhaps.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have been to blame, Eve; but speak out and let me know the worst. You
+      have heard something against her character? Speak plain out, for Heaven's
+      sake!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is all very well of you to say speak plain out, but there are things
+      girls don't like to speak about to any man. But after what you said, that
+      you would listen to me if I&mdash;so it is my duty. You will see my face
+      red enough in about a minute. Two years ago I couldn't have done this even
+      for you. It is hard I must expose my own folly&mdash;my own crime.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, Eve, lass, how you tremble! Drop it now! drop it!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hold your tongue!&rdquo; said Eve, sharply, but in considerable agitation. &ldquo;It
+      is too late now, after something you have said to me. If I didn't speak
+      out now, I should be like that bad man you told us of, who let out the
+      beacon light when the wind was blowing hard on shore. Listen, David, and
+      take my words to heart. The road you are on now I have been upon, only I
+      went much farther on it than you shall go.&rdquo; She resumed after a short
+      pause: &ldquo;You remember Henry Dyke?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What, the young clergyman, who used to be always alongside you at our
+      last anchorage?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. He was just such a man as Miss Fountain is a woman. He was but a
+      dish of skim-milk, yet he could poison my life.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then Eve told the story of her heart. She described her lover as he
+      appeared to her in the early days of courtship, young, handsome, good,
+      noble in sentiment, and warm and tender in manner. Halcyon days&mdash;not
+      a speck to be seen on love's horizon.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then she delineated the fine gradations by which the illusion faded, too
+      slowly and too late for her to withdraw the love she had conceived for his
+      person at that time when person and mind seemed alike superior. She
+      painted with the delicate touch of her sex the portrait of a man and a
+      scholar born to please all the world, and incapable of condensing his
+      affections; a pious flirt, no longer stimulated to genuine ardor by doubts
+      of success, but too kind-hearted to pain her beyond measure when a little
+      factitious warmth from time to time would give her hours of happiness,
+      keep her, on the whole, content, and, above all, retain her his. Then she
+      shifted the mirror to herself, the fiery and faithful one, and showed
+      David what centuries of torture a good little creature like this Dyke,
+      with its charming exterior, could make a quick, and ardent, and devoted
+      nature suffer in a year or two. Came out in her narrative, link by link,
+      the gentle delicious complacency of the first period, the chill airs that
+      soon ruffled it, the glowing hopes, the misgivings that dashed them; then
+      the diminution of confidence, more complexing and exasperating than its
+      utter loss; the alternations of joy and doubt, the fever and the ague of
+      the wounded spirit; then the gusts of hatred followed by deeper love;
+      later still, the periodical irritation at hopes long deferred, and still
+      gleams of bliss between the paroxysms, so that now, as the vulgar say in
+      their tremendous Saxon, she &ldquo;spent her time between heaven and hell&rdquo;; last
+      of all, the sickness and recklessness of the wornout and wearied heart
+      over which melancholy or fury impended.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was at this crisis when, as she could now see on a calm retrospect, her
+      mind was distempered, a new and terrible passion stepped upon the scene&mdash;jealousy.
+      A friend came and whispered her, &ldquo;Mr. Dyke was courting another woman at
+      the same time, and that other woman was rich.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;David, at that word a flash of lightning seemed to go through me, and
+      show me the man as he really was.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The mean scoundrel, to sell himself for money!!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, David, he would not have sold himself, with his eyes open, any more
+      than perhaps your Miss Fountain would; but what little heart he had he
+      could give to any girl that was not a fright. He was a self-deceiver and a
+      general lover, and such characters and their affections sink by nature to
+      where their interest lies. Iron is not conscious, yet it creeps toward the
+      loadstone. Well, while she was with me I held up and managed to question
+      her as coldly as I speak to you now, but as soon as she left me I went off
+      in violent hysterics.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Poor Eve!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She had not been gone an hour when doesn't the Devil put it into <i>his</i>
+      head to send me a long, affectionate letter, and in the postscript he
+      invited himself to supper the same afternoon. Then I got up and dried my
+      eyes, and I seemed to turn into stone with resolution. 'Come!' I said,
+      'but don't think you shall ever go back to her. Your troubles and mine
+      shall end to-night.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, Eve, you turn pale with thinking of it. I fear you have had worse
+      thoughts pass through your mind than any man is worth.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;David, your blood was in my veins, and mine is in yours.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If I didn't think so! The Lord deliver us from temptation! We don't know
+      ourselves nor those we love.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He had driven me mad.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mad, indeed. What! had you the heart to see the man bleed to death&mdash;the
+      man you had loved&mdash;you, my little gentle Eve?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh no, no; no blood!&rdquo; said Eve, with a shudder. &ldquo;Laudanum!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good God!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I see your thought. No, I was not like the men in the newspapers,
+      that kill the poor woman with a sure hand, and then give themselves a
+      scratch. It was to be one spoonful for him, but two for me. I can't dwell
+      on it&rdquo; (and she hid her face in her hands); &ldquo;it is too terrible to
+      remember how far I was misled. Who, think you, saved us both?&rdquo; David could
+      not guess.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A little angel&mdash;my good angel, that came home from sea that very
+      afternoon. When I saw your curly head, and your sweet, sunburned face come
+      in at the door, guess if I thought of putting death in the pot after that?
+      Ah! the love of our own flesh and blood, that is the love&mdash;God and
+      good angels can smile on it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; but go on,&rdquo; said David, impatiently.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is ended, David. They say a woman's heart is a riddle, and perhaps you
+      will think so when I tell you that when he had brought me down to this,
+      and hadn't died for it, I turned as cold as ice to him that minute, once
+      and forever. I looked back at the precipice, and I hated him. Ay, from
+      that evening he was like the black dog to my eye. I used to slip anywhere
+      to hide out of his way&mdash;just as you did out of mine but now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Can't you forget that? Well, to be sure. Well?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So then (now you may learn what these skim-milk cheeses are made of),
+      when he found he was my aversion, he fell in love with me again as hot as
+      ever; tried all he could think of to win me back; wrote a letter every
+      day; came to me every other day; and when he saw it was all over for good
+      between us he cried and bellowed till my hate all went, and scorn came in
+      its place. Next time we met he played quite another part&mdash;the calm,
+      heart-broken Christian; gave me his blessing; went down on his knees, and
+      prayed a beautiful prayer, that took me off my guard and made me almost
+      respect him; then went away, and quietly married the girl with money; and
+      six months after wrote to me he was miserable, dated from the vicarage her
+      parents had got him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now, you know, if he wasn't a parson, d&mdash;n me if I'd turn in
+      to-night till I'd rope's-ended that lubber!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;As if I'd let you dirty your hands with such rubbish! I sent the note
+      back to him with just one line, 'Such a fool as you are has no right to be
+      a villain.' There, David, there is your poor sister's life. Oh, what I
+      went through for that man! Often I said, is Heaven just, to let a poor,
+      faithful, loving girl, who has done no harm, be played with on the hook,
+      and tortured hot and cold, day after day, month after month, year after
+      year, as I was? But now I see why it was permitted; it was for your sake,
+      that you might profit by my sharp experience, and not fling your heart
+      away on frozen mud, as I did;&rdquo; and, happy in this feminine theory of
+      Divine justice, Eve rested on her brother a look that would have adorned a
+      seraph, then took him gently round the neck and laid her little cheek flat
+      to his.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She felt as if she had just saved a beloved life.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Who can estimate the value of a happiness so momentary, yet so holy?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Presently looking up, she saw David's face illuminated. &ldquo;What is it?&rdquo; she
+      asked joyously; &ldquo;you look pleased.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      David was &ldquo;pleased because now he was sure she could feel for him, and
+      would side with him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That I do; but, David, as it is all over between you and her&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All over? Am I dead then?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Eve gasped with astonishment: &ldquo;Why, what have I been telling you all this
+      for?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who should you tell your trouble to but your own brother? Why, Eve&mdash;ha!
+      ha!&mdash;you don't really see any likeness between your case and mine, do
+      you? You are not so blind as to compare her with that thundering muff?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They are brother and sister, as we are,&rdquo; was the reply. &ldquo;Ever since I saw
+      you looked her way, my eye has hardly been off her, and she is Henry Dyke
+      in petticoats.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't thank you for saying that. Well, and if she is, what has that to
+      do with it? I am not a woman. I am not forced to lie to waiting for a
+      wind, as the girls are. I am a man. I can work for the wish of my heart,
+      and, if it does not come to meet me, I can overhaul it.&rdquo; Eve was a little
+      staggered by this thrust, but she was not one to show an antagonist any
+      advantage he had obtained. &ldquo;David,&rdquo; said she, coldly, &ldquo;it must come to one
+      of two things; either she will send you about your business in form, which
+      is a needless affront for you and me both, or she will hold you in hand,
+      and play with you and drive you <i>mad.</i> Take warning; remember what is
+      in our blood. Father was as well as you are, but agitation and vexation
+      robbed him of his reason for a while; and you and I are his children. Milk
+      of roses creeps along in that young lady's veins, but fire gallops in
+      ours. Give her up, David, as she has you. She has let you escape; don't
+      fly back like a moth to the candle! You shan't, however; I won't let you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Eve,&rdquo; said David, quietly, &ldquo;you argue well, but you can't argue light
+      into dark, nor night into day. She is the sun to me. I have seen her
+      light; and now I can't live without it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He added, more calmly: &ldquo;It is her or none. I never saw a girl but this
+      that I wanted to see twice, and I never shall.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But it is that which frightens me for you, David. Often I have wished I
+      could see you flirt a bit and harden your heart.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And break some poor girl's.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, hang them! they always contrive to pass it on. What do I care for
+      girls! they are not my brother. But no, David, I can't believe you will go
+      against me and my judgment after the insult she has put on you. No more
+      about it, but just you choose between my respect and this wild-goose
+      chase.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I choose both,&rdquo; said David, quietly. &ldquo;Both you shan't have&rdquo;; and, with
+      this, up bounced Eve, and stood before him bristling like a
+      cat-o'mountain. David tried to soothe her&mdash;to coax her&mdash;in vain;
+      her cheek was on fire, and her eyes like basilisks'. It was a picture to
+      see the pretty little fury stand so erect and threatening, great David so
+      humble and deprecating, yet so dogged. At last he took out his knife; it
+      was not one of your stabbing-knives, but the sort of pruning-knife that no
+      sailor went without in those days. &ldquo;Now,&rdquo; said he, sadly, &ldquo;take and cut my
+      head off&mdash;cut me to pieces, if you will&mdash;I won't wince or
+      complain; and then you will get your way; but while I do live I shall love
+      her, and I can't afford to lose her by sitting twiddling my thumbs,
+      waiting for luck. I'll try all I know to win her, and if I lose her I
+      won't blame her, but myself for not finding out how to please her; and
+      with that I'll live a bachelor all my days for her, or else die, just as
+      God wills&mdash;I shan't much care which.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I know you, you obstinate toad,&rdquo; said Eve, clinching her teeth and
+      her little hand. Then she burst out furiously: &ldquo;Are you quite resolved?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Quite, dear Eve,&rdquo; said David, sadly&mdash;but somehow it was like a rock
+      speaking.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then there is my hand,&rdquo; said Eve, with an instant transition to amiable
+      cheerfulness that dazzled a body like a dark lantern flying open. Used as
+      David was to her, it stupefied him; he stared at her, and was all abroad.
+      &ldquo;Well, what is the wonder now?&rdquo; inquired Eve; &ldquo;there are but two of us. We
+      must be together somehow or another must we not? You won't be wise with
+      me; well, then, I'll be a fool with you. I'll help you with this girl.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, my dear Eve!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You won't gain much. Without me you hadn't the shadow of a chance, and
+      with me you haven't a chance, that is all the odds.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have! I have! you have taken away my breath with joy;&rdquo; and David was
+      quite overcome with the turn Eve had taken in his favor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, you need not thank me,&rdquo; said Eve, tossing her head with a hypocrisy
+      all her own. &ldquo;It is not out of affection for you I do it, you may be very
+      sure of that; but it looks so ridiculous to see my brother slipping out of
+      my way behind a tree as soon as he sees me coming&mdash;oh! oh! oh! oh!&rdquo;
+       And a violent burst of sobs and tears revealed how that incident had
+      rankled in this stoical little heart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      David, with the tear in his own eye, clasped her in his arms, and kissed
+      her and coaxed her and begged her again and again to forgive him. This she
+      did internally at the first word; but externally no; pouted and sobbed
+      till she had exacted her full tribute, then cleared up with sudden
+      alacrity and inquired his plans.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am going to call at Font Abbey, and find out whether I have offended
+      her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Eve demurred, &ldquo;That would never do. You would betray yourself and there
+      would be an end of you. How good I am not to let you go. No, I'll call
+      there. I shall quietly find out whether it is her doing that we have not
+      been invited so long, or whose it is. You stay where you are. I won't be a
+      minute.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      When the minute was thirty-five, David came under her window and called
+      her. She popped her head out: &ldquo;Well?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What are you doing?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Putting on my bonnet.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, you have been an hour.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You wouldn't have me go there a fright, would you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At last she came down and started for Font Abbey, and David was left to
+      count the minutes till her return. He paced the gravel sailor-wise, taking
+      six steps and then turning, instead of going in each direction as far as
+      he could. He longed and feared his sister's return. One hour&mdash;two
+      hours elapsed; still he walked a supposed deck on the little lawn&mdash;six
+      steps and then turn. At last he saw her coming in the distance; he ran to
+      meet her; but when he came up with her he did not speak, but looked
+      wistfully in her face, and tried hard to read it and his fate.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now, David, don't make a fool of yourself, or I won't tell you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no. I'll be calm, I will&mdash;be&mdash;calm.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, then, for one thing, she is to drink tea with us this evening.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She? Who? What? Where? Oh!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Here.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER V.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      MR. FOUNTAIN sat at breakfast opposite his niece with a twinkle set in his
+      eye like a cherry-clack in a tree, relishing beforehand her smiles, and
+      blushes, and gratitude to him for having hooked and played his friend, so
+      that now she had but to land him. &ldquo;I'll just finish this delicious cup of
+      coffee,&rdquo; thought he, &ldquo;and then I'll tell you, my lady.&rdquo; While he was
+      slowly sipping said cup, Lucy looked up and said graciously to him, &ldquo;How
+      silly Mr. Talboys was last night&mdash;was he not, dear?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Talboys? silly? what? do you know? Why, what on earth do you mean?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Silly is a harsh word&mdash;injudicious, then&mdash;praising me <i>a tort
+      et a travers,</i> and was downright ill-bred&mdash;was discourteous to
+      another of our guests, Mr. Dodd.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Confound Mr. Dodd! I wish I had never invited him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So do I. If you remember, I dissuaded you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do remember now. What! you don't like him, either?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There you are mistaken, dear. I esteem Mr. Dodd highly, and Miss Dodd,
+      too, in spite of her manifest defects; but in making up parties, however
+      small, we should choose our guests with reference to each other, not
+      merely to ourselves. Now, forgive me, it was clear beforehand that Mr.
+      Talboys and the Dodds, especially Miss Dodd, would never coalesce; hence
+      my objection in inviting them; but you overruled me&mdash;with a rod of
+      iron, dear.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; but why? Because you gave me such a bad reason; you never said a
+      word about this incongruity.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But it was in my mind all the time.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then why didn't it come out?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because&mdash;because something else would come out instead. As if one
+      gave one's real reasons for things!! Now, uncle dear, you allow me great
+      liberties, but would it have been quite the thing for me to lecture you
+      upon the selection of your own <i>convives?&rdquo;</i>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, you have ended by doing it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy colored. &ldquo;Not till the event proves&mdash;not till&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not till your advice is no longer any use.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy, driven into a corner, replied by an imploring look, which had just
+      the opposite effect of argument. It instantly disarmed the old boy; he
+      grinned superior, and spared his supple antagonist three sarcasms that
+      were all on the tip of his tongue. He was rewarded for his clemency by a
+      little piece of advice, delivered by his niece with a sort of hesitating
+      and penitent air he did not understand one bit, eyes down upon the cloth
+      all the time.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It came to this. He was to listen to her suggestions with a prejudice in
+      their favor if he could, and give them credit for being backed by good
+      reasons; at all events, he was never to do them the injustice to suppose
+      they rested on those puny considerations she might put forward in
+      connection with them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Silly&rdquo; is a term carrying with it a certain promptness and decision;
+      above all, it was a very remarkable word for Lucy to use. &ldquo;The girl is a
+      martinet in these things,&rdquo; thought he; &ldquo;she can't forgive the least bit of
+      impoliteness. I suppose he snubbed Jack Tar. What a crime! But I had
+      better let this blow over before I go any farther.&rdquo; So he postponed his
+      disclosure till to-morrow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But, before to-morrow came, he had thought it over again, and convinced
+      himself it would be the wiser course not to interfere at all for the
+      present, except by throwing the young people constantly together. He had
+      lived long enough to see that, in nine cases out of ten, husband and wife
+      might be defined &ldquo;a man and a woman that were thrown a good deal together&mdash;generally
+      in the country.&rdquo; A marries B, and C D; but, under similar circumstances,
+      i.e., thrown together, A would have married D, and C B. This applies to
+      puppy dogs, male and female, as well as to boys and girls.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Perhaps a personal feeling had some little share, too, in bringing him to
+      the above conclusion. He was a bit of a schemer&mdash;liked to play
+      puppets. At present, his niece and friend were the largest and finest
+      puppets he had on hand; the day he should bring them to a mutual, rational
+      understanding, the puppet-strings would fall from his hands and the
+      puppets turn independent agents. He represented to Talboys that Lucy was
+      young and very innocent in some respects; that marriage did not seem to
+      run in her head as in most girls'; that a precipitate avowal might startle
+      her, and raise unnecessary difficulties by putting her on her guard too
+      early in their acquaintance. &ldquo;You have no rival,&rdquo; he concluded; &ldquo;best win
+      her quietly by degrees. Undermine the coy jade! she is worth it.&rdquo; Cool
+      Talboys acquiesced. David had spurred him out of his pace one night; but
+      David was put out of the way; the course was clear; and, as he could walk
+      over it now, why gallop?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Childish as his friend's jealousy of this poor sailor had seemed to Mr.
+      Fountain, still, the idea once started, he could not help inspecting Lucy
+      to see how she would take his sudden exclusion from these parties. Now
+      Lucy missed the Dodds very much, and was surprised to see them invited no
+      more. But it was not in her character to satisfy a curiosity of this sort
+      by putting a point-blank question to the person who could tell her in two
+      words. She was one of those thorough women whose instinct it is to find
+      out little things, not to ask about them. When day after day passed by,
+      and the Dodds were not invited, it flashed through her mind, first, that
+      there must be some reason for this; secondly, that she had only to take no
+      notice, and the reason, if any, would be sure to pop out. She half
+      suspected Talboys, but gave him no sign of suspicion. With unruffled
+      demeanor and tranquil patience, she watched demurely for disclosures from
+      her uncle or from him like the prettiest little velvet panther conceivable
+      lying flat in a blind path, deranging nobody, but waiting with amiable
+      tranquillity for her friends to come her way.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Thus, under the smooth surface of the little society at Font Abbey <i>finesse</i>
+      was cannily at work. But the surface of every society is like the skin of
+      a man&mdash;hides a deal of secret machinery.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Here were two undermining a &ldquo;coy jade&rdquo; (perhaps, on the whole, Uncle
+      Fountain, it might be more prudent in you not to call her that name again;
+      you see she is my heroine, and I am a man that could cut you out of this
+      story, and nobody miss you), and the coy jade watching for the miners like
+      a sweet little velvet panther, and, to fling away metaphor, an honest
+      heart set aching sore, hard by, for having come among such a lot.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER VI.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      A FABLE tells us a fowler one day saw sitting in tree a wood-pigeon. This
+      is a very shy bird, so he had to creep and maneuver to get within gunshot
+      unseen, unheard. He stole from tree to tree, and muffled his footsteps in
+      the long grass so adroitly that, just as he was going to pull the trigger,
+      he stepped light as a feather on a venomous snake. It bit; he died.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This is instructive and pointed, but a trifle severe.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      What befell Uncle Fountain, busy enmeshing his cock and hen pheasant,
+      netting a niece and a friend, went to the same tune, but in a lower key,
+      as befitted a domestic tale.*
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+     * &ldquo;Domestic,&rdquo; you are aware, is Latin for &ldquo;tame.&rdquo; Ex.,
+     &ldquo;domestic fowl,&rdquo; &ldquo;domestic drama,&rdquo; &ldquo;story of domestic
+     intereet,&rdquo; &ldquo;or chronicle of small beer,&rdquo;
+ </pre>
+    <p>
+      Among his letters at breakfast-time came one which he had no sooner read
+      than he flung on the table and went into a fury. Lucy sat aghast; then
+      inquired in tender anxiety what was the matter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Angry explanations are apt to be dark ones. &ldquo;It is a confounded shame&mdash;it
+      is a trick, child&mdash;it is a do.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! what is that, uncle? 'a do'?&mdash;'a do'?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, 'a do.' He knew I hated figures; can't bear the sight of them, and
+      the cursed responsibility of adding them up right.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But who knew all this?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He came over here bursting with health, and asked me to be one of his
+      executors&mdash;mind, one. I consented on a distinct understanding I was
+      never to be called upon to act. He was twenty years my junior, and like so
+      much mahogany. It was just a form; I did it to soothe a man who called
+      himself my friend, and set his mind at rest.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But, uncle dear, I don't understand even now. Can it be possible that a
+      friend has abused your good nature?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A little,&rdquo; with an angry sneer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Has he betrayed your confidence?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hasn't he?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh dear! What has he done?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Died, that is all,&rdquo; snarled the victim.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, uncle! Poor man!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Poor man, no doubt. But how about poor me? Why, it turns out I am sole
+      executor.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But, dear uncle, how could the poor soul help dying?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is not candid, Lucy,&rdquo; said Mr. Fountain, severely. &ldquo;Did ever I say
+      he could help dying? But he could help coming here under false colors, a
+      mahogany face, and trapping his friend.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Uncle, what is the use&mdash;your trying to play the misanthrope with me,
+      who know how good you are, in spite of your pretenses to the contrary? To
+      hide your emotion from your poor niece, you go into a feigned fury, and
+      all the time you know how sorry you are your poor friend is gone.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course I am. He has secured one mourner. He might have died to all
+      eternity if he hadn't nailed me first. See how selfish men are, and
+      bad-hearted into the bargain. I believe that young fellow had been to a
+      doctor, and found out he was booked in spite of his mahogany cheeks; so
+      then he rides out here and wheedles an unguarded friend&mdash;I'm wired&mdash;I'm
+      trapped&mdash;I'm snared.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy set herself to soothe her injured relative. &ldquo;You must say to
+      yourself, <i>'C'est un petit matheur.'&rdquo;</i>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tell myself a falsehood? What shall I gain by that? Let me tell you, it
+      is these minor troubles that send a man to Bedlam. One breeds another,
+      till they swarm and buzz you distracted, and sting you dead. <i>'Petit
+      maiheur!''</i> it is a greater one than you have ever encountered since you
+      have been under <i>my</i> wing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is, dear, it is; but I hope to encounter much greater ones before I am
+      your age.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The deuce you do!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Or else I shall die without ever having lived&mdash;a vegetable, not a
+      human being.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Bombast! a 'flower' your lovers will call you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And men of sense a 'weed.' But don't let us discuss me. What I wish to
+      know is the nature of your annoyance, dear.&rdquo; He explained to her with a
+      groan that he should have to wind up all the affairs of an estate of 8,000
+      pounds a year, pay the annual and other encumbrances, etc., etc.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, but, dear, you will be quite at home in this, you have such a turn
+      for business.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;For my own,&rdquo; shrieked the old bachelor, angrily, &ldquo;not for other people's.
+      Why, Lucy, there will be half a dozen separate accounts, all of four
+      figures. It is not as if executors were paid. And why are they not paid?
+      There ought to be a law compelling the estates they administer to pay
+      them, and handsomely. It never occurred to me before, but now I see the
+      monstrous iniquity of amateur executors, amateur trustees, amateur
+      guardians. They take business out of the hands of those who live by
+      business. I sincerely regret my share in this injustice. If a snob works,
+      he always expects to be paid! how much more a gentleman. He ought to be
+      paid double&mdash;once for the work, and once for giving up his natural
+      ease. Here am I, guardian gratis to a cub of sixteen&mdash;the worst age&mdash;done
+      school, and not begun Oxford and governesses.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tutors, you mean.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do I? Is it the tutors the whelps fall in love with, little goose? Stop;
+      I'll describe my 'interesting charge,' as the books call it. He has hair
+      you could not tell from tow. He has no eyebrows&mdash;a little unfledged
+      slippery horror. He used to come in to dessert, and turn all our stomachs
+      except his silly father's.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Poor orphan!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;When you speak to him he never answers&mdash;blushes instead.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Poor child!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He has read of eloquent blushes, and thinks there is no need to reply in
+      words&mdash;blushing must be such an interesting and effective
+      substitute.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Poor boy, he wants a little judicious kindness. We will have him here.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Here!&rdquo; cried the old gentleman, with horror. &ldquo;What! make Font Abbey a
+      kennel!!! No, Lucy, no, this house is sacred; no nuisances admitted here.
+      Here, on this single spot of earth, reigns comfort, and shall reign
+      unruffled while I live. This is the temple of peace. If I must be worried,
+      I must, but not beneath this hallowed roof.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This eloquence, delivered as it was with a sudden solemnity, told upon the
+      mind.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dear Font Abbey,&rdquo; murmured Lucy, half closing her eyes, &ldquo;how well you
+      describe it! Societies of the cosey; the walls seem padded, the carpets
+      velvet, and the whole structure care-proof; all is quiet gayety and sweet
+      punctuality. Here comfort and good humor move by clock-work; that is Font
+      Abbey. Yet you are right; if you were to be seen in it no more, it would
+      lose the life of its charm, dear Uncle Fountain.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank you, my dear&mdash;thank you. I do like to see my friends about me
+      comfortable, and, above all, to be comfortable myself. The place is well
+      enough, and I am bitterly sorry I must leave it, and sorry to leave you,
+      my dear.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Leave us? not immediately?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This very day. Why, the funeral is to be this week&mdash;a grand funeral&mdash;and
+      I have to order it all. Then there are relatives to be invited&mdash;thirty
+      letters&mdash;others to be asked to the reading of the will. It will be
+      one hurry-scurry till we get the house clear of the corpse and the
+      vultures; then at it I must go, head-foremost, into fathomless addition&mdash;subtraction&mdash;multiplication,
+      and vexation. 'Oh, now forever farewell, something or other&mdash;farewell
+      content!' You talk of misanthropy. I shall end there. Lucy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, dear uncle.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I never&mdash;do&mdash;a good-natured thing&mdash;but&mdash;I&mdash;bitterly&mdash;repent
+      it. By Jupiter! the coffee is cold; the first time that has befallen me
+      since I turned off seven servants that battled that point of comfort with
+      me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy suggested that the coffee might have cooled a little while he was
+      being so kind as to answer her question at unusual length. Then she came
+      round to him bringing a fresh supply of fragrant slow poison, and sat
+      beside him and soothed him till his ire went down, and came the calm
+      depression of a man who, accustomed for many years to do just what he
+      liked, found himself suddenly obliged to do something he did not like&mdash;a
+      thing out of the groove of his habits too.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sure enough, he left Font Abbey the same day, with a promise, exacted by
+      Lucy, that he should make her the partner of all his vexations by writing
+      to her every day.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And, Lucy,&rdquo; said the old Parthian, as he stepped into his
+      traveling-carriage, &ldquo;my friend Talboys will miss me; pray be kind to him
+      while I am away. He is a particular friend of mine. I may be wrong, but I
+      do like men of known origin&mdash;of old family.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you are right. I will be kind to him for your sake, dear.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A slight cold confined Lucy to the house for three or four days after her
+      uncle's departure (by the by, I think this must have been the reason of
+      David's ill success in his endeavors to get an interview with her out of
+      doors).
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Thus circumstanced, ladies rummage.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy found in a garret a chest containing a quantity of papers and
+      parchments, and the beautifulest dust. No such dust is made in these
+      degenerate days. Some of these MSS. bore recent dates, and were easily
+      legible, though not so easily intelligible, being written as Gratiano
+      spake.* The writers had omitted to put the idea'd words into red ink, so
+      they had to be picked out with infinite difficulty from the multitude of
+      unidea'd ones.
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+     * &ldquo;Gratiano speaks an infinite deal of nothing . . . . his
+     reasons are as three grains of wheat in two bushels of
+     chaff.&rdquo;
+ </pre>
+    <p>
+      Other of the MSS., more ancient, wore a double veil. They hid their sense
+      in verbiage, and also in narrow Germanifled letters, farther deformed by
+      contractions and ornamental flourishes, whose joint effect made a word
+      look like a black daddy-long-legs, all sprawling fantastic limbs and the
+      body a dot.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The perusal of these pieces was slow and painful; it was like walking or
+      slipping about among broken ruins overgrown with nettles. But then Uncle
+      Fountain was so anxious to hook on to the Flunkeys&mdash;oh, Ciel! what am
+      I saying?&mdash;the Funteyns, and his direct genealogical evidence had so
+      completely broken down. She said to herself, &ldquo;Oh dear! if I could find
+      something among these old writings, and show it him on his return.&rdquo; She
+      had them all dusted and brought down, and a table-cloth laid on a long
+      table in the drawing-room, and spelled them with a good-humored patience
+      that belonged partly to her character, partly to her sex. A female who
+      undertakes this sort of work does not skip as we should; the habit of
+      needle-work in all its branches reconciles that portion of mankind to
+      invisible progress in other matters.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Besides this, they are naturally careful, and, above all, born to endure,
+      they carry patience into nearly all they do.*
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+     * At about the third rehearsal of a new play our actresses
+     bring the author's words into their heads, our actors are
+     still all abroad, and at the first performance the breaks-
+     down are sure to be among the males; the female jumenta
+     carry their burden (be it of pig-lead) safe from wing to
+     wing.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      Lucy made her way manfully through all the well-written circumlocution,
+      and in a very short time considering; but the antique [Greek] tried her
+      eyes too much at night, so she gave nearly her whole day to it, for she
+      was anxious to finish all before her uncle's return. It was a curious
+      picture&mdash;Venus immersed in musty records.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One day she had studied and spelled four mortal hours, when a visitor was
+      suddenly announced&mdash;Miss Dodd. That young lady came briskly in at the
+      heels of the servant and caught Lucy at her work. After the first
+      greeting, her eye rested with such undisguised curiosity on the &ldquo;mouldy
+      records&rdquo; that Lucy told her in general terms what she was trying to do for
+      her uncle. &ldquo;La!&rdquo; said Eve, &ldquo;you will ruin your eye-sight; why not send
+      them over to us? I will make David read them.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And his eyesight?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, bless you, he has a knack at reading old writing. He has made a study
+      of it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If I thought I was not presuming too far on Mr. Dodd's good nature, I
+      would send one or two of them.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do; and I will make him draw up a paper of the contents; I have seen him
+      at this sort of work before now. But there, la! I suppose you know it is
+      all vanity.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do it to please my poor uncle.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And very good you are. But what the better will the poor old gentleman
+      be? We are here to act our own part well; we can't ride up to heaven on
+      our great-grandfather.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      These maxims were somewhat coldly received, so Eve shifted her ground.
+      &ldquo;After all, I don't know why I should be the one to say that, for my own
+      name is older than your uncle's a pretty deal.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy looked puzzled; then suddenly fancying she had caught Eve's meaning,
+      she said: &ldquo;That is true. Hail mother of mankind!!&rdquo; and bowed her head with
+      graceful reverence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Eve stared and colored, not knowing what on earth her companion meant. I
+      am afraid it must be owned that Eve steadily eschewed books and always
+      had. What little book-learning she had came to her filtered through David,
+      and by this channel she accepted it willingly, even sought it at odd
+      times, when there was no bread, pudding, dress, theology, scandal, or fun
+      going on. She turned it off by a sudden inquiry where Mr. Fountain was;
+      &ldquo;they told me in the village he was away.&rdquo; Now several circumstances
+      combined to make Lucy more communicative than usual. First, she had been
+      studying hard; and, after long study, when a lively person comes to us, it
+      is a great incitement to talk. Pitiful by nature, I spare you the &ldquo;bent
+      bow.&rdquo; Secondly, she was a little anxious lest her uncle's sudden neglect
+      should have mortified Miss Dodd, and a neutral topic handled at length
+      tends to replace friendly feeling without direct and unpleasant
+      explanations. She therefore answered every question in full; told her that
+      her uncle had lost a dear friend; that he was executor and guardian to the
+      poor boy, now entirely an orphan. Her uncle, with his usual zeal on behalf
+      of his friends; had gone off at once, and doubtless would not return till
+      he had fulfilled in every respect the wishes of the deceased.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      To this general sketch she added many details, suppressing the misanthropy
+      Mr. Fountain had exhibited or affected at the first receipt of the
+      intelligence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In short, angelic gossip. Earthly gossip always backbites, you know. Eve
+      missed something somehow, no doubt the human or backbiting element; still,
+      it was gossip, sacred gossip, far dearer than Shakespeare to the female
+      heart, and Eve's eyes glowed with pleasure and her tongue plied eager
+      questions.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      With all this, such instinctive artists are these delicate creatures, both
+      these ladies were secretly in ambush, Lucy to learn whether Eve and David
+      were hurt or surprised at not being invited of late, and why she and he
+      had not called since; Eve to find out what was the cause David and she had
+      been so suddenly dropped: was it Lucy's doing or whose?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Each lady being bent on receiving, not on making revelations, nothing
+      transpired on either side. Seeing this, Eve became impatient and made a
+      bold move.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Miss Fountain,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;you are all alone. I wish you would come over
+      to us this evening and have tea.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy did not immediately reply. Eve saw her hesitation. &ldquo;It is but a poor
+      place,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;to ask you to.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will come,&rdquo; said the lady, directly. &ldquo;I will come with great pleasure.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Will seven be too early for you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, no, I don't dine now my uncle is away. I call luncheon dinner.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Perhaps, six, then?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pray let me come at your usual hour. Why derange your family for one
+      person?&rdquo; Six o'clock was settled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I must take some of this rubbish with me,&rdquo; said Eve; &ldquo;come along, my
+      dears&rdquo;; and with an ample and mock enthusiastic gesture she caught up an
+      armful of manuscripts.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The servant shall take them over for you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, bother the servant; I am my own servant&mdash;if you will lend me a
+      pin or two.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy drew six pins out from different parts of her dress. Eve noticed
+      this, but said nothing. She pinned up her apron so as to make an enormous
+      pocket, and went gayly off with the &ldquo;spoils of time.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER VII.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is that what you call being calm, David? Let me alone&mdash;don't slobber
+      me. I am sure I wish she had said, 'No.' If I had thought she would come I
+      would never have asked her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You would, Eve; you would, for love of me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who knows? Perhaps I might. I am more indulgent than kind.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Eve, do tell me all. Is she well? does she come of her own good will?
+      Dear Eve!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I'll tell you: first we had a bit of a talk for a blind like; and
+      her uncle is away; so then I asked her plump to come to tea. Well, David,
+      first she looked 'No'&mdash;only for a single moment, though; she soon
+      altered her mind, and so then, the moment it was to be 'Yes,' she cleared
+      up, and you would have thought she had been asked to the king's banquet.
+      Ah! David, my lad, you have fallen into good hands&mdash;you have launched
+      your heart on a deeper ocean than ever your ship sailed on.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      David took no notice. He was in a state of exaltation for one thing, and,
+      besides, Eve's simile was sent to the wrong address; we terrestrials fear
+      water in proportion to its depth, but these mariners dread their native
+      element only when it is shallow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      David now kept asking in an excited way what they could do for her. &ldquo;What
+      could they get to do her honor? Wouldn't she miss the luxuries of her fine
+      place?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now you be quiet, David; we need not put ourselves about, for she will be
+      the easiest girl to please you have ever seen here; or, if she isn't,
+      she'll act it so that you'll be none the wiser. However, you can go and
+      buy some flowers for me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That I will; we have none good enough for her here.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And, David, tea under the catalpa, as we always do on fine nights.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You don't mean that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! but I do. These fine ladies are all for novelties. Now I'm much
+      mistaken if this one has ever had her tea out of doors in all her born
+      days. What! do you think our little stuffy room would be any treat to her,
+      after the drawing-room at Font Abbey? Come, you be off till half-past
+      five; you'll fidget yourself and fidget me else.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      David recognized her superiority, obeyed and vanished.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Eve, having got rid of him, showed none of the insouciance she had
+      recommended. She darted into the kitchen, bared her arms, and made wheaten
+      cakes with unequaled rapidity, the servant looking on with demure
+      admiration all the while. These put into the oven, she got her keys and
+      put out the silver teapot, cream jug and sugar basin, things not used
+      every day, I can tell you; item, the best old china tea service; item,
+      some rare tea, of which David had brought home a small quantity from
+      China. At six o'clock Miss Fountain came; a footman marched twenty yards
+      behind her. She dismissed him at the door, and Eve invited her at once
+      into the garden. There David joined them, his heart beating violently. She
+      put out her hand kindly and calmly, and shook hands with him in the most
+      unembarrassed way imaginable. At the touch of her soft hand every fiber in
+      him thrilled and the color rushed into his face. At this a faint blush
+      tinged her own, but no more than the warm welcome she was receiving might
+      account for.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They seated her in a comfortable chair under the catalpa. Presently out
+      came a nice, clean maid, her white neck half hidden, half revealed, by
+      plain, unfigured muslin worn where the frock ended. She put the tea things
+      on the table, and courtesied to Lucy, who returned her salute by a
+      benignant smile. Out came another stouter one with the kettle, hung it
+      from a hoop between two stout sticks, and lighted a fire she had laid
+      underneath, retiring with a parting look at the kettle as soon as it
+      hissed. Then returned maid one with bread, and wheaten cakes, and fruit,
+      butter nice and hard from the cellar, and yellow cream, and went off
+      smiling.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A gentle zeal seemed to animate these domestics, as if they, also, in
+      relative proportions, gave the fete, or at least contributed good will.
+      Lucy's quick eye caught this. It was new to her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The tea was soon made, and its Oriental fragrance mingled with the other
+      odors that filled the balmy air. Gay golden broken lights flickered in
+      patches on the table, the china cups, the ladies' dresses, and the grass,
+      all but in one place, where the cool deep shadow lay undisturbed around
+      the foot of the tree-stem. Looking up to see whence the flickering gold
+      came that sprinkled her white hand, Lucy saw one of the loveliest and
+      commonest things in nature. The sky was blue&mdash;the sun fiery&mdash;the
+      air potable gold outside the tree, so that, as she looked up, the mellow
+      green leaves of the catalpa, coming between her and the bright sky and
+      glowing air, shone like transparent gold&mdash;staircase upon staircase of
+      great exotic translucent leaves, with specks of lovely blue sky that
+      seemed to come down and perch among the top branches. Charming as these
+      sights were, contrast doubled their beauties; for all these dimples of
+      bright blue and flakes of translucent gold were eyed from the cool and
+      from the deep shade.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The light, it is true, came down and danced on the turf here and there,
+      but it left its heat behind through running the gauntlet of the myriad
+      leaves. Over Lucy's head hung by a silk line from one of the branches a
+      huge globe of humble but fragrant flowers; they were, in point of fact,
+      fastened with marvelous skill all round a damp sponge, but she did not
+      know that. Thus these simple hosts honored their lovely guest. And while
+      these sights and smells stole into her deep eyes and her delicate
+      nostrils, &ldquo;Fiddle, David,&rdquo; said Eve, loftily, and straightway a simple
+      mellow tune rang sweetly on the cheerful chords&mdash;a rustic, dulcet,
+      and immortal ditty, in tune with summer and afternoon, with gold-checkered
+      grass, and leaves that slumbered, yet vibrated, in the glowing air.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A bright, dreamy hour; the soul and senses floated gently in color,
+      fragrance, melody, and great calm. &ldquo;Each sound seemed but an echo of
+      tranquillity.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy looked up and absorbed the scene, then closed her eyes and listened;
+      and presently her lips parted gradually in so ravishing a smile, her eyes
+      remaining closed, that even Eve, who saw her in her true light, a terrible
+      girl come there to burn and destroy David, remaining cool as a cucumber,
+      could hardly forbear seizing and mumbling her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In certain companies you shall see a boisterous cordiality, which at
+      bottom is as hollow as diplomacy; but there is a modest geniality which is
+      to society what the bloom is to the plum.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And this charm Lucy found in her hosts of the catalpa. For this very
+      reason that they were her hosts, their manner to her changed a little, and
+      becomingly; they made no secret that it was a downright pleasure to them
+      to have her there. They petted her, and showed her so much simple
+      kindness, that what with the scene, the music, and her companions'
+      goodness, the coy bud opened&mdash;timidly at first&mdash;but in a way it
+      never had expanded at Font Abbey.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She even developed a feeble sense of fun, followed suit demurely when Eve
+      came out sprightly, laughed like a brook gurgling to Eve's peal of bells,
+      and lo and behold, when the two girls got together, and faced the man,
+      strong in numbers, a favorite trick, backed her ally as cowards back the
+      brave, and set her on to sauce David. They cast doubts upon his skill in
+      navigation. They perplexed him with treacherous questions in geography,
+      put with an innocent affectation of a humble desire for information. In
+      short, they played upon him lightly as they touch the piano. And Eve
+      carolled a song, and David accompanied her on the fiddle; and at the third
+      verse Lucy chimed in spontaneously with a second, and the next verse David
+      struck in with a base, and the tepid air rang with harmony, and poor David
+      thrilled with happiness. His heart felt his voice mingle and blend with
+      hers, and even this contact was delicious to his imagination. And they
+      were happy. But all must end; the shades of evening came down, and the
+      pleasant little party broke up, and, as John had not come, David asked
+      leave to escort her home. Oh no, she could not think of giving him that
+      trouble; so saying, she went home with him. When they were alone, his deep
+      love made him timid and confused. He walked by her side, and did not speak
+      to her. She waited with some surprise at this silence, and then, as he was
+      shy, she talked to him, uttered many airy nothings, and then put questions
+      to him. &ldquo;Did he always drink tea out of doors?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;On fine nights in summer. Eve settled all such matters.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have you not a voice?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have a voice, but no vote. She is skipper ashore.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, is she? Who taught her how delicious it is to drink tea out of
+      doors?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      David did not know&mdash;fancied it was her own idea. &ldquo;Did you really like
+      it, Miss Fountain?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Like it, Mr. Dodd! It was Elysium. I never passed a sweeter evening in my
+      life.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      David colored all over. &ldquo;I wish I could believe that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Was it the tulip-tree, or the violin, or was it your conversation, Mr.
+      Dodd, I wonder?&rdquo; asked she demurely, looking mock-innocent in his face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It was your goodness to be so easily pleased,&rdquo; said Dodd, with a gush
+      that made her color. She smiled, however. &ldquo;Well, that is one way of
+      looking at things,&rdquo; said she. <i>&ldquo;Entre nous,</i> I think Miss Dodd was
+      the enchantress.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Eve is capital company, for that matter.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Indeed she is; you must be very happy together. Your mutual affection is
+      very charming, Mr. Dodd, but sometimes it almost makes me sad. Forgive me!
+      I have no brother.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You will never want one to love you a thousand times better than a
+      brother can love.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, shan't I?&rdquo; said the lady, and opened her eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; and there is more than one that worships the ground you tread on at
+      this moment; but you know that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, do I?&rdquo; She opened her eyes still wider.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      David longed to tell how he loved her, but dared not. He looked wistfully
+      at her face. It was quite calm and had suddenly became a little reserved.
+      He felt he was on new and dangerous ground; he sighed and was silent. He
+      turned away his face. When this involuntary sigh broke from him she turned
+      her head a little and looked at him. He felt her eye dwell on him, and his
+      cheeks burned under it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The next moment they were at Font Hill, and Lucy seemed to David to
+      hesitate whether to give him her hand at parting or not.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She did give him her hand, though not so freely, David thought, as she had
+      done on his own little lawn three hours before, and this dashed his
+      spirits. It seemed to him a step lost, and he had hoped to gain a step
+      somehow by walking home with her. He felt like one who has undertaken to
+      catch some skittish timorous thing, that, if you stand still, will come
+      within a certain small but safe distance, but you must not move a step
+      toward it, or, whir, away it is. He went slowly home, his heart warm and
+      cold by turns; warm when he remembered the sweet hours he had just spent,
+      and her sweet looks and heavenly tones, every one of which he saw and
+      heard again; cold when he thought of the social distance that separated
+      them, and the hundred chances to one against his love. Then he said to
+      himself: &ldquo;Time was I thought I could never bring a yard down from the
+      foretop to the deck, but I mastered that. Time was I thought I could never
+      work out a logarithm without a formula, but I mastered that. Time was the
+      fiddle beat me so I was ready to cry over it, but at last I learned to
+      make it sing, and now I can make her smile with it (God bless her!)
+      instead of stopping her ears. I can hardly mind the thing that didn't beat
+      me dead for a long while, but I persevered and got the upper hand. Ay, but
+      this is higher and harder than them all&mdash;a hundred times harder and
+      higher.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll hold my course, let the wind blow high or low, and if I can't
+      overhaul the wish of my heart, well, I'll carry her flag to the last. I'll
+      die a bachelor for her sake, as sure as you are the moon, my lass, and you
+      the polar star, and from this hour I'll never look at you, but I'll make
+      believe it is her I am looking up at; for she is as high above me, and as
+      bright as you are. God bless her! and to think I never even said
+      good-night to her! I stood there like a mummy.&rdquo; And David reproached
+      himself for his unkindness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy, on entering the drawing-room, was surprised to find it blazing with
+      candles, but she was more surprised at what she saw seated calmly in an
+      armchair&mdash;Mrs. Bazalgette. Lucy stood transfixed; the audacious
+      intruder laughed at her astonishment; the next moment they intertwined,
+      and fell to kissing one another with tender violence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, love, the fact is, I was passing here on my way home from
+      Devonshire, and I wanted particularly to speak to you, so I thought I
+      would venture just to pop in for a passing call, and lo! I find the old
+      ogre is absent, and not expected back for ever so long, so I have
+      installed myself at his Font Abbey, partly out of love for you, dear,
+      partly, I confess it, out of hate to him. You will write and tell me his
+      face when he comes home and hears I have been living and enjoying myself
+      in his den. I ordered my imperial into his bedroom. I took it for granted
+      that would be the only comfortable one in his house.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Aunt Bazalgette!&rdquo; cried Lucy, turning pale; &ldquo;oh, aunt, what will become
+      of us?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't be frightened; the gray-haired monster that dyes his whiskers, and
+      gets him up to look only sixty, interposed and forbade the consecration.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am glad of it. You shall sleep in mine, dear, and I will go into the
+      east room. It is a sweet little room.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is it? then why not put me there?&rdquo; Lucy colored a little. &ldquo;I think mine
+      would suit you better, dear, because it is larger and airier, and&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I see. As you please; you know I never make difficulties.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And how long have you been here, aunt?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;About three hours.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Three hours, and not send for me! I was only in the village. Did no one
+      tell you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; but you know it is not my way to make a fuss and put people out. How
+      could I tell? You might be agreeably employed, and I was sure of you
+      before bedtime.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mighty-fine! but the truth is, she came to Font Abbey to pry. She had
+      heard a vague report about Lucy and a gentleman.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She was very glad to find Lucy was out; it gave her an opportunity. She
+      sent for Lucy's maid to help her unpack a dress or two&mdash;thirteen.
+      This girl was paid out of Lucy's estate, but did not know that. Mrs.
+      Bazalgette handed her her wages, and that gives an influence. The wily
+      matron did not trust to that alone. In unpacking she gave the girl a dress
+      and several smaller presents, and, this done, slowly and cautiously pumped
+      her. Jane, to fulfill her share of a bargain, which, though never once
+      alluded to, was perfectly understood between both the parties, told her
+      all she knew and all she conjectured; told her, in particular, how
+      constantly Mr. Talboys was in the house, and how, one night, the old
+      gentleman had walked part of the way home with him, &ldquo;which Mr. Thomas says
+      he didn't think his master would do it for the king, mum!&rdquo; and had come in
+      all of a flurry, and sent up for miss, and swore* awful when she couldn't
+      come because she was abed. &ldquo;So you may depend, mum, it is so; leastways,
+      the gentlemen they are willing. We talk it over mostly every day in the
+      servants' hall, mum, and we are all of a mind so fur; but whether it will
+      come to a wedding, that we haven't a settled yet. It's miss beats us; she
+      is like no other young lady ever I came anigh. A man or woman&mdash;it is
+      all the same to her&mdash;a kind word for everybody, and pass on. But I do
+      really think she likes her own side of the house a trifle the best.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+     *The ladies of the bedchamber will embellish. After all, it
+     is their business.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And there you don't agree with her, Jane?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, mum&mdash;being as we are alone&mdash;now is it natural? But Mr.
+      Thomas he says, 'The cold ones take the first offer that comes when there
+      is money ahind it. It isn't us they wants,' says he. I told him I should
+      think not the likes of him&mdash;'but our house and land,' says he, 'and
+      hopera box and cetera.' 'But I don't think that of our one,' says I;
+      'bless you, she is too high-minded.' But what I think, mum, is, she
+      wouldn't say 'no' to her uncle; her mouth don't seem made for saying no,
+      especially to him; and he is bent on Talboys, mum, you take my word.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      To return to the drawing-room: Mrs. Bazalgette, after the above delicate
+      discussion, sat there in ambush, knowing more of Lucy's affairs than Lucy
+      knew. Her next point was to learn Lucy's sentiments, and to find whether
+      she was deliberately playing false and breaking her promise, vide.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, Lucy, any lovers yet?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, aunt.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Take care, Lucy, a little bird whispers in my ear.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then it is a humming-bird,&rdquo; and Lucy pouted. &ldquo;Now, aunt, did you really
+      come to Font Abbey to tease me about such nonsense as&mdash;as&mdash;gentlemen?&rdquo;
+       and Lucy looked hurt.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Here's an actress for you,&rdquo; thought Mrs. Bazalgette; but she calmly
+      dropped the subject, and never recurred to it openly all the evening, but
+      lay secretly in watch, and put many subtle but seeming innocent questions
+      to her niece about her habits, her uncle's guest, whether her uncle kept a
+      horse for her, whether he bought it for her, etc., etc.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The next morning Mrs. Bazalgette breakfasted in bed, during which process
+      she rang her bell seven times. Lucy received at the breakfast-table a
+      letter from her uncle.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;MY DEAR NIECE&mdash;The funeral was yesterday, and, I flatter myself,
+      well performed: there were five-and-twenty carriages. After that a
+      luncheon, in the right style, and then to the reading of the will. And
+      here I shall surprise you, but not more than I was myself: I am left 5,000
+      pounds consols. My worthy friend, whose loss we are called on so suddenly
+      to deplore, accompanied this bequest in his will with many friendly
+      expressions of esteem, which I have always studied and shall study to
+      deserve. He bequeathed to me also, during minority, the care of his boy,
+      the heir to this fine property, which far exceeds the value I had
+      imagined. There is a letter attached to the will; in compliance with it
+      Arthur is to go to Cambridge, but not until he has been well prepared. He
+      will therefore accompany me to Font Abbey to-morrow, and I must contrive
+      somehow or other to find him a mathematical tutor in the neighborhood.
+      There is a handsome allowance made out of the estate for his board, etc.,
+      etc.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He is an interesting boy, and has none of the rudeness and
+      mischievousness they generally have&mdash;blue eyes, soft, silky, flaxen
+      hair, and as modest as a girl. His orphaned state merits kindness, and his
+      prospects entitle him to consideration. I mention this because I fancy,
+      when we last discussed this matter, I saw a little disposition on your
+      part to be satirical at the poor boy's expense. I am sure, however, that
+      you will restrain this feeling at my request, and treat him like a younger
+      brother. I only wish he was three or four years older&mdash;you understand
+      me, miss.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To-morrow afternoon, then, we shall be at Font Abbey. Let him have the
+      east room, and tell Brown to light a blazing fire in my bedroom. and warm
+      and air every mortal thing, on pain of death.
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+                              &ldquo;Your affectionate uncle,
+
+                              &ldquo;JOHN FOUNTAIN.&rdquo;
+ </pre>
+    <p>
+      On reading this letter Lucy formed an innocent scheme. It had long been
+      matter of regret to her that Aunt Bazalgette could not see the good
+      qualities of Uncle Fountain, and Uncle Fountain of Aunt Bazalgette. &ldquo;It
+      must be mere prejudice,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;or why do I love them both?&rdquo; She had
+      often wished she could bring them together, and make them know one another
+      better; they would find out one another's good qualities then, and be
+      friends. But how? As Shakespeare says, &ldquo;Oxen and wain-ropes would not haul
+      them, together.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At last chance aided her&mdash;Mrs. Bazalgette was at Font Abbey actually.
+      Lucy knew that if she announced Mr. Fountain's expected return the B would
+      fly off that minute, so she suppressed the information, and, giving up to
+      young Arthur as she had to Mrs. B., moved into a still smaller room than
+      the east room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And now her heart quaked a little. &ldquo;But, after all, Uncle Fountain is a
+      gentleman,&rdquo; thought she, &ldquo;and not capable of showing hostility to her
+      under his own roof. Here she is safe, though nowhere else; only I must see
+      him, and explain to him before he sees her.&rdquo; With this view Lucy declined
+      demurely her aunt's proposal for a walk. No, she must be excused; she had
+      work to do in the drawing-room that could not be postponed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Work! that alters the case. Let me see it.&rdquo; She took for granted it was
+      some useful work&mdash;something that could be worn when done. &ldquo;What! is
+      this it&mdash;these dirty parchments? Oh! I see; it is for that selfish
+      old man; who but he would set a lady to parchments!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A bad guess,&rdquo; cried Lucy, joyously. &ldquo;I found them myself, and set myself
+      to work on them.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't tell me! He is at the bottom of it. If it was for yourself you
+      would give it up directly. How amusing for me to see you work at that!&rdquo;
+       Lucy rose and brought her the new novel. Mrs. Bazalgette took it and sat
+      down to it, but she could not fix her attention long on it. Ladies whose
+      hearts are in dress have no taste for books, however frivolous; can't sit
+      them for above a second or two. Mrs. Bazalgette fidgeted and fidgeted, and
+      at last rose and left the room, book in hand. &ldquo;How unkind I am!&rdquo; said Lucy
+      to herself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She was sitting sentinel till the carriage should arrive; then she could
+      run down and prepare her uncle for his innocent and accidental visitor. It
+      would not be prudent to let him receive the information from a servant, or
+      without the accompanying explanation. This it was that made her so
+      unnaturally firm when the little idle B pressed her to waste in play the
+      shining hours.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Bazalgette went book in hand to her bedroom, and had not been there
+      long before she found employment. Many of Lucy's things were still in the
+      wardrobes. Mrs. B. rummaged them, inspected them at the window, and ended
+      by ringing for her maid and trying divers of her niece's dresses on. &ldquo;They
+      make her dresses better than they do mine; they take more pains.&rdquo; At last
+      she found one that was new to her, though Lucy had worn it several times
+      at Font Abbey.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where did she get this, Jane?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Present from the old gentleman, mum; he had it down from London for her
+      all at one time with this shawl and twelve puragloves.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy looked two inches taller than Mrs. B., but somehow, I can't tell how,
+      this dress of hers fitted the latter like a glove. It embraced her; it
+      held her tenderly, but tight, as gowns and lovers should. The poor dear
+      could not get out of it. &ldquo;I <i>must</i> wear it an hour or two,&rdquo; said she.
+      &ldquo;Besides, it will save my own, knocking about in these country lanes.&rdquo;
+       Thus attired she went into the drawing-room to surprise Lucy. Now Lucy was
+      determined not to move; so, not to be enticed, she did not even look up
+      from her work; on this the other took a mild huff and whisked out.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So keen are the feminine senses, that Lucy, on reflection, recognized
+      something brusk, perhaps angry, in the rustle of that retiring dress, and
+      soon after rang the bell and inquired where Mrs. Bazalgette was. John
+      would make henquiries.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your haunt is in the back garden, miss.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Walking, or what?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      John would make henquiries.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She is reading, miss; and she is sitting on the seat master 'ad made for
+      <i>you,</i> miss.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very well: thank you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Any more commands, miss?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not at present.&rdquo; John retired with a regretful air, as one capable of
+      executing important commissions, but lost for lack of opportunity. All the
+      servants in this house liked to come into contact with Lucy. She treated
+      them with a dignified kindness and reserved politeness that wins these
+      good creatures more than either arrogance or familiarity. &ldquo;Jeames is not
+      such a fool as he looks.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy was glad. Her aunt had got her book. It is an interesting story; she
+      will not miss me now, and the carriage will soon be here, and then I will
+      make up for my unkindness. Curiously enough, at this very juncture, the
+      fair student found something in her parchment which gave her some little
+      hopes of a favorable result.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She was following this clue eagerly, when all of a sudden she started. Her
+      ear had caught the rattle of a carriage over the stones of the stable
+      yard. She rang the bell, and inquired if that was not the carriage.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, miss.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My uncle has sent it back, then? He is not coming to-day?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      John would inquire of the coachman.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh yes, miss, master is come, but he got out at the foot of the hill, and
+      walked up through the shrubbery with the young gentleman to show him the
+      grounds.&rdquo; On this news Lucy rose hastily, snatched up a garden hat, and,
+      without any other preparation, went out to intercept her uncle. As she
+      stepped into the garden she heard a loud scream, followed by angry voices;
+      she threw her hands up to heaven in dismay and ran toward the sounds. They
+      came from the back garden. She went like lightning round the corner of the
+      house, and came plump upon an agitated group, of whom she made one
+      directly, spellbound. Here stood Aunt Bazalgette, her head turned
+      haughtily, her cheeks scarlet. There stood Mr. Fountain on the other side
+      of the rustic seat, red as fire, too, but wearing a hang-dog look, and
+      behind him young Arthur, pale, with two eyes like saucers, gazing
+      awestruck at the first row he had ever seen between a full-grown lady and
+      gentleman.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Our narrative must take a step to the rear, as an excellent writer,
+      Private &mdash;&mdash;* phrases it, otherwise you might be misled to
+      suppose that Uncle Fountain was quarreling with Mrs. B. for having set her
+      foot in sacred Font Abbey.
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+     * &ldquo;I had an escape myself. As I opened the door of a house, a
+     black fellow was behind waiting for me, and made a chop. I
+     took a step to the rear, fired through the door, and cooked
+     his goose.&rdquo;&mdash;<i>Times.</i>
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      No, the pudding was richer than that. Mr. Fountain had young Arthur in
+      charge, and, not being an ill-natured old gentleman, he pitied the boy,
+      and did all he could to make him feel he was coming among friends. He sent
+      the carriage on, and showed Arthur the grounds, and covertly praised the
+      place and all about it, Lucy included, for was not she an appendage of his
+      abbey. &ldquo;You will see my niece&mdash;a charming young lady, who will be
+      kind to you, and you must make friends with her. She is very accomplished&mdash;paints.
+      She plays like an angel, too. Ah! there she is. She has got the gown on I
+      gave her&mdash;a compliment to me&mdash;a very pretty attention, Arthur,
+      the day of my return. What is she doing?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Arthur, with his young eyes, settled this question. &ldquo;The lady is asleep.
+      See, she has dropped her book.&rdquo; And; in fact, the whole attitude was lax
+      and not ungraceful. Her right hand hung down, and the domestic story, its
+      duty done, reposed beneath.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now, Arthur,&rdquo; said the senior, making himself young to please the boy,
+      and to show him that, if he looked old, he was not worn out, &ldquo;would you
+      like a bit of fun? We will startle her&mdash;we'll give her a kiss.&rdquo;
+       Arthur hung back irresolute, and his cheeks were dyed with blushes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not you, you young rogue; you are not her uncle.&rdquo; The old gentleman then
+      stole up at the back of the seat, followed with respectful curiosity by
+      Arthur. She happened to move as the senior got near; so, for fear she was
+      going to wake of herself and baffle the surprise, he made a rush and
+      rubbed his beard a little roughly against Mrs. Bazalgette's cheek. Up
+      starts that lady, who was not fast asleep, but only under the influence of
+      the domestic tale, utters a scream, and, when she sees her ravisher, goes
+      into a passion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How dare you? What is the meaning of this insult?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How came you here?&rdquo; was the reply, in an equally angry tone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Can't a lady come into your little misery of a garden without being
+      outraged?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It isn't the garden&mdash;it is only the back garden,&rdquo; cried the
+      proprietor of Font Hill; <i>&ldquo;(blesse)</i> I'll swear that is my niece's
+      gown; so you've invaded that, too.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Aunt Bazalgette&mdash;Uncle Fountain, it was my fault,&rdquo; sighed a piteous
+      voice. This was Lucy, who had just come on the scene. &ldquo;Dear uncle, forgive
+      me; it was I who invited her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy's pathetic tones, which were fast degenerating into sobs, were
+      agreeably interrupted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At one and the same moment the man and woman of the world took a new view
+      of the situation, looked at one another, and burst out laughing. Both
+      these carried a safety-valve against choler&mdash;a trait that takes us
+      into many follies, but keeps us out of others&mdash;a sense of humor. The
+      next thing to relieve the situation was the senior's comprehensive vanity.
+      He must recover young Arthur's reverence, which was doubtless dissolving
+      all this time. &ldquo;Now, Arthur,&rdquo; he whispered, &ldquo;take a lesson from a
+      gentleman of the old school. I hate this she-devil; but this is at my
+      house, so&mdash;observe.&rdquo; He then strutted jauntily and feebly up to Mrs.
+      Bazalgette: &ldquo;Madam, my niece says you are her guest; but permit me to
+      dispute her title to that honor.&rdquo; Mrs. Bazalgette smiled agreeably. She
+      wanted to stay a day or two at Font Abbey. The senior flourished out his
+      arm. &ldquo;Let me show you what <i>we</i> call the garden here.&rdquo; She took his
+      arm graciously. &ldquo;I shall be delighted, sir [pompous old fool!].&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Bazalgette steeled her mind to admire the garden, and would have done
+      so with ease if it had been hideous. But, unfortunately, it was pretty&mdash;prettier
+      than her own; had grassy slopes, a fountain, a grotto, variegated beds,
+      and beds a blaze of one color (a fashion not common at that time); item, a
+      brook with waterlilies on its bosom. &ldquo;This brook is not mine, strictly
+      speaking,&rdquo; said her host; &ldquo;I borrowed it of my neighbor.&rdquo; The lady opened
+      her eyes; so he grinned and revealed a characteristic transaction. A
+      quarter of a century ago he had found the brook flowing through a meadow
+      close to his garden hedge. He applied for a lease of the meadow, and was
+      refused by the proprietor in the following terms: &ldquo;What is to become of my
+      cows?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He applied constantly for ten years, and met the same answer. Proprietor
+      died, the cows turned to ox-beef, and were eaten in London along with
+      flour and a little turmeric, and washed down with Spanish licorice-water,
+      salt, gentian and a little burned malt. Widow inherited, made hay, and
+      refused F. the meadow because her husband had always refused him. But in
+      the tenth year of her siege she assented, for the following reasons: <i>primo,</i>
+      she had said &ldquo;no&rdquo; so often the word gave her a sense of fatigue; <i>secundo,</i>
+      she liked variety, and thought a change for the worse must be better than
+      no change at all.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Her tenant instantly cut a channel from the upper part of the stream into
+      his garden, and brought the brook into the lawn, made it write an S upon
+      his turf, then handed it but again upon the meadow &ldquo;none the worse,&rdquo; his
+      own comment. These things could be done in the country&mdash;<i>jadis.</i>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It cost Mrs. Bazalgette a struggle to admire the garden and borrowed
+      stream&mdash;they were so pretty. She made the struggle and praised all.
+      Lucy, walking behind the pair, watched them with innocent satisfaction.
+      &ldquo;How fast they are making friends,&rdquo; thought she, mistaking an armistice
+      for an alliance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Since the place is so fortunate as to please you, you will stay a week
+      with me, madam, at least.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A week! No, Mr. Fountain; I really admire your courtesy too much to abuse
+      it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not at all; you will oblige me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I cannot bring myself to think so.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You may believe me. I have a selfish motive.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, if you are in earnest.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will explain. If you are my guest for a week, that will give me a claim
+      to be yours in turn.&rdquo; And he bent a keen look upon the lady, as much as to
+      say, &ldquo;Now I shall see whether you dare let me spy on you as you are doing
+      on me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I propose an amendment,&rdquo; said Mrs. Bazalgette, with a merry air of
+      defiance: &ldquo;for every day I enjoy here you must spend two beneath my roof.
+      On this condition, I will stay a week at Font Abbey.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I consent,&rdquo; said Mr. Fountain, a little sharply. He liked the bargain. &ldquo;I
+      must leave you to Lucy for a minute; I have some orders to give. I like <i>my</i>
+      guests to be comfortable.&rdquo; With this he retired to his study and pondered.
+      &ldquo;What is she here for? it is not affection for Lucy; that is all my eye, a
+      selfish toad like her. (How agreeable she can make herself, though.) She
+      heard I was out, and came here to spy directly. That was sharp practice.
+      Better not give her a chance of seeing my game. I disarmed her suspicion
+      by asking her to stay a week, aha! Well, during that week Talboys must not
+      come, that is all; aha! my lady, I won't give those cunning eyes of yours
+      a chance of looking over my hand.&rdquo; He then wrote a note to Talboys,
+      telling him there was a guest at Font Abbey, a disagreeable woman, &ldquo;who
+      makes mischief whenever she can. She would be sure to divine our
+      intentions, and use all her influence with Lucy to spite me. You had
+      better stay away till she is gone.&rdquo; He sent this off by a servant, then
+      pondered again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She suspects something; then that is a sign she has her own designs on
+      Lucy. Hum! no. If she had, she would not have invited me to her house. She
+      invited me directly and cheerfully&mdash;!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Bazalgette walked and sat with an arm round Lucy's waist, and told
+      her seven times before dinner how happy she was at the prospect of a quiet
+      week with her. In the evening she yawned eleven times. Next day she asked
+      Lucy who was coming to dinner.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nobody, dear.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nobody at all?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I thought you would perhaps not care to have our tete-a-tete interrupted
+      yet.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, but I should like to explore the natives too.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will give uncle a hint, dear.&rdquo; The hint was given very delicately, but
+      the malicious senior had a perverse construction ready immediately.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So this is her mighty affection for you. Can't get through two days
+      without strangers.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Uncle,&rdquo; said Lucy, imploringly, &ldquo;she is so used to society, and she has
+      me all day; we ought to give her some little amusement at night.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I can't make up parties now; my friends are all in London. She only
+      wants something to flirt with. Send for David Dodd.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What, for her to flirt with?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; he is a handsome fellow; he will serve her turn.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;For shame, uncle; what would Mr. Bazalgette say? Poor aunt, she is a
+      coquette now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And has been this twenty years.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now I was thinking&mdash;Mr. Talboys?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Talboys is not at home; she must be content with lower game. She shall
+      bring down David.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy hesitated. &ldquo;I don't think she will like Mr. Dodd, and I am sure he
+      will not like her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How can you know that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He is so honest. He will not understand a woman of the world and her
+      little in&mdash;sin&mdash;No, I don't mean that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, if he does not understand her he may like her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Aunt, he has made me ask the Dodds to tea, and I am afraid you will not
+      like them.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, if I don't we must try some more natives to-morrow. Who are they?&rdquo;
+       Lucy told her. &ldquo;Pretty people to ask to meet me,&rdquo; said she, loftily. This
+      scorn dissolved in course of the evening. Lucy, anxious her guests should
+      be pleased with one another, drew the Dodds out, especially David&mdash;made
+      him spin a yarn. With this and his good looks he so pleased Mrs.
+      Bazalgette that it was the last yarn he ever span during her stay. She
+      took a fancy to him, and set herself to captivate him with sprightly
+      ardor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      David received her advances politely, but a little coldly. The lady was
+      very agreeable, but she kept him from Lucy; he hardly got three words with
+      her all the evening. As they went home together, Eve sneered: &ldquo;Well, you
+      managed nicely; it was your business to make friends with that lady.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;With all my heart.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then why didn't you do what she bid you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She gave me no orders that I heard,&rdquo; said the literal first mate.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She gave you a plain hint, though.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To do what?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To do what? stupid! Why, to make love to her, to be sure.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, she is a married woman?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If she chooses to forget that, is it your business to remember it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And if she was single, and the loveliest in the world, how could I court
+      her when my heart is full of an angel?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If your heart is full, your head is empty. Why, you see nothing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can't see why I should belie my heart.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Can't you? Then I can. David, in less than a month Miss Fountain goes to
+      this lady and stays a quarter of a year: she told me so herself. Oh, my
+      ears are always open in your service ever since I did agree to be as great
+      a fool as you are. Now don't you see that if you can't get Mrs. Bazalgette
+      to invite you to her house, you must take leave of the other here
+      forever?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I see what you mean, Eve; how wise you are! It is wonderful. But what is
+      to be done? I am bad at feigning. I can't make love to her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But you can let her make love to you: is that an effort you feel equal
+      to? and I must do the rest. Oh, we have a nice undertaking before us. But,
+      if boys will cry for fruit that is out of their reach, and their silly
+      sisters will indulge them&mdash;don't slobber <i>me.&rdquo;</i>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are such a dear girl to fight for me so a little against your
+      judgment.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A little, eh? Dead against it, you mean. Don't look so blank, David; you
+      are all right as far as me. When my heart is on your side you can snap
+      your fingers at my judgment.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      David was cheered by this gracious revelation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Eve was a tormenting little imp. She could not help reminding him every
+      now and then that all her maneuvers and all his love were to end in
+      disappointment. These discouraging comments had dashed poor David's
+      spirits more than once; but he was beginning to discover that they were
+      invariably accompanied or followed by an access of cheerful zeal in the
+      desperate cause&mdash;a pleasing phenomenon, though somewhat
+      unintelligible to this honest fellow, who had never microscoped the
+      enigmatical sex.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Bazalgette reproached Lucy: &ldquo;You never told me how handsome Mr. Dodd
+      was.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Didn't I?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No. He is the handsomest man I ever saw.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have not observed that, but I think he is one of the worthiest.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I should not wonder,&rdquo; said the other lady, carelessly. &ldquo;It is clear you
+      don't appreciate him here. You half apologized to me for inviting him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That was because you are such a fashionable lady, and the Dodds have no
+      such pretensions.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All the better; my taste is not for sophisticated people. I only put up
+      with them because I am obliged. Why, Lucy, you ought to know how my heart
+      yearns for nature and truth; I am sure I have told you so often enough. An
+      hour spent with a simple, natural creature like Captain Dodd refreshes me
+      as a cooling breeze after the heat and odors of a crowded room.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Miss Dodd is very natural too&mdash;is she not?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very. Pertness and vulgarity are natural enough&mdash;to some people.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My uncle likes her the best of the two.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then your uncle is mad. But the fact is, men are no judges in such cases;
+      they are always unjust to their own sex, and as blind to the faults of
+      ours as beetles.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But surely, aunt, she is very arch and lively.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pert and fussy, you mean.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pretty, at all events? Rather?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What, with that snub nose!!?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy offered to invite other neighbors; Mrs. Bazalgette replied she didn't
+      want to be bothered with rurality. &ldquo;You can ask Captain Dodd, if you like;
+      there is no need to invite the sister.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh yes, I must; my uncle likes her the best.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But <i>I</i> don't; and I am only here for a day or two.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Miss Dodd would be hurt. It would be unkind&mdash;discourteous.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no. She watches him all the time like a little dragon.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <i>&ldquo;Apres?</i> We have no sinister designs on Mr. Dodd, have we?&rdquo; and
+      something unusually keen flashed upon Aunt Bazalgette out of the tail of
+      the quiet Lucy's eye.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Bazalgette looked cross. &ldquo;Nonsense, Lucy; so tiresome! Can't we have
+      an agreeable person without tacking on a disagreeable one?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Aunt,&rdquo; said Lucy, pathetically, &ldquo;ask me anything else in the world, but
+      don't ask me to be rude, for <i>I can't.&rdquo;</i>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, then, you are bound to entertain her, since she is your choice, and
+      leave me mine.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy acquiesced softly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      David, tutored by his sister, now tried to seem interested in her who came
+      between him and Lucy, and a miserable hand he made of this his first piece
+      of acting. Luckily for him, Mrs. Bazalgette liked the sound of her own
+      voice; and his good looks, too, went a long way with the mature woman.
+      Lucy and Eve sat together at the tea-table; Mr. Fountain slumbered below;
+      Arthur was in the study, nailed to a novel; Eve, under a careless
+      exterior, watched intently to find out if Lucy, under a calm surface,
+      cared for David at all or not, and also watched for a chance to serve him.
+      She observed a certain languor about the young lady, but no attempt to
+      take David from the coquette. At last, however, Lucy did say demurely,
+      &ldquo;Mr. Dodd seems to appreciate my aunt.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't you think it is rather the other way?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is an insidious question, Miss Dodd. I shall make no admissions; but
+      I warn you she is a very fascinating woman.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My brother is greatly admired by the ladies, too.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, since I praised my champion, you have a right to praise yours. But he
+      will get the worst in that little encounter.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why so?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because my sprightly aunt forgets the very names of her conquests when
+      once she has thoroughly made them.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She will never make this one; my brother carries an armor against
+      coquettes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ay, indeed; and pray what may that be?&rdquo; inquired Lucy, a little
+      quizzingly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A true and deep attachment.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And if you will look at him a little closer you will see that he would be
+      glad to get away from that old flirt; but David is very polite to ladies.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy stole a look from under her silken lashes, and it so happened that at
+      that very moment she encountered a sorrowful glance from David that said
+      plainly enough, I am obliged to be here, but I long to be there. She
+      received his glance full in her eyes, absorbed it blandly, then lowered
+      her lashes a moment, then turned her head with a sweet smile toward Eve.
+      &ldquo;I think you said your brother was engaged.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I misunderstood you, then.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo; Eve uttered this monosyllable so dryly that Lucy drew back, and
+      immediately turned the conversation into chit-chat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It had not trickled above ten minutes when an exclamation from David
+      interrupted it. The young ladies turned instinctively, and there was David
+      flushing all over, and speaking to Mrs. Bazalgette with a tremulous
+      warmth, that, addressed as it was to a pretty woman, sounded marvelously
+      like love-making.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy turned her crest round a little haughtily, and shot such a glance on
+      Eve. Eve read in it a compound of triumph and pique.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      David came to Eve one morning with parchments in his hand and a merry
+      smile. &ldquo;Eureka!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You're another,&rdquo; said Eve, as quick as lightning, and upon speculation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have made Mr. Fountain's pedigree out,&rdquo; explained David.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You don't say so! won't he be pleased?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. Do you think <i>she</i> will be pleased?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why not? She will look pleased, anyway. I say, don't you go and tell them
+      the whole county was owned by the Dodds before Fountain, or Funteyn, or
+      Font, was ever heard of.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hardly. I have my own weaknesses, my lass; I've no need to adopt another
+      man's.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Bless my soul, how wise you are got! So sudden, too! You shouldn't
+      surprise a body like that. Lucky I'm not hysterical. Now let me think,
+      David&mdash;Solomon, I mean&mdash;no, you shall keep this discovery back
+      awhile; it may be wanted.&rdquo; She then reminded him that the Fountains were
+      capricious; that they had dropped him for a week, and eight again; if so,
+      this might be useful to unlock their street door to him at need.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good heavens, Eve, what cunning!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;David, when I have a bad cause in hand, I do one of two things: I drop
+      it, or I go into it heart and soul. If my zeal offends you, I can retire
+      from the contest with great pleasure.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No! no! no! no! no! If you leave the helm I shall go ashore directly&rdquo;&mdash;dismay
+      of David; grim satisfaction of his imp.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This matter settled, David asked Eve if she did not think Master Nelson
+      (Mr. Fountain's new ward) was a very nice boy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; and I see he has taken a wonderful fancy to you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And so have I to him; we have had one or two walks together. He is to
+      come here at twelve o'clock to-day.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now why couldn't you have asked me first, David? The painters are coming
+      into the house to-day; and the paperers, and all, and we can't be bothered
+      with mathematics. You must do them at Font Abbey.&rdquo; Eve was a little cross.
+      David only laughed at her; but he hesitated about making a school-house of
+      Font Abbey&mdash;it would look like intruding.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pooh! nonsense,&rdquo; said Eve; &ldquo;they will only be too glad to take advantage
+      of your good-nature.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He is an orphan,&rdquo; said David, doggedly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      However, the lesson was given at Font Abbey, and after it Master Nelson
+      came bounding into the drawing-room to the ladies.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Lucy, Mr. Dodd is such a beautiful geometrician! He has been giving
+      me a lesson; he is going to give me one every day. He knows a great deal
+      more than my last tutor.&rdquo; On this Master Nelson was questioned, and
+      revealed that a friendship existed between him and Mr. Dodd such as girls
+      are incapable of (this was leveled at Lucy); being cross-examined as to
+      the date of this friendship, he was obliged to confess that it had only
+      existed four days, but was to last to death.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But, Arthur,&rdquo; said Lucy, &ldquo;will not this take up too much of Mr. Dodd's
+      time? I think you had better consult Uncle Fountain before you make a
+      positive arrangement of the kind.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I have spoken to my guardian about it, and he was <i>so</i> pleased.
+      He said that would save him a mathematical tutor.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, then,&rdquo; said Mrs. Bazalgette, &ldquo;Mr. Dodd is to teach mathematics
+      gratis.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My friend is a gentleman,&rdquo; was the timid reply. (Juveniles have a
+      pomposity all their own, and exquisitely delicious.*) &ldquo;We read together
+      because we like one another, and that is why we walk together and play
+      together; if we were to offer him money he would throw it at our heads.&rdquo;
+       Mr. Arthur then relaxed his severity, and, condescending once more to the
+      familiar, added: &ldquo;And he has made me a kite on mathematical principles&mdash;such
+      a whacker&mdash;those in the shops are no use; and he has sent his
+      mother's Bath chair on to the downs, and he is going to show me the kite
+      draw him ten knots an hour in it&mdash;a knot means a mile, Lucy&mdash;so
+      I can't stay wasting my time here; only, if you want to see some fun for
+      once in your lives, come on the downs in about an hour&mdash;will you? Oh
+      yes! do come!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+     * Read the Oxford Essays.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Certainly not,&rdquo; said Mrs. Bazalgette, sharply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Excuse us, dear,&rdquo; said Lucy in the same breath.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, Lucy,&rdquo; said Mrs. Bazalgette, &ldquo;am I wrong about your uncle's
+      selfishness! I have tried in vain ever since I came here to make you see
+      it where <i>you</i> were the only sufferer.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not quite in vain, aunt,&rdquo; said Lucy sadly; &ldquo;you have shown me defects in
+      my poor uncle that I should never have discovered.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Bazalgette smiled grimly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Only, as you hate him, and I love him, and always mean to love him,
+      permit me to call his defects 'thought-lessness.' <i>You</i> can apply the
+      harsh term 'selfish-ness' to the most good-natured, kind, indulgent&mdash;oh!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ha! ha! Don't cry, you silly girl. Thoughtless? a calculating old goose,
+      who is eternally aiming to be a fox&mdash;never says or does anything
+      without meaning something a mile off. Luckily, his veil is so thin that
+      everybody sees through it but you. What do you think of his <i>thought-less-ness</i>
+      in getting a tutor gratis? Poor Mr. Dodd!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will answer for it, it is a pleasure to Mr. Dodd to be of service to
+      his little friend,&rdquo; said Lucy, warmly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How do you know a bore is a pleasure to Mr. Dodd?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Dodd is a new acquaintance of yours, aunt, but I have had
+      opportunities of observing his character, and I assure you all this pity
+      is wasted.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, Lucy, what did you say to Arthur just now. You are contradicting <i>yourself.&rdquo;</i>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What a love of opposition I must have. Are you not tired of in-doors?
+      Shall we go into the village?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; I exhausted the village yesterday.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The garden?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, then, suppose we sketch the church together. There is a good
+      light.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No. Let us go on the downs, Lucy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, aunt, it&mdash;it is a long walk.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All the better.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But we said 'No.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What has that to do with it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Arthur was right; the kites that are sold by shops of prey are not
+      proportioned nor balanced; this is probably in some way connected with the
+      circumstance that they are made to sell, not fly. The monster kite,
+      constructed by the light of Euclid, rose steadily into the air like a
+      balloon, and eventually, being attached to the chair, drew Mr. Arthur at a
+      reasonable pace about half a mile over a narrow but level piece of turf
+      that was on the top of the downs. Q.E.D. This done, these two patient
+      creatures had to wind the struggling monster in, and go back again to the
+      starting point. Before they had quite achieved this, two petticoats
+      mounted the hill and moved toward them across the plateau. At sight of
+      them David thrilled from head to foot, and Arthur cried, &ldquo;Oh, bother!&rdquo; an
+      unjust ejaculation, since it was by his invitation they came. His alarms
+      were verified. The ladies made themselves No. 1 directly, and the poor
+      kite became a shield for flirtation. Arthur was so cross.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At last the B's desire to occupy attention brought her to the verge of
+      trouble. Seeing David saying a word to Lucy, she got into the chair, and
+      went gayly off, drawn by the kite, which Arthur, with a mighty struggle,
+      succeeded in hooking to the car for her. Now, the plateau was narrow, and
+      the chair wanted guiding. It was easy to guide it, but Mrs. Bazalgette did
+      not know how; so it sidled in a pertinacious and horrid way toward a long
+      and steepish slope on the left side. She began to scream, Arthur to laugh&mdash;the
+      young are cruel, and, I am afraid, though he stood perfectly neutral to
+      all appearance, his heart within nourished black designs. But David came
+      flying up at her screams&mdash;just in time. He caught the lady's
+      shoulders as she glided over the brow of the slope, and lifted her by his
+      great strength up out of the chair, which went the next moment bounding
+      and jumping athwart the hill, and soon rolled over and groveled in rather
+      an ugly way.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Bazalgette sobbed and cried so prettily on David's shoulder, and had
+      to be petted and soothed by all hands. Inward composure soon returned,
+      though not outward, and in due course histrionics commenced. First the
+      sprain business. None of you do it better, ladies, whatever you may think.
+      David had to carry her a bit. But she was too wise to be a bore. Next, the
+      heroic business: <i>would</i> be put down, <i>would</i> walk, possible or
+      not; <i>would</i> not be a trouble to her kind friends. Then the martyr
+      smiling through pain. David was very attentive to her; for while he was
+      carrying her in his arms she had won his affection, all he could spare
+      from Lucy. Which of you can tell all the consequences if you go and carry
+      a pretty woman, with her little insinuating mouth close to your ears?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy and Arthur walked behind. Arthur sighed. Lucy was <i>reveuse.</i>
+      Arthur broke silence first. &ldquo;Lucy!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, dear.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;When is she going?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Arthur, for shame! I won't tell you. To-morrow.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Lucy,&rdquo; said Arthur, with a depth of feeling, &ldquo;she spoils everything!!!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Next morning &mdash;&mdash; <i>come back?</i> What for? <i>I will have the
+      goodness to tell you what she said in his ear?</i> Why, nothing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <i>You are a female reader?</i> Oh! that alters the case. To attempt to
+      deceive you would be cowardly, immoral; it would fail. She sighed, &ldquo;My
+      preserver!&rdquo; at which David had much ado not to laugh in her face. Then she
+      murmured still more softly, &ldquo;You must come and see me at my home before
+      you sail&mdash;will you not? I insist&rdquo; (in the tone of a supplicant),
+      &ldquo;come, promise me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That I will&mdash;with pleasure,&rdquo; said David, flushing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mind, it is a promise. Put me down. Lucy, come here and make him put me
+      down. I <i>will not</i> be a burden to my friends.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER VIII.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      THAT same evening, Mrs. Bazalgette, being alone with Lucy in the
+      drawing-room, put her arm round that young lady's waist, and lovingly, not
+      seriously, as a man might have been apt to do, reminded her of her
+      honorable promise&mdash;not to be caught in the net of matrimony at Font
+      Abbey. Lucy answered, without embarrassment, that she claimed no merit for
+      keeping her word. No one had had the ill taste to invite her to break it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are either very sly or very blind,&rdquo; replied Mrs. Bazalgette, quietly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Aunt!&rdquo; said Lucy, piteously.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Bazalgette, who, by many a subtle question and observation during the
+      last week, had satisfied herself of Lucy's innocence, now set to work and
+      laid Uncle Fountain bare.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do not speak in a hurry, Lucy; a hint came round to me a fortnight ago
+      that you had an admirer here, and it turns out to be this Mr. Talboys.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Talboys?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. Does that surprise you? Do you think a young gentleman would come to
+      Font Abbey three nights in a week without a motive?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy reflected.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is all over the place that you two are engaged.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy colored, and her eyes flashed with something very like anger, but she
+      held her peace.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ask Jane else.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What! take my servant into my confidence?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, there is a way of setting that sort of people chattering without
+      seeming to take any notice. To tell the truth, I have done it for you. It
+      is all over the village, and all over the house.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The proper person to ask must have been Uncle Fountain himself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;As if he would have told me the truth.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He is a gentleman, aunt, and would not have uttered a falsehood.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Doctrine of chivalry! He would have uttered half a dozen in one minute.
+      Besides, why should I question a person I can read without. Your uncle,
+      with his babyish cunning that everybody sees through, has given me the
+      only proof I wanted. He has not had Mr. Talboys here once since I came.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Cunning little aunt! Mr. Talboys happens not to be at home; uncle told me
+      so himself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Simple little niece, uncle told you a fib; Mr. Talboys is at home. And
+      observe! until I came to Font Abbey, he was here three times a week. You
+      admit that. I come; your uncle knows I am not so unobservant as you, and
+      Mr. Talboys is kept out of sight.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The proof that my uncle has deceived me,&rdquo; said Lucy, coldly, and with
+      lofty incredulity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Read that note from Miss Dodd!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What! you in correspondence with Miss Dodd?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is to say, she has thrust herself into correspondence with me&mdash;just
+      like her assurance.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The letter ran thus:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;DEAR MADAM&mdash;My brother requests me to say that, in compliance with
+      your request, he called at the lodge of Talboys Park, and the people
+      informed him Mr. Talboys had not left Talboys Park at all since Easter. I
+      remain yours, etc.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy was dumfounded.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I suspected something, Lucy, so I asked Mr. Dodd to inquire.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It was a singular commission to send him on.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, he takes long walks&mdash;cruises, he calls them&mdash;and he is so
+      good-natured. Well, what do you think of your uncle's veracity now?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy was troubled and distressed, but she mastered her countenance: &ldquo;I
+      think he has sacrificed it for once to his affection for me. I fear you
+      are right; my eyes are opened to many circumstances. But do&mdash;oh, pray
+      do!&mdash;see his goodness in all this.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The goodness of a story-teller.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He admires Mr. Talboys&mdash;he reveres him. No doubt he wished to secure
+      his poor niece what he thinks a great match, and now you assign ill
+      motives to him. Yes, I confess he has deviated from truth. Cruel! cruel!
+      what can you give me in exchange if you rob me of my esteem for those I
+      love!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This innocent distress, with its cause, were too deep for a lady whose
+      bright little intelligence leaned toward cunning rather than wisdom. In
+      spite of her niece's trouble, and the brimming eyes that implored
+      forbearance, she drove the sting, merrily in again and again, till at last
+      Lucy, who was not defending herself, but an absent friend, turned a little
+      suddenly on her and said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And do you think he says nothing against you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, he is a backbiter, too, is he? I didn't know he had that vice. Ah!
+      and, pray, what can he find to say against me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, people that hate one another can always find something ill-natured to
+      say,&rdquo; retorted Lucy, with a world of meaning.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Bazalgette turned red, and her little nose went up into the air at an
+      angle of forty-five. She said, with majestic disdain: &ldquo;I don't hate the
+      man&mdash;I don't condescend to hate him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then don't condescend to backbite him, dear.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This home-thrust, coming from such a quarter, took away my Lady Disdain's
+      very breath. She sat transfixed; then, upon reflection, got up a tear, and
+      had to be petted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This sweet lady departed, flinging down her firebrand on those hospitable
+      boards.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy, though she had defended her uncle, was not a little vexed that he
+      had managed matters so as to get her talked of with Mr. Talboys. Her
+      natural modesty and reserve prevented her from remonstrating; nor was
+      there any positive necessity. She was one of those young ladies who seem
+      born mistresses of the art of self-defense. Deriving the art not from
+      experience, but from instinct, they are as adroit at seventeen as they are
+      at twenty-seven; so a last year's bird constructs her first nest as
+      cunningly as can a veteran feathered architect.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Therefore, without a grain of discourtesy or tangible ill-temper, she
+      quietly froze, and a small family with her, they could not tell how or
+      why, for they had never even suspected this girl's power. You would have
+      seemed to them as one that mocketh had you told them they owed their
+      gayety, their good-humor, their happiness, and their conversational powers
+      to her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Of these Talboys suffered the most. She brought him to a stand-still by a
+      very simple process. She no longer patted or spurred him. To vary the
+      metaphor, a man that has no current must be stirred or stagnate; Lucy's
+      light hand stirred Talboys no more; Talboys stagnated. Mr. Fountain
+      suffered next in proportion. He began to find that something was the
+      matter, but what he had no idea. He did not observe that, though Lucy
+      answered him as kindly as ever, she did not draw him out as heretofore,
+      far less that she was vexed with him, and on her guard against him and
+      everybody, like a <i>maitresse d'armes.</i> No. &ldquo;The days were drawing in.
+      The air was heavy; no carbon in it. Wind in the east again!!!&rdquo; etc. So
+      subtle is the influence of these silly little creatures upon creation's
+      lords.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Talboys did not take delicate hints. He continued his visits three
+      times a week, and the coast was kept clear for him. On this Miss Fountain
+      proceeded to overt acts of war. She brought a champion on the scene&mdash;a
+      terrible champion&mdash;a champion so irresistible that I set any woman
+      down as a coward who lets him loose upon a sex already so unequal to the
+      contest as ours. What that champion's real name is I have in vain
+      endeavored to discover, but he is <i>called</i> &ldquo;Headache.&rdquo; When this
+      terrible ally mingled in the game&mdash;on the Talboys nights&mdash;dismay
+      fell upon the wretched males that abode in and visited the once cheerful,
+      cozy Font Abbey. Messrs. Fountain and Talboys put their heads together in
+      grave, anxious consultations, and Arthur vented a yell of remonstrance. He
+      found the lady one afternoon preparing indisposition. She was leaning
+      languidly back, and the fire was dying out of her eye, and the color out
+      of her cheek, and the blinds were drawn down. The poor boy burst in upon
+      this prologue. &ldquo;Oh, Lucy,&rdquo; he cried, in piteous, foreboding tones, &ldquo;don't
+      go and have a headache to-night. It was so jolly till you took to these <i>stupid</i>
+      headaches.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am so sorry, Arthur,&rdquo; said Lucy, apologetically, but at bottom she was
+      inexorable. The disease reached its climax just before dinner. All
+      remedies failed, and there was nothing for it but to return to her own
+      room, and read the last new tale of domestic interest&mdash;and principle&mdash;until
+      sleep came to her relief.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      After dinner Arthur shot out with the retiring servants, and interred
+      himself in the study, where he sought out with care such wild romances as
+      give entirely false views of life, and found them, &ldquo;and so shut up in
+      measureless content.&rdquo;&mdash;Macbeth.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The seniors consulted at their ease. They both appreciated the painful
+      phenomenon, but they differed <i>toto coelo</i> as to the cause. Mr.
+      Fountain ascribed it to the somber influence of Mrs. Bazalgette, and
+      miscalled her, till Jane's hair stood on end: she happened to be the one
+      at the keyhole that night. Mr. Talboys laid all the blame on David Dodd.
+      The discussion was vigorous, and occupied more than two hours, and each
+      party brought forward good and plausible reasons; and, if neither made any
+      progress toward converting the other, they gained this, at least, that
+      each corroborated himself. Now Mrs. Bazalgette was gone no direct
+      reprisals on her were possible. Registering a vow that one day or other he
+      would be even with her, the senior consented, though not very willingly,
+      to co-operate with his friend against an imaginary danger. In answer to
+      his remark that the Dodds were never invited to tea now, Mr. Talboys had
+      replied: &ldquo;But I find from Mr. Arthur he visits the house every day on the
+      pretense of teaching him mathematics&mdash;a barefaced pretense&mdash;a
+      sailor teach mathematics!&rdquo; Mr. Fountain had much ado to keep his temper at
+      this pertinacity in a jealous dream. He gulped his ire down, however, and
+      said, somewhat sullenly: &ldquo;I really cannot consent to send my poor friend's
+      son to the University a dunce, and there is no other mathematician near.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If I find you one,&rdquo; said Talboys, hastily, &ldquo;will you relieve Mr. Dodd of
+      his labors, and me of his presence?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Certainly,&rdquo; said the other. Poor David!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then there is my friend Bramby. He is a second wrangler. He shall take
+      Arthur, and keep him till Miss Fountain leaves us. Bramby will refuse me
+      nothing. I have a living in my gift, and the incumbent is eighty-eight.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The senior consented with a pitying smile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Bramby will take him next week,&rdquo; said Talboys, severely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Fountain nodded his head. It was all the assent he could effect: and
+      at that moment there passed through him the sacrilegious thought that the
+      Conqueror must have imported an ass or two among his other forces, and
+      that one of these, intermarrying with Saxon blood, had produced a mule,
+      and that mule was his friend.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The same uneasy jealousy, which next week was to expel David from Font
+      Abbey, impelled Mr. Talboys to call the very next day at one o'clock to
+      see what was being done under cover of trigonometry. He found Mr. and Miss
+      Fountain just sitting down to luncheon. David and Arthur were actually
+      together somewhere, perhaps going through the farce of geometry. He was
+      half vexed at finding no food for his suspicions. Presently, so spiteful
+      is chance, the door opened, and in marched Arthur and David.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have made him stay to luncheon for once,&rdquo; said Arthur; &ldquo;he couldn't
+      refuse me; we are to part so soon.&rdquo; Arthur got next to Lucy, and had David
+      on his left. Mr. Talboys gave Mr. Fountain a look, and very soon began to
+      play his battery upon David.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How do you naval officers find time to learn geometry?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What? don't you know it is a part of our education, sir?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I never heard that before.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is odd; but perhaps you have spent all your life ashore&rdquo; (this in
+      commiserating accents). David then politely explained to Mr. Talboys that
+      a man who looked one day to command a ship must not only practice
+      seamanship, but learn navigation, and that navigation was a noble art
+      founded on the exact sciences as well as on practical experiences; that
+      there did still linger upon the ocean a few of the old captains, who, born
+      at a period when a ship, in making a voyage, used to run down her
+      longitude first, and then begin to make her latitude, could handle a ship
+      well, and keep her off a lee shore <i>if they saw it in time,</i> but
+      were, in truth, hardly to be trusted to take her from port to port. &ldquo;We
+      get a word with these old salts now and then when we are becalmed
+      alongside, and the questions they put make us quite feel for them. Then
+      they trust entirely to their instruments. They can take an observation,
+      but they can't verify one. They can tack her and wear her (I have seen
+      them do one when they should have done the other), and they can read the
+      sky and the water better than we young ones; and while she floats they
+      stick to her, and the greater the danger the louder the oaths&mdash;but
+      that is all.&rdquo; He then assured them with modest fervor that much more than
+      that was expected of the modern commander, particularly in the two capital
+      articles of exact science and gentlemanly behavior. He concluded with
+      considerable grace by apologizing for his enthusiastic view of a
+      profession that had been too often confounded with the faults of its
+      professors&mdash;faults that were curable, and that they would all, he
+      hoped, live long enough to see cured. Then, turning to Miss Fountain, he
+      said: &ldquo;And if I began by despising my business, and taking a small view of
+      it, how should I ever hold sticks with my able competitors, who study it
+      with zeal and admiration?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy. &ldquo;I don't quite understand all you have said, Mr. Dodd, but that last
+      I think is unanswerable.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fountain. &ldquo;I am sure of it. As the Duke of Wellington said the other day
+      in the House of Lords, 'That is a position I defy any noble lord to
+      assault with success'&mdash;haw! ho!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Talboys averted his attack. &ldquo;Pray, sir,&rdquo; said he, with a sneer, &ldquo;may I
+      ask, have nautical commanders a particular taste for education as well as
+      science?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not that I know of. If you mean me, I am hungry to learn, and I find few
+      but what can teach me something, and what little I know I am willing to
+      impart, sir; give and take.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is the direction of your teaching that seems to me so singular.
+      Mathematics are horrible enough, and greatly to be avoided.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is news to me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;On <i>terra firma,</i> I mean.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At this opening of the case Talboys versus Newton, Arthur shrugged his
+      shoulders to Lucy and David, and went swiftly out as from the presence of
+      an idiot. It was abominably rude. But, besides being ill-natured and a
+      little shallow, Mr. Talboys was drawling out his words, and Arthur was
+      sixteen&mdash;candid epoch, at which affectation in man or woman is
+      intolerable to us; we get a little hardened to it long before sixty. Mr.
+      Talboys bit his lip at this boyish impertinence, but he was too proud a
+      man to notice it otherwise than by quietly incorporating the offender into
+      his satire. &ldquo;But the enigma is why you read them with a stripling, of
+      whose breeding we have just had a specimen&mdash;mathematics with a
+      hob-ba-de-hoy? <i>Grand Dieu!</i> Do pray tell us, Mr. Dodd, why you come
+      to Font Abbey every day; is it really to teach Master Orson mathematics
+      and manners?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      David did not sink into the earth as he was intended to.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I come to teach him algebra and geometry, what little I know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But your motive, Mr. Dodd?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      David looked puzzled, Lucy uneasy at seeing her guest badgered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ask Miss Fountain why she thinks I do my best for Arthur,&rdquo; said David,
+      lowering his eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Talboys colored and looked at Fountain.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think it must be out of pure goodness,&rdquo; said Lucy, sweetly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Talboys ignored her calmly. &ldquo;Pray enlighten us, Mr. Dodd. Now what is
+      the real reason you walk a mile every day to do mathematics with that
+      interesting and well-behaved juvenile?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are very curious, sir,&rdquo; said David, grimly, his ire rising unseen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am&mdash;on this point.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, since you must be told what most men could see without help, it is&mdash;because
+      he is an orphan; and because an orphan finds a brother in every man that
+      is worth the shoe-leather he stands in. Can ye read the riddle now, ye
+      lubber?&rdquo; and David started up haughtily, and, with contempt and wrath on
+      his face, marched through the open window and joined his little friend on
+      the lawn, leaving Fountain red with anger and Talboys white.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The next thing was, Lucy rose and went quietly out of the room by the
+      door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is the last time he shall set his foot within my door. Provoking cub!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are convinced at last that he is a dangerous rival?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A rival? Nonsense and stuff!!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then why was she so agitated? She went out with tears in her eyes: I saw
+      them.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The poor girl was frightened, no doubt. We don't have fracases at Font
+      Abbey. On this one spot of earth comfort reigns, and balmy peace, and
+      shall reign unruffled while I live. The passions are not admitted here,
+      sir. Gracious Heaven forbid! I'd as soon see a bonfire in the middle of my
+      dining-room as Jealousy &amp; Co.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In that case you had better exclude the cause.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The cause is your imagination, my good friend; but I will give it no
+      handle. I will exclude David Dodd until she has accepted you in form.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      With this understanding the friends parted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      After dinner that same day Arthur sat in the drawing-room with Lucy. He
+      was reading, she working placidly. She looked off her work demurely at him
+      several times. He was absorbed in a flighty romance. &ldquo;I have dropped my
+      worsted, Arthur. It is by you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Arthur picked the ball up and brought it to her; then back to his romance,
+      heart and soul. Another sidelong glance at him; then, after a long
+      silence, &ldquo;Your book seems very interesting.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll fling it against the wall if it does not mind,&rdquo; was the infuriated
+      reply. &ldquo;Here are two fools quarreling, page after page, and can't see, or
+      won't see, what everybody else can see, that it is an absurd
+      misunderstanding. One word of common sense would put it all right.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then why not put the book down and talk to me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can't. It won't let me. I must see how long the two fools will go on
+      not seeing what everybody else sees.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Will not the number of volumes tell you that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Signorina, don't you try to be satirical!&rdquo; said the sprightly youth;
+      &ldquo;you'll only make a mess of it. What is the use dropping one drop of
+      vinegar into such a great big honey pot?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are a saucy boy,&rdquo; retorted Lucy, in tones of gentle approbation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A long silence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Arthur, will you hold this skein for me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Arthur groaned.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Never mind, dear. I will try and manage with a chair.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No you won't, now; there.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The victim was caught by the hands. But with fatal instinctive
+      perverseness he sat in silent amazement watching Lucy's supple white hand
+      disentangling impossibilities instead of chattering as he was intended to.
+      Lucy gave a little sigh. Here was a dreadful business&mdash;obliged to
+      elicit the information she had resolved should be forced upon her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;By the by, Arthur,&rdquo; said she, carelessly, &ldquo;did Mr. Dodd say anything to
+      you on the lawn?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What about?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;About what was said after you went out so ru&mdash;so suddenly.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; why? what was said? Something about me? Tell me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, no, dear; as Mr. Dodd did not mention it, it is not worth while. You
+      must not move your hands, please.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now, Lucy, that is too bad. It is not fair to excite one's curiosity and
+      then stop directly.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But it is nothing. Mr. Talboys teased Mr. Dodd a little, that is all, and
+      Mr. Dodd was not so patient as I have seen him on like occasions. There,
+      <i>you</i> are disentangled at last.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now, signorina, let us talk sense. Tell me, which do you like best of all
+      the gentlemen that come here?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You, dear; only keep your hands still.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;None of your chaff, Lucy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Chaff! what is that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Flattery, then. I hope it isn't that affected fool Talboys, for I hate
+      hun.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I cannot undertake to share your prejudices, Mr. Arthur.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then you actually like him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't dislike him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then I pity your taste, that is all.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Talboys has many good qualities; and if he was what you describe him,
+      Uncle Fountain would not prize him as he does.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There is something in that, Lucy; but I think my guardian and you are mad
+      upon just that one point. Talboys is a fool and a snob.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Arthur,&rdquo; said Lucy, severely, &ldquo;if you speak so of my uncle's friends, you
+      and I shall quarrel.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You won't quarrel just now, if you can help it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Won't I, though? Why not, pray?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because your skein is not wound yet.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, you little black-hearted thing!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know human nature, miss,&rdquo; said the urchin, pompously; &ldquo;I have read Miss
+      Edgeworth!!!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He then made an appeal to her candor and good sense. &ldquo;Now don't you see my
+      friend Mr. Dodd is worth them all put together?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can't quite see that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He is so noble, so kind, so clever.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You must own he is a trifle brusk.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Never. And, if he is, that is not like hurting people's feelings on
+      purpose, and saying nasty, ill-natured things wrapped up in politeness
+      that you daren't say out like a man, or you'd get kicked. He is a
+      gentleman inside; that Talboys is only one outside; but you girls can't
+      look below the surface.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We have not read Miss Edgeworth. His hands are not so white as Mr.
+      Talboys'.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nor his liver, either&mdash;oh, you goose! Which has the finest eyes?
+      Why, you don't see such eyes as Mr. Dodd's every day. They are as large as
+      yours, only his are dark.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't be angry, dear. You must admit his voice is very loud.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He can make it loud, but it is always low and gentle whenever he speaks
+      to you. I have noticed that; so that is monstrous ungrateful of you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There, the skein is wound. Arthur!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have a great mind to tell you something your friend Mr. Dodd said while
+      you were out of the room&mdash;but no, you shall finish your story first.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no; hang the story!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! you only say that out of politeness. I have taken you from it so long
+      already.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The impetuous boy jumped up, seized the volumes, dashed out, and presently
+      came running back, crying: &ldquo;There, I have thrown them behind the bookcase
+      for ever and ever. Now will you tell me what he said?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy smiled triumphantly. She could relish a bloodless victory over an
+      inanimate rival. Then she said softly, &ldquo;Arthur, what I am going to tell
+      you is in confidence.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will be torn in pieces before I betray it,&rdquo; said the young chevalier.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy smiled at his extravagance, then began again very gravely: &ldquo;Mr.
+      Talboys, who, with many good qualities, has&mdash;what shall I say?&mdash;narrow
+      and artificial views compared with your friend&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! now you are talking sense.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then why interrupt me, dear?&mdash;began teasing him, and wanting to know
+      the real reason he comes here.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The real reason? What did the fool mean?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How can I tell, Arthur, any more than you? Mr. Dodd evidently thought
+      that some slur was meant on the purity of his friendship for you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Shame! shame! oh!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I saw his anger rising; for Mr. Dodd, though not irritable, is passionate&mdash;at
+      least I think so. I tried to smooth matters. But no; Mr. Talboys persisted
+      in putting this ungenerous question, when all of a sudden Mr. Dodd burst
+      out, 'You wish to know why I love Arthur? Because he is an orphan; and
+      because an orphan finds a brother in every man who is worth the
+      shoe-leather he stands in. That is all the riddle, you lubber!!' It was
+      terribly rude; but oh! Arthur, I must tell you your friend looked noble;
+      he seemed to swell and rise to a giant as he spoke, and we all felt such
+      little shrimps around him; and his lip trembled, and fire flashed from his
+      eyes. How you would have admired him then; and he swept out of the room,
+      and left us for his little friend, who is worthy of it all, since he
+      stands up for him against us all. Arthur! why, he is crying! poor child!
+      and do you think those words did not go to <i>my</i> heart as well? I am
+      an orphan, too. Arthur, don't cry, love! oh! oh! oh!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Oh, magic of a word from a great heart! Such a word, uncouth and simple,
+      but hot from a manly bosom, pierced silk and broadcloth as if they had
+      been calico and fustian, and made a fashionable young lady and a bold
+      school-boy take hands and cry together. But such sweet tears dry quickly;
+      they dry almost as they flow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hallo!&rdquo; cried the mercurial prince; &ldquo;a sudden thought strikes me. You
+      kept running him down a minute ago.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Me?&rdquo; said Lucy, with a look of amazement.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, you know you did. Now tell me what was that for.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To give you the pleasure of defending him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh. Hum? Lucy, you are not quite so simple as the others think; sometimes
+      I can't make you out myself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is it possible? Well, you know what to do, dear.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, I don't.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, read Miss Edgeworth over again.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER IX.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      ARTHUR was bundled off to a private tutor, and the Dodds invited to Font
+      Abbey no more, and Talboys dined there three days a week. So far, David
+      Dodd was in a poor and miserable position compared with Talboys, who
+      visited Lucy at pleasure, and could close the very street door against a
+      rival, real or imaginary. But the street door is not the door of the
+      heart, and David had one little advantage over his powerful antagonist; it
+      was a slender one, and he owed it to a subtle source&mdash;female tact.
+      His sister had long been aware of Talboys. The gossip of the village had
+      enlightened her as to his visits and supposed pretensions. She had
+      deliberately withheld this information from her brother, for she said to
+      herself: &ldquo;Men always make <i>such</i> fools of themselves when they are
+      jealous. No. David shan't even know he has got a rival; if he did he would
+      be wretched and live on thorns, and then he would get into passions, and
+      either make a fool of himself in her eyes, or do something rash and be
+      shown to the door.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Thus far Eve, defending her brother. And with this piece of shrewdness she
+      did a little more for him than she intended or was conscious of; for
+      Talboys, either by feeble calculation or instinct of petty rivalry,
+      constantly sneered at David before Lucy; David never mentioned Talboys'
+      name to her. Now superior ignores, inferior detracts. Thus Talboys lowered
+      himself and rather elevated David; moreover, he counteracted his own
+      strongest weapon, the street door. After putting David out of sight, this
+      judicious rival could not let him fade out of mind too; he found means to
+      stimulate the lady's memory, and, as far as in him lay, made the absent
+      present. May all my foes unweave their webs as cleverly! David knew
+      nothing of this. He saw himself shut out from Paradise, and he was sad. He
+      felt the loss of Arthur too. The orphan had been medicine to him. When a
+      man is absorbed in a hopeless passion, to be employed every day in a good
+      action has a magical soothing influence on the racked heart. Try this
+      instead of suicide, despairing lover. It is a quack remedy; no M. D.
+      prescribes it. Never you mind; in desperate ills a little cure is worth a
+      deal of etiquette. Poor David had lost this innocent comfort&mdash;lost,
+      too, the pleasure of going every day to the house she lived in. To be
+      sure, when he used to go he seldom caught a glimpse of her, but he did now
+      and then, and always enjoyed the hope.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I see how it is,&rdquo; said he to Eve one day; &ldquo;I am not welcome to the master
+      of the house. Well, he is the master; I shall not force my way where I am
+      not welcome&rdquo;; but after these spirited words he hung his head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, nonsense,&rdquo; said Eve. &ldquo;It isn't him. There are mischief-makers
+      behind.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ay? just you tell me who they are. I'll teach them to come across my
+      hawse&rdquo;; and David's eyes flashed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't you be silly,&rdquo; said Eve, and turned it off; &ldquo;and don't be so
+      downhearted. Why, you are not half a man.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No more I am, Eve. What has come to me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What, indeed? just when everything goes swimmingly.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Eve, how can you say so?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, David, she leaves this in a few days for Mrs. Bazalgette's house.
+      You tell me you have got a warm invitation there. Then make the play
+      there, and, if you can't win her, say you don't deserve her, twiddle your
+      thumb, and see a bolder lover carry her off. You foolish boy, she is only
+      a woman; she is to be won. If you don't mind, some man will show you it
+      was as easy as you think it is hard. Timid wooers make a mountain of a
+      mole-hill.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, it is you who have kept me backing and filling all this time, Eve.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course. Prudence at first starting, but that isn't to say courage is
+      never to come in. First creep within the fortification wall; but, once
+      inside, if you don't storm the city that minute, woe be unto you. Come,
+      cheer up! it is only for a few days, and then she goes where you will have
+      her all to yourself; besides, you shall have one sweet delicious evening
+      with her all alone before she goes. What! have you forgotten the pedigree?
+      Wasn't I right to keep that back? and now march and take a good long
+      walk.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Her tongue was a spur. It made David's drooping manhood rear and prance&mdash;a
+      trumpet, and pealed victory to come. David kissed her warmly and strode
+      away radiant. She looked sadly after him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She had never spoken so hopefully, so encouragingly. The reason will
+      startle such of my readers as have not taken the trouble to comprehend
+      her. It was that she had never so thoroughly desponded. Such was Eve. When
+      matters went smoothly, she itched to torment and take the gloss off David;
+      but now the affair looked really desperate, so it would have been unkind
+      not to sustain him with all her soul. The cause of her despondency and
+      consequent cheerfulness shall now be briefly related. Scarce an hour ago
+      she had met Miss Fountain in the village and accompanied her home. For
+      David's sake she had diverted the conversation by easy degrees to the
+      subject of marriage, in order to sound Miss Fountain. &ldquo;You would never
+      give your hand without your heart, I am sure.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Heaven forbid,&rdquo; was the reply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not even to a coronet?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not even to a crown.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      So far so good; but Miss Fountain went on to say that the heart was not
+      the only thing to be consulted in a matter so important as marriage.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is the only thing I would ever consult,&rdquo; said Eve. As Lucy did not
+      reply, Eve asked her next what she would do if she loved a poor man. Lucy
+      replied coldly that it was not her present intention to love anybody but
+      her relations; that she should never love any gentleman until she had been
+      married to him, or, correcting herself, at all events, been some time
+      engaged to him, and she should certainly never engage herself to anyone
+      who would not rather improve her position in society than deteriorate it.
+      Eve met these pretty phrases with a look of contempt, as much as to say,
+      &ldquo;While you speak I am putting all that into plain vulgar English.&rdquo; The
+      other did not seem to notice it. &ldquo;To leave this interesting topic for a
+      while,&rdquo; said she, languidly, &ldquo;let me consult you, Miss Dodd. I have not,
+      as you may have noticed, great abilities, but I have received an excellent
+      education. To say nothing of those <i>soi-disant</i> accomplishments with
+      which we adorn and sometimes weary society, my dear mother had me well
+      grounded in languages and history. Without being eloquent, I have a
+      certain fluency, in which, they tell me, even members of Parliament are
+      deficient, smoothly as their speeches read made into English by the
+      newspapers. Like yourself, Miss Dodd, and all our sex, I am not destitute
+      of tact, and tact, you know, is 'the talent of talents.' I feel,&rdquo; here she
+      bit her lip, &ldquo;myself fit for public life. I am ambitious.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, you are, are you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very; and perhaps you will kindly tell me how I had best direct that
+      ambition. The army? No; marching against daisies, and dancing and flirting
+      in garrison towns, is frivolous and monotonous too. It isn't as if war was
+      raging, trumpets ringing, and squadrons charging. Your brother's
+      profession? Not for the world; I am a coward&rdquo; [consistent]. &ldquo;Shall I lower
+      my pretensions to the learned professions?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't doubt your cleverness, but the learned professions?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A woman has a tongue, you know, and that is their grand requisite. I
+      interrupted you, Miss Dodd; pray forgive me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, then, let us go through them. To be a clergyman, what is required?
+      To preach, and visit the sick, and feel for them, and understand what
+      passes in the sorrowful hearts of the afflicted. Is that beyond our sex?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That last is far more beyond a man at most times; and oh, the discourses
+      one has to sit out in church!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Portia made a very passable barrister, Miss Dodd.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, did she?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, you know she did; and as for medicine, the great successes there are
+      achieved by honeyed words, with a long word thrown in here and there. I've
+      heard my own mamma say so. Now which shall I be?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I suppose you are making fun of me,&rdquo; said Eve; &ldquo;but there is many a true
+      word spoken in jest. You could be a better, parson, lawyer or doctor than
+      nine out of ten, but they won't let us. They know we could beat them into
+      fits at anything but brute strength and wickedness, so they have shut all
+      those doors in us poor girls' faces.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There; you see,&rdquo; said Lucy archly, &ldquo;but two lines are open to our
+      honorable ambition, marriage and&mdash;water-colors. I think marriage the
+      more honorable of the two; above all, it is the more fashionable. Can you
+      blame me, then, if my ambition chooses the altar and not the easel?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So that is what you have been bringing me to.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You came of your own accord,&rdquo; was the sly retort. &ldquo;Let me offer you some
+      luncheon.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, thank you; I could not eat a morsel just now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Eve went away, her bright little face visibly cast down. It was not Miss
+      Fountain's words only, and that new trait of hard satire, which she had so
+      suddenly produced from her secret recesses. Her very tones were cynical
+      and worldly to Eve's delicate sense of hearing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Poor, poor David!&rdquo; she thought, and when she got to the door of the room
+      she sighed; and as she went home she said more than once to herself, &ldquo;No
+      more heart than a marble statue. Oh, how true our first thought is! I come
+      back to mine&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy (sola). <i>&ldquo;Then</i> what right had she to come here and try to turn
+      me inside out?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER X.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      As the hour of Lucy's departure drew near, Mr. Fountain became anxious to
+      see her betrothed to his friend, for fear of accidents. &ldquo;You had better
+      propose to her in form, or authorize me to do so, before she goes to that
+      Mrs. Bazalgette.&rdquo; This time it was Talboys that hung back. He objected
+      that the time was not opportune. &ldquo;I make no advance,&rdquo; said he; &ldquo;on the
+      contrary, I seem of late to have lost ground with your niece.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I've seen the sort of distance she has put on; all superficial, my
+      dear sir. I read it in your favor. I know the sex; they can't elude me.
+      Pique, sir&mdash;nothing on earth but female pique. She is bitter against
+      us for shilly-shallying. These girls hate shilly-shally in a man. They are
+      monopolists&mdash;severe monopolists; shilly-shally is one of their
+      monopolies. Throw yourself at her feet, and press her with ardor; she will
+      clear up directly.&rdquo; The proposed attitude did not tempt the stiff Talboys.
+      His pride took the alarm.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank you. It is a position in which I should not care to place myself
+      unless I was quite sure of not being refused. No, I will not risk my
+      proposal while she is under the influence of this Dodd; he is, somehow or
+      other, the cause of her coldness to me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good heavens! why, she has been hermetically sealed against him ever so
+      long,&rdquo; cried Fountain, almost angrily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I saw his sister come out of your gate only the other day. Sisters are
+      emissaries&mdash;dangerous ones, too. Who knows? her very coldness may be
+      vexation that this man is excluded. Perhaps she suspects me as the cause.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;These are chimeras&mdash;wild chimeras. My niece cares nothing for such
+      people as the Dodds.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I beg your pardon; these low attachments are the strongest. It is a
+      notorious fact.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There is no attachment; there is nothing but civility, and the affability
+      of a well-bred superior to an inferior. Attachment! why, there is not a
+      girl in Europe less capable of marrying beneath her; and she is too cold
+      to flirt&mdash;-but with a view to matrimonial position. The worst of it
+      is, that, while you fear an imaginary danger, you are running into a real
+      one. If we are defeated it will not be by Dodd, but by that Mrs.
+      Bazalgette. Why, now I think of it, whence does Lucy's coldness date? From
+      that viper's visit to my house. Rely on it, if we are suffering from any
+      rival influence, it is that woman's. She is a dangerous woman&mdash;she is
+      a character I detest&mdash;she is a schemer.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Am I to understand that Mrs. Bazalgette has views of her own for Miss
+      Fountain?&rdquo; inquired Talboys, his jealousy half inclined to follow the new
+      lead.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In all probability.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, then it is mere surmise.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, it is not mere surmise; it is the reasonable conjecture of a man who
+      knows her sex, and human nature, and life. Since I have my views, what
+      more likely than that she has hers, if only to spite me? Add to this her
+      strange visit to Font Abbey, and the somber influence she has left behind.
+      And to this woman Lucy is going unprotected by any positive pledge to you.
+      Here is the true cause for anxiety. And if you do not share it with me, it
+      must be that you do not care about our alliance.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Talboys was hurt. &ldquo;Not care for the alliance? It was dear to him&mdash;all
+      the dearer for the difficulties. He was attached to Miss Fountain&mdash;warmly
+      attached; would do anything for her except run the risk of an affront&mdash;a
+      refusal.&rdquo; Then followed a long discussion, the result of which was that he
+      would not propose in form now, but <i>would</i> give proofs of his
+      attachment such as no lady could mistake; <i>inter alia,</i> he would be
+      sure to spend the last evening with her, and would ride the first stage
+      with her next day, squeeze her hand at parting, and look unutterable. And
+      as for the formal proposal, that was only postponed a week or two. Mr.
+      Fountain was to pay his visit to Mrs. Bazalgette, and secretly prepare
+      Miss Fountain; then Talboys would suddenly pounce&mdash;and pop. The
+      grandeur and boldness of this strategy staggered, rather than displeased,
+      Mr. Fountain.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What! under her own roof?&rdquo; and he could not help rubbing his hands with
+      glee and spite&mdash;&ldquo;under her own eye, and <i>malgre</i> her personal
+      influence? Why, you are Nap. I.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She will be quite out of the way of the Dodds there,&rdquo; said Talboys,
+      slyly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The senior groaned. (&ldquo;'Mule I.' I should have said.&rdquo;)
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And so they cut and dried it all.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The last evening came, and with it, just before dinner, a line by special
+      messenger from Mr. Talboys. &ldquo;He could not come that evening. His brother
+      had just arrived from India; they had not met for seven years. He could
+      not set him to dine alone.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      After dinner, in the middle of her uncle's nap, in came Lucy, and,
+      unheard-of occurrence&mdash;deed of dreadful note&mdash;woke him. She was
+      radiant, and held a note from Eve. &ldquo;Good news, uncle; those good, kind
+      Dodds! they are coming to tea.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What?&rdquo; and he wore a look of consternation. Recollecting, however, that
+      Talboys was not to be there, he was indifferent again. But when he read
+      the note he longed for his self-invited visitors. It ran thus:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;DEAR MISS FOUNTAIN&mdash;David has found out the genealogy. He says there
+      is no doubt you came from the Fountains of Melton, and he can prove it. He
+      has proved it to me, and I am none the wiser. So, as David is obliged to
+      go away to-morrow, I think the best way is for me to bring him over with
+      the papers to-night. We will come at eight, unless you have company.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He is a worthy young man,&rdquo; shouted Mr. Fountain. &ldquo;What o'clock is it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very nearly eight. Oh, uncle, I am so glad. How pleased you will be!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Dodds arrived soon after, and while tea was going on David spread his
+      parchments on the table and submitted his proofs. He had eked out the
+      other evidence by means of a series of leases. The three fields that went
+      with Font Abbey had been let a great many times, and the landlord's name,
+      Fountain in the latter leases, was Fontaine in those of remoter date.
+      David even showed his host the exact date at which the change of
+      orthography took place. &ldquo;You are a shrewd young gentleman,&rdquo; cried Mr.
+      Fountain, gleefully.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      David then asked him what were the names of his three meadows. The names
+      of them? He didn't know they had any.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No names? Why, there isn't a field in England that hasn't its own name,
+      sir. I noticed that before I went to sea.&rdquo; He then told Mr. Fountain the
+      names of his three meadows, and curious names they were. Two of them were
+      a good deal older than William the Conqueror. David wrote them on a slip
+      of paper. He then produced a chart. &ldquo;What is that, Mr. David?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A map of the Melton estate, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, how on earth did you get that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;An old shipmate of mine lives in that quarter&mdash;got him to make it
+      for me. Overhaul it, sir; you will find the Melton estate has got all your
+      three names within a furlong of the mansion house.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;From this you infer&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That one of that house came here, and brought the E along with him that
+      has got dropped somehow since, and, being so far from his birthplace, he
+      thought he would have one or two of the old names about him. What will you
+      bet me he hasn't shot more than one brace of partridges on those fields
+      about Melton when he was a boy? So he christened your three fields afresh,
+      and the new names took; likely he made a point of it with the people in
+      the village. For all that, I have found one old fellow who stands out
+      against them to this day. His name is Newel. He will persist in calling
+      the field next to your house Snap Witcheloe. 'That is what my grandfather
+      allus named it,' says he, 'and that is the name it went by afore there was
+      ever a Fountain in this ere parish.' I have looked in the Parish Register,
+      and I see Newel's grandfather was born in 1690. Now, sir, all this is not
+      mathematical proof; but, when you come to add it to your own direct
+      proofs, that carry you within a cable's length of Port Fontaine, it is
+      very convincing; and, not to pay out too much yarn, I'll bet&mdash;my head&mdash;to
+      a China orange&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;David, don't be vulgar.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Never mind, Mr. Dodd&mdash;be yourself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, then, to serve Eve out, I'll bet her head (and that is a better one
+      than mine) to a China orange that Fontaine and Fountain are one, and that
+      the first Fontaine came over here from Melton more than one hundred and
+      thirty years ago, and less than one hundred and forty, when Newel's
+      grandfather was a young man.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <i>&ldquo;Probatum est,&rdquo;</i> shouted old Fountain, his eyes sparkling, his voice
+      trembling with emotion. &ldquo;Miss Fontaine,&rdquo; said he, turning to Lucy,
+      throwing a sort of pompous respect into his voice and manner, &ldquo;you shall
+      never marry any man that cannot give you as good a home as Melton, and
+      quarter as good a coat of arms with you as your own, the Founteyns'.&rdquo;
+       David's heart took a chill as if an ice-arrow had gone through it. &ldquo;So
+      join me to thank our young friend here.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Fountain held out his hand. David gave his mechanically in return,
+      scarcely knowing what he did. &ldquo;You are a worthy and most intelligent young
+      man, and you have made an old man as happy as a lord,&rdquo; said the old
+      gentleman, shaking him warmly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And there is my hand, too,&rdquo; said Lucy, putting out hers with a blush, &ldquo;to
+      show you I bear you no malice for being more unselfish and more sagacious
+      than us all.&rdquo; Instantly David's cold chill fled unreasonably. His cheeks
+      burned with blushes, his eyes glowed, his heart thumped, and the delicate
+      white, supple, warm, velvet hand that nestled in his shot electric tremors
+      through his whole frame, when glided, with well-bred noiselessness,
+      through the open door, Mr. Talboys, and stood looking yellow at that
+      ardent group, and the massive yet graceful bare arm stretched across the
+      table, and the white hand melting into the brown one.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      While he stood staring, David looked up, and caught that strange, that
+      yellow look. Instantly a light broke in on him. &ldquo;So I should look,&rdquo; felt
+      David, &ldquo;if I saw her hand in his.&rdquo; He held Lucy's hand tight (she was just
+      beginning to withdraw it), and glared from his seat on the newcomer like a
+      lion ready to spring. Eve read and turned pale; she knew what was in the
+      man's blood.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy now quietly withdrew her hand, and turned with smiling composure
+      toward the newcomer, and Mr. Fountain thrust a minor anxiety between the
+      passions of the rivals. He rose hastily, and went to Talboys, and, under
+      cover of a warm welcome, took care to let him know Miss Dodd had been kind
+      enough to invite herself and David. He then explained with uneasy
+      animation what David had done for him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Talboys received all this with marked coldness; but it gave him time to
+      recover his self-possession. He shook hands with Lucy, all but ignored
+      David and Eve, and quietly assumed the part of principal personage. He
+      then spoke to Lucy in a voice tuned for the occasion, to give the
+      impression that confidential communication was not unusual between him and
+      her. He apologized, scarce above a whisper, for not having come to dinner
+      on her last day.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But after dinner,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;my brother seemed fatigued. I treacherously
+      recommended bed. You forgive me? The nabob instantly acted on my selfish
+      hint. I mounted my horse, and <i>me voila.&rdquo;</i> In short, in two minutes
+      he had retaliated tenfold on David. As for Lucy, she was a good deal
+      amused at this sudden public assumption of a tenderness the gentleman had
+      never exhibited in private, but a little mortified at his parade of
+      mysterious familiarity; still, for a certain female reason, she allowed
+      neither to appear, but wore an air of calm cordiality, and gave Talboys
+      his full swing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      David, seated sore against his will at another table, whither Mr. Fountain
+      removed him and parchments on pretense of inspecting the leases, listened
+      with hearing preternaturally keen&mdash;listened and writhed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His back was toward them. At last he heard Talboys propose in murmuring
+      accents to accompany her the first stage of her journey. She did not
+      answer directly, and that second was an age of anguish to poor David.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When she did answer, as if to compensate for her hesitation, she said,
+      with alacrity: &ldquo;I shall be delighted; it will vary the journey most
+      agreeably; I will ride the pony you were so kind as to give me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The letters swam before David's eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy came to the table, and, standing close behind David&mdash;so close
+      that he felt her pure cool breath mingle with his hair, said to her uncle:
+      &ldquo;Mr. Talboys proposes to me to ride the first stage to-morrow; if I do,
+      you must be of the party.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, must I? Well, I'll roll after you in my phaeton.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At this moment Eve could bear no longer the anguish on David's beloved
+      face. It made her hysterical. She could hardly command herself. She rose
+      hastily, and saying, &ldquo;We must not keep you up the night before a journey,&rdquo;
+       took leave with David. As he shook hands with Lucy, his imploring eye
+      turned full on hers, and sought to dive into her heart. But that soft
+      sapphire eye was unfathomable. It was like those dark blue southern waters
+      that seem to reveal all, yet hide all, so deep they are, though clear.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Eve. &ldquo;Thank Heaven, we are safe out of the house.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      David. &ldquo;I have got a rival.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Eve. &ldquo;A pretty rival; she doesn't care a button for him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      David. &ldquo;He rides the first stage with her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Eve. &ldquo;Well, what of that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      David. &ldquo;I have got a rival.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      David was none of your lie-a-beds. He rose at five in summer, six in
+      winter, and studied hard till breakfast time; after that he was at every
+      fool's service. This morning he did not appear at the breakfast table, and
+      the servant had not seen him about. Eve ran upstairs full of anxiety. He
+      was not in his room. The bed had not been slept in; the impress of his
+      body outside showed, however, that he had flung himself down on it to
+      snatch an uneasy slumber.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Eve sent the girl into the village to see if she could find him or hear
+      tidings of him. The girl ran out without her bonnet, partaking her
+      mistress's anxiety, but did not return for nearly half an hour, that
+      seemed an age to Eve. The girl had lost some time by going to Josh Grace
+      for information. Grace's house stood in an orchard; so he was the
+      unlikeliest man in the village to have seen David. She set against this
+      trivial circumstance the weighty one that he was her sweetheart, and went
+      to him first.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I hain't a-sin him, Sue; thee hadst better ask at the blacksmith's shop,&rdquo;
+       said Joshua Grace.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Susan profited by this hint, and learned at the blacksmith's shop that
+      David had gone by up the road about six in the morning, walking very fast.
+      She brought the news to Eve.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Toward Royston?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, miss; but, la! he won't ever think to go all the way to Royston&mdash;without
+      his breakfast.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That will do, Susan. I think I know what he is gone for.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      On the servant retiring, her assumed firmness left her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;On the road <i>she</i> is to travel! and his rival with her. What mad act
+      is he going to do? Heaven have mercy on him, and me, and her!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Eve knew what was in the man's blood. She sat trembling at home till she
+      could bear it no longer. She put on her bonnet, and sallied out on the
+      road to Royston, determined to stop the carriage, profess to have business
+      at Royston, and take a seat beside Mr. Fountain. She felt that the very
+      sight of her might prevent David from committing any great rashness or
+      folly. On reaching the high road, she observed a fresh track of narrow
+      wheels, that her rustic experience told her could only be those of a
+      four-wheeled carriage, and, making inquiries, she found she was too late;
+      carriage and riders had gone on before.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Her heart sank. Too late by a few minutes; but somehow she could not turn
+      back. She walked as fast as she could after the gay cavalcade, a prey to
+      one of those female anxieties we have all laughed at as extravagant,
+      proved unreasonable, and sometimes found prophetic.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Meantime Lucy and Mr. Talboys cantered gayly along; Mr. Fountain rolled
+      after in a phaeton; the traveling carriage came last. Lucy was in spirits;
+      motion enlivens us all, but especially such of us as are women. She had
+      also another cause for cheerfulness, that may perhaps transpire. Her two
+      companions and unconscious dependents were governed by her mood. She made
+      them larks to-day, as she had owls for some weeks past, last night
+      excepted. She would fall back every now and then, and let Uncle Fountain
+      pass her; then come dashing up to him, and either pull up short with a
+      piece of solemn information like an <i>aid-de-camp</i> from headquarters,
+      or pass him shooting a shaft of raillery back into his chariot, whereat he
+      would rise with mock fury and yell a repartee after her. Fountain found
+      himself good company&mdash;Talboys himself. It was not the lady; oh dear
+      no! it never is.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At last all seemed so bright, and Mr. Talboys found himself so agreeable,
+      that he suddenly recalled his high resolve not to pop in a county
+      desecrated by Dodds. &ldquo;I'll risk it now,&rdquo; said he; and he rode back to
+      Fountain and imparted his intention, and the senior nearly bounded off his
+      seat. He sounded the charge in a stage whisper, because of the coachman,
+      &ldquo;At her at once!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Secret conference? hum!&rdquo; said Lucy, twisting her pony, and looking slyly
+      back.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Talboys rejoined her, and, after a while, began in strange, melodious
+      accents, &ldquo;You will leave a blank&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Shall we canter?&rdquo; said Lucy, gayly, and off went the pony. Talboys
+      followed, and at the next hill resumed the sentimental cadence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You will leave a sad blank here, Miss Fountain.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No greater than I found,&rdquo; replied the lady, innocently (?). &ldquo;Oh, dear!&rdquo;
+       she cried, with sudden interest, &ldquo;I am afraid I have dropped my comb.&rdquo; She
+      felt under her hat. [No, viper, you have not dropped your comb, but you
+      are feeling for a large black pin with a head to it. There, you have found
+      it, and taken it out of your hair, and got it hid in your hand. What is
+      that for?]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ten times greater,&rdquo; moaned the honeyed Talboys; &ldquo;for then we had not seen
+      you. Ah! my dear Miss Fountain&mdash;The devil! wo-ho, Goliah!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      For the pony spilled the treacle. He lashed out both heels with a squeak
+      of amazement within an inch of Mr. Talboys' horse, which instantly began
+      to rear, and plunge, and snort. While Talboys, an excellent horseman, was
+      calming his steed, Lucy was condoling with hers. &ldquo;Dear little naughty
+      fellow!&rdquo; said she, patting him [&ldquo;I did it too hard&rdquo;].
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;As I was saying, the blessing we have never enjoyed we do not miss; but,
+      now that you have shone upon us, what can reconcile us to lose you, unless
+      it be the hope that&mdash;Hallo!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy. &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The pony was off with a bound like a buck. She had found out the right
+      depth of pin this time. &ldquo;Ah! where is my whip? I have dropped it; how
+      careless!&rdquo; Then they had to ride back for the whip, and by this means
+      joined Mr. Fountain. Lucy rode by his side, and got the carriage between
+      her and her beau. By this plan she not only evaded sentiment, but matured
+      by a series of secret trials her skill with her weapon. Armed with this
+      new science, she issued forth, and, whenever Mr. Talboys left off
+      indifferent remarks and sounded her affections, she probed the pony, and
+      he kicked or bolted as the case might require.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Confound that pony!&rdquo; cried Talboys; &ldquo;he used to be quiet enough.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, don't scold him, dear, playful little love. He carries me like a
+      wave.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At this simple sentence Talboys' dormant jealousy contrived to revive. He
+      turned sulky, and would not waste any more tenderness, and presently they
+      rattled over the stones of Royston. Lucy commended her pony with peculiar
+      earnestness to the ostler. &ldquo;Pray groom him well, and feed him well, sir;
+      he is a love.&rdquo; The ostler swore he would not wrong her ladyship's nag for
+      the world.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy then expressed her desire to go forward without delay: &ldquo;Aunt will
+      expect me.&rdquo; She took her seat in the carriage, bade a kind farewell to
+      both the gentlemen now that no tender answer was possible, and was whirled
+      away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Thus the coy virgin eluded the pair.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Now her manner in taking leave of Talboys was so kind, so smiling (in the
+      sweet consciousness of having baffled him), that Fountain felt sure it all
+      had gone smoothly. They were engaged.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well?&rdquo; he cried, with great animation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; was the despondent reply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Refused?&rdquo; screeched the other; &ldquo;impossible!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, thank you,&rdquo; was the haughty reply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What then? Did you change your mind? Didn't you propose after all?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I <i>couldn't.</i> That d&mdash;d pony wouldn't keep still.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fountain groaned.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy, left to herself, gave a little sigh of relief. She had been playing
+      a part for the last twenty-four hours. Her cordiality with Mr. Talboys
+      naturally misled Eve and David, and perhaps a male reader or two. Shall I
+      give the clue? It may be useful to you, young gentlemen. Well, then, her
+      sex are compounders. Accustomed from childhood never to have anything
+      entirely their own way, they are content to give and take; and, these
+      terms once accepted, it is a point of honor and tact with them not to let
+      a creature see the irksome part of the bargain is not as delicious as the
+      other. One coat of their own varnish goes over the smooth and the rough,
+      the bitter and the sweet.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Now Lucy, besides being singularly polite and kind, was <i>femme jusqu' au
+      bout des ongles.</i> If her instincts had been reasons, and her vague
+      thoughts could have been represented by anything so definite as words, the
+      result might have appeared thus:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A few hours, and you can bore me no more, Mr. Talboys. Now what must I do
+      for you in return? <i>Seem not to be bored to-day? Mais c'est la moindre
+      des choses. Seem to be pleased with your society?</i> Why not? it is only
+      for an hour or two, and my seeming to like it will not prolong it. My
+      heart swells with happiness at the thought of escaping from you, good
+      bore; you shall share my happiness, good bore. It is so kind of you not to
+      bore me to all eternity.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This was why the last night she sat like Patience on an ottoman smiling on
+      Talboys and racking David's heart; and this was why she made the ride so
+      pleasant to those she was at heart glad to leave, till they tried
+      sentiment on, and then she was an eel directly, pony and all.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy (sola). &ldquo;That is over. Poor Mr. Talboys! Does he fancy he has an
+      attachment? No; I please and I am courted wherever I go, but I have never
+      been loved. If a man loved me I should see it in his face, I should feel
+      it without a word spoken. Once or twice I fancied I saw it in one man's
+      eyes: they seemed like a lion's that turned to a dove's as they looked at
+      me.&rdquo; Lucy closed her own eyes and recalled her impression: &ldquo;It must have
+      been fancy. Ought I to wish to inspire such a passion as others have
+      inspired? No, for I could never return it. The very language of passion in
+      romances seems so extravagant to me, yet so beautiful. It is hard I should
+      not be loved, merely because I cannot love. Many such natures have been
+      adored. I could not bear to die and not be loved as deeply as ever woman
+      was loved. I must be loved, adored and worshiped: it would be so sweet&mdash;sweet!&rdquo;
+       She slowly closed her eyes, and the long lovely lashes drooped, and a
+      celestial smile parted her lips as she fell into a vague, delicious
+      reverie. Suddenly the carriage stopped at the foot of a hill. She opened
+      her eyes, and there stood David Dodd at the carriage window.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy put her head out. &ldquo;Why, it is Mr. Dodd! Oh, Mr. Dodd, is there
+      anything the matter?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You look so pale.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do I?&rdquo; and he flushed faintly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Which way are you going?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am going home again now,&rdquo; said David, sorrowfully.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You came all this way to bid me good-by,&rdquo; and she arched her eyebrows and
+      laughed&mdash;a little uneasily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It didn't seem a step. It will seem longer going back.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no, you shall ride back. My pony is at the White Horse; will you not
+      ride my pony back for me? then I shall know he will be kindly used; a
+      stranger would whip him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I should think my arm would wither if I ill-used him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are very good. I suppose it is because you are so brave.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Me brave? I don't feel so. Am I to tell him to drive on?&rdquo; and he looked
+      at her with haggard and imploring eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Her eyes fell before his.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good-by, then,&rdquo; said she.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He cried with a choking voice to the postilion, &ldquo;Go ahead.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The carriage went on and left him standing in the road, his head upon his
+      breast.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At the steepest part of the hill a trace broke, and the driver drew the
+      carriage across the hill and shouted to David. He came running up, and put
+      a large stone behind each wheel.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy was alarmed. &ldquo;Mr. Dodd! let me out.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He handed her out. The postboy was at a <i>nonplus;</i> but David whipped
+      a piece of cord and a knife out of his pocket, and began, with great
+      rapidity and dexterity, to splice the trace.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! now you are pleased, Mr. Dodd; our misfortune will elicit your skill
+      in emergencies.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, no, it isn't that; it is&mdash;I never hoped to see you again so
+      soon.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy colored, and her eyes sought the ground; the splice was soon made.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There!&rdquo; said David; &ldquo;I could have spent an hour over it; but you would
+      have been vexed, and the bitter moment must have come at last.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;God bless you, Miss Fountain&mdash;oh! mayn't I say Miss Lucy to-day?&rdquo; he
+      cried, imploringly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course you may,&rdquo; said Lucy, the tears rising in her eyes at his sad
+      face and beseeching look. &ldquo;Oh, Mr. Dodd, parting with those we esteem is
+      always sad enough; I got away from the door without crying&mdash;for once;
+      don't <i>you</i> make me cry.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Make you cry?&rdquo; cried David, as it he had been suspected of sacrilege;
+      &ldquo;God forbid!&rdquo; He muttered in a choking voice, &ldquo;You give the word of
+      command, for I can't.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You can go on,&rdquo; said her soft, clear voice; but first she gave David her
+      hand with a gentle look&mdash;&ldquo;Good-by.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But David could not speak to her. He held her hand tight in both his
+      powerful hands. They seemed iron to her&mdash;shaking, trembling, grasping
+      iron. The carriage went slowly on, and drew her hand away. She shrank into
+      a corner of the carriage; he frightened her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He followed the carriage to the brow of the hill, then sat down upon a
+      heap of stones, and looked despairingly after it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Meantime Lucy put her head in her hands and blushed, though she was all
+      alone. &ldquo;How dare he forget the distance between us? Poor fellow! have not
+      I at times forgotten it? I am worse than he. I lost my self-possession; I
+      should have checked his folly; he knows nothing of <i>les convenances.</i>
+      He has hurt my hand, he is so rough; I feel his clutch now; there, I
+      thought so, it is all red&mdash;poor fellow! Nonsense! he is a sailor; he
+      knows nothing of the world and its customs. Parting with a pleasant
+      acquaintance forever made him a little sad.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He is all nature; he is like nobody else; he shows every feeling instead
+      of concealing it, that is all. He has gone home, I hope.&rdquo; She glanced
+      hastily back. He was sitting on the stones, his arms drooping, his head
+      bowed, a picture of despondency. She put her face in her hands again and
+      pondered, blushing higher and higher. Then the pale face that had always
+      been ruddy before, the simple grief and agitation, the manly eye that did
+      not know how to weep, but was so clouded and troubled, and wildly sad; the
+      shaking hands, that had clutched hers like a drowning man's (she felt them
+      still), the quivering features, choked voice, and trembling lip, all these
+      recoiled with double force upon her mind: they touched her far more than
+      sobs and tears would have done, her sex's ready signs of shallow grief.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Two tears stole down her cheeks.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If he would but go home and forget me!&rdquo; She glanced hastily back. David
+      was climbing up a tree, active as a cat. &ldquo;He is like nobody else&mdash;he!
+      he! Stay! is that to see the last of me&mdash;the very last? Poor soul!
+      Madman, how will this end? What can come of it but misery to him, remorse
+      to me?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This is love.&rdquo; She half closed her eyes and smiled, repeating, &ldquo;This is
+      love.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh how I despise all the others and their feeble flatteries!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Heaven forgive me my mad, my wicked wish!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I <i>am</i> beloved.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am adored.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am miserable!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      As soon as the carriage was out of sight, David came down and hurried from
+      the place. He found the pony at the inn. The ostler had not even removed
+      his saddle.
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+           &ldquo;Methought that ostler did protest too much.&rdquo;
+ </pre>
+    <p>
+      David kissed the saddle and the pommels, and the bridle her hand had held,
+      and led the pony out. After walking a mile or two he mounted the pony, to
+      sit in her seat, not for ease. Walking thirty miles was nothing to this
+      athlete; sticking on and holding on with his chin on his knee was rather
+      fatiguing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Meantime, Eve walked on till she was four miles from home. No David. She
+      sat down and cried a little space, then on again. She had just reached an
+      angle in the road, when&mdash;clatter, clatter&mdash;David came cantering
+      around with his knee in his mouth. Eve gave a joyful scream, and up went
+      both her hands with sudden delight. At the double shock to his senses the
+      pony thought his end was come, and perhaps the world's. He shied slap into
+      the hedge and stuck there&mdash;alone; for, his rider swaying violently
+      the reverse way, the girths burst, the saddle peeled off the pony's back,
+      and David sat griping the pommel of the saddle in the middle of the road
+      at Eve's feet, looking up in her face with an uneasy grin, while dust rose
+      around him in a little column. Eve screeched, and screeched, and
+      screeched; then fell to, with a face as red as a turkey-cock's, and beat
+      David furiously, and hurt&mdash;her little hands.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      David laughed. This incident did him good&mdash;shook him up a bit. The
+      pony groveled out of the ditch and cantered home, squeaking at intervals
+      and throwing his heels.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      David got up, hoisted the side saddle on to his square shoulders, and,
+      keeping it there by holding the girths, walked with Eve toward Font Abbey.
+      She was now a little ashamed of her apprehensions; and, besides, when she
+      leathered David, she was, in her own mind, serving him out for both
+      frights. At all events, she did not scold him, but kindly inquired his
+      adventures, and he told her what he had done and said, and what Miss
+      Fountain had said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The account disappointed Eve. &ldquo;All this is just a pack of nothing,&rdquo; said
+      she. &ldquo;It is two lovers parting, or it is two common friendly
+      acquaintances; all depends on how it was done, and that you don't tell
+      me.&rdquo; Then she put several subtle questions as to the looks, and tones and
+      manner of the young lady. David could not answer them. On this she
+      informed him he was a fool.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So I begin to think,&rdquo; said he.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There! be quiet,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;and let me think it over.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ay! ay!&rdquo; said he.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      While he was being quiet and letting her think a carriage came rapidly up
+      behind them, with a horseman riding beside it; and, as the pedestrians
+      drew aside, an ironical voice fell upon them, and the carriage and
+      horseman stopped, and floured, them with dust.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Messrs. Talboys and Fountain took a stroll to look at the new jail that
+      was building in Royston, and, as they returned, Talboys, whose wounded
+      pride had now fermented, told Mr. Fountain plainly that he saw nothing for
+      it but to withdraw his pretensions to Miss Fountain.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My own feelings are not sufficiently engaged for me to play the up-hill
+      game of overcoming her disinclination.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Disinclination? The mere shyness of a modest girl. If she was to be 'won
+      unsought,' she would not be worthy to be Mrs. Talboys.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Her worth is indisputable,&rdquo; said Mr. Talboys, &ldquo;but that is no reason why
+      I should force upon her my humble claims.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The moment his friend's pride began to ape humility, Fountain saw the
+      wound it had received was incurable. He sighed and was silent. Opposition
+      would only have set fire to opposition.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They went home together in silence. On the road Talboys caught sight of a
+      tall gentleman carrying a side-saddle, and a little lady walking beside
+      him. He recognized his <i>bete noir</i> with a grim smile. Here at least
+      was one he had defeated and banished from the fair. What on earth was the
+      man doing? Oh, he had been giving his sister a ride on a donkey, and they
+      had met with an accident. Mr. Talboys was in a humor for revenge, so he
+      pulled up, and in a somewhat bantering voice inquired where was the steed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, he is in port by now,&rdquo; said David.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you usually ease the animal of that part of his burden, sir?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; said David, sullenly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Eve, who hated Mr. Talboys, and saw through his sneers, bit her lip and
+      colored, but kept silence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But Mr. Talboys, unwarned by her flashing eye, proceeded with his ironical
+      interrogatory, and then it was that Eve, reflecting that both these
+      gentlemen had done their worst against David, and that henceforth the
+      battlefield could never again be Font Abbey, decided for revenge. She
+      stepped forward like an airy sylph, between David and his persecutor, and
+      said, with a charming smile, &ldquo;I will explain, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Talboys bowed and smiled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The reason my brother carries this side-saddle is that it belongs to a
+      charming young lady&mdash;you have some little acquaintance with her&mdash;Miss
+      Fountain.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Miss Fountain!&rdquo; cried Talboys, in a tone from which all the irony was
+      driven out by Eve's coup.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She begged David to ride her pony home; she would not trust him to
+      anybody else.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh!&rdquo; said Talboys, stupefied.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, sir, owing to&mdash;to&mdash;an accident, the saddle came off, and
+      the pony ran home; so then David had only her saddle to take care of for
+      her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, we escorted Miss Fountain to Royston, and we never saw Mr. Dodd.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ay, but you did not go beyond Royston,&rdquo; said Eve, with a cunning air.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Beyond Royston? where? and what was he doing there? Did he go all that
+      way to take her orders about her pony?&rdquo; said Talboys, bitterly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, as to that you must excuse me, sir,&rdquo; cried Eve, with a scornful
+      laugh; &ldquo;that is being too inquisitive. Good-morning&rdquo;; and she carried
+      David off in triumph.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The next moment Mr. Talboys spurred on, followed by the phaeton. Talboys'
+      face was yellow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <i>&ldquo;La langue d'une femme est son epee.&rdquo;</i>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sheer off and repair damages, you lubber,&rdquo; said David, dryly, &ldquo;and don't
+      come under our guns again, or we shall blow you out of the water. Hum!
+      Eve, wasn't your tongue a little too long for your teeth just now?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not an inch.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She might be vexed; it is not for me to boast of her kindness.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Temper won't let a body see everything. I'll tell you what I have done,
+      too&mdash;I've declared war.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have you? Then run the Jack up to the mizzen-top, and let us fight it
+      out.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is the way to look at it, David. Now don't you speak to me till we
+      get home; let me think.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At the gate of Font Abbey, they parted, and Eve went home. David came to
+      the stable yard and hailed, &ldquo;Stable ahoy!&rdquo; Out ran a little bandy-legged
+      groom. &ldquo;The craft has gone adrift,&rdquo; cried David, &ldquo;but I've got the gear
+      safe. Stow it away&rdquo;; and as he spoke he chucked the saddle a distance of
+      some six yards on to the bandy-legged groom, who instantly staggered back
+      and sank on a little dunghill, and there sat, saddled, with two eyes like
+      saucers, looking stupefied surprise between the pommels.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is you for capsizing in a calm,&rdquo; remarked David, with some surprise,
+      and went his way.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, Eve, have you thought?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, David, I was a little hasty; that puppy would provoke a saint. After
+      all there is no harm done; they can't hurt us much now. It is not here the
+      game will be played out. Now tell me, when does your ship sail?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It wants just five weeks to a day.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Does she take up her passengers at &mdash;&mdash; as usual?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, Eve, yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And Mrs. Bazalgette lives within a mile or two of &mdash;&mdash;. You
+      have a good excuse for accepting her invitation. Stay your last week in
+      her house. There will be no Talboys to come between you. Do all a man can
+      do to win her in that week.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And if she says 'No,' be man enough to tear her out of your heart.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can't tear her out of my heart, but I will win her. I must win her. I
+      can't live without her. A month to wait!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Talboys. &ldquo;Well, sir, what do you say now?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Fountain (hypocritically). &ldquo;I say that your sagacity was superior to
+      mine; forgive me if I have brought you into a mortifying collision. To be
+      defeated by a merchant sailor!&rdquo; He paused to see the effect of his
+      poisoned shaft.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Talboys. &ldquo;But I am not defeated. I will not be defeated. It is no longer a
+      personal question. For your sake, for her sake, I must save her from a
+      degrading connection. I will accompany you to Mrs. Bazalgette's. When
+      shall we go?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, not immediately; it would look so odd. The old one would smell a
+      rat directly. Suppose we say in a month's time.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very well; I shall have a clear stage.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, and I shall then use all my influence with her. Hitherto I have used
+      none.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank you. Mr. Dodd cannot penetrate there, I conclude.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course not.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then she will be Mrs. Talboys.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course she will.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy sighed a little over David's ardent, despairing passion, and his pale
+      and drawn face. Her woman's instinct enabled her to comprehend in part a
+      passion she was at this period of her life incapable of feeling, and she
+      pitied him. He was the first of her admirers she had ever pitied. She
+      sighed a little, then fretted a little, then reproached herself vaguely.
+      &ldquo;I must have been guilty of some imprudence&mdash;given some
+      encouragement. Have I failed in womanly reserve, or is it all his fault?
+      He is a sailor. Sailors are like nobody else. He is so simple-minded. He
+      sees, no doubt, that he is my superior in all sterling qualities, and that
+      makes him forget the social distance between him and me. And yet why
+      suspect him of audacity? Poor fellow, he had not the courage to <i>say</i>
+      anything to me, after all. No; he will go to sea, and forget his folly
+      before he comes back.&rdquo; Then she had a gust of egotism. It was nice to be
+      loved ardently and by a hero, even though that hero was not a gentleman of
+      distinction, scarcely a gentleman at all. The next moment she blushed at
+      her own vanity. Next she was seized with a sense of the great indelicacy
+      and unpardonable impropriety of letting her mind run at all upon a person
+      of the other sex; and shaking her lovely shoulders, as much as to say,
+      &ldquo;Away idle thoughts,&rdquo; she nestled and fitted with marvelous suppleness
+      into a corner of the carriage, and sank into a sweet sleep, with a red
+      cheek, two wet eyelashes, and a half-smile of the most heavenly character
+      imaginable. And so she glided along till, at five in the afternoon, the
+      carriage turned in at Mr. Bazalgette's gates. Lucy lifted her eyes, and
+      there was quite a little group standing on the steps to receive her, and
+      waving welcome to the universal pet. There was Mr. Bazalgette, Mrs.
+      Bazalgette, and two servants, and a little in the rear a tall stranger of
+      gentleman-like appearance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The two ladies embraced one another so rapidly yet so smoothly, and so
+      dovetailed and blended, that they might be said to flow together, and make
+      one in all but color, like the Saone and the Rhone. After half a dozen
+      kisses given and returned with a spirit and rapidity from which, if we
+      male spectators of these ardent encounters were wise, we might slyly learn
+      a lesson, Aunt Bazalgette suddenly darted her mouth at Lucy's ear, and
+      whispered a few words with an animation that struck everybody present.
+      Lucy smiled in reply. After &ldquo;the meeting of the muslins,&rdquo; Mr. Bazalgette
+      shook hands warmly, and at last Lucy was introduced to his friend Mr.
+      Hardie, who expressed in courteous terms his hopes that her journey had
+      been a pleasant one.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The animated words Mrs. Bazalgette whispered into Lucy's ear at that
+      moment of burning affection were as follows:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have had it washed!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy (unpacking her things in her bedroom). &ldquo;Who is Mr. Hardie, dear?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What! don't you know? Mr. Hardie is the great banker.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Only a banker? I should have taken him for something far more
+      distinguished. His manner is good. There is a suavity without feebleness
+      or smallness.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Bazalgette's eye flashed, but she answered with apparent nonchalance:
+      &ldquo;I am glad you like him; you will take him off my hands now and then. He
+      must not be neglected; Bazalgette would murder us. <i>Apropos,</i> remind
+      me to ask him to tell you Mr. Hardie's story, and how he comes to be
+      looked up to like a prince in this part of the world, though he is only a
+      banker, with only ten thousand a year.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You make me quite curious, aunt. Cannot you tell me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Me? Oh, dear, no! Paper currency, foreign loans, government securities,
+      gold mines, ten per cents, Mr. Peel, and why <i>one</i> breaks and <i>another</i>
+      doesn't! all that is quite beyond me. Bazalgette is your man. I had no
+      idea your mousseline-delame would have washed so well. Why, it looks just
+      out of the shop; it&mdash;&rdquo; Come away, reader, for Heaven's sake!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XI.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      THE man whom Mr. Bazalgette introduced so smoothly and off-hand to Lucy
+      Fountain exercised a terrible influence over her life, as you will see by
+      and by. This alone would make it proper to lay his antecedents before the
+      reader. But he has independent claims to this notice, for he is a
+      principal figure in my work. The history of this remarkable man's fortune
+      is a study. The progress of his mind is another, and its past as well as
+      its future are the very corner-stone of that capacious story which I am
+      now building brick by brick, after my fashion where the theme is large. I
+      invite my reader, therefore, to resist the natural repugnance which
+      delicate minds feel to the ring of the precious metals, and for the sake
+      of the coming story to accompany me into AN OLD BANK.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Hardies were goldsmiths in the seventeenth century; and when that
+      business split, and the deposit and bill-of-exchange business went one
+      way, and the plate and jewels another, they became bankers from father to
+      son. A peculiarity attended them; they never broke, nor even cracked. Jew
+      James Hardie conducted for many years a smooth, unostentatious and
+      lucrative business. It professed to be a bank of deposit only, and not of
+      discount. This was not strictly true. There never was a bank in creation
+      that did not discount under the rose, when the paper represented
+      commercial effects, and the indorsers were customers and favorites. But
+      Mr. Hardie's main business was in deposits bearing no interest. It was of
+      that nature known as &ldquo;the legitimate banking business,&rdquo; a title not, I
+      think, invented by the customers, since it is a system destitute of that
+      reciprocity which is the soul of all just and legitimate commercial
+      relations.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      You shall lend me your money gratis, and I will lend it out at interest:
+      such is legitimate banking&mdash;in the opinion of bankers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This system, whose decay we have seen, and whose death my young readers
+      are like to see, flourished under old Hardie, green&mdash;as the public in
+      whose pockets its roots were buried.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Country gentlemen and noblemen, and tradesmen well-to-do, left floating
+      balances varying from seven, five, three thousand pounds, down to a
+      hundred or two, in his hands. His art consisted in keeping his
+      countenance, receiving them with the air of a person conferring a favor,
+      and investing the bulk of them in government securities, which in that day
+      returned four and five per cent. As he did not pay one shilling for the
+      use of the capital, he pocketed the whole interest. A small part of the
+      aggregate balance was not invested, but remained in the bank coffers as a
+      reserve to meet any accidental drain. It was a point of honor with the
+      squires and rectors, who shared their incomes with him in a grateful
+      spirit, never to draw their balances down too low; and more than once in
+      this banker's career a gentleman has actually borrowed money for a month
+      or two of the bank at four per cent, rather than exhaust his deposit, or,
+      in other words, paid his debtor interest for the temporary use of his own
+      everlasting property. Such capitalists are not to be found in our day;
+      they may reappear at the Millennium.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The banker had three clerks; one a youth and very subordinate, the other
+      two steady old men, at good salaries, who knew the affairs of the bank,
+      but did not chatter them out of doors, because they were allowed to talk
+      about them to their employer; and this was a vent. The tongue must have a
+      regular vent or random explosions&mdash;choose! Besides the above
+      compliment paid to years of probity and experience, the ancient <i>regime</i>
+      bound these men to the interest and person of their chief by other simple
+      customs now no more.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At each of the four great festivals of the Church they dined with Mr. and
+      Mrs. Hardie, and were feasted and cordially addressed as equals, though
+      they could not be got to reply in quite the same tone. They were never
+      scorned, but a peculiar warmth of esteem and friendship was shown them on
+      these occasions. One reason was, the old-fangled banker himself aspired to
+      no higher character than that of a man of business, and were not these
+      clerks men of business good and true? his staff, not his menials?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And since I sneered just now at a vital simplicity, let me hasten to own
+      that here, at least, it was wise, as well as just and worthy. Where men
+      are forever handling heaps of money, it is prudent to fortify them doubly
+      against temptation&mdash;with self-respect, and a sufficient salary.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It is one thing not to be led into temptation (accident on which half the
+      virtue in the world depends), another to live in it and overcome it; and
+      in a bank it is not the conscience only that is tempted, but the senses.
+      Piles of glittering gold, amiable as Hesperian fruit; heaps of silver
+      paper, that seem to whisper as they rustle, &ldquo;Think how great we are, yet
+      see how little; we are fifteen thousand pounds, yet we can go into your
+      pocket; whip us up, and westward ho! If you have not the courage for that,
+      at all events wet your finger; a dozen of us will stick to it. That pen in
+      your hand has but to scratch that book there, and who will know? Besides,
+      you can always put us back, you know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Hundreds and thousands of men take a share in the country's public
+      morality, legislate, build churches, and live and die respectable, who
+      would be jail-birds sooner or later if their sole income was the pay of a
+      banker's clerk, and their eyes, and hands, and souls rubbed daily against
+      hundred-pound notes as his do. I tell you it is a temptation of
+      forty-devil power.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Not without reason, then, did this ancient banker bestow some respect and
+      friendship on those who, tempted daily, brought their hands pure,
+      Christmas after Christmas, to their master's table. Not without reason did
+      Mrs. Hardie pet them like princes at the great festivals, and always send
+      them home in the carriage as persons their entertainers delighted to
+      honor. Herein I suspect she looked also, woman-like, to their security;
+      for they were always expected to be solemnly, not improperly, intoxicated
+      by the end of supper; no wise fuddled, but muddled; for the graceful
+      superstition of the day suspected severe sobriety at solemnities as
+      churlish and ungracious.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The bank itself was small and grave, and a trifle dingy, and bustle there
+      was none in it; but if the stream of business looked sluggish and narrow,
+      it was deep and quietly incessant, and tended all one way&mdash;to enrich
+      the proprietor without a farthing risked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Old Hardie had sat there forty years with other people's money overflowing
+      into his lap as it rolled deep and steady through that little
+      counting-house, when there occurred, or rather recurred, a certain
+      phenomenon, which comes, with some little change of features, in a certain
+      cycle of commercial changes as regularly as the month of March in the
+      year, or the neap-tides, or the harvest moon, but, strange to say, at each
+      visit takes the country by surprise.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XII.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      THE nation had passed through the years of exhaustion and depression that
+      follow a long war; its health had returned, and its elastic vigor was
+      already reviving, when two remarkable harvests in succession, and an
+      increased trade with the American continent, raised it to prosperity. One
+      sign of vigor, the roll of capital, was wanting; speculation was fast
+      asleep. The government of the day seems to have observed this with regret.
+      A writer of authority on the subject says that, to stir stagnant
+      enterprise, they directed &ldquo;the Bank of England to issue about four
+      millions in advances to the state and in enlarged discounts.&rdquo; I give you
+      the man's words; they doubtless carry a signification to you, though they
+      are jargon in a fog to me. Some months later the government took a step
+      upon very different motives, which incidentally had a powerful effect in
+      loosening capital and setting it in agitation. They reduced to four per
+      cent the Navy Five per Cents, a favorite national investment, which
+      represented a capital of two hundred millions. Now, when men have got used
+      to five per cent from a certain quarter, they cannot be content with four,
+      particularly the small holders; so this reduction of the Navy Five per
+      Cents unsettled several thousand capitalists, and disposed them to search
+      for an investment. A flattering one offered itself in the nick of time.
+      Considerable attention had been drawn of late to the mineral wealth of
+      South America, and one or two mining companies existed, but languished in
+      the hands of professed speculators. The public now broke like a sudden
+      flood into these hitherto sluggish channels of enterprise, and up went the
+      shares to a high premium.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Almost contemporaneously, numerous joint-stock companies were formed, and
+      directed toward schemes of internal industry. The small capitalists that
+      had sold out of the Navy Five per Cents threw themselves into them all,
+      and being bona fide speculators, drew hundreds in their train. Adventure,
+      however, was at first restrained in some degree by the state of the
+      currency. It was low, and rested on a singularly sound basis. Mr. Peel's
+      Currency Bill had been some months in operation; by its principal
+      provision the Bank of England was compelled on and after a certain date to
+      pay gold for its notes on demand. The bank, anticipating a consequent rush
+      for gold, had collected vast quantities of sovereigns, the new coin; but
+      the rush never came, for a mighty simple reason. Gold is convenient in
+      small sums, but a burden and a nuisance in large ones. It betrays its
+      presence and invites robbers; it is a bore to lug it about, and a fearful
+      waste of golden time to count it. Men run upon gold only when they have
+      reason to distrust paper. But Mr. Peel's Bill, instead of damaging Bank of
+      England paper, solidified it, and gave the nation a just and novel
+      confidence in it. Thus, then, the large hoard of gold, fourteen to twenty
+      millions, that the caution of the bank directors had accumulated in their
+      coffers, remained uncalled for. But so large an abstraction from the
+      specie of the realm contracted the provincial circulation. The small
+      business of the country moved in fetters, so low was the metal currency.
+      The country bankers petitioned government for relief, and government,
+      listening to representations that were no doubt supported by facts, and
+      backed by other interests, tampered with the principle of Mr. Peel's Bill,
+      and allowed the country bankers to issue 1 pound and 2 pound notes for
+      eleven years to come.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      To this step there were but six dissentients in the House of Commons, so
+      little was its importance seen or its consequences foreseen. This piece of
+      inconsistent legislation removed one restraint, irksome but salutary, from
+      commercial enterprise at a moment when capital was showing some signs of a
+      feverish agitation. Its immediate consequences were very encouraging to
+      the legislator; the country bankers sowed the land broadcast with their
+      small paper, and this, for the cause above adverted to, took <i>pro tem.</i>
+      the place of gold, and was seldom cashed at all except where silver was
+      wanted. On this enlargement of the currency the arms of the nation seemed
+      freed, enterprise shot ahead unshackled, and unwonted energy and activity
+      thrilled in the veins of the kingdom. The rise in the prices of all
+      commodities which followed, inevitable consequence of every increase in
+      the currency, whether real or fictitious, was in itself adverse to the
+      working classes; but the vast and numerous enterprises that were
+      undertaken, some in the country itself, some in foreign parts, to which
+      English workmen were conveyed, raised the price of labor higher still in
+      proportion; so no class was out of the sun.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Men's faces shone with excitement and hope. The dormant hordes of misers
+      crept out of their napkins and sepulchral strong-boxes into the warm air
+      of the golden time. The mason's chisel chirped all over the kingdom, and
+      the shipbuilders' * hammers rang all round the coast; corn was plenty,
+      money became a drug, labor wealth, and poverty and discontent vanished
+      from the face of the land. Adventure seemed all wings, and no lumbering
+      carcass to clog it. New joint-stock companies were started in crowds as
+      larks rise and darken the air in winter;** hundreds came to nothing, but
+      hundreds stood, and of these nearly all reached a premium, small in some
+      cases, high in most, fabulous in some; and the ease with which the first
+      calls for cash on the multitudinous shares were met argued the vast
+      resources that had hitherto slumbered in the nation for want of promising
+      investments suited to the variety of human likings and judgments. The mind
+      can hardly conceive any species of earthly enterprise that was not fitted
+      with a company, oftener with a dozen, and with fifty or sixty where the
+      proposed road to metal was direct. Of these the mines of Mexico still kept
+      the front rank, but not to the exclusion of European, Australian and
+      African ore.
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+     * Two hundred new vessels are said to have been laid on the
+     stocks in one year.
+
+     ** In two years 624 new companies were projected.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      That masterpiece of fiction, &ldquo;the Prospectus,&rdquo; * diffused its gorgeous
+      light far and near, lit up the dark mine, and showed the minerals shining
+      and the jewels peeping; shone broad over the smiling fields, soon to be
+      plowed, reaped, and mowed by machinery; and even illumined the depths of
+      the sea, whence the buried treasures of ancient and modern times were
+      about to be recovered by the Diving-bell Company.
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+     * There is a little unlicked anonymuncule going scribbling
+     about, whose creed seems to be that a little camel, to be
+     known, must be examined and compared with other quadrupeds,
+     but that the great arts can be judged out of the depths of a
+     penny-a-liner's inner consciousness, and to be rated and
+     ranked need not be compared <i>inter se.</i> Applying the
+     microscope to the method of the novelist, but diverting the
+     glass from the learned judge's method in Biography, the
+     learned historian's method in History, and the daily
+     chronicler's method in dressing <i>res gestoe</i> for a journal,
+     this little addle-pate has jumped to a comparative estimate,
+     not based on comparison, so that all his blindfold
+     vituperation of a noble art is chimera, not reasoning; it
+     is, in fact, a retrograde step in science and logic. This is
+     to evade the Baconian method, humble and wise, and crawl
+     back to the lazy and self-confident system of the ancients,
+     that kept the world dark so many centuries. It is [Greek]
+     versus Induction. &ldquo;[Greek],&rdquo; ladies, is &ldquo;divination by means
+     of an ass's skull.&rdquo; A pettifogger's skull, however, will
+     serve the turn, provided that pettifogger has been bitten
+     with an insane itch for scribbling about things so
+     infinitely above his capacity as the fine arts. Avoid this
+     sordid dreamer, and follow, in letters as in science, the
+     Baconian method! Then you will find that all uninspired
+     narratives are more or less inexact, and that one, and one
+     only, Fiction proper, has the honesty to antidote its errors
+     by professing inexactitude. You will find that the
+     Historian, Biographer, Novelist, and Chronicler are all
+     obliged <i>to paint upon their data</i> with colors the
+     imagination alone can supply, and all do it&mdash;alive or dead.
+     You will find that Fiction, as distinguished from neat
+     mendacity, has not one form upon earth, but a dozen. You
+     will find the most habitually, willfully, and inexcusably
+     inaccurate, with the means of accuracy under its nose, that
+     form of fiction called &ldquo;anonymous criticism,&rdquo; political and
+     literary; the most equivocating, perhaps, is the
+     &ldquo;imaginavit,&rdquo; better known at Lincoln's Inn as the
+     &ldquo;affidavit.&rdquo; In the article of exaggeration, the mildest and
+     tamest are perhaps History and the Novel, the boldest and
+     most sparkling is the Advertisement, but the grandest,
+     ablest, most gorgeous and plausibly exaggerating is surely
+     the grave commercial prospectus, drawn up and signed by
+     potent, grave and reverend seniors, who fear God, worship
+     Mammon, revere big wigs right or wrong, and never read
+     romances.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      One mine was announced with a &ldquo;vein of ore as pure and solid as a tin
+      flagon.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      In another the prospectus offered mixed advantages. The ore lay in so
+      romantic a situation, and so thick, that the eye could be regaled with a
+      heavenly landscape, while the foot struck against neglected lumps of gold
+      weighing from two pounds to fifty.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This put the Bolanos mine on its mettle, and it announced, &ldquo;not mines, but
+      mountains of silver.&rdquo; Here, then, men might chip metal instead of
+      painfully digging it. With this, up went the shares till they reached 500
+      premium.
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+     Tialpuxahua was done at 199 premium.
+     Anglo Mexican  10 pounds paid, went to 158 pounds premium.
+     United Mexican 10   &ldquo;      &ldquo; ,     &ldquo;   155 pounds   &rdquo;
+      Columbian      10   &ldquo;      &ldquo; ,     &ldquo;    82 pounds   &rdquo;
+ </pre>
+    <p>
+      But the Real del Monte, a mine of longer standing, on which 70 pounds was
+      paid up, went to 550 premium, and at a later period, for I am not
+      following the actual sequence of events, reached the enormous height of
+      1350 premium.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Prospectus of the Equitable Loan Company lamented in paragraph one the
+      imposition practiced on the poor, and denounced the pawnbrokers' 15 per
+      cent. In paragraph four it promised 40 per cent to its shareholders.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Philanthropy smiled in the heading, and Avarice stung in the tail. No
+      wonder a royal duke and other good names figured in this concern. Another
+      eloquent sheet appealed to the national dignity. Should a nation that was
+      just now being intersected by forty canal companies, and lighted by thirty
+      gas companies, and every life in it worth a button insured by a score of
+      insurance companies, dwell in hovels? Here was a country that, after long
+      ruling the sea, was now mining the earth, and employing her spoils nobly,
+      lending money to every nation and tribe that would fight for
+      constitutional liberty. Should the principal city of so sovereign a nation
+      be a collection of dingy dwellings made with burned clay? No; let these
+      perishable and ignoble, materials give way, and London be granite, or at
+      least wear a granite front&mdash;with which up went the Red Granite
+      Company.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A railway was projected from Dover to Calais, but the shares never came
+      into the market.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Rhine Navigation shares were snapped up directly. The original
+      holders, having no faith in their own paper, sold large quantities
+      directly for the account. But they had underrated the ardor of the public.
+      At settling day the shares were at 28 premium, and the sellers found they
+      had made a most original hedge; for &ldquo;the hedge&rdquo; is not a daring operation
+      that grasps at large gains; it is a timid and cautious maneuver, whose
+      humble aim is to lower the figures of possible loss or gain. To be ruined
+      by a stroke of caution so shocked the directors' sense of justice that
+      they forged new coupons in imitation of the old, and tried to pass them
+      off. The fraud was discovered; a committee sat on it. Respectables quaked.
+      Finally, a scapegoat was put forward and expelled the Stock Exchange, and
+      with that the inquiry was hushed. It would have let too much daylight in
+      on a host of &ldquo;good names&rdquo; in the City and on 'Change.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At the same time, the country threw itself with ardor into Transatlantic
+      loans. This, however, was an existing speculation vastly dilated at the
+      period we are treating, but created about five years earlier. Its
+      antecedent history can be dispatched in a few words.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      England is said to be governed by a limited monarchy; but in case of a
+      struggle between the two, her heart goes more with unlimited republic than
+      with genuine monarchy. The Spanish colonies in South America found this
+      out, and in their long battle for independence came to us for sympathy and
+      cash. They often obtained both, and in one case something more; we lent
+      Chili a million at six per cent, but we lent her ships, bayonets, and
+      Cochrane gratis. This last, a gallant and amphibious dragoon, went to work
+      in a style the slow Spaniard was unprepared for; blockaded the coast,
+      overawed the Royalist party, and wrenched the state from the mother
+      country, and settled it a republic. One of the first public acts of this
+      Chilian republic was to borrow a million of us to go on with. Peru took
+      only half a million at this period. Colombia, during the protracted
+      struggle her independence cost her, obtained a sort of <i>carte blanche</i>
+      loan from us at ten per cent. We were to deliver the stock in munitions of
+      war, as called for, which, you will 'observe, was selling our loan; for at
+      the bottom of all our romance lies business, business, business. Her
+      freedom secured, the new state accommodated us by taking two millions of 5
+      per cent stock at 84. In all, about ten millions nominal capital, eight
+      millions cash, crossed the Atlantic while we were cool; but now that we
+      were heated by three hundred joint-stock companies, and the fire fanned by
+      seven hundred prospectuses, fresh loans were effected with a wider range
+      of territory and on a more important scale.
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+     Brazil now got . . . 3,200,000 l. in two loans;
+     Colombia . . . . . . 4,750,000 l.;
+     Peru . . . . . . . . 1,366,000 l. in two loans;
+     Mexico . . . . . . . 6,400,000 l. in two loans;
+     Buenos Ayres . . . . 1,000,000 l.;
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      and Guatemala, a state we never heard of till she wanted money, took a
+      million and a half. Besides these there were smaller loans, lent, not to
+      nations, but to tribes. So hot was our money in our pockets that we tried
+      200,000 pounds on Patagonia. But the savages could not be got to nail us,
+      which was the more to be regretted, as we might have done a good stroke
+      with them; could have sent the stock out in fisherman's boots, cocked
+      hats, beads, Bibles, and army misfits.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Europe found out there existed an island overflowing with faith and
+      overburdened with money; she ran at us for a slice of the latter. We lent
+      Naples two millions and a half at 5 per cent stock 92 1/2. Portugal a
+      million and a half at 87. Austria three millions and a half at 82 1/2.
+      Denmark three millions and a half at 3 per cent stock 75 1/2. Then came a
+      <i>bonne bouche.</i> The subtle Greek had gathered from his western
+      visitors a notion of the contents of Thucydides, and he came to us for
+      sympathy and money to help him shake off the barbarians and their yoke,
+      and save the wreck of the ancient temples. The appeal was shrewdly
+      planned. England reads Thucydides, and skims Demosthenes, though Greece,
+      it is presumed, does not. The impressions of our boyhood fasten upon our
+      hearts, and our mature reason judges them like a father, not like a judge.
+      To sweep the Tartar out of the Peloponnese, and put in his place a free
+      press that should recall from the tomb that soul of freedom, and revive by
+      degrees that tongue of music&mdash;who can play Solomon when such a
+      proposal comes up for judgment?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Give yourself no further concern about the matter,&rdquo; said the lofty
+      Burdett, with a gentlemanlike wave of the hand; &ldquo;your country shall be
+      saved.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In a few weeks,&rdquo; said another statesman, &ldquo;Cochrane will be at
+      Constantinople, and burn the port and its vessels. Having thus disarmed
+      invasion, he will land in the Morea and clear it of the Turks.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Greece borrowed in two loans 2,800,000 pounds at 5 per cent. Russia (droll
+      juxtaposition!) drew up the rear. She borrowed three millions and a half,
+      but upon far more favorable terms than, with all our romance, we accorded
+      to &ldquo;Graeculus esuriens.&rdquo; The Greek stock ruled * from 56 1/2 to 59.
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+     * A corruption from the French verb &ldquo;rouler.&rdquo;
+ </pre>
+    <p>
+      Into these loans, and the multitudinous mines and miscellaneous
+      enterprises, gas, railroad, canal, steam, dock, provision, insurance,
+      milk, water, building, washing, money-lending, fishing, lottery,
+      annuities, herring-curing, poppy-oil, cattle, weaving, bog draining,
+      street-cleaning, house-roofing, old clothes exporting, steel-making,
+      starch, silk-worm, etc., etc., etc., companies, all classes of the
+      community threw themselves, either for investment or temporary
+      speculation, on the fluctuations of the share-market. One venture was
+      ennobled by a prince of the blood figuring as a director; another was
+      sanctified by an archbishop; hundreds were solidified by the best
+      mercantile names in the cities of London, Liverpool, and Manchester.
+      Princes, dukes, duchesses, stags, footmen, poets, philosophers, divines,
+      lawyers, physicians, maids, wives, widows, tore into the market, and
+      choked the Exchange up so tight that the brokers could not get in nor out,
+      and a bare passage had to be cleared by force and fines through a mass of
+      velvet, fustian, plush, silk, rags, lace, and broadcloth, that jostled and
+      squeezed each other in the struggle for gain. The shop-keeper flung down
+      his scales and off to the share-market; the merchant embarked his funds
+      and his credit; the clerk risked his place and his humble respectability.
+      High and low, rich and poor, all hurried round the Exchange, like midges
+      round a flaring gas-light, and all were to be rich in a day.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And, strange to say, all seemed to win and none to lose; for nothing was
+      at a discount except toil and self-denial, and the patient industry that
+      makes men rich, but not in a day.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One cold misgiving fell. The vast quantities of gold and silver that
+      Mexico, mined by English capital and machinery, was about to pour into our
+      ports, would so lower the price of those metals that a heavy loss must
+      fall on all who held them on a considerable scale at their present values
+      in relation to corn, land, labor and other properties and commodities.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We must convert our gold,&rdquo; was the cry. Others more rash said: &ldquo;This is
+      premature caution&mdash;timidity. There is no gold come over yet; wait
+      till you learn the actual bulk of the first metallic imports.&rdquo; &ldquo;No, thank
+      you,&rdquo; replied the prudent ones, &ldquo;it will be too late then; when once they
+      have touched our shores, the fall will be rapid.&rdquo; So they turned their
+      gold, whose value was so precarious, into that unfluctuating material,
+      paper. This solitary fear was soon swallowed up in the general confidence.
+      The king congratulated Parliament, and Parliament the king. Both houses
+      rang with trumpet notes of triumph, a few of which still linger in the
+      memories of living men.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      1. &ldquo;The cotton trade and iron trade were never so flourishing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      2. &ldquo;The exports surpassed by millions the highest figure recorded in'
+      history.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      3. &ldquo;The hum of industry was heard throughout the fields.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      4. &ldquo;Joy beamed in every face.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      5. &ldquo;The country now reaped in honor and repose all it had sown in courage,
+      constancy and wisdom.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      6. &ldquo;Our prosperity extended to all ranks of men, enhanced by those arts
+      which minister to human comfort, and those inventions by which man seems
+      to have obtained a mastery over Nature through the application of her own
+      powers.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But one honorable gentleman informed the Commons that &ldquo;distress had
+      vanished from the land,&rdquo; * and in addressing the throne acknowledged a
+      novel embarrassment: &ldquo;Such,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;is the general prosperity of the
+      country, that I feel at a loss how to proceed; whether to give precedence
+      to our agriculture, which is the main support of the country, to our
+      manufactures, which have increased to an unexampled extent, or to our
+      commerce, which distributes them to the ends of the earth, finds daily new
+      outlets for their distribution, and new sources of national wealth and
+      prosperity.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+     * &ldquo;The poor ye shall have always with you.&rdquo;&mdash;Chimerical
+     Evangelist.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      Our old bank did not profit by the golden shower. Mr. Hardie was old, too,
+      and the cautious and steady habits of forty years were not to be shaken
+      readily. He declined shares, refused innumerable discounts, and loans upon
+      scrip and invoices, and, in short, was behind the time. His bank came to
+      be denounced as a clog on commerce. Two new banks were set up in the town
+      to oil the wheels of adventure, on which he was a drag, and Hardie fell
+      out of the game.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He was not so old or cold as to be beyond the reach of mortification, and
+      these things stung him. One day he said fretfully to old Skinner, &ldquo;It is
+      hardly worth our while to take down the shutters now, for anything we do.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      One afternoon two of his best customers, who were now up to their chins in
+      shares, came and solicited a heavy loan on their joint personal security.
+      Hardie declined. The gentlemen went out. Young Skinner watched them, and
+      told his father they went into the new bank, stayed there a considerable
+      time, and came out looking joyous. Old Skinner told Mr. Hardie. The old
+      gentleman began at last to doubt himself and his system.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The bank would last my time,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;but I must think of my son. I
+      have seen many a good business die out because the merchant could not keep
+      up with the times; and here they are inviting me to be director in two of
+      their companies&mdash;good mercantile names below me. It is very
+      flattering. I'll write to Dick. It is just he should have a voice; but,
+      dear heart! at his age we know beforehand he will be for galloping faster
+      than the rest. Well, his old father is alive to curb him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was always the ambition of Mr. Richard Hardie to be an accomplished
+      financier. For some years past he had studied money at home and abroad&mdash;scientifically.
+      His father's connection had gained him a footing in several large
+      establishments abroad, and there he sat and worked <i>en amateur</i> as
+      hard as a clerk. This zeal and diligence in a young man of independent
+      means soon established him in the confidence of the chiefs, who told him
+      many a secret. He was now in a great London bank, pursuing similar
+      studies, practical and theoretical.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He received his father's letters sketching the rapid decline of the bank,
+      and finally a short missive inviting him down to consider an enlarged plan
+      of business. During the four days that preceded the young man's visit,
+      more than one application came to Hardie senior for advances on scrip,
+      cargoes coming from Mexico, and joint personal securities of good
+      merchants that were in the current ventures. Old Hardie now, instead of
+      refusing, detained the proposals for consideration. Meantime, he ordered
+      five journals daily instead of one, sought information from every quarter,
+      and looked into passing events with a favorable eye. The result was that
+      he blamed himself, and called his past caution timidity. Mr. Richard
+      Hardie arrived and was ushered into the bank parlor. After the first
+      affectionate greetings old Skinner was called in, and, in a little
+      pompous, good-hearted speech, invited to make one in a solemn conference.
+      The compliment brought the tears into the old man's eyes. Mr. Hardie
+      senior opened, showed by the books the rapid decline of business, pointed
+      to the rise of two new banks owing to the tight hand he had held
+      unseasonably, then invited the other two to say whether an enlarged system
+      was not necessary to meet the times, and submitted the last, proposals for
+      loans and discounts. &ldquo;Now, sir, let me have your judgment.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;After my betters, sir,&rdquo; was old Skinner's reply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, Dick, have you formed any opinion on this matter?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am extremely glad of it,&rdquo; said the old gentleman, very sincerely, but
+      with a shade of surprise; &ldquo;out with it, Dick.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The young man thus addressed by his father would not have conveyed to us
+      the idea of &ldquo;Dick.&rdquo; His hair was brown; there were no wrinkles under his
+      eyes or lines in his cheek, but in his manner there was no youth whatever.
+      He was tall, commanding, grave, quiet, cold, and even at that age almost
+      majestic. His first sentence, slow and firm, removed the paternal notion
+      that a cipher or a juvenile had come to the council-table.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;First, sir, let me return to you my filial thanks for that caution which
+      you seem to think has been excessive. There I beg respectfully to differ
+      with you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am glad of it, Dick; but now you see it is time to relax, eh?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The two old men stared at one another. The senile youth proceeded: &ldquo;That
+      some day or other our system will have to be relaxed is probable, but just
+      now all it wants is&mdash;tightening.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, Dick? Skinner, the boy is mad. You can't have watched the signs of
+      the times.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have, sir; and looked below the varnish.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To the point, then, Dick. There is a general proposal 'to relax our
+      system.' The boy uses good words, Skinner, don't he? and here are six
+      particulars over which you can cast your eye. Hand them to him, Skinner.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will take things in that order,&rdquo; said Richard, quietly running his eye
+      over the papers. There was a moment's silence. &ldquo;It is proposed to connect
+      the bank with the speculations of the day.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is not fairly stated, Dick; it is too broad. We shall make a
+      selection; we won't go in the stream above ankle deep.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is a resolution, sir, that has been often made but never kept&mdash;for
+      this reason: you can't sit on dry land and calculate the force of the
+      stream. It carries those who paddle in it off their feet, and then they
+      must swim with it or&mdash;sink.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dick, for Heaven's sake, no poetry here.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nay, sir,&rdquo; said old Skinner, &ldquo;remember, 'twas you brought the stream in.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;More fool I. 'Flow on, thou shining Dick'; only the more figures of
+      arithmetic, and the fewer figures of speech, you can give old Skinner and
+      me, the more weight you will carry with us.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The young man colored a moment, but never lost his ponderous calmness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will give you figures in their turn, But we were to begin with the
+      general view. Half-measures, then, are no measures; they imply a
+      vacillating judgment; they are a vain attempt to make a pound of rashness
+      and a pound of timidity into two pounds of prudence. You permit me that
+      figure, sir; it comes from the summing-book. The able man of business
+      fidgets. He keeps quiet, or carries something out.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Old Skinner rubbed his hands. &ldquo;These are wise words, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, only clever ones. This is book-learning. It is the sort of wisdom you
+      and I have outgrown these forty years. Why, at his age I was choke-full of
+      maxims. They are good things to read; but act proverbs, and into the
+      Gazette you go. My faith in any general position has melted away with the
+      snow of my seventy winters.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What, then, if it was established that all adders bite, would you refuse
+      to believe his adder would bite you, sir?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dick, if a single adder bit me, it would go farther to convince me that
+      the next adder would bite me too than if fifty young Buffons told me all
+      adders bite.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The senile youth was disconcerted for a single moment. He hesitated. The
+      keys that the old man had himself said would unlock his judgment lay
+      beside him on the table. He could not help glancing slyly at them, but he
+      would not use them before their turn. His mind was methodical. His will
+      was strong in all things. He put his hand in his side-pocket, and drew out
+      a quantity of papers neatly arranged, tied, and indorsed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The old men instantly bestowed a more watchful sort of attention on him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This, gentlemen, is a list of the joint-stock companies created last
+      year. What do you suppose is their number?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Fifty, I'll be bound, Mr. Richard.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;More than that, Skinner. Say eighty.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+ &ldquo;Two hundred and forty-three, gentlemen. Of these some were
+stillborn, but the majority hold the market. The capital proposed to
+be subscribed on the sum total is two hundred and forty-eight
+millions.&rdquo;
+ </pre>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pheugh! Skinner!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The amount actually paid at present (chiefly in bank-notes) is stated at
+      43,062,608 pounds, and the balance due at the end of the year on this set
+      of ventures will be 204,937,392 pounds or thereabouts. The projects of <i>this
+      year</i> have not been collected, but they are on a similar scale. Full a
+      third of the general sum total is destined to foreign countries, either in
+      loans or to work mines, etc., the return for which is uncertain and
+      future. All these must come to nothing, and ruin the shareholders that
+      way, or else must sooner or later be paid in specie, since no foreign
+      nation can use our paper, but must sell it to the Bank of England. We
+      stand, then, pledged to burst like a bladder, or to <i>export</i> in a few
+      months thrice as much specie as we possess. To sum up, if the country
+      could be sold to-morrow, with every brick that stands upon it, the
+      proceeds would not meet the engagements into which these joint-stock
+      companies have inveigled her in the course of twenty months. Viewed then,
+      in gross, under the test, not of poetry and prospectus, but of arithmetic,
+      the whole thing is a bubble.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A bubble?&rdquo; uttered both the seniors in one breath, and almost in a
+      scream.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But I am ready to test it in detail. Let us take three main features&mdash;the
+      share-market, the foreign loans, and the inflated circulation caused by
+      the provincial banks. Why do the public run after shares? Is it in the
+      exercise of a healthy judgment? No; a cunning bait has been laid for human
+      weakness. Transferable shares valued at 100 pounds can be secured and paid
+      for by small instalments of 5 pounds or less. If, then, his 100 pound
+      shares rise to 130 pounds each, the adventurer can sell at a nominal
+      profit of 30 per cent, but a real profit of 600 per cent on his actual
+      investment. This intoxicates rich and poor alike. It enables the small
+      capitalist to operate on the scale that belongs, in healthy times, to the
+      large capitalist; a beggar can now gamble like a prince; his farthings are
+      accepted as counters for sovereigns; but this is a distinct feature of all
+      the more gigantic bubbles recorded. Here, too, you see, is illusory credit
+      on a vast scale, with its sure consequence, inflated and fictitious
+      values; another bit of soap that goes to every bubble in history. Now for
+      the Transatlantic loans. I submit them to a simple test. Judge nations
+      like individuals. If you knew nothing of a man but that he had set up a
+      new shop, would you lend him money? Then why lend money to new republics
+      of whom you know nothing but that, born yesterday, they may die to-morrow,
+      and that they are exhausted by recent wars, and that, where responsibility
+      is divided, conscience is always subdivided?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well said, Richard, well said.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If a stranger offered you thirty per cent, would you lend him your
+      money?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; for I should know he didn't mean to pay.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, these foreign negotiators offer nominally five per cent, but,
+      looking at the price of the stock, thirty, forty, and even fifty per cent.
+      Yet they are not so liberal as they appear; they could afford ninety per
+      cent. You understand me, gentlemen. Would you lend to a man that came to
+      you under an alias like a Newgate thief? Cast your eye over this
+      prospectus. It is the Poyais loan. There is no such place as Poyais.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good heavens!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is a loan to an anonymous swamp by the Mosquito River. But Mosquito
+      suggests a bite. So the vagabonds that brought the proposal over put their
+      heads together as they crossed the Atlantic, and christened the place
+      Poyais; and now fools that are not fools enough to lend sixpence to
+      Zahara, are going to lend 200,000 pounds to rushes and reeds.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, Richard, what are you talking about? 'The air is soft and balmy; the
+      climate fructifying; the soil is spontaneous'&mdash;what does that mean?
+      mum! mum! 'The water runs over sands of gold.' Why, it is a description of
+      Paradise. And, now I think of it, is not all this taken from John Milton?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very likely. It is written by thieves.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It seems there are tortoise-shell, diamonds, pearls&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In the prospectus, but not in the morass. It is a good, straightforward
+      morass, with no pretensions but to great damp. But don't be alarmed,
+      gentlemen, our countrymen's money will not be swamped there. It will all
+      be sponged up in Threadneedle Street by the poetic swindlers whose names,
+      or aliases, you hold in your hand. The Greek, Mexican, and Brazilian loans
+      may be translated from Prospectish into English thus: At a date when every
+      sovereign will be worth five to us in sustaining shriveling paper and
+      collapsing credit, we are going to chuck a million sovereigns into the
+      Hellespont, five million sovereigns into the Gulf of Mexico, and two
+      millions into the Pacific Ocean. Against the loans to the old monarchies
+      there is only this objection, that they are unreasonable; will drain out
+      gold when gold will be life-blood; which brings me, by connection, to my
+      third item&mdash;the provincial circulation. Pray, gentlemen, do you
+      remember the year 1793?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      For some minutes past a dead silence and a deep, absorbed attention had
+      received the young man's words; but that quiet question was like a great
+      stone descending suddenly on a silent stream. Such a noise, agitation, and
+      flutter. The old banker and his clerk both began to speak at once.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't we?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Lord, Mr. Richard, don't talk of 1793.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What do you know about 1793? You weren't born.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Mr. Richard, such a to-do, sir! 1800 firms in the Gazette. Seventy
+      banks stopped.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nearer a hundred, Mr. Skinner. Seventy-one stopped in the provinces, and
+      a score in London.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, sir, Mr. Richard knows everything, whether he was born or not.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, he doesn't, you old goose; he doesn't know how you and I sat looking
+      at one another, and pretending to fumble, and counting out slowly, waiting
+      sick at heart for the sack of guineas that was to come down by coach. If
+      it had not come we should not have broken, but we should have suspended
+      payment for twenty-four hours, and I was young enough then to have cut my
+      throat in the interval.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But it came, sir&mdash;it came, and you cried, 'Keep the bank open till
+      midnight!' and when the blackguards heard that, and saw the sackful of
+      gold, they crept away; they were afraid of offending us. Nobody came anigh
+      us next day. Banks smashed all round us like glass bottles, but Hardie
+      &amp; Co. stood, and shall stand for ever and ever. Amen.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who showed the white feather, Mr. Skinner? Who came creeping and
+      sniveling, and took my hand under the counter, and pressed it to give me
+      courage, and then was absurd enough to make apologies, as if sympathy was
+      as common as dirt? Give me your hand directly, you old&mdash;Hallo!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;God bless you, sir! God bless you! It is all right, sir. The bank is safe
+      for another fifty years. We have got Master Richard, and he has got a
+      head. O Gemini, what a head he has got, and the other day playing
+      marbles!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, and we are interrupting him with our nonsense. Go on, Richard.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Richard had secretly but fully appreciated the folly of the interruption.
+      His was a great mind, and moved in a sort of pecuniary ether high above
+      the little weaknesses my reader has observed in Hardie senior and old
+      Skinner. Being, however, equally above the other little infirmities of
+      fretfulness and fussiness, he waited calmly and proceeded coolly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What was the cause of the distress in 1793?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! that was the puzzle&mdash;wasn't it, Skinner? We were never so
+      prosperous as that year. The distress came over us like a thunder-storm
+      all in a moment. Nobody knows the exact cause.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I beg your pardon, sir, it is as well known as any point of history
+      whatever. Some years of prosperity had created a spawn of country banks,
+      most of them resting on no basis; these had inflated the circulation with
+      their paper. A panic and a collapse of this fictitious currency was as
+      inevitable as the fall of a stone forced against nature into the air.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There <i>were</i> a great many petty banks, Richard, and, of course,
+      plenty of bad paper. I believe you are right. The causes of things were
+      not studied in those days as they are now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All that we know now, sir, is to be found in books written long before
+      1793.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Books! books!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, sir; a book is not dead paper except to sleepy minds. A book is a
+      man giving you his best thoughts in his very best words. It is only the
+      shallow reader that can't learn life from genuine books. I'll back him who
+      studies them against the man who skims his fellow-creatures, and vice
+      versa. A single page of Adam Smith, studied, understood, and acted on by
+      the statesmen of your day, would have averted the panic of 1793. I have
+      the paragraph in my note-book. He was a great man, sir; oblige me, Mr.
+      Skinner.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Certainly, sir, certainly. 'Should the circulation of paper exceed the
+      value of the gold and silver of which it supplies the place, many people
+      would immediately perceive they had more of this paper than was necessary
+      for transacting their business at home; and, as they could not send it
+      abroad, bank paper only passing current where it is issued, there would be
+      a run upon the banks to the extent of this superfluous paper.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Richard Hardie resumed. &ldquo;We were never so overrun with rotten banks as
+      now. Shoemakers, cheesemongers, grocers, write up 'Bank' over one of their
+      windows, and deal their rotten paper by the foolscap ream. The issue of
+      their larger notes is colossal, and renders a panic inevitable soon or
+      late; but, to make it doubly sure, they have been allowed to utter 1 pound
+      and 2 pound notes. They have done it, and on a frightful scale. Then, to
+      make it trebly sure, the just balance between paper and specie is
+      disturbed in the other scale as well as by foreign loans to be paid in
+      gold. In 1793 the candle was left unsnufled, but we have lighted it at
+      both ends and put it down to roast. Before the year ends, every sovereign
+      in the banks of this country may be called on to cash 30 pounds of paper&mdash;bank-paper,
+      share-paper, foolscap-paper, waste-paper. In 1793, a small excess of paper
+      over specie had the power to cause a panic and break some ninety banks;
+      but our excess of paper is far larger, and with that fatal error we have
+      combined foreign loans and three hundred bubble companies. Here, then,
+      meet three bubbles, each of which, unaided, secures a panic. Events
+      revolve, gentlemen, and reappear at intervals. The great French bubble of
+      1719 is here to-day with the addition of two English tom-fooleries,
+      foreign loans and 1 pound notes. Mr. Law was a great financier. Mr. Law
+      was the first banker and the greatest. All mortal bankers are his pupils,
+      though they don't know it. Mr. Law was not a fool; his critics are. Mr.
+      Law did not commit one error out of six that are attributed to him by
+      those who judge him without reading, far less studying, his written works.
+      He was too sound and sober a banker to admit small notes. They were
+      excluded from his system. He found France on the eve of bankruptcy; in
+      fact, the state had committed acts of virtual bankruptcy. He saved her
+      with his bank.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then came his two errors, one remedial, the other fatal. No. 1, he
+      created a paper company and blew it up to a bubble. When the shares had
+      reached the skies, they began to come down, like stones, by an inevitable
+      law. No. 2, to save them from their coming fate, he propped them with his
+      bank. Overrating the power of governments, and underrating Nature's, he
+      married the Mississippi shares (at forty times their value) to his
+      banknotes by edict. What was the consequence? The bank paper, sound in
+      itself, became rotten by marriage. Nothing could save the share-paper. The
+      bank paper, making common cause with it, shared its fate. Had John Law let
+      his two tubs each stand on its own bottom, the shares would have gone back
+      to what they came from&mdash;nothing; the bank, based as it was on specie,
+      backed stoutly by the government, and respected by the people for great
+      national services, would have weathered the storm and lasted to this day.
+      But he tied his rickety child to his healthy child, and flung them into a
+      stormy sea, and told them to swim together: they sank together. Now
+      observe, sir, the fatal error that ruined the great financier in 1720 is
+      this day proposed to us. We are to connect our bank with bubble companies
+      by the double tie of loans and liability. John Law was sore tempted. The
+      Mississippi Company was his own child as well as the bank. Love of that
+      popularity he had drunk so deeply, egotism, and parental partiality,
+      combined to obscure that great man's judgment. But, with us, folly stands
+      naked on one side, bubbles in hand&mdash;common sense and printed
+      experience on the other. These six specimen bubbles here are not <i>our</i>
+      children. Let me see whose they are, aliases excepted.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very good, young gentleman, very good. Now it is my turn. I have got a
+      word or two to say on the other side. The journals, which are so seldom
+      agreed, are all of one mind about these glorious times. Account for that!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How can you know their minds, sir?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;By their leading columns.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Those are no clue.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What! Do they think one thing and print another? Why should the
+      independent press do that? Nonsense.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, sir? Because they are bribed to print it, but they are not bribed to
+      think it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Bribed? The English press bribed?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, not directly, like the English freeman. Oblige me with a journal or
+      two, no matter which; they are all tarred with the same stick in time of
+      bubble. Here, sir, are 50 pounds worth of bubble advertisements, yielding
+      a profit of say 25 pounds on this single issue. In this one are nearer 100
+      pounds worth of such advertisements. Now is it in nature that a newspaper,
+      which is a trade speculation, should say the word that would blight its
+      own harvest? This is the oblique road by which the English press is
+      bribed. These leaders are mere echoes of to-day's advertisement sheet, and
+      bidders for to-morrow's.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The world gets worse every day, Skinner.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It gets no better,&rdquo; replied Richard, philosophically.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But, Richard, here is our county member, and &mdash;&mdash;, staid, sober
+      men both, and both have pledged their honor on the floor of the House of
+      Commons to the sound character of some of these companies.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They have, sir; but they will never redeem the said honor, for they are
+      known to be bribed, and not obliquely, by those very companies.&rdquo; (The
+      price current of M. P. honor, in time of bubble, ought to be added to the
+      works of arithmetic.) &ldquo;Those two Brutuses get 500 pounds apiece per annum
+      for touting those companies down at Stephen's. &mdash;&mdash; goes cheaper
+      and more oblique. He touts, in the same place, for a gas company, and his
+      house in the square flares from cellar to garret, gratis.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good gracious! and he talked of the light of conscience in his very last
+      speech. But this cannot apply to all. There is the archbishop; he can't
+      have sold his name to that company.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who knows? He is over head and ears in debt.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But the duke, <i>he</i> can't have.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why not? He is over head and ears in debt. Princes deep in debt by
+      misconduct, and bishops deep in ditto by ditto, are half-honest, needy
+      men; and half-honest, needy men are all to be bought and sold like hogs in
+      Smithfield, especially in time of bubble.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is the world come to!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What it was a hundred years ago.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have got one pill left for him, Skinner. Here is the Chancellor of the
+      Exchequer, a man whose name stands for caution, has pronounced a panegyric
+      on our situation. Here are his words quoted in this leader; now listen:
+      'We may safely venture to contemplate with instructive admiration the
+      harmony of its proportions and the solidity of its basis.' What do you say
+      to that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I say it is one man's opinion versus the experience of a century.
+      Besides, that is a quotation, and may be a fraudulent one.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no. The speech was only delivered last Wednesday: we will refer to
+      it. Mum! mum! Ah, here it is. 'The Chancellor of the Exchequer rose and&mdash;'
+      mum! mum! ah&mdash;'I am of&mdash;o-pinion that&mdash;if, upon a fair
+      review of our situation, there shall appear to be nothing hollow in its
+      foundation, artificial in its superstructure, or flimsy in its general
+      results, we may safely venture to contemplate with instructive admiration
+      the harmony of its proportions and the solidity of its basis.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ha! ha! ha! I quite agree with cautious Bobby. If it is not hollow, it
+      may be solid; if it is not a gigantic paper balloon, it may be a very fine
+      globe, and vice versa, which vice versa he in his heart suspects to be the
+      truth. You see, sir, the mangled quotation was a swindle, like the flimsy
+      superstructures it was intended to prop. The genuine paragraph is a fair
+      sample of Robinson, and of the art of withholding opinion by means of
+      expression. But as quoted, by a fraudulent suppression of one half, the
+      unbalanced half is palmed off as a whole, and an indecision perverted into
+      a decision. I might just as fairly cite him as describing our situation to
+      be 'hollow in its basis, artificial in its superstructure, flimsy in its
+      general result.' Since you value names, I will cite you one man that has
+      commented on the situation; not, like Mr. Robinson, by misty sentences,
+      each neutralizing the other, but by consistent acts: a man, gentlemen,
+      whose operations have always been numerous and courageous in less <i>prosperous</i>
+      times, yet now he is <i>out of everything</i> but a single insurance
+      company.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who is the gentleman?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is not a gentleman; it is a blackguard,&rdquo; said the exact youth.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You excite my curiosity. Who is the capitalist, then, that stands aloof?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nathan Meyer Rothschild.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The devil.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Old Skinner started sitting. &ldquo;Rothschild hanging back. Oh, master, for
+      Heavens sake don't let us try to be wiser than those devils of Jews. Mr.
+      Richard, I bore up pretty well against your book-learning, but now you've
+      hit me with a thunderbolt. Let us get in gold, and keep as snug as mice,
+      and not lend one of them a farthing to save them from the gallows. Those
+      Jews smell farther than a Christian can see. Don't let's have any more
+      1793's, sir, for Heaven's sake. Listen to Mr. Richard; he has been abroad,
+      and come back with a head.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Be quiet, Skinner. You seem to possess private information, Richard.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I employ three myrmidons to hunt it; it will be useful by and by.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It may be now. Remark on these proposals.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, sir, two of them are based on gold mines, shares at a fabulous
+      premium. Now no gold mine can be worked to a profit by a company. <i>Primo:</i>
+      Gold is not found in veins like other metals. It is an abundant metal made
+      scarce to man by distribution over a wide surface. The very phrase gold
+      mine is delusive. <i>Secundo:</i> Gold is a metal that cannot be worked to
+      a profit by a company for this reason: workmen will hunt it for others so
+      long as the daily wages average higher than the amount of metal they find
+      per diem; but, that Rubicon once passed, away they run to find gold for
+      themselves in some spot with similar signs; if they stay, it is to murder
+      your overseers and seize your mine. Gold digging is essentially an
+      individual speculation. These shares sell at 700 pounds apiece; a dozen of
+      them are not worth one Dutch tulip-root. Ah! here is a company of another
+      class, in which you have been invited to be director; they would have
+      given you shares and made you liable.&rdquo; Mr. Richard consulted his
+      note-book. &ldquo;This company, which 'commands the wealth of both Indies'&mdash;in
+      perspective&mdash;dissolved yesterday afternoon for want of eight guineas.
+      They had rented offices at eight guineas a week, and could not pay the
+      first week. 'Turn out or pay,' said the landlord, a brute absorbed in the
+      present, and with no faith in the glorious future. They offered him 1,500
+      pounds worth of shares instead of his paltry eight guineas cash. On this
+      he swept his premises of them. What a godsend you would have been to these
+      Jeremy Diddlers, you and the ten thousand they would have bled you of.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The old banker turned pale.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, that is nothing new, sir. <i>'To-morrow</i> the first lord of the
+      treasury calls at my house, and brings me 11,261 pounds 14s. 11 3/4d.,
+      which is due to me from the nation at twelve of the clock on that day; you
+      couldn't lend me a shilling till then, could ye?' Now for the loans.
+      Baynes upon Haggart want 2,000 pounds at 5 per cent.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good names, Richard, surely,&rdquo; said old Hardie, faintly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They were; but there are no good names in time of bubble. The operations
+      are so enormous that in a few weeks a man is hollowed out and his frame
+      left standing. In such times capitalists are like filberts; they look all
+      nut, but half of them are dust inside the shell, and only known by
+      breaking. Baynes upon Haggart, and Haggart upon Baynes, the city is full
+      of their paper. I have brought some down to show it to you. A discounter,
+      who is a friend of mine, did it for them on a considerable scale at thirty
+      per cent discount (cast your eye over these bills, Haggart on Baynes). But
+      he has burned his fingers even at that, and knows it. So I am authorized
+      to offer all these to you at fifty per cent discount.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good heavens! Richard!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If, therefore, you think of doing rotten apple upon rotten pear,
+      otherwise Haggart upon Baynes, why do it at five per cent when it is to be
+      had by the quire at fifty?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Take them out of my sight,&rdquo; said old Hardie, starting up&mdash;&ldquo;take them
+      all out of my sight. Thank God I sent for you. No more discussion, no more
+      doubt. Give me your hand, my son; you have saved the bank!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The conference broke up with these eager words, and young Skinner retired
+      swiftly from the keyhole.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The next day Mr. Hardie senior came to a resolution which saddened poor
+      old Skinner. He called the clerks in and introduced them to Mr. Richard as
+      his managing partner.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Every dog has his day,&rdquo; said the old gentleman. &ldquo;Mine has been a long
+      one. Richard has saved the bank from a fatal error; Richard shall conduct
+      it as Hardie &amp; Son. Don't be disconsolate, Skinner; I'll look in on
+      you now and then.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Hardie junior sent back all the proposals with a polite negative. He then
+      proceeded on a two-headed plan. Not to lose a shilling when the panic he
+      expected should come, and to make 20,000 pounds upon its subsiding. Hardie
+      &amp; Son held Exchequer bills on rather a large scale. They were at half
+      a crown premium. He sold every one and put gold in his coffers. He
+      converted in the same way all his other securities except consols. These
+      were low, and he calculated they would rise in any general depreciation of
+      more pretentious investments. He drew out his balance, a large one, from
+      his London correspondent, and put his gold in his coffers. He drew a large
+      deposit from the Bank of England. Whenever his own notes came into the
+      bank, he withdrew them from circulation. &ldquo;They may hop upon Hardie &amp;
+      Son,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;but they shan't run upon us, for I'll cut off their legs
+      and keep them in my safe.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      One day he invited several large tradesmen in the town to dine with him at
+      the bank. They came full of curiosity. He gave them a luxurious dinner,
+      which pleased them. After dinner he exposed the real state of the nation,
+      as he understood it. They listened politely, and sneered silently, but
+      visibly. He then produced six large packets of his banknotes; each packet
+      contained 3,000 pounds. Skinner, then present, enveloped these packets in
+      cartridge-paper, and the guests were requested to seal them up. This was
+      soon done. In those days a bunch of gigantic seals dangled and danced on
+      the pit of every man's stomach. The sealed packets went back into the
+      safe.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Show us a sparkle o' gold, Mr. Richard,&rdquo; said Meredith, linen-draper and
+      wag.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Skinner, oblige me by showing Mr. Meredith a little of your specie&mdash;a
+      few anti-bubble pills, eh! Mr. Meredith.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Omnes. &ldquo;Ha! ha! ha!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Presently a shout from Meredith: &ldquo;Boys, he has got it here by the bushel.
+      All new sovereigns. Don't any of ye be a linen-draper, if you have got a
+      chance to be a banker. How much is there here, Mr. Richard?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We must consult the books to ascertain that, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Must you? Then just turn your head away, Mr. Richard, and I'll put in a
+      claw.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Omnes. &ldquo;Haw! haw! ho!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Richard Hardie resumed. &ldquo;My precautions seem extravagant to you now, but
+      in a few months you will remember this conversation, and it will lead to
+      business.&rdquo; The rest of the evening he talked of anything, everything,
+      except banking. He was not the man to dilute an impression.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hardie junior was so confident in his reading and his reasonings that he
+      looked every day into the journals for the signs of a general collapse of
+      paper and credit; instead of which, public confidence seemed to increase,
+      not diminish, and the paper balloon, as he called it, dilated, not shrank;
+      and this went on for months. His gold lay a dead and useless stock, while
+      paper was breeding paper on every side of him. He suffered his share of
+      those mortifications which every man must look to endure who takes a
+      course of his own, and stems a human current. He sat somber and perplexed
+      in his bank parlor, doing nothing; his clerks mended pens in the office.
+      The national calamity so confidently predicted, and now so eagerly sighed
+      for, came not.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In other words, Richard Hardie was a sagacious calculator, but not a
+      prophet; no man is till afterward, and then nine out of ten are. At last
+      he despaired of the national calamity ever coming at all. So then, one
+      dark November day, an event happened that proved him a shrewd calculator
+      of probabilities in the gross, and showed that the records, of the past,
+      &ldquo;studied&rdquo; instead of &ldquo;skimmed,&rdquo; may in some degree counterbalance youth
+      and its narrow experience. Owing to the foreign loans, there were a great
+      many bills out against this country. Some heavy ones were presented, and
+      seven millions in gold taken out of the Bank of England and sent abroad.
+      This would have trickled back by degrees; but the suddenness and magnitude
+      of the drain alarmed the bank directors for the safety of the bank,
+      subject as it was by Mr. Peel's bill to a vast demand for gold.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Up to this period, though they had amassed specie themselves, they had
+      rather fed the paper fever in the country at large, but now they began to
+      take a wide and serious view of the grave contingencies around them. They
+      contracted their money operations, refused in two cases to discount corn,
+      and, in a word, put the screw on as judiciously as they could. But time
+      was up. Public confidence had reached its culminating point. The sudden
+      caution of the bank could not be hidden; it awoke prudence, and prudence
+      after imprudence drew terror at its heels. There was a tremendous run upon
+      the country banks. The smaller ones &ldquo;smashed all around like glass
+      bottles,&rdquo; as in 1793; the larger ones made gigantic and prolonged efforts
+      to stand, and generally fell at last.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Many, whose books showed assets 40s. in the pound, suspended payment; for
+      in a violent panic the bank creditors can all draw their balances in a few
+      hours or days, but the poor bank cannot put a similar screw on its
+      debtors. Thus no establishment was safe. Honor and solvency bent before
+      the storm, and were ranked with rottenness; and, as at the same time the
+      market price of securities sank with frightful rapidity, scarcely any
+      amount of invested capital was safe in the unequal conflict.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Exchequer bills went down to 60s. discount, and the funds rose and fell
+      like waves in a storm.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      London bankers were called out of church to answer dispatches from their
+      country correspondents.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Mint worked day and night, and coined a hundred and fifty thousand
+      sovereigns per diem for the Bank of England; but this large supply went
+      but a little way, since that firm had in reality to cash nearly all the
+      country notes that were cashed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Post-chaises and four stood like hackney-coaches in Lombard Street, and
+      every now and then went rattling off at a gallop into the country with
+      their golden freight. In London, at the end of a single week, not an old
+      sovereign was to be seen, so fiercely was the old coinage swept into the
+      provinces, so active were the Mint and the smashers; these last drove a
+      roaring trade; for paper now was all suspected, and anything that looked
+      like gold was taken recklessly in exchange.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Soon the storm burst on the London banks. A firm known to possess half a
+      million in undeniable securities could not cash them fast enough to meet
+      the checks drawn on their counter, and fell. Next day, a house whose very
+      name was a rock suspended for four days. An hour or two later two more
+      went hopelessly to destruction. The panic rose to madness. Confidence had
+      no longer a clue, nor names a distinction. A man's enemies collected three
+      or four vagabonds round his door, and in another hour there was a run upon
+      him, that never ceased till he was emptied or broken. At last, as, in the
+      ancient battles, armies rested on their arms to watch a duel in which both
+      sides were represented, the whole town watched a run upon the great house
+      of Pole, Thornton &amp; Co. The Bank of England, from public motives,
+      spiced of course with private interest, had determined to support Pole,
+      Thornton &amp; Co., and so perhaps stem the general fury, for all things
+      have their turning-point. Three hundred thousand pounds were advanced to
+      Pole &amp; Co., who with this aid and their own resources battled through
+      the week, but on Saturday night were drained so low that their fate once
+      more depended on the Bank of England. Another large sum was advanced them.
+      They went on; but, ere the next week ended, they succumbed, and universal
+      panic gained the day.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Climax of all, the Bank of England notes lost the confidence of the
+      public, and a frightful run was made on it. The struggle had been prepared
+      for, and was gigantic on both sides. Here the great hall of the bank, full
+      of panic-stricken citizens jostling one another to get gold for the notes
+      of the bank; there, foreign nations sending over ingots and coin to the
+      bank, and the Mint working night and day, Sunday and week-day, to turn
+      them into sovereigns to meet the run. Sovereigns or else half-sovereigns
+      were promptly delivered on demand. No hesitation or sign of weakness
+      peeped out; but under this bold and prudent surface, dismay, sickness of
+      heart, and the dread of a great humiliation. At last, one dismal evening,
+      this establishment, which at the beginning of the panic had twenty
+      millions specie, left off with about five hundred thousand pounds in coin,
+      and a similar amount in bullion. A large freight of gold was on the seas,
+      coming to their aid, and due, but not arrived; the wind was high; and in a
+      few hours the people would be howling round their doors again. They sent a
+      hasty message to the government, and implored them to suspend, by order in
+      council, the operation of Mr. Peel's bill for a few days. A plump negative
+      from Mr. Canning.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then, being driven to expedients, they bethought them of a chest of 1
+      pound notes that they had luckily omitted to burn.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Another message to the government, &ldquo;May we use these?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;As a temporary expedient, yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The one-pound notes were whirling all over the country before daybreak,
+      and, marvelous anomaly, which took Richard Hardie by surprise, they oiled
+      the waves, the panic abated from that hour. The holders of country notes
+      took the 1 pound B. E. notes as cash with avidity. The very sight of them
+      piled on a counter stopped a run in more than one city.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The demand for gold at the Bank of England continued, but less fiercely;
+      and as the ingots still came tumbling in, and the Mint hailed sovereigns
+      on them, their stock of specie rose as the demand declined, and they came
+      out of their fiercest battle with honor. But, ere the tide turned, things
+      in general came to a pass scarcely known in the history of civilized
+      nations. Ladies and gentlemen took heirlooms to the pawnbrokers', and
+      swept their tills of the last coin. Not only was wild speculation,
+      hitherto so universal and ardent, snuffed out like a candle, but
+      investment ceased and commerce came to a stand-still. Bank stock, East
+      India stock, and, some days, consols themselves, did not go down; they
+      went out, were blotted from the book of business. No man would give them
+      gratis; no man would take them on any other terms. The brokers closed
+      their books; there were no buyers nor sellers. Trade was coming to the
+      same pass, except the retail business in eatables; and an observant
+      statesman and economist, that watched the phenomenon, pronounced that in
+      forty-eight hours more all dealings would have ceased between man and man,
+      or returned to the rude and primitive form of barter, or direct exchange
+      of men's several commodities, labor included.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Finally, things crept into their places; shades of distinction were drawn
+      between good securities and bad. Shares were forfeited, companies
+      dissolved, bladders punctured, balloons flattened, bubbles burst, and
+      thousands of families ruined&mdash;thousands of people beggared&mdash;and
+      the nation itself, its paper fever reduced by a severe bleeding, lay sick,
+      panting, exhausted, and discouraged for a year or two to await the eternal
+      cycle&mdash;torpor, prudence, health, plethora, blood-letting; torpor,
+      prudence, health, plethora, bloodletting, etc., etc., etc., etc., <i>in
+      secula seculorum.</i>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The journals pitched into &ldquo;speculation.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Three banks lay in the dust in the town of &mdash;&mdash;, and Hardie
+      &amp; Son stood looking calmly down upon the ruins.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Richard Hardie had carried out his double-headed plan.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was no run upon him&mdash;could not be one in the course of nature,
+      his balances were so low, and his notes were all at home. He created
+      artificially a run of a very different kind. He dined the same party of
+      tradesmen&mdash;all but one, who could not come, being at supper after
+      Polonius his fashion. After dinner he showed the packets still sealed, and
+      six more unsealed. &ldquo;Here, gentlemen, is our whole issue.&rdquo; There was a huge
+      wood fire in the old-fashioned room. He threw a packet of notes into it. A
+      most respectable grocer yelled and lost color: victim of his senses, he
+      thought sacred money was here destroyed, and his host a well-bred, and oh!
+      how plausible, maniac. The others derided him, and packet after packet fed
+      the flames. When two only were left, containing about five thousand pounds
+      between them, Hardie junior made a proposal that they should advertise in
+      their shop windows to receive Hardie's five-pound notes as five guineas in
+      payment for their goods. Observing a natural hesitation, he explained that
+      they would by this means, crush their competitors, and could easily clap a
+      price on their goods to cover the odd shillings. The bargain was soon
+      struck. Mr. Richard was a great man. All his guests felt in their secret
+      souls and pockets&mdash;excuse the tautology&mdash;that some day or other
+      they should want to borrow money of him. Besides, &ldquo;crush their
+      competitors!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Next day Mr. Richard loosed his hand and let a flock of his own bank-notes
+      fly (they were asked for earnestly every day). Some soon found their way
+      to the shops in question. The next day still more took wing and buzzed
+      about the shops. Presently other tradesmen, finding people rushed to the
+      shops in question, began to bid against them for Hardie's notes, a result
+      the long-headed youth had expected; and said notes went up to ten
+      shillings premium. Too calm and cold to be betrayed into deserting his
+      principles, he confined the issue within the bounds he had prescribed, and
+      when they were all out seldom saw one of them again. By this means he
+      actually lowered the Bank of England notes in public estimation, and set
+      his own high above them in the town of &mdash;&mdash;. Deposits came in.
+      Confidence unparalleled took the place of fear so far as he was concerned,
+      and he was left free to work the other part of his plan.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      To the amazement and mystification of old Skinner, he laid out ten
+      thousand pounds in Exchequer bills, and followed this up by other large
+      purchases of paper, paper, nothing but paper.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hardie senior was nervous.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are you true to your own theory, Richard?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The youth explained to him that blind confidence always ends in blind
+      distrust, and then all paper becomes depreciated alike, but good paper is
+      sure to recover. &ldquo;Sixty-two shillings discount, sir, is a ridiculous
+      decline of Exchequer bills. We are at peace, and elastic, and the
+      government is strong. My other purchases all rest upon certain
+      information, carefully and laboriously amassed while the world was so busy
+      blowing bubbles. I am now buying paper that is unjustly depreciated in
+      Panic, i.e., in the second act of that mania of which Bubble is the first
+      act.&rdquo; He added: &ldquo;When the herd buy, the price rises; when they sell, it
+      falls. To buy with them and sell with them is therefore to buy dear and
+      sell cheap. My game&mdash;and it is a game that reduces speculation to a
+      certainty&mdash;is threefold:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;First, never, at any price or under any temptation, buy anything that is
+      not as good as gold.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Secondly, buy that sound article when the herd sells it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thirdly, sell it when the herd buys it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Richard,&rdquo; said the old man, &ldquo;I see what it is&mdash;you are a genius.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is no use your denying it, Richard.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Common sense, sir, common sense.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, but common sense carried to such a height as you do is genius.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, sir, then I own to the genius of common sense.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I admire you, Richard&mdash;I am proud of you; but the bank has stood one
+      hundred and forty years, and never a genius in it;&rdquo; the old man sighed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hardie senior, having relieved his mind of this vague misgiving, never
+      returned to it&mdash;probably never felt it again. It was one of those
+      strange flashes that cross a mind as a meteor the sky.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The old gentleman, having little to do, talked more than heretofore, and,
+      like fathers, talked about his son, and, unlike sons, cried him up at his
+      own expense. The world is not very incredulous; above all, it never
+      disbelieves a man who calls himself a fool. Having then gained the public
+      ear by the artifice of self-depreciation, he poured into it the praises of
+      Hardie junior. He went about telling how he, an old man, was all but
+      bubbled till this young Daniel came down and foretold all. Thus paternal
+      garrulity combined for once with a man's own ability to place Richard
+      Hardie on the pinnacle of provincial grandeur.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A few years more and Hardie senior died. (His old clerk, Skinner, followed
+      him a month later.)
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Richard Hardie, now sole partner and proprietor, assumed a mode of living
+      unknown to his predecessors. He built a large, commodious house, and
+      entertained in the first style. The best families in the neighborhood
+      visited a man whose manner was quiet and stately, his income larger than
+      their own, and his house and table luxurious without vulgar pretensions,
+      and the red-hot gilding and glare with which the injudicious parvenu
+      brands himself and furniture.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The bank itself put on a new face. Twice as much glass fronted the street,
+      and a skylight was let into the ceiling: there were five clerks instead of
+      three; the new ones at much smaller salaries than the pair that had come
+      down from antiquity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XIII.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      SUCH was Mr. Hardie at twenty-five, and his townspeople said: &ldquo;If he is so
+      wise now he is a boy, what in Heaven's name will he be at forty?&rdquo; To sixty
+      the provincial imagination did not attempt to follow his wisdom. He was
+      now past thirty, and behind the scenes of his bank was still the able
+      financier I have sketched. But in society he seemed another man. There his
+      characteristics were quiet courtesy, imperturbability, a suave but
+      impressive manner, vast information on current events, and no flavor
+      whatever of the shop.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He had learned the happy art, which might be called &ldquo;the barrister's art,&rdquo;
+       <i>hoc agendi,</i> of throwing the whole man into a thing at one time, and
+      out of it at another. In the bank and in his own study he was a devout
+      worshiper of Mammon; in society, a courteous, polished, intelligent
+      gentleman, always ready to sift and discuss any worthy topic you could
+      start except finance. There was some affectation in the cold and immovable
+      determination with which he declined to say three words about money. But
+      these great men act habitually on a preconceived system: this gives them
+      their force.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      If Lucy Fountain had been one of those empty girls that were so rife at
+      the time, the sterling value of his conversation would have disgusted her,
+      and his calm silence where there was nothing to be said (sure proof of
+      intelligence) would have passed for stupidity with her. But she was
+      intelligent, well used to bungling, straightforward flattery, and to smile
+      with arch contempt at it, and very capable of appreciating the more subtle
+      but less satirical compliment a man pays a pretty girl by talking sense to
+      her; and, as it happened, her foible favored him no less than did her
+      strong points. She attached too solid a value to manner; and Mr. Hardie's
+      manner was, to her fancy, male perfection. It added to him in her
+      estimation as much as David Dodd's defects in that kind detracted from the
+      value of his mind and heart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      To this favorable opinion Mr. Hardie responded in full.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He had never seen so graceful a creature, nor so young a woman so
+      courteous and high-bred.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He observed at once, what less keen persons failed to discover, that she
+      was seldom spontaneous or off her guard. He admired her the more. He had
+      no sympathy with the infantine in man or woman. &ldquo;She thinks before she
+      speaks,&rdquo; said he, with a note of admiration. On the other hand, he missed
+      a trait or two the young lady possessed, for they happened to be virtues
+      he had no eye for; but the sum total was most favorable; in short, it was
+      esteem at first sight.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As a cobweb to a cabbage-net, so fine was Mrs. Bazalgette's reticulation
+      compared with Uncle Fountain's. She invited Mr. Hardie to stay a fortnight
+      with her, commencing just one day before Lucy's return. She arranged a
+      round of gayety to celebrate the double event. What could be more simple?
+      Yet there was policy below. The whirl of pleasure was to make Lucy forget
+      everybody at Font Abbey; to empty her heart, and pave Mrs. B.'s
+      candidate's way to the vacancy. Then, she never threw Mr. Hardie at Lucy's
+      head, contenting herself with speaking of him with veneration when Lucy
+      herself or others introduced his name. She was always contriving to throw
+      the pair together, but no mortal could see her hand at work in it. <i>Bref,</i>
+      a she-spider. The first day or two she watched her niece on the sly, just
+      to see whether she regretted Font Abbey, or, in other words, Mr. Talboys.
+      Well acquainted with all the subtle signs by which women read one another,
+      she observed with some uneasiness that Lucy appeared somewhat listless and
+      pensive at times, when left quite to herself. Once she found her with her
+      cheek in her hand, and, by the way the young lady averted her head and
+      slid suddenly into distinct cheerfulness, suspected there must have been
+      tears in her eyes, but could not be positive. Next, she noticed with
+      satisfaction that the round of gayety, including, as it did, morning rides
+      as well as evening dances, dissipated these little reveries and languors.
+      She inferred that either there was nothing in them but a sort of sediment
+      of <i>ennui,</i> the natural remains of a visit to Font Abbey, or that, if
+      there was anything more, it had yielded to the active pleasures she had
+      provided, and to the lady's easy temper, and love of society, &ldquo;the only
+      thing she loves, or ever will,&rdquo; said Mrs. B., assuming prophecy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Aunt, how superior Mr. Hardie's conversation is. He interests one in
+      topics that are unbearable generally; politics now. I thought I abhorred
+      them, but I find it was only those little paltry Whig and Tory squabbles
+      that wearied me. Mr. Hardie's views are neither Whig nor Tory; they are
+      patriotic, and sober, and large-minded. He thinks of the country. I can
+      take some interest in what he calls politics.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And, pray, what is that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, aunt, the liberation of commerce from its fetters for one thing. I
+      can contrive to be interested in that, because I know England can be great
+      only by commerce. Then the education of all classes, because without that
+      England cannot be enlightened or good.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He never says a word to me about such things,&rdquo; said Mrs. Bazalgette; &ldquo;I
+      suppose he thinks they are above poor me.&rdquo; She delivered this with so
+      admirable an imitation of pique, that the courtier was deceived, and
+      applied butter to &ldquo;a fox's wound.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh no, aunt. Consider; if that was it, he would not waste them on me, who
+      am so inferior to you in sagacity. More likely he says, 'This young lady
+      has not yet completed her education; I will sprinkle a little good sense
+      among her frivolous accomplishments.' Whatever the motive, I am very much
+      obliged to Mr. Hardie. A man of sense is so refreshing after&mdash;(full
+      stop). What do you think of his voice?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;His voice? I don't remember anything about it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, you do&mdash;you must; it is a very remarkable one; so mellow, so
+      quiet, yet so modulated.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I do remember now; it is rather a pleasant voice&mdash;for a man.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Rather a pleasant voice!&rdquo; repeated Lucy, opening her eyes; &ldquo;why, it is a
+      voice to charm serpents.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ha! ha! It has not charmed him one yet, you see.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This speech was not in itself pellucid; but these sweet ladies among
+      themselves have so few topics compared with men, and consequently beat
+      their little manor so often, that they seize a familiar idea, under any
+      disguise, with the rapidity of lightning.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, charmers are charm-proof,&rdquo; replied Lucy; &ldquo;that is the only reason
+      why. I am sure of that.&rdquo; Then she reflected awhile. &ldquo;It is his natural
+      voice, is it not? Did you ever hear him speak in any other? Think.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Never.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then he must be a good man. Apropos, is Mr. Hardie a good man, aunt?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, of course he is.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How do you know?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I never heard of any scandal against him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I don't mean your negative goodness. You never heard anything against
+      <i>me</i> out of doors.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, and are you not a good girl?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Me, aunt? Why, you know I am not.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Bless me, what have you done?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have done nothing, aunt,&rdquo; exclaimed Lucy, &ldquo;and the good are never
+      nullities. Then I am not open, which is a great fault in a character. But
+      I can't help it! I can't! I can't!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, you need not break your heart for that. You will get over it before
+      you have been married a year. Look at me; I was as shy as any of you at
+      first going off, but now I can speak my mind; and a good thing too, or
+      what would become of me among the selfish set?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Meaning me, dear?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No. Divide it among you. Come, this is idle talk. Men's voices, and
+      whether they are good, bad, or indifferent, as if that mattered a pin,
+      provided their incomes are good and their manners endurable. I want a
+      little serious conversation with you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you?&rdquo; and Lucy colored faintly; &ldquo;with all my heart.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We go to the Hunts' ball the day after to-morrow, Lucy; I suppose you
+      know that? Now what on earth am I to wear? that is the question. There is
+      no time to get a new dress made, and I have not got one&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That you have not worn at least once.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Some of them twice and three times;&rdquo; and the B looked aghast at the state
+      of nudity to which she was reduced. Lucy sidled toward the door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Since you consult me, dear, I advise you to wear what I mean to wear
+      myself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! what a capital idea! then we shall pass for sisters. I dare say I
+      have got some old thing or other that will match yours; but you had better
+      tell me at once what you do mean to wear.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A gown, a pair of gloves, and a smirk&rdquo;; and with this heartless
+      expression of nonchalance Lucy glided away and escaped the impending
+      shower.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, the selfishness of these girls!&rdquo; cried the deserted one. &ldquo;I have got
+      her a husband to her taste, so now she runs away from me to think of him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The next moment she looked at the enormity from another point of view, and
+      then with this burst of injured virtue gave way to a steady complacency.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She is caught at last. She notices his very voice. She fancies she cares
+      for politics&mdash;ha! ha! She is gone to meditate on him&mdash;could not
+      bear any other topic&mdash;would not even talk about dress, a thing her
+      whole soul was wrapped up in till now. I have known her to go on for hours
+      at a stretch about it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There are people with memories so constructed that what they said, and
+      another did not contradict or even answer, seems to them, upon retrospect,
+      to have been delivered by that other person, and received in dead silence
+      by themselves.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Meantime Lucy was in her own room and the door bolted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So she was the next day; and uneasy Mrs. Bazalgette came hunting her, and
+      tapped at the door after first trying the handle, which in Lucy's creed
+      was not a discreet and polished act.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nobody admitted here till three o'clock.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is me, Lucy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So I conclude,&rdquo; said Lucy gayly. &ldquo;'Me' must call again at three, whoever
+      it is.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not I,&rdquo; said Aunt Bazalgette, and flounced off in a pet.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At three Dignity dissolved in curiosity, and Mrs. Bazalgette entered her
+      niece's room in an ill-temper; it vanished like smoke at the sight of two
+      new dresses, peach-colored and <i>glacees,</i> just finished, lying on the
+      bed. An eager fire of questions. &ldquo;Where did you get them? which is mine?
+      who made them?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A new dressmaker.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! what a godsend to poor us! Who is she?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Let me see how you like her work before I tell you. Try this one on.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Bazalgette tried on her dress, and was charmed with it. Lucy would
+      not try on hers. She said she had done so, and it fitted well enough for
+      her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Everything fits you, you witch,&rdquo; replied the B. &ldquo;I must have this woman's
+      address; she is an angel.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy looked pleased. &ldquo;She is only a beginner, but desirous to please you;
+      and 'zeal goes farther than talent,' says Mr. Dodd.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Dodd! Ah! by-the-by, that reminds me&mdash;I am so glad you mentioned
+      his name. Where does the woman live?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The woman, or, as some consider her, the girl, lives at present with a
+      charming person called by the world Mrs. Bazalgette, but by the dressmaker
+      her sweet little aunt&mdash;&rdquo; (kiss) (kiss) (kiss); and Lucy, whose
+      natural affection for this lady was by a certain law of nature heated
+      higher by working day and night for her in secret, felt a need of
+      expansion, and curled, round her like a serpent with a dove's heart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Bazalgette did what you and I, manly reader, should have been apt to
+      omit. She extricated herself, not roughly, yet a little hastily&mdash;like
+      a water-snake gliding out of the other sweet serpent's folds.* Sacred
+      dress being present, she deemed caresses frivolous&mdash;and ill-timed.
+      &ldquo;There, there, let me alone, child, and tell me all about it directly.
+      'What put it into your head? Who taught you? Is this your first attempt?
+      Have you paid for the silk, or am I to? Do tell me quick; don't keep me on
+      thorns!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+     * Here flashes on the cultivated mind the sprightly couplet,
+
+      &ldquo;Oh, that I had my mistress at this bay,
+       To kiss and clip me&mdash;till I run away.&rdquo;
+
+                SHAKESPEARE.&mdash;Venus and Adonis.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      Lucy answered this fusillade in detail. &ldquo;You know, aunt, dressmakers bring
+      us their failures, and we, by our hints, get them made into successes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So we do.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So I said to myself, 'Now why not bring a little intelligence to bear at
+      the beginning, and make these things right at once?' Well, I bought
+      several books, and studied them, and practiced cutting out, in large
+      sheets of brown paper first; next I ventured a small flight&mdash;I made
+      Jane a gown.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What! your servant?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. I had a double motive; first attempts are seldom brilliant, and it
+      was better to fail in merino, and on Jane, than on you, madam, and in
+      silk. In the next place, Jane had been giving herself airs, and objecting
+      to do some work of that kind for me, so I thought it a good opportunity to
+      teach her that dignity does not consist in being disobliging. The poor
+      girl is so ashamed now: she comes to me in her merino frock, and pesters
+      me all day to let her do things for me. I am at my wit's end sometimes to
+      invent unreal distresses, like the writers of fiction, you know; and,
+      aunty, dear, you will not have to pay for the stuff: to tell you the real
+      truth, I overheard Mr. Bazalgette say something about the length of your
+      last dressmaker's bill, and, as I have been very economical at Font Abbey,
+      I found I had eighteen pounds to spare, so I said nothing, but I thought
+      we will have a dress apiece that <i>nobody</i> shall have to pay for.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Eighteen pounds? These two lovely dresses, lace, trimmings, and all, for
+      eighteen pounds!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, aunt. So you see those good souls that make our dresses have imposed
+      upon us without ceremony: they would have been twenty-five pounds apiece;
+      now would they not?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;At least. Well, you are a clever girl. I might as well try on yours, as
+      you won't.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do, dear.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She tried on Lucy's gown, and, as before, got two looking-glasses into a
+      line, twisted and twirled, and inspected herself north, south, east and
+      west, and in an hour and a half resigned herself to take the dress off.
+      Lucy observed with a sly smile that her gayety declined, and she became
+      silent and pensive.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In the dead of the night, when with labor oppressed, All mortals enjoy
+      the sweet blessing of rest,&rdquo; a phantom stood at Lucy's bedside and
+      fingered her. She awoke with a violent scream, the first note of which
+      pierced the night's dull ear, but the second sounded like a wail from a
+      well, being uttered a long way under the bedclothes. &ldquo;Hush! don't be a
+      fool,&rdquo; cried the affectionate phantom; and kneaded the uncertain form
+      through the bedclothes; &ldquo;fancy screeching so at sight of me!&rdquo; Then
+      gradually a single eye peeped timidly between two white hands that held
+      the sheets ready for defense like a shield.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;B&mdash;b&mdash;but you are all in white,&rdquo; gulped Lucy, trembling all
+      over; for her delicate fibers were set quivering, and could not be stilled
+      by a word, fingered at midnight all in a moment by a shape.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, what color should I be&mdash;in my nightgown?&rdquo; snapped the specter.
+      &ldquo;What color is yours?&rdquo; and she gave Lucy a little angry pull&mdash;&ldquo;and
+      everybody else's?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But at the dead of night, aunt, and without any warning&mdash;it's
+      terrible. Oh dear!&rdquo; (another little gulp in the throat, exceeding pretty).
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Lucy, be yourself,&rdquo; said the specter, severely; &ldquo;you used not to be so
+      selfish as to turn hysterical when your aunt came to you for advice.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy had to do a little. &ldquo;Forgive, blessed shade!&rdquo; She apologized, crushed
+      down her obtrusive, egotistical tremors, and vibrated to herself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Placable Aunt Bazalgette accepted her excuses, and opened the business
+      that brought her there.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I didn't leave my bed at this hour for nothing, you may be sure.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;N&mdash;no, aunt.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Lucy,&rdquo; continued Mrs. Bazalgette, deepening, &ldquo;there is a weight on my
+      mind.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Up sat Lucy in the bed, and two sapphire eyes opened wide and made terror
+      lovely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, aunt, what have you been doing? It is remorse, then, that will not
+      let you sleep. Ah! I see! your flirtations&mdash;your flirtations&mdash;this
+      is the end of them.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My flirtations!&rdquo; cried the other, in great surprise. &ldquo;I never flirt. I
+      only amuse myself with them.&rdquo; *
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+     *In strict grammar this &ldquo;them&rdquo; ought to refer to
+     &ldquo;flirtations;&rdquo; but Lucy's aunt did not talk strict grammar.
+     Does yours?
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You&mdash;never&mdash;flirt? Oh! oh! oh! Mr. Christopher, Mr. Horne, Sir
+      George Healey, Mr. M'Donnell, Mr. Wolfenton, Mr. Vaughan&mdash;there! oh,
+      and Mr. Dodd!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, at all events, it's not for any of those fools I get out of my bed
+      at this time of night. I have a weight on my mind; so do be serious, if
+      you can. Lucy, I tried all yesterday to hide it from myself, but I cannot
+      succeed.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What, dear aunt?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That your gown fits me ever so much better than my own.&rdquo; She sighed
+      deeply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy smiled slyly; but she replied, &ldquo;Is not that fancy?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, Lucy, no,&rdquo; was the solemn reply; &ldquo;I have tried to shut my eyes to it,
+      but I can't.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So it seems. Ha! ha!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now do be serious; it is no laughing matter. How unfortunate I am!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not at all. Take my gown; I can easily alter yours to fit me, if
+      necessary.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, you good girl, how clever you are! I should never have thought of
+      that.&rdquo; N. B&mdash;She had been thinking of nothing else these six hours.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Go to bed, dear, and sleep in peace,&rdquo; said Lucy, soothingly. &ldquo;Leave all
+      to me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, I can't leave all to you. Now I am to have yours, I must try it on.&rdquo;
+       It was hers now, so her confidence in its fitting was shaken.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Bazalgette then lighted all the candles in the sconces, and opened
+      Lucy's drawers, and took out linen, and put on the dress with Lucy's aid,
+      and showed Lucy how it fitted, and was charmed, like a child with a new
+      toy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Presently Lucy interrupted her raptures by an exclamation. Mrs. Bazalgette
+      looked round, and there was her niece inspecting the ghostly robe which
+      had caused her such a fright.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Here are oceans of yards of lace on her very nightgrown!&rdquo; cried Lucy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, does not every lady wear lace on her nightgown?&rdquo; was the tranquil
+      reply. &ldquo;What is that on yours, pray?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A little misery of Valenciennes an inch broad; but this is Mechlin&mdash;superb!
+      delicious! Well, aunt, you are a sincere votary of the graces; you put on
+      fine things because they are fine things, not with the hollow motive of
+      dazzling society; you wear Mechlin, not for <i>eclat,</i> but for Mechlin.
+      Alas! how few, like you, pursue quite the same course in the dark that
+      they do in the world's eye.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't moralize, dear; unhook me!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      After breakfast Mrs. Bazalgette asked Lucy how long she could give her to
+      choose which of the two gowns to take, after all.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Till eight o'clock.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Bazalgette breathed again. She had thought herself committed to No.
+      2, and No. 1 was beginning to look lovely in consequence. At eight, the
+      choice being offered her with impenetrable nonchalance by Lucy, she took
+      Lucy's without a moment's hesitation, and sailed off gayly to her own room
+      to put it on, in which progress the ample peach-colored silk held out in
+      both hands showed like Cleopatra's foresail, and seemed to draw the dame
+      along.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy, too, was happy&mdash;demurely; for in all this business the female
+      novice, &ldquo;la ruse sans le savoir,&rdquo; had outwitted the veteran. Lucy had
+      measured her whole aunt. So she made dress A for her, but told her she was
+      to have dress B. This at once gave her desires a perverse bent toward her
+      own property, the last direction they could have been warped into by any
+      other means; and so she was deluded to her good, and fitted to a hair,
+      soul and body.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Going to the ball, one cloud darkened for an instant the matron's mind.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am so afraid they will see it only cost nine pounds.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Enfant!&rdquo; replied Lucy, &ldquo;aetat. 20.&rdquo; At the ball Mr. Hardie and Lucy
+      danced together, and were the most admired couple.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The next day Mr. Hardie announced that he was obliged to curtail his visit
+      and go up to London. Mrs. Bazalgette remonstrated. Mr. Hardie apologized,
+      and asked permission to make out the rest of his visit on his return. Mrs.
+      B. accorded joyfully, but Lucy objected: &ldquo;Aunt, don't you be deluded into
+      any such arrangement; Mr. Hardie is liable to another fortnight. We have
+      nothing to do with his mismanagement. He comes to spend a fortnight with
+      us: he tries, but fails. I am sorry for Mr. Hardie, but the engagement
+      remains in full force. I appeal to you, Mr. Bazalgette, you are so exact.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't see myself how he can get out of it with credit,&rdquo; said
+      Bazalgette, solemnly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am happy to find that my duty is on the side of my inclination,&rdquo; said
+      Mr. Hardie. He smiled, well pleased, and looked handsomer than ever.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They all missed him more or less, but nobody more than Lucy. His
+      conversation had a peculiar charm for her. His knowledge of current events
+      was unparalleled; then there was a quiet potency in him she thought very
+      becoming in a man; and then his manner. He was the first of our
+      unfortunate sex who had reached beau ideal. One was harsh, another
+      finicking; a third loud; a fourth enthusiastic; a fifth timid; and all
+      failed in tact except Mr. Hardie. Then, other male voices were imperfect;
+      they were too insignificant or too startling, too bass or too treble, too
+      something or too other. Mr. Hardie's was a mellow tenor, always modulated
+      to the exact tone of good society. Like herself, too, he never laughed
+      loud, seldom out; and even his smiles, like her own, did not come in
+      unmeaning profusion, so they told when they did come.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Bazalgettes led a very quiet life for the next fortnight, for Mrs.
+      Bazalgette was husbanding invitations for Mr. Hardie's return.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Bazalgette yawned many times during this barren period, but with
+      considerate benevolence she shielded Lucy from <i>ennui.</i> Lucy was a
+      dressmaker, gifted, but inexperienced; well, then, she would supply the
+      latter deficiency by giving her an infinite variety of alterations to make
+      in a multitude of garments. There are egotists who charge for tuition, but
+      she would teach her dear niece gratis. A mountain of dresses rose in the
+      drawing-room, a dozen metamorphoses were put in hand, and a score more
+      projected.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She pulled down, she built up, she rounded the angular, and squared the
+      round.&rdquo; And here Mr. Bazalgette took perverse views and misbehaved. He was
+      a very honest man, but not a refined courtier. He seldom interfered with
+      these ladies, one way or other, except to provide funds, which
+      interference was never snubbed; for was he not master of the house in that
+      sense? But, having observed what was going on day after day in the
+      drawing-room or workshop, he walked in and behaved himself like a brute.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How much a week does she give you, Lucy?&rdquo; said he, looking a little red.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy opened her eyes in utter astonishment, and said nothing; her very
+      needle and breath were suspended.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Bazalgette shrugged her shoulders to Lucy, but disdained words. Mr.
+      Bazalgette turned to his wife.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have often recommended economy to you, Jane, I need not say with what
+      success; but this sort of economy is not for your credit or mine. If you
+      want to add a dressmaker to your staff&mdash;with all my heart. Send for
+      one when you like, and keep her to all eternity. But this young lady is
+      our ward, and I will not have her made a servant of for your convenience.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Put your work down, dear,&rdquo; said Mrs. Bazalgette resignedly. &ldquo;He does not
+      understand our affection, nor anything else except pounds, shillings and
+      pence.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, yes I do. I can see through varnished selfishness for one thing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You certainly ought to be a judge of the unvarnished article,&rdquo; retorted
+      the lady.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Having had it constantly under my eyes these twenty years,&rdquo; rejoined the
+      gentleman.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, aunt! Oh, Mr. Bazalgette!&rdquo; cried Lucy, rising and clasping her hands;
+      if you really love me, never let me be the cause of a misunderstanding, or
+      an angry word between those I esteem; it would make me too miserable; and,
+      dear Mr. Bazalgette, you must let people be happy in their own way, or you
+      will be sure to make them unhappy. My aunt and I understand one another
+      better than you do.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She understands you, my poor girl.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not so well as I do her. But she knows I hate to be idle, and love to do
+      these bagatelles for her. It is my doing from the first, not hers; she did
+      not even know I could do it till I produced two dresses for the Hunts'
+      ball. So, you see&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is another matter; all ladies play at work. But you are in for <i>three
+      months' hard labor.</i> Look at that heap of vanity. She is making a
+      lady's-maid of you. It is unjust. It is selfish. It is improper. It is not
+      for my credit, of which I am more jealous than coquettes are of theirs;
+      besides, Lucy, you must not think, because I don't make a parade as she
+      does, that I am not fond of you. I have a great deal more real affection
+      for you than she has, and so you will find if we are ever put to the
+      test.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At this last absurdity Mrs. Bazalgette burst out laughing. But &ldquo;la rusee
+      sans le savoir&rdquo; turned toward the speaker, and saw that he spoke with a
+      certain emotion which was not ordinary in him. She instantly went to him
+      with both hands gracefully extended. &ldquo;I do think you have an affection for
+      me. If you really have, show it me <i>some other way,</i> and not by
+      making me unhappy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, then, I will, Lucy. Look here; if Solomon was such a fool as to
+      argue with one of you young geese you would shut his mouth in a minute.
+      There, I am going; but you will always be the slave of one selfish person
+      or other; you were born for it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Thus impotently growling, the merchant prince retired from the field,
+      escorted with amenity by the courtier. In the passage she suddenly dropped
+      forward like a cypress-tree, and gave him her forehead to kiss. He kissed
+      it with some little warmth, and confided to her, in friendly accents, that
+      she was a fool, and off he went, grumbling inarticulately, to his foreign
+      loans and things.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The courtier returned to smooth her aunt in turn, but that lady stopped
+      her with a lofty gesture.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My plan is to look on these monstrosities as horrid dreams, and go on as
+      if nothing had happened.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Happy philosophy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy acquiesced with a smile, and in an instant both immortal souls
+      plunged and disappeared in silk, satin, feathers and point lace.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The afternoon post brought letters that furnished some excitement. Mr.
+      Hardie announced his return, and Captain Kenealy accepted an invitation
+      that had been sent to him two days before. But this was not all. Mrs.
+      Bazalgette, with something between a laugh and a crow, handed Lucy a
+      letter from Mr. Fountain, in which that diplomatic gentleman availed
+      himself of her kind invitation, and with elephantine playfulness proposed,
+      as he could not stay a month with her, to be permitted to bring a friend
+      with him for a fortnight. This friend had unfortunately missed her through
+      absence from his country-house at the period of her visit to Font Abbey,
+      and had so constantly regretted his ill fortune that he (Fountain) had
+      been induced to make this attempt to repair the calamity. His friend's
+      name was Talboys; he was a gentleman of lineage, and in his numerous
+      travels had made a collection of foreign costumes which were really worth
+      inspecting, and, if agreeable to Mrs. Bazalgette, he should send them on
+      before by wagon, for no carriage would hold them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy colored on reading this letter, for it repeated a falsehood that had
+      already made her blush. The next moment, remembering how very keenly her
+      aunt must be eying her, and reading her, she looked straight before her,
+      and said coldly, &ldquo;Uncle Fountain ought to be welcome here for his courtesy
+      to you at Font Abbey, but I think he takes rather a liberty in proposing a
+      stranger to you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Rather a liberty? Say a very great liberty.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, then, aunt, why not write back that any friend of his would be
+      welcome, but that the house is full? You have only room for Uncle
+      Fountain.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But that is not true, Lucy,&rdquo; said Mrs. Bazalgette, with sudden dignity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy was staggered and abashed at this novel objection; recovering, she
+      whined humbly, &ldquo;but it is very nearly true.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was plain Lucy did not want Mr. Talboys to visit them. This decided
+      Mrs. Bazalgette to let his dresses and him come. He would only be a foil
+      to Mr. Hardie, and perhaps bring him on faster. Her decision once made on
+      the above grounds, she conveyed it in characteristic colors. &ldquo;No, my love;
+      where I give my affection, there I give my confidence. I have your word
+      not to encourage this gentleman's addresses, so why hurt your uncle's
+      feelings by closing my door to his friend? It would be an ill compliment
+      to you as well as to Mr. Fountain; he shall come.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Her postscript to Mr. Fountain ran thus:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your friend would have been welcome independently of the foreign
+      costumes; but as I am a very candid little woman, I may as well tell you
+      that, now you <i>have</i> excited my curiosity, he will be a great deal
+      more welcome with them than without them.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And here I own that I, the simpleminded, should never have known all that
+      was signified in these words but for the comment of John Fountain, Esq.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is all right, Talboys,&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;My bait has taken. You must pack up
+      these gimcracks at once and send them off, or she'll smile like a marble
+      Satan in your face, and stick you full of pins and needles.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The next day Mr. Bazalgette walked into the room, haughtily overlooked the
+      pyramid of dresses, and asked Lucy to come downstairs and see something.
+      She put her work aside, and went down with him, and lo! two ponies&mdash;a
+      cream-colored and a bay. &ldquo;Oh, you loves!&rdquo; cried the virgin, passionately,
+      and blushed with pleasure. Her heart was very accessible&mdash;to
+      quadrupeds.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now you are to choose which of these you will have.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Mr. Bazalgette!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have you forgotten what you told me? 'Try and make me happy some other
+      way,' says you. Now I remembered hearing you say what a nice pony you had
+      at Font Abbey; so I sent a capable person to collect ponies for you. These
+      have both a reputation. Which will you have?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dear, good, kind Uncle Bazalgette; they are ducks!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Let us hope not; a duck's paces won't suit you, if you are as fond of
+      galloping as other young ladies. Come, jump up, and see which is the best
+      brute of the two.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What, without my habit?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, get your habit on, then. Let us see how quick you can be.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Off ran Lucy, and soon returned fully equipped. She mounted the ponies in
+      turn, and rode them each a mile or two in short distances. Finally she
+      dismounted, and stood beaming on the steps of the hall. The groom held the
+      ponies for final judgment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The bay is rather the best goer, dear,&rdquo; said she, timidly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Miss Fountain chooses the bay, Tom.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, uncle, I was going to ask you if I might have the cream-colored one.
+      He is so pretty.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ha! ha! ha! here's a little goose. Why, they are to ride, not to wear.
+      Come, I see you are in a difficulty. Take them both to the stable, Tom.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no, no,&rdquo; cried Lucy. &ldquo;Oh, Mr. Bazalgette, don't tempt me to be so
+      wicked.&rdquo; Then she put both her fingers in her ears and screamed, &ldquo;Take the
+      bay darling out of my sight, and leave the cream-colored love.&rdquo; And as she
+      persisted in this order, with her fingers in her ears, and an inclination
+      to stamp with her little feet, the bay disappeared and color won the day.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then she dropped suddenly like a cypress toward Mr. Bazalgette, which
+      meant &ldquo;you can kiss me.&rdquo; This time it was her cheek she proffered, all
+      glowing with exercise and innocent excitement.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Captain Kenealy was the first arrival: a well-appointed soldier; eyes
+      equally bright under calm and excitement, mustache always clean and
+      glossy; power of assent prodigious. He looked so warlike, and was so
+      inoffensive, that he was in great request for miles and miles round the
+      garrison town of &mdash;&mdash;. The girls, at first introduction to him,
+      admired him, and waited palpitating to be torn from their mammas, and
+      carried half by persuasion, half by force, to their conqueror's tent; but
+      after a bit they always found him out, and talked before, and at, and
+      across this ornament as if it had been a bronze Mars, or a mustache-tipped
+      shadow. This the men viewing from a little distance envied the gallant
+      captain, and they might just as well have been jealous of a hair-dresser's
+      dummy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One eventful afternoon, Mrs. Bazalgette and Miss Fountain walked out,
+      taking the gallant captain between them as escort. Reginald hovered on the
+      rear. Kenealy was charmingly equipped, and lent the party a luster. If he
+      did not contribute much to the conversation, he did not interrupt it, for
+      the ladies talked through him as if he had been a column of red air. Sing,
+      muse, how often Kenealy said &ldquo;yaas&rdquo; that afternoon; on second thoughts,
+      don't. I can weary my readers without celestial aid: Toot! toot! toot!
+      went a cheerful horn, and the mail-coach came into sight round a corner,
+      and rolled rapidly toward them. Lucy looked anxiously round, and warned
+      Master Reginald of the danger now impending over infants. The terrible
+      child went instantly (on the &ldquo;vitantes stulti vitia&rdquo; principle) clean off
+      the road altogether into the ditch, and clayed (not pipe) his trousers to
+      the knee. As the coach passed, a gentleman on the box took off his hat to
+      the ladies and made other signs. It was Mr. Hardie.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Bazalgette proposed to return home to receive him. They were about a
+      mile from the house. They had not gone far before the rear-guard
+      intermitted blackberrying for an instant, and uttered an eldrich screech;
+      then proclaimed, &ldquo;Another coach! another coach!&rdquo; It was a light break
+      coming gently along, with two showy horses in it, and a pony trotting
+      behind.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At one and the same moment Lucy recognized a four-footed darling, and the
+      servant recognized her. He drew up, touched his hat, and inquired
+      respectfully whether he was going right for Mr. Bazalgette's. Mrs.
+      Bazalgette gave him directions while Lucy was patting the pony, and
+      showering on him those ardent terms of endearment some ladies bestow on
+      their lovers, but this one consecrated to her trustees and quadrupeds. In
+      the break were saddles, and a side-saddle, and other caparisons, and a
+      giant box; the ladies looked first at it, and then through Kenealy at one
+      another, and so settled what was inside that box.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They had not walked a furlong before a traveling-carriage and four horses
+      came dashing along, and heads were put out of the window, and the postboys
+      ordered to stop. Mr. Talboys and Mr. Fountain got out, and the carriage
+      was sent on. Introductions took place. Mrs. Bazalgette felt her spirits
+      rise like a veteran's when line of battle is being formed. She was one of
+      those ladies who are agreeable or disagreeable at will. She decided to
+      charm, and she threw her enchantment over Messrs. Fountain and Talboys.
+      Coming with hostile views, and therefore guilty consciences, they had
+      expected a cold welcome. They received a warm, gay, and airy one. After a
+      while she maneuvered so as to get between Mr. Fountain and Captain
+      Kenealy, and leave Lucy to Mr. Talboys. She gave her such a sly look as
+      she did it. It implied, &ldquo;You will have to tell me all he says to you while
+      we are dressing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Talboys inquired who was Captain Kenealy. He learned by her answer
+      that that officer had arrived to-day, and she had no previous acquaintance
+      with him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Whatever little embarrassment Lucy might feel, remembering her equestrian
+      performance with Mr. Talboys and its cause, she showed none. She began
+      about the pony, and how kind of him it was to bring it. &ldquo;And yet,&rdquo; said
+      she, &ldquo;if I had known, I would not have allowed you to take the trouble,
+      for I have a pony here.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Talboys was sorry for that, but he hoped she would ride his now and
+      then, all the same.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, of course. My pony here is very pretty. But a new friend is not like
+      an old friend.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Talboys was gratified on more accounts than one by this speech. It
+      gave him a sense of security. She had no friend about her now she had
+      known as long as she had him, and those three months of constant intimacy
+      placed him above competition. His mind was at ease, and he felt he could
+      pop with a certainty of success, and pop he would, too, without any
+      unnecessary delay.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The party arrived in great content and delectation at the gates that led
+      to the house. &ldquo;Stay!&rdquo; said Mrs. Bazalgette; &ldquo;you must come across the way,
+      all of you. Here is a view that all our guests are expected to admire.
+      Those, that cry out 'Charming! beautiful! Oh, I never!' we take them in
+      and make them comfortable. Those that won't or can't ejaculate&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You put them in damp beds,&rdquo; said Mr. Fountain, only half in jest.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Worse than that, sir&mdash;we flirt with them, and disturb the placid
+      current of their hearts forever and ever. Don't we, Lucy?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You know best, aunt,&rdquo; said Lucy, half malice, half pout. The others
+      followed the gay lady, and, when the view burst, ejaculated to order.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But Mr. Fountain stood ostentatiously in the middle of the road, with his
+      legs apart, like him of Rhodes. &ldquo;I choose the alternative,&rdquo; cried he.
+      &ldquo;Sooner than pretend I admire sixteen plowed fields and a hill as much as
+      I do a lawn and flower-beds, I elect to be flirted, and my what do ye call
+      'em?&mdash;my stagnant current&mdash;turned into a whirlpool.&rdquo; Ere the
+      laugh had well subsided, caused by this imitation of Hercules and his
+      choice, he struck up again, &ldquo;Good news for you, young gentleman; I smell a
+      ball; here is a fiddle-case making for this hospitable mansion.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; said Mrs. Bazalgette, &ldquo;I never ordered any musician to come here.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A tall but active figure came walking light as a feather, with a large
+      carpet-bag on his back, a boy behind carrying a violin-case.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy colored and lowered her eyes, but never said a word.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The young man came up to the gate, and then Mr. Talboys recognized him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He hesitated a single moment, then turned and came to the group and took
+      off his hat to the ladies. It was David Dodd!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XIV.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      THE new guest's manner of presenting himself with his stick over his
+      shoulder, and his carpet-bag on his back, subjected him to a battery of
+      stares from Kenealy, Talboys, Fountain, and abashed him sore.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This lasted but a moment. He had one friend in the group who was too true
+      to her flirtations while they endured, and too strong-willed, to let her
+      flirtee be discouraged by mortal.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, it is Mr. Dodd,&rdquo; cried she, with enthusiasm, and she put forth both
+      hands to him, the palms downward, with a smiling grace. &ldquo;Surely you know
+      Mr. Dodd,&rdquo; said she, turning round quickly to the gentlemen, with a smile
+      on her lip, but a dangerous devil in her eye.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The mistress of the house is all-powerful on these occasions. Messrs.
+      Talboys and Fountain were forced to do the amiable, raging within; Lucy
+      anticipated them; but her welcome was a cold one. Says Mrs. Bazalgette,
+      tenderly, &ldquo;And why do you carry that heavy bag, when you have that great
+      stout lad with you? I think it is his business to carry it, not yours&rdquo;;
+      and her eyes scathed the boy, fiddle and all.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      All the time she was saying this David was winking to her, and making
+      faces to her not to go on that tack. His conduct now explained his
+      pantomime. &ldquo;Here, youngster,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;you take these things in-doors,
+      and here is your half-crown.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy averted her head, and smiled unobserved.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As soon as the lad was out of hearing, David continued: &ldquo;It was not worth
+      while to mortify him. The fact is, I hired him to carry it; but, bless
+      you, the first mile he began to go down by the head, and would have
+      foundered; so we shifted our cargoes.&rdquo; This amused Kenealy, who laughed
+      good-humoredly. On this, David laughed for company.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There,&rdquo; cried his inamorata, with rapture, &ldquo;that is Mr. Dodd all over;
+      thinks of everybody, high or low, before himself.&rdquo; There was a grunt
+      somewhere behind her; her quick ear caught it; she turned round like a
+      thing on a pivot, and slapped the nearest face. It happened to be
+      Fountain's; so she continued with such a treacle smile, &ldquo;Don't you
+      remember, sir, how he used to teach your cub mathematics gratis?&rdquo; The
+      sweet smile and the keen contemporaneous scratch confounded Mr. Fountain
+      for a second. As soon as he revived he said stiffly, &ldquo;We can all
+      appreciate Mr. Dodd.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Having thus established her Adonis on a satisfactory footing, she broke
+      out all over graciousness again, and, smiling and chatting, led her guests
+      beneath the hospitable roof.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But one of these guests did not respond to her cheerful strain. The Norman
+      knight was full of bitterness. Mr. Talboys drew his friend aside and
+      proposed to him to go back again. The senior was aghast. &ldquo;Don't be so
+      precipitate,&rdquo; was all that he could urge this time. &ldquo;Confound the fellow!
+      Yes, if that is the man she prefers to you, I will go home with you
+      to-morrow, and the vile hussy shall never enter my doors again.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      In this mind the pair went devious to their dressing-rooms.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One day a witty woman said of a man that &ldquo;he played the politician about
+      turnips and cabbages.&rdquo; That might be retorted (by a snob and brute) on her
+      own sex in general, and upon Mrs. Bazalgette in particular. This sweet
+      lady maneuvered on a carpet like Marlborough on the south of France. She
+      was brimful of resources, and they all tended toward one sacred object,
+      getting her own way. She could be imperious at a pinch and knock down
+      opposition; but she liked far better to undermine it, dissolve it, or
+      evade it. She was too much of a woman to run straight to her <i>je-le-veux,</i>
+      so long as she could wind thitherward serpentinely and by detour. She
+      could have said to Mr. Hardie, &ldquo;You will take down Lucy to dinner,&rdquo; and to
+      Mr. Dodd, &ldquo;You will sit next me&rdquo;; but no, she must mold her males&mdash;as
+      per sample.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      To Mr. Fountain she said, &ldquo;Your friend, I hear, is of old family.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Came in with the Conqueror, madam.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then he shall take me down: that will be the first step toward conquering
+      me&mdash;ha! ha!&rdquo; Fountain bowed, well pleased.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      To Mr. Hardie she said, &ldquo;Will you take down Lucy to-day? I see she enjoys
+      your conversation. Observe how disinterested I am.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Hardie consented with twinkling composure.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Before dinner she caught Kenealy, drew him aside, and put on a long face.
+      &ldquo;I am afraid I must lose you to-day at dinner. Mr. Dodd is quite a
+      stranger, and they all tell me I must put him at his ease.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yaas.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, then, you had better get next Lucy, as you can't have me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yaas.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And, Captain Kenealy, you are my aid-de-camp. It is a delightful post,
+      you know, and rather a troublesome one.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yaas.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You must help me be kind to this sailor.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yaas. He is a good fellaa. Carried the baeg for the little caed.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, did he?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And didn't maind been laughed at.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now, that shows how intelligent you must be,&rdquo; said the wily one; &ldquo;the
+      others could not comprehend the trait. Well, you and I must patronize him.
+      Merit is always so dreadfully modest.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yaas.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This arrangement was admirable, but human; consequently, not without a
+      flaw. Uncle Fountain was left to chance, like the flying atoms of
+      Epicurus, and chance put him at Bazalgette's right hand save one. From
+      this point his inquisitive eye commanded David Dodd and Mrs. Bazalgette,
+      and raked Lucy and her neighbors, who were on the opposite side of the
+      table. People who look, bent on seeing everything, generally see
+      something; item, it is not always what they would like to see.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As they retired to rest for the night, Mr. Fountain invited his friend to
+      his room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We shall not have to go home. I have got the key to our antagonist. Young
+      Dodd is <i>her</i> lover.&rdquo; Talboys shook his head with cool contempt.
+      &ldquo;What I mean is that she has invited him for her own amusement, not her
+      niece's. I never saw a woman throw herself at any man's head as she did at
+      that sailor's all dinner. Her very husband saw it. He is a cool hand, that
+      Bazalgette; he only grinned, and took wine with the sailor. He has seen a
+      good many go the same road&mdash;soldiers, sailors, tinkers, tai&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Talboys interrupted him. &ldquo;I really must call you to order. You are
+      prejudiced against poor Mrs. Bazalgette, and prejudice blinds everybody.
+      Politeness required that she should show some attention to her neighbor,
+      but her principal attention was certainly not bestowed on Mr. Dodd.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fountain was surprised. &ldquo;On whom, then?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, to tell the truth, on your humble servant.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fountain stared. &ldquo;I observed she did not neglect you; but when she turned
+      to Dodd her face puckered itself into smiles like a bag.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I did not see it, and I was nearer her than you,&rdquo; said Talboys coldly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But I was in front of her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, a mile off.&rdquo; There being no jurisconsult present to explain to these
+      two magistrates that if fifty people don't see a woman pucker her face
+      like a bag, and one does see her p. h. f. l. a. b., the affirmative
+      evidence preponderates, they were very near coming to a quarrel on this
+      grave point. It was Fountain who made peace. He suddenly remembered that
+      his friend had never been known to change an opinion. &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said he,
+      &ldquo;let us leave that; we shall have other opportunities of watching Dodd and
+      her; meantime I am sorry I cannot convince you of my good news, for I have
+      some bad to balance it. You have a rival, and he did not sit next Mrs.
+      Bazalgette.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pray may I ask whom he did sit next?&rdquo; sneered Talboys.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He sat&mdash;like a man who meant to win&mdash;by the girl herself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, then it is that sing-song captain you fear, sir?&rdquo; drawled Talboys.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, sir, no more than I dread the <i>epergne.</i> Try the other side.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What, Mr. Hardie? Why, he is a banker.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And a rich one.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She would never marry a banker.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Perhaps not, if she were uninfluenced; but we are not at Talboys Court or
+      Font Abbey now. We have fallen into a den of <i>parvenues.</i> That Hardie
+      is a great catch, according to their views, and all Mrs. Bazalgette's
+      influence with Lucy will be used in his favor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think not. She spoke quite slightingly of him to me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did she? Then that puts the matter quite beyond doubt. Why should she
+      speak slightingly of him? Bazalgette spoke to me of him with grave
+      veneration. He is handsome, well behaved, and the girl talked to him
+      nineteen to the dozen. Mrs. Bazalgette could not be sincere in underrating
+      him. She undervalued him to throw dust in your eyes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is not so easy to throw dust in my eyes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't say it is; but this woman will do it; she is as artful as a fox.
+      She hoodwinked even me for a moment. I really did not see through her
+      feigned politeness in letting you take her down to dinner.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You mistake her character entirely. She is coquettish, and not so
+      well-bred as her niece, but artful she is not. In fact, there is almost a
+      childish frankness about her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At this stroke of observation Fountain burst out laughing bitterly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Talboys turned pale with suppressed ire, and went on doggedly: &ldquo;You are
+      mistaken in every particular. Mrs. Bazalgette has no fixed views for her
+      niece, and I by no means despair of winning her to my side. She is
+      anything but discouraging.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fountain groaned.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Hardie is a new acquaintance, and Miss Fountain told me herself she
+      preferred old friends to new. She looked quite conscious as she said it.
+      In a word, Mr. Dodd is the only rival I have to fear&mdash;good-night;&rdquo;
+       and he went out with a stately wave of the hand, like royalty declining
+      farther conference. Mr. Fountain sank into an armchair, and muttered
+      feebly, &ldquo;Good-night.&rdquo; There he sat collapsed till his friend's retiring
+      steps were heard no more; then, springing wildly to his feet, he relieved
+      his swelling mind with a long, loud, articulated roar of Anglo-Saxon,
+      &ldquo;Fool! dolt! coxcomb! noodle! puppy! ass!!!!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Did ye ever read &ldquo;Tully 'de Amicitia'?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      David Dodd was saved from misery by want of vanity. His reception at the
+      gate by Miss Fountain was cool and constrained, but it did not wound him.
+      For the last month life had been a blank to him. She was his sun. He saw
+      her once more, and the bare sight filled him with life and joy. His was
+      naturally a sanguine, contented mind. Some lovers equally ardent would
+      have seen more to repine at than to enjoy in the whole situation; not so
+      David. She sat between Kenealy and Hardie, but her presence filled the
+      whole room, and he who loved her better than any other had the best right
+      to be happy in the place that held her. He had only to turn his eyes, and
+      he could see her. What a blessing, after a month of vacancy and darkness.
+      This simple idolatry made him so happy that his heart overflowed on all
+      within reach. He gave Mrs. Bazalgette answers full of kindness and arch
+      gayety combined. He charmed an old married lady on his right. His was the
+      gay, the merry end of the table, and others wished themselves up at it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      After the ladies had retired, his narrative powers, <i>bonhomie</i> and
+      manly frankness soon told upon the men, and peals of genuine laughter
+      echoed up to the very drawing-room, bringing a deputation from the kitchen
+      to the keyhole, and irritating the ladies overhead, who sat trickling
+      faint monosyllables about their three little topics.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy took it philosophically. &ldquo;Now those are the good creatures that are
+      said to be so unhappy without us. It was a weight off their minds when the
+      door closed on our retiring forms&mdash;ha! ha!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It was a restraint taken off them, my dear,&rdquo; said Mrs. Mordan, a starched
+      dowager, stiffening to the naked eye as she spoke. &ldquo;When they laugh like
+      that, they are always saying something improper.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, the wicked things,&rdquo; replied Lucy, mighty calmly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wish I knew what they are saying,&rdquo; said eagerly another young lady;
+      then added, &ldquo;Oh!&rdquo; and blushed, observing her error mirrored in all eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy the Clement instructed her out of the depths of her own experience in
+      impropriety. &ldquo;They swear. That is what Mrs. Mordan means,&rdquo; and so to the
+      piano with dignity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Presently in came Messrs. Fountain and Talboys. Mrs. Bazalgette asked the
+      former a little crossly how he could make up his mind to leave the gay
+      party downstairs.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, it was only that fellow Dodd. The dog is certainly very amusing, but
+      'there's metal more attractive here.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Coffee and tea were fired down at the other gentlemen by way of hints; but
+      Dodd prevailed over all, and it was nearly bedtime when they joined the
+      ladies.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Talboys had an hour with Lucy, and no rival by to ruffle him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Next day a riding-party was organized. Mr. Talboys decided in his mind
+      that Kenealy was even less dangerous than Hardie, so lent him the quieter
+      of his two nags, and rode a hot, rampageous brute, whose very name was
+      Lucifer, so that will give you an idea. The grooms had driven him with a
+      kicking-strap and two pair of reins, and even so were reluctant to drive
+      him at all, but his steady companion had balanced him a bit. Lucy was to
+      ride her old pony, and Mrs. Bazalgette the new. The horses came to the
+      door; one of the grooms offered to put Lucy up. Talboys waved him loftily
+      back, and then, strange as it may appear, David, for the first time in his
+      life, saw a gentleman lift a lady into the saddle.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy laid her right hand on the pommel and resigned her left foot; Mr.
+      Talboys put his hand under that foot and heaved her smoothly into the
+      saddle. &ldquo;That is clever,&rdquo; thought simple David; &ldquo;that chap has got more
+      pith in his arm than one would think.&rdquo; They cantered away, and left him
+      looking sadly after them. It seemed so hard that another man should have
+      her sweet foot in his hand, should lift her whole glorious person, and
+      smooth her sacred dress, and he stand by helpless; and then the
+      indifference with which that man had done it all. To him it had been no
+      sacred pleasure, no great privilege. A sense of loneliness struck chill on
+      David as the clatter of her pony's hoofs died away. He was in the house;
+      but in that house was a sort of inner circle, of which she was the center,
+      and he was to be outside it altogether.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Liable to great wrath upon great occasions, he had little of that small
+      irritability that goes with an egotistical mind and feminine fiber, so he
+      merely hung his head, blamed nobody, and was sad in a manly way. While he
+      leaned against the portico in this dejected mood, a little hand pulled his
+      coat-tail. It was Master Reginald, who looked up in his face, and said
+      timidly, &ldquo;Will you play with me?&rdquo; The fact is, Mr. Reginald's natural
+      audacity had received a momentary check. He had just put this same
+      question to Mr. Hardie in the library, and had been rejected with
+      ignominy, and recommended to go out of doors for his own health and the
+      comfort of such as desired peaceable study of British and foreign
+      intelligence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That I will, my little gentleman,&rdquo; said David, &ldquo;if I know the game.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I don't care what it is, so that it is fun. What is your name?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;David Dodd.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And what is yours?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What, don't&mdash;you&mdash;know??? Why, Reginald George Bazalgette. I am
+      seven. I am the eldest. I am to have more money than the others when papa
+      dies, Jane says. I wonder when he will die.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;When he does you will lose his love, and that is worth more than his
+      money; so you take my advice and love him dearly while you have got him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I like papa very well. He is good-natured all day long. Mamma is so
+      ill-tempered till dinner, and then they won't let me dine with her; and
+      then, as soon as mamma has begun to be good-tempered upstairs in the
+      drawing-room, my bedtime comes directly; it's abominable!!&rdquo; The last word
+      rose into a squeak under his sense of wrong.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      David smiled kindly: &ldquo;So it seems we all have our troubles,&rdquo; said he.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What! have you any troubles?&rdquo; and Reginald opened his eyes in wonder. He
+      thought size was an armor against care.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not so many as most folk, thank God, but I have some,&rdquo; and David sighed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, if I was as big as you, I'd have no troubles. I'd beat everybody
+      that troubled me, and I would marry Lucy directly&rdquo;; and at that beloved
+      name my lord falls into a reverie ten seconds long.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      David gave a start, and an ejaculation rose to his lips. He looked down
+      with comical horror upon the little chubby imp who had divined his
+      thought.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Reginald soon undeceived him. &ldquo;She is to be my wife, you know. Don't
+      you think she will make a capital one?&rdquo; Before David could decide this
+      point for him, the kaleidoscopic mind of the terrible infant had taken
+      another turn. &ldquo;Come into the stable-yard; I'll show you Tom,&rdquo; cried young
+      master, enthusiastically. Finally, David had to make the boy a kite. When
+      made it took two hours for the paste to dry; and as every ten minutes
+      spent in waiting seemed an hour to one of Mr. Reginald's kidney, as the
+      English classics phrase it, he was almost in a state of frenzy at last,
+      and flew his new kite with yells. But after a bit he missed a familiar
+      incident; &ldquo;It doesn't tumble down; my other kites all tumble down.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;More shame for them,&rdquo; said David, with a dash of contempt, and explained
+      to him that tumbling down is a flaw in a kite, just as foundering at sea
+      is a vile habit in a ship, and that each of these descents, however
+      picturesque to childhood's eye, implies a construction originally
+      derective, or some little subsequent mismanagement. It appeared by
+      Reginald's retort that when his kite tumbled he had the tumultuous joy of
+      flying it again, but, by its keeping the air like this, monotony reigned;
+      so he now proposed that his new friend should fasten the string to the
+      pump-handle, and play at ball with him beneath the kite. The good-natured
+      sailor consented, and thus the little voluptuary secured a terrestrial and
+      ever-varying excitement, while occasional glances upward soothed him with
+      the mild consciousness that there was his property still hovering in the
+      empyrean; amid all which, poor love-sick David was seized with a desire to
+      hear the name of her he loved, and her praise, even from these small lips.
+      &ldquo;So you are very fond of Miss Lucy?&rdquo; said he.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; replied Reginald, dryly, and said no more; for it is a
+      characteristic of the awfu' bairn to be mute where fluency is required,
+      voluble where silence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wonder why you love her so much,&rdquo; said David, cunningly. Reginald's
+      face, instead of brightening with the spirit of explanation, became
+      instantly lack-luster and dough-like; for, be it known, to the everlasting
+      discredit of human nature, that his affection and matrimonial intentions,
+      as they were no secret, so they were the butt of satire from grown-up
+      persons of both sexes in the house, and of various social grades; down to
+      the very gardener, all had had a fling at him. But soon his natural
+      cordiality gained the better of that momentary reserve. &ldquo;Well, I'll tell
+      you,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;because you have behaved well all day.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      David was all expectation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I like her because she has got red cheeks, and does whatever one asks
+      her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Oh, breadth of statement! Why was not David one of your repeaters? He
+      would have gone and told Lucy. I should have liked her to know in what
+      grand primitive colors peach-bloom and queenly courtesy strike what Mr.
+      Tennyson is pleased to call &ldquo;the deep mind of dauntless infancy.&rdquo; But
+      David Dodd was not a reporter, and so I don't get my way; and how few of
+      us do! not even Mr. Reginald, whose joyous companionship with David was
+      now blighted by a footman. At sight of the coming plush, &ldquo;There, now!&rdquo;
+       cried Reginald. He anticipated evil, for messages from the ruling powers
+      were nearly always adverse to his joys. The footman came to say that his
+      master would feel obliged if Mr. Dodd would step into his study a minute.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      David went immediately.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There, now!&rdquo; squeaked Reginald, rising an octave. &ldquo;I'm never happy for
+      two hours together.&rdquo; This was true. He omitted to add, &ldquo;Nor unhappy for
+      one.&rdquo; The dear child sought comfort in retaliation. He took stones and
+      pelted the footman's retiring calves. His admirers, if any, will be glad
+      to learn that this act of intelligent retribution soothed his deep mind a
+      little.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Bazalgette had been much interested by David's conversation the last
+      night, and, hearing he was not with the riding-party, had a mind to chat
+      with him. David found him in a magnificent study, lined with books, and
+      hung with beautiful maps that lurked in mahogany cylinders attached to the
+      wall; and you pulled them out by inserting a brass-hooked stick into their
+      rings, and hauling. Mr. Bazalgette began by putting him a question about a
+      distant port to which he had just sent out some goods. David gave him full
+      information. Began, seaman-like, with the entrance to the harbor, and told
+      him what danger his captain should look out for in running in, and how to
+      avoid it; and from that went to the character of the natives, their tricks
+      upon the sailors, their habits, tastes, and fancies, and, entering with
+      intelligence into his companion's business, gave him some very shrewd
+      hints as to the sort of cargo that would tempt them to sell the very rings
+      out of their ears. Succeeding so well in this, Mr. Bazalgette plied him on
+      other points, and found him full of valuable matter, and, by a rare union
+      of qualities, very modest and very frank. &ldquo;Now I like this,&rdquo; said Mr.
+      Bazalgette, cheerfully. &ldquo;This is a return to old customs. A century or two
+      ago, you know, the merchant and the captain felt themselves parts of the
+      same stick, and they used to sit and smoke together before a voyage, and
+      sup together after one, and be always putting their heads together; but of
+      late the stick has got so much longer, and so many knots between the
+      handle and the point, that we have quite lost sight of one another. Here
+      we merchants sit at home at ease, and send you fine fellows out among
+      storms and waves, and think more of a bale of cotton spoiled than of a
+      captain drowned.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      David. &ldquo;And we eat your bread, sir, as if it dropped from the clouds, and
+      quite forget whose money and spirit of enterprise causes the ship to be
+      laid on the stocks, and then built, and then rigged, and then launched,
+      and then manned, and then sailed from port to port.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, well, if you eat our bread, we eat your labor, your skill, your
+      courage, and sometimes your lives, I am sorry to say. Merchants and
+      captains ought really to be better acquainted.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, sir,&rdquo; said David, &ldquo;now you mention it, you are the first merchant
+      of any consequence I ever had the advantage of talking with.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The advantage is mutual, sir; you have given me one or two hints I could
+      not have got from fifty merchants. I mean to coin you, Captain Dodd.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      David laughed and blushed. &ldquo;I doubt it will be but copper coin if you do.
+      But I am not a captain; I am only first mate.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You don't say so! Why, how comes that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, sir, I went to sea very young, but I wasted a year or two in
+      private ventures. When I say wasted, I picked up a heap of knowledge that
+      I could not have gained on the China voyage, but it has lost me a little
+      in length of standing; but, on the other hand, I have been very lucky; it
+      is not every one that gets to be first mate at my age; and after next
+      voyage, if I can only make a little bit of interest, I think I shall be a
+      captain. No, sir, I wish I was a captain; I never wished it as now;&rdquo; and
+      David sighed deeply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Humph!&rdquo; said Mr. Bazalgette, and took a note.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He then showed David his maps. David inspected them with almost boyish
+      delight, and showed the merchant the courses of ships on Eastern and
+      Western voyages, and explained the winds and currents that compelled them
+      to go one road and return another, and in both cases to go so wonderfully
+      out of what seems the track as they do. <i>Bref,</i> the two ends of the
+      mercantile stick came nearer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My study is always open to you, Mr. Dodd, and I hope you will not let a
+      day pass without obliging me by looking in upon me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      David thanked him, and went out innocently unconscious that he had
+      performed an unparalleled feat. In the hall he met Captain Kenealy, who,
+      having received orders to amuse him, invited him to play at billiards.
+      David consented, out of good-nature, to please Kenealy. Thus the whole day
+      passed, and <i>les facheux</i> would not let him get a word with Lucy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At dinner he was separated from her, and so hotly and skillfully engaged
+      by Mrs. Bazalgette that he had scarcely time to look at his idol. After
+      dinner he had to contest her with Mr. Talboys and Mr. Hardie, the latter
+      of whom he found a very able and sturdy antagonist. Mr. Hardie had also
+      many advantages over him. First, the young lady was not the least shy of
+      Mr. Hardie, but the parting scene beyond Royston had put her on her guard
+      against David, and her instinct of defense made her reserved with him.
+      Secondly, Mrs. Bazalgette was perpetually making diversions, whose double
+      object was to get David to herself and leave Lucy to Mr. Hardie.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      With all this David found, to his sorrow, that, though he now lived under
+      the same roof with her, he was not so near her as at Font Abbey. There was
+      a wall of etiquette and of rivals, and, as he now began to fear, of her
+      own dislike between them. To read through that mighty transparent jewel, a
+      female heart, Nauta had recourse&mdash;to what, do you think? To
+      arithmetic. He set to work to count how many times she spoke to each of
+      the party in the drawing-room, and he found that Mr. Hardie was at the
+      head of the list, and he was at the bottom. That might be an accident;
+      perhaps this was his black evening; so he counted her speeches the next
+      evening. The result was the same. Droll statistics, but sad and convincing
+      to the simple David. His spirits failed him; his aching heart turned cold.
+      He withdrew from the gay circle, and sat sadly with a book of prints
+      before him, and turned the leaves listlessly. In a pause of the
+      conversation a sigh was heard in the corner. They all looked round, and
+      saw David all by himself, turning over the leaves, but evidently not
+      inspecting them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A sort of flash of satirical curiosity went from eye to eye.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But tact abounded at one end of the room, if there was a dearth of it at
+      the other.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <i>La rusee sans le savoir</i> made a sign to them all to take no notice;
+      at the same time she whispered: &ldquo;Going to sea in a few days for two years;
+      the thought will return now and then.&rdquo; Having said this with a look at her
+      aunt, that, Heaven knows how, gave the others the notion that it was to
+      Mrs. Bazalgette she owed the solution of David's fit of sadness, she
+      glided easily into indifferent topics. So then the others had a momentary
+      feeling of pity for David. Miss Lucy noticed this out of the tail of her
+      eye.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      That night David went to bed thoroughly wretched. He could not sleep, so
+      he got up and paced the deck of his room with a heavy heart. At last, in
+      his despair, he said, &ldquo;I'll fire signals of distress.&rdquo; So he sat down and
+      took a sheet of paper, and fired: &ldquo;Nothing has turned as I expected. She
+      treats me like a stranger. I seem to drop astern instead of making any
+      way. Here are three of us, I do believe, and all seem preferred to your
+      poor brother; and, indeed, the only thing that gives me any hope is that
+      she seems too kind to be in earnest, for it is not in her angelic nature
+      to be really unkind; and what have I done? Eve, dear, such a change from
+      what she was at Font Abbey, and that happy evening when she came and drank
+      tea with us, and lighted our little garden up, and won your heart, that
+      was always a little set against her. Now it is so different that I sit and
+      ask myself whether all that is not a dream. Can anyone change so in one
+      short month? I could not. But who knows? perhaps I do her wrong. You know
+      I never could read her at home without your help, and, dear Eve, I miss
+      you now from my side most sadly. Without you I seem to be adrift, without
+      rudder or compass.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then, as he could not sleep, he dressed himself, and went out at four
+      o'clock in the morning. He roamed about with a heavy heart; at last he
+      bethought him of his fiddle. Since Lucy's departure from Font Abbey this
+      had been a great solace to him. It was at once a depository and vent to
+      him; he poured out his heart to it and by it; sometimes he would fancy,
+      while he played, that he was describing the beauties of her mind and
+      person; at others, regretting the sad fate that separated him from her;
+      or, hope reviving, would see her near him, and be telling her how he loved
+      her; and, so great an inspirer is love, he had invented more than one
+      clear melody during the last month, he who up to that time had been
+      content to render the thoughts of others, like most fiddlers and
+      composers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So he said to himself, &ldquo;I had better not play in the house, or I shall
+      wake them out of their first sleep.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He brought out his violin, got among some trees near the stable-yard, and
+      tried to soothe his sorrowful heart. He played sadly, sweetly and
+      dreamingly. He bade the wooden shell tell all the world how lonely he was,
+      only the magic shell told it so tenderly and tunefully that he soon ceased
+      to be alone. The first arrival was on four legs: Pepper, a terrier with a
+      taste for sounds. Pepper arrived cautiously, though in a state of profound
+      curiosity, and, being too wise to trust at once to his ears, avenue of
+      sense by which we are all so much oftener deceived than by any other, he
+      first smelled the musician carefully and minutely all round. What he
+      learned by this he and his Creator alone know, but apparently something
+      reassuring; for, as soon as he had thoroughly snuffed his Orpheus, he took
+      up a position exactly opposite him, sat up high on his tail, cocked his
+      nose well into the air, and accompanied the violin with such vocal powers
+      as Nature had bestowed on him. Nor did the sentiment lose anything, in
+      intensity at all events, by the vocalist. If David's strains were
+      plaintive, Pepper's were lugubrious; and what may seem extraordinary, so
+      long as David played softly the Cerberus of the stableyard whined
+      musically, and tolerably in tune; but when he played loud or fast poor
+      Pepper got excited, and in his wild endeavors to equal the violin vented
+      dismal and discordant howls at unpleasantly short intervals. All this
+      attracted David's attention, and he soon found he could play upon Pepper
+      as well as the fiddle, raising him and subduing him by turns; only, like
+      the ocean, Pepper was not to be lulled back to his musical ripple quite so
+      quickly as he could be lashed into howling frenzy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      While David was thus playing, and Pepper showing a fearful broadside of
+      ivory teeth, and flinging up his nose and sympathizing loudly and with a
+      long face, though not perhaps so deeply as he looked, suddenly rang behind
+      David a chorus of human chuckles. David wheeled, and there were six young
+      women's faces set in the foliage and laughing merrily. Though perfectly
+      aware that David would look round, they seemed taken quite by surprise
+      when he did look, and with military precision became instantly two files,
+      for the four impudent ones ran behind the two modest ones, and there, by
+      an innocent instinct, tied their cap-strings, which were previously
+      floating loose, their custom ever in the early morning.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Play us up something merry, sir,&rdquo; hazarded one of the mock-modest ones in
+      the rear.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Shan't I be taking you from your work?&rdquo; objected David dryly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, all work and no play is bad for the body,&rdquo; replied the minx, keeping
+      ostentatiously out of sight.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Good-natured David played a merry tune in spite of his heart; and even at
+      that disadvantage it was so spirit-stirring compared with anything the
+      servants had heard, it made them all frisky, of which disposition Tom, the
+      stable boy, who just then came into the yard, took advantage, and, leading
+      out one of the housemaids by the polite process of hauling at her with
+      both hands, proceeded to country dancing, in which the others soon
+      demurely joined.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Now all this was wormwood to poor David; for to play merriment when the
+      heart is too heavy to be cheered by it makes that heart bitter as well as
+      sad. But the good-natured fellow said to himself: &ldquo;Poor things, I dare say
+      they work from morning till night, and seldom see pleasure but at a
+      distance; why not put on a good face, and give them one merry hour.&rdquo; So he
+      played horn-pipes and reels till all their hearts were on fire, and faces
+      red, and eyes glittering, and legs aching, and he himself felt ready to
+      burst out crying, and then he left off. As for <i>il penseroso</i> Pepper,
+      he took this intrusion of merry music upon his sympathies very ill. He
+      left singing, and barked furiously and incessantly at these ancient
+      English melodies and at the dancers, and kept running from and running at
+      the women's whirling gowns alternately, and lost his mental balance, and
+      at last, having by a happier snap than usual torn off two feet of the
+      under-housemaid's frock, shook and worried the fragment with insane snarls
+      and gleaming eyes, and so zealously that his existence seemed to depend on
+      its annihilation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      David gave those he had brightened a sad smile, and went hastily in-doors.
+      He put his violin into its case, and sealed and directed his letter to
+      Eve. He could not rest in-doors, so he roamed out again, but this time he
+      took care to go on the lawn. Nobody would come there, he thought, to
+      interrupt his melancholy. He was doomed to be disappointed in that
+      respect. As he sat in the little summer-house with his head on the table,
+      he suddenly heard an elastic step on the dry gravel. He started peevishly
+      up and saw a lady walking briskly toward him: it was Miss Fountain.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She saw him at the same instant. She hesitated a single half-moment; then,
+      as escape was impossible, resumed her course. David went bashfully to meet
+      her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good-morning, Mr. Dodd,&rdquo; said she, in the most easy, unembarrassed way
+      imaginable.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He stammered a &ldquo;good-morning,&rdquo; and flushed with pleasure and confusion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He walked by her side in silence. She stole a look at him, and saw that,
+      after the first blush at meeting her, he was pale and haggard. On this she
+      dashed into singularly easy and cheerful conversation with him; told him
+      that this morning walk was her custom&mdash;&ldquo;My substitute for rouge, you
+      know. I am always the first up in this languid house; but I must not boast
+      before you, who, I dare say, turn out&mdash;is not that the word?&mdash;at
+      daybreak. But, now I think of it, no! you would have crossed my hawse
+      before, Mr. Dodd,&rdquo; using naval phrases to flatter him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It was my ill-luck; I always cruised a mile off. I had no idea this bit
+      of gravel was your quarter-deck.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is, though, because it is always dry. You would not like a
+      quarter-deck with that character, would you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh yes, I should. I'd have my bowsprit always wet, and my quarter-deck
+      always dry. But it is no use wishing for what we cannot have.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is very true,&rdquo; said Lucy, quietly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      David reflected on his own words, and sighed deeply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This did not suit Lucy. She plied him with airy nothings, that no man can
+      arrest and impress on paper; but the tone and smile made them pleasing,
+      and then she asked his opinion of the other guests in such a way as
+      implied she took some interest in his opinion of them, but mighty little
+      in the people themselves. In short, she chatted with him like an old
+      friend, and nothing more; but David was not subtle enough in general, nor
+      just now calm enough, to see on what footing all this cordiality was
+      offered him. His color came back, his eye brightened, happiness beamed on
+      his face, and the lady saw it from under her lashes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How fortunate I fell in with you here! You are yourself again&mdash;on
+      your quarter-deck. I scarce knew you the last few days. I was afraid I had
+      offended you. You seemed to avoid me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nonsense, Mr. Dodd; what is there about you to avoid?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Plenty, Miss Fountain; I am so inferior to your other friends.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was not aware of it, Mr. Dodd.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And I have heard your sex has gusts of caprice, and I thought the cold
+      wind was blowing upon me; and that did seem very sad, just when I am going
+      out, and perhaps shall never see your sweet face or hear your lovely voice
+      again.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't say that, Mr. Dodd, or you will make me sad in earnest. Your
+      prudence and courage, and a kind Providence, will carry you safe through
+      this voyage, as they have through so many, and on your return the
+      acquaintance you do me the honor to value so highly will await you&mdash;if
+      it depends on me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      All this was said kindly and beautifully, and almost tenderly, but still
+      with a certain majesty that forbade love-making&mdash;rendered it scarce
+      possible, except to a fool. But David was not captious. He could not, like
+      the philosopher, sift sunshine. For some days he had been almost separated
+      from her. Now she was by his side. He adored her so that he could no
+      longer <i>realize</i> sorrow or disappointment to come. They were
+      uncertain&mdash;future. The light of her eyes, and voice, and face, and
+      noble presence were here; he basked in them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He told her not to mind a word he had said. &ldquo;It was all nonsense. I am
+      happier now&mdash;happier than ever.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At this Lucy looked grave and became silent.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      David, to amuse her, told her there was &ldquo;a singing dog aboard,&rdquo; and would
+      she like to hear him?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This was a happy diversion for Lucy. She assented gayly. David ran for his
+      fiddle, and then for Pepper. Pepper wagged his tail, but, strong as his
+      musical taste was, would not follow the fiddle. But at this juncture
+      Master Reginald dawned on the stable-yard with a huge slice of bread and
+      butter. Pepper followed him. So the party came on the lawn and joined
+      Lucy. Then David played on the violin, and Pepper performed exactly as
+      hereinbefore related. Lucy laughed merrily, and Reginald shrieked with
+      delight, for the vocal terrier was mortal droll.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But, setting Pepper aside, that is a very sweet air you are playing now,
+      Mr. Dodd. It is full of soul and feeling.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is it?&rdquo; said David, looking wonderstruck; &ldquo;you know best.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who is the composer?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      David looked confused and said, &ldquo;No one of any note.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy shot a glance at him, keen as lightning. What with David's simplicity
+      and her own remarkable talent for reading faces, his countenance was a
+      book to her, wide open, Bible print. &ldquo;The composer's name is Mr. Dodd,&rdquo;
+       said she, quietly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I little thought you would be satisfied with it,&rdquo; replied David,
+      obliquely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then you doubted my judgment as well as your own talent.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My talent! I should never have composed an air that would bear playing
+      but for one thing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And what was that?&rdquo; said Lucy, affecting vast curiosity. She felt herself
+      on safe ground now&mdash;the fine arts.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You remember when you went away from Font Abbey, and left us all so
+      heavy-hearted?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I remember leaving Font Abbey,&rdquo; replied Lucy, with saucy emphasis, and an
+      air of lofty disbelief in the other incident.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I used to get my fiddle, and think of you so far away, and sweet
+      sad airs came to my heart, and from my heart they passed into the fiddle.
+      Now and then one seemed more worthy of you than the rest were, and then I
+      kept that one.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You mean you took the notes down,&rdquo; said Lucy coldly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh no, there was no need; I wrote it in my head and in my heart. May I
+      play you another of your tunes? I call them your tunes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy blushed faintly, and fixed her eyes on the ground. She gave a slight
+      signal of assent, and David played a melody.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is very beautiful,&rdquo; said she in a low voice. &ldquo;Play it again. Can you
+      play it as we walk?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh yes.&rdquo; He played it again. They drew near the hall door. She looked up
+      a moment, and then demurely down again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now will you be so good as to play the first one twice?&rdquo; She listened
+      with her eyelashes drooping. &ldquo;Tweedle dee! tweedle dum! tweedle dee.&rdquo; &ldquo;And
+      <i>now</i> we will go into breakfast,&rdquo; cried Lucy, with sudden airy
+      cheerfulness, and, almost with the word, she darted up the steps, and
+      entered the house without even looking to see whether David followed or
+      what became of him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He stood gazing through the open door at her as she glided across the
+      hall, swift and elastic, yet serpentine, and graceful and stately as Juno
+      at nineteen.
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+           &ldquo;Et vera iucessu patuit lady.&rdquo;
+ </pre>
+    <p>
+      These Junones, severe in youthful beauty, fill us Davids with irrational
+      awe; but, the next moment, they are treated like small children by the
+      very first matron they meet; they resign their judgment at once to hers,
+      and bow their wills to her lightest word with a slavish meanness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Creation's unmarried lords, realize your true position&mdash;girls govern
+      you, and wives govern girls.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Bazalgette, on Lucy's entrance, ran a critical eye over her, and
+      scolded her like a six-year-old for walking in thin shoes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Only on the gravel, aunt,&rdquo; said the divine slave, submissively.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No matter; it rained last night. I heard it patter. You want to be laid
+      up, I suppose.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will put on thicker ones in future, dear aunt,&rdquo; murmured the celestial
+      serf.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Now Mrs. Bazalgette did not really care a button whether the servile angel
+      wore thick soles or thin. She was cross about something a mile off that.
+      As soon as she had vented her ill humor on a sham cause, she could come to
+      its real cause good-temperedly. &ldquo;And, Lucy, love, do manage better about
+      Mr. Dodd.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy turned scarlet. Luckily, Mrs. Bazalgette was evading her niece's eye,
+      so did not see her telltale cheek.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He was quite thrown out last night; and really, as he does not ride with
+      us, it is too bad to neglect him in-doors.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, excuse me, aunt, Mr. Dodd is your protege. You did not even tell me
+      you were going to invite him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I beg your pardon, that I certainly did. Poor fellow, he was out of
+      spirits last night.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, but, aunt, surely you can put an admirer in good spirits when you
+      think proper,&rdquo; said Lucy slyly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Humph! I don't want to attract too much attention. I see Bazalgette
+      watching me, and I don't wish to be misinterpreted myself, or give my
+      husband pain.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She said this with such dignity that Lucy, who knew her regard for her
+      husband, had much ado not to titter. But courtesy prevailed, and she said
+      gravely: &ldquo;I will do whatever you wish me, only give me a hint at the time;
+      a look will do, you know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The ladies separated; they met again at the breakfast-room door. Laughter
+      rang merrily inside, and among the gayest voices was Mr. Dodd's. Lucy gave
+      Mrs. Bazalgette an arch look. &ldquo;Your patient seems better;&rdquo; and they
+      entered the room, where, sure enough, they found Mr. Dodd the life and
+      soul of the assembled party.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A letter from Mrs. Wilson, aunt.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And, pray, who is Mrs. Wilson?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My nurse. She tells me 'it is five years since she has seen me, and she
+      is wearying to see me.' What a droll expression, 'wearying.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; said David Dodd.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have heard the word before, Mr. Dodd?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, I can't say I have; but I know what it must mean.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Lying becalmed at the equator, eh! Dodd?&rdquo; said Bazalgette,
+      misunderstanding him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mrs. Wilson tells me she has taken a farm a few miles from this.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Interesting intelligence,&rdquo; said Mrs. Bazalgette.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And she says she is coming over to see me one of these days, aunt,&rdquo; said
+      Lucy, with a droll expression, half arch, half rueful. She added timidly,
+      &ldquo;There is no objection to that, is there?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;None whatever, if she does not make a practice of it; only mind, these
+      old servants are the greatest pests on earth.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I remember now,&rdquo; said Lucy thoughtfully, &ldquo;Mrs. Wilson was always very
+      fond of me. I cannot think why, though.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No more can I,&rdquo; said Mr. Hardie, dryly; &ldquo;she must be a thoroughly
+      unreasonable woman.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Hardie said this with a good deal of grace and humor, and a laugh went
+      round the table.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I mean she only saw me at intervals of several years.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, Lucy, what an antiquity you are making yourself,&rdquo; said Fountain.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But Lucy was occupied with her puzzle. &ldquo;She calls me her nursling,&rdquo; said
+      Lucy, <i>sotto voce,</i> to her aunt, but, of course, quite audibly to the
+      rest of the company; &ldquo;her dear nursling;&rdquo; and says, &ldquo;she would walk fifty
+      miles to see me. Nursling? hum! there is another word I never heard, and I
+      do not exactly know&mdash;Then she says&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <i>&ldquo;Taisez-vous, petite sotte!&rdquo;</i> said Mrs. Bazalgette, in a sharp
+      whisper, so admirably projected that it was intelligible only to the ear
+      it was meant for.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy caught it and stopped short, and sat looking by main force calm and
+      dignified, but scarlet, and in secret agony. &ldquo;I have said something
+      amiss,&rdquo; thought Lucy, and was truly wretched.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We don't believe in Mrs. Wilson's affection on this side the table,&rdquo; said
+      Mr. Hardie; &ldquo;but her revelations interest us, for they prove that Miss
+      Fountain had a beginning. Now we had thought she rose from the foam like
+      Venus, or sprung from Jove's brow like Minerva, or descended from some
+      ancient pedestal, flawless as the Parian itself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What, sir,&rdquo; cried Bazalgette, furiously, &ldquo;did you think our niece was
+      built in a day? So fair a structure, so accomplished a&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Will you be quiet, good people?&rdquo; said Mrs. Bazalgette. &ldquo;She was born, she
+      was bred, she was brought up, in which I had a share, and she is a very
+      good girl, if you gentlemen will be so good as not to spoil her for me
+      with your flattery.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There!&rdquo; said Lucy, courageously, enforcing her aunt's thunderbolt; and
+      she leaned toward Mrs. Bazalgette, and shot back a glance of defiance,
+      with arching neck, at Mr. Bazalgette.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      After breakfast she ran to Mrs. Bazalgette. &ldquo;What was it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, nothing; only the gentlemen were beginning to grin.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, dear! did I say anything&mdash;ridiculous?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, because I stopped you in time. Mind, Lucy, it is never safe to read
+      letters out from people in that class of life; they talk about everything,
+      and use words that are quite out of date. I stopped you because I know you
+      are a simpleton, and so I could not tell what might pop out next.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, thank you, aunt&mdash;thank you,&rdquo; cried Lucy, warmly. &ldquo;Then I did not
+      expose myself, after all.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no; you said nothing that might not be proclaimed at St. Paul's Cross&mdash;ha!
+      ha!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Am I a simpleton, aunt?&rdquo; inquired Lucy, in the tone of an indifferent
+      person seeking knowledge.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not you,&rdquo; replied this oblivious lady. &ldquo;You know a great deal more than
+      most girls of your age. To be sure, girls that have been at a fashionable
+      school generally manage to learn one or two things you have no idea of.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Naturally.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;As you say&mdash;he! he! But you make up for it, my dear, in other
+      respects. If the gentlemen take you for a pane of glass, why, all the
+      better; meantime, shall I tell you your real character? I have only just
+      discovered it myself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, yes, aunt, tell me my character. I should so like to hear it from
+      you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Should you?&rdquo; said the other, a little satirically; &ldquo;well, then, you are
+      an INNOCENT FOX.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Aunt!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;An in-no-cent fox; so run and get your work-box. I want you to run up a
+      tear in my flounce.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy went thoughtfully for her workbox, murmuring ruefully, &ldquo;I am an
+      innocent fox&mdash;I am an in-nocent fox.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She did not like her new character at all; it mortified her, and seemed
+      self-contradictory as well as derogatory.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On her return she could not help remonstrating: &ldquo;How can that be my
+      character? A fox is cunning, and I despise cunning; and <i>I am sure</i> I
+      am not <i>innocent,&rdquo;</i> added she, putting up both hands and looking
+      penitent. With all this, a shade of vexation was painted on her lovely
+      cheeks as she appealed against her epigram.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Bazalgette (with the calm, inexorable superiority of matron
+      despotism). &ldquo;You are an in-nocent fox!! Is your needle threaded? Here is
+      the tear; no, not there. I caught against the flowerpot frame, and I'll
+      swear I heard my gown go. Look lower down, dear. Don't give it up.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      All which may perhaps remind the learned and sneering reader of another
+      fox&mdash;the one that &ldquo;had a wound, and he could not tell where.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They rode out to-day as usual, and David had the equivocal pleasure of
+      seeing them go from the door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy was one of the first down, and put her hand on the saddle, and looked
+      carelessly round for somebody to put her up. David stepped hastily
+      forward, his heart beating, seized her foot, never waited for her to
+      spring, but went to work at once, and with a powerful and sustained effort
+      raised her slowly and carefully like a dead weight, and settled her in the
+      saddle. His gripe hurt her foot. She bore it like a Spartan sooner than
+      lose the amusement of his simplicity and enormous strength, so drolly and
+      unnecessarily exerted. It cost her a little struggle not to laugh right
+      out, but she turned her head away from him a moment and was quit for a
+      spasm. Then she came round with a face all candor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank you, Mr. Dodd,&rdquo; said she, demurely; and her eyes danced in her
+      head. Her foot felt encircled with an iron band, but she bore him not a
+      grain of malice for that, and away she cantered, followed by his longing
+      eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      David bore the separation well. &ldquo;To-morrow morning I shall have her all to
+      myself,&rdquo; said he. He played with Kenealy and Reginald, and chatted with
+      Bazalgette. In the evening she was surrounded as usual, and he obtained
+      only a small share of her attention. But the thought of the morrow
+      consoled him. He alone knew that she walked before breakfast.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The next morning he rose early, and sauntered about till eight o'clock,
+      and then he came on the lawn and waited for her. She did not come. He
+      waited, and waited, and waited. She never came. His heart died within him.
+      &ldquo;She avoids me,&rdquo; said he; &ldquo;it is not accident. I have driven her out of
+      her very garden; she always walked here before breakfast (she said so)
+      till I came and spoiled her walk; Heaven forgive me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      David could not flatter himself that this interruption of her acknowledged
+      habit was accidental. On the other hand, how kind and cheerful she had
+      been with him on the same spot yesterday morning. To judge by her manner,
+      his company on her quarter-deck was not unwelcome to her yet she kept her
+      room to-day, from the window of which she could probably see him walking
+      to and fro, longing for her. The bitter disappointment was bad enough, but
+      here tormenting perplexity as to its cause was added, and between the two
+      the pining heart was racked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This is the cruelest separation; mere distance is the mildest. Where land
+      and sea alone lie between two loving hearts, they pine, but are at rest. A
+      piece of paper, and a few lines traced by the hand that reads like a face,
+      and the two sad hearts exult and embrace one another afresh, in spite of a
+      hemisphere of dirt and salt water, that parts bodies but not minds. But to
+      be close, yet kept aloof by red-hot iron and chilling ice, by rivals, by
+      etiquette and cold indifference&mdash;to be near, yet far&mdash;this is to
+      be apart&mdash;this, this is separation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A gush of rage and bitterness foreign to his natural temper came over Mr.
+      Dodd. &ldquo;Since I can't have the girl I love, I will have nobody but my own
+      thoughts. I cannot bear the others and their chat to-day. I will go and
+      think of her, since that is all she will let me do&rdquo;; and directly after
+      breakfast David walked out on the downs and made by instinct for the sea.
+      The wounded deer shunned the lively herd.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The ladies, as they sat in the drawing-room, received visits of a less
+      flattering character than usual. Reginald kept popping in, inquiring,
+      &ldquo;Where was Mr. Dodd?&rdquo; and would not believe they had not hid him
+      somewhere. He was followed by Kenealy, who came in and put them but one
+      question, &ldquo;Where is Dawd?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We don't know,&rdquo; said Mrs. Bazalgette sharply; &ldquo;we have not been intrusted
+      with the care of Mr. Dodd.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Kenealy sauntered forth disconsolate. Finally Mr. Bazalgette put his head
+      in, and surveyed the room keenly but in silence; so then his wife looked
+      up, and asked him satirically if he did not want Mr. Dodd.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course I do,&rdquo; was the gracious reply; &ldquo;what else should I come here
+      for?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, he is lost; you had better put him in the 'Hue and Cry.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      La Bazalgette was getting jealous of her own flirtee: he attracted too
+      much of that attention she loved so dear.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At last Reginald, despairing of Dodd, went in search of another playmate&mdash;Master
+      Christmas, a young gentleman a year older than himself, who lived within
+      half a mile. Before he went he inquired what there was for his dinner,
+      and, being informed &ldquo;roast mutton,&rdquo; was not enraptured; he then asked with
+      greater solicitude what was the pudding, and, being told &ldquo;rice,&rdquo; betrayed
+      disgust and anger, as was remembered when too late.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At two o'clock, the day being fine, the ladies went for a long ride,
+      accompanied by Talboys only. Kenealy excused himself: &ldquo;He must see if he
+      could not find Dawd.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Bazalgette started in a pet; but, after the first canter, she set
+      herself to bewitch Mr. Talboys, just to keep her hand in; she flattered
+      him up hill and down dale. Lucy was silent and <i>distraite.</i>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;From that hill you look right down upon the sea,&rdquo; said Mrs. Bazalgette;
+      &ldquo;what do you say? It is only two miles farther.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      On they cantered, and, leaving the high road, dived into a green lane
+      which led them, by a gradual ascent, to Mariner's Folly on the summit of
+      the cliff. Mariner's Folly looked at a distance like an enormous bush in
+      the shape of a lion; but, when you came nearer, you saw it was three
+      remarkably large blackthorn-trees planted together. As they approached it
+      at a walk, Mrs. Bazalgette told Mr. Talboys its legend.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;These trees were planted a hundred and fifty years ago by a retired
+      buccaneer.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Aunt, now, it was only a lieutenant.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Be quiet, Lucy, and don't spoil me; I <i>call</i> him a buccaneer. Some
+      say it is named his &ldquo;Folly,&rdquo; because, you must know, his ghost comes and
+      sits here at times, and that is an absurd practice, shivering in the cold.
+      Others more learned say it comes from a Latin word 'folio,' or some such
+      thing, that means a leaf; the mariner's leafy screen.&rdquo; She then added with
+      reckless levity, &ldquo;I wonder whether we shall find Buckey on the other side,
+      looking at the ships through a ghostly telescope&mdash;ha! ha!&mdash;ah!
+      ah! help! mercy! forgive me! Oh, dear, it is only Mr. Dodd in his jacket&mdash;you
+      frightened me so. Oh! oh! There&mdash;I am ill. Catch me, somebody;&rdquo; and
+      she dropped her whip, and, seeing David's eye was on her, subsided
+      backward with considerable courage and trustfulness, and for the second
+      time contrived to be in her flirtee's arms.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I wish my friend Aristotle had been there; I think he would have been
+      pleased at her [Greek] (presence of mind) in turning even her terror of
+      the supernatural so quickly to account, and making it subservient to
+      flirtation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      David sat heart-stricken and hopeless, gazing at the sea. The hours passed
+      by his heavy heart unheeded. The leafy screen deadened the light sound of
+      the horses' feet on the turf, and, moreover, his senses were all turned
+      inward. They were upon him, and he did not move, but still held his head
+      in his hands and gazed upon the sea. At Mrs. Bazalgette's cries he started
+      up, and looked confusedly at them all; but, when she did the feinting
+      business, he thought she was going to faint, and caught her in his arms;
+      and, holding her in them a moment as if she had been a child, he deposited
+      her very gently in a sitting posture at the foot of one of the trees, and,
+      taking her hand, slapped it to bring her to.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, don't! you hurt me,&rdquo; cried the lady in her natural voice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy, barbarous girl, never came to her aunt's assistance. At the first
+      fright she seemed slightly agitated, but she now sat impassive on her
+      pony, and even wore a satirical smile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now, dear aunt, when you have done, Mr. Dodd will put you on your horse
+      again.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      On this hint David lifted her like a child, <i>malgre</i> a little squeak
+      she thought it well to utter, and put her in the saddle again. She thanked
+      him in a low, murmuring voice. She then plied David with a host of
+      questions. &ldquo;How came he so far from home?&rdquo; &ldquo;Why had he deserted them all
+      day?&rdquo; David hung his head, and did not answer. Lucy came to his relief:
+      &ldquo;It would be as well if you would make him promise to be at home in time
+      for dinner; and, by the way, I have a favor to ask of you, Mr. Dodd.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A favor to ask of me?!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, you know we all make demands upon your good-nature in turn.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is true,&rdquo; said La Bazalgette, tenderly. &ldquo;I don't know what will
+      become of us all when he goes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy then explained &ldquo;that the masked ball suggested by Mr. Talboys'
+      beautiful dresses was to be very soon, and she wanted Mr. Dodd to practice
+      quadrilles and waltzes with her; it will be so much better with the violin
+      and piano than with a piano alone, and you are such an excellent timist&mdash;will
+      you, Mr. Dodd?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That I will,&rdquo; said David, his eyes sparkling with delight; &ldquo;thank you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then, as I shall practice before the gentlemen join us, and it is four
+      o'clock now, had you not better turn your back on the sea, and make the
+      best of your way home?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will be there almost as soon as you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Indeed! what, on foot, and we on horseback?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ay; but I can steer in the wind's eye.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Aunt, Mr. Dodd proposes a race home.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;With all my heart. How much start are we to give him?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;None at all,&rdquo; said David; &ldquo;are you ready? Then give way,&rdquo; and he started
+      down the hill at a killing pace.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The equestrians were obliged to walk down the hill, and when they reached
+      the bottom David was going as the crow flies across some meadows half a
+      mile ahead. A good canter soon brought them on a line with him, but every
+      now and then the turns of the road and the hills gave him an advantage.
+      Lucy, naturally kind-hearted, would have relaxed her pace to make the race
+      more equal, but Talboys urged her on; and as a horse is, after all, a
+      faster animal than a sailor, they rode in at the front gate while David
+      was still two fields off.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come,&rdquo; said Mrs. Bazalgette, regretfully, &ldquo;we have beat him, poor fellow,
+      but we won't go in till we see what has become of him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      As they loitered on the lawn, Henry the footman came out with a salver,
+      and on it reposed a soiled note. Henry presented it with demure
+      obsequiousness, then retired grinning furtively.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is this&mdash;a begging-letter? What a vile hand! Look, Lucy; did
+      you ever? Why, it must be some pauper.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have a little mercy, aunt,&rdquo; said Lucy, piteously; &ldquo;that hand has been
+      formed under my care and daily superintendence: it is Reginald's.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, that alters the case. What can the dear child have to say to me! Ah!
+      the little wretch! Send the servants after him in every direction. Oh, who
+      would be a mother!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The letter was written in lines with two pernicious defects. 1st. They
+      were like the wooden part of a bow instead of its string. 2d. They yielded
+      to gravity&mdash;kept tending down, down, to the righthand corner more and
+      more. In the use of capitals the writer had taken the copyhead as his
+      model. The style, however, was pithy, and in writing that is the first
+      Christian grace&mdash;no, I forgot, it is the second; pellucidity is the
+      first.
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+     &ldquo;Dear mama, me and johnny
+     Cristmas are gone to the north
+     Pole his unkle went twise we
+     Shall be back in siks munths
+     Please give my love to lucy and
+     Papa and ask lucy to be kind to
+     My ginnipigs i shall want them
+     Wen i come back. too much
+     Cabiges is not good for ginnipigs.
+     Wen i come back i hope there
+     Will be no rise left. it is very
+     Unjust to give me those nasty
+     Messy pudens i am not a child
+     There filthy there abbommanabel.
+     Johny says it is funy at the north
+     Pole and there are bares
+     and they
+     Are wite.
+     I remain
+
+                 &ldquo;Your duteful son
+
+                 &ldquo;Reginald George Bazalgette.&rdquo;
+ </pre>
+    <p>
+      This innocent missive set house and premises in an uproar. Henry was sent
+      east through the dirt, <i>multa reluctantem,</i> in white stockings. Tom
+      galloped north. Mrs. Bazalgette sat in the hall, and did well-bred
+      hysterics for Kenealy and Talboys. Lucy pinned up her habit, and ran to
+      the boundary hedge on the bare chance of seeing the figures of the truants
+      somewhere short of the horizon. Lo, and behold, there was David Dodd
+      crossing the very nearest field and coming toward her, an urchin in each
+      hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy ran to meet them. &ldquo;Oh, you dear naughty children, what a fright you
+      have given us! Oh, Mr. Dodd, how good of you! Where <i>did</i> you find
+      them?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Under that hedge, eating apples. They tell me they sailed for the North
+      Pole this morning, but fell in with a pirate close under the land, so
+      'bout ship and came ashore again.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A pirate, Mr. Dodd? Oh, I see, a beggar&mdash;a tramp.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A deal worse than that, Miss Lucy. Now, youngster, why don't you spin
+      your own yarn?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, tell me, Reggy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, dear, when I had written to mamma, and Johnny had folded it&mdash;because
+      I can write but I can't fold it, and he can fold it but he can't write it&mdash;we
+      went to the North Pole, and we got a mile; and then we saw that nasty
+      Newfoundland dog sitting in the road waiting to torment us. It is Farmer
+      Johnson's, and it plays with us, and knocks us down, and licks us, and
+      frightens us, and we hate it; so we came home.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ha! ha! good, prudent children. Oh, dear, you have had no dinner.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, yes we had, Lucy, such a nice one: we bought such a lot of apples of
+      a woman. I never had a dinner all apples before; they always spoil them
+      with mutton and things, and that nasty, nasty rice&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hear to that!&rdquo; shouted David Dodd. &ldquo;They have been dining upon varjese&rdquo;
+       (verjuice), &ldquo;and them growing children. I shall take them into the
+      kitchen, and put some cold beef into their little holds this minute, poor
+      little lambs.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh yes, do; and I will run and tell the good news.&rdquo; She ran across the
+      lawn, and came into the hall red with innocent happiness and agitation.
+      &ldquo;They are found, aunt, they are found; don't cry. Mr. Dodd found them
+      close by, They have had no dinner, so that good, kind Mr. Dodd is taking
+      them into the kitchen. I will send Master Christmas home with a servant.
+      Shall I bring you Reggy to kiss?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no; wicked little wretch, to frighten his poor mother! Whip him,
+      somebody, and put him to bed.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      In the evening, soon after the ladies had left the dining-room, the
+      pianoforte was heard playing quadrilles in the drawing-room. David
+      fidgeted on his seat a little, and presently rose and went for his violin,
+      and joined Lucy in the drawing-room alone. Mrs. B. was trying on a dress.
+      Between the tunes Lucy chatted with him as freely and kindly as ever.
+      David was in heaven. When the gentlemen came up from the dining-room, his
+      joy was interrupted, but not for long. The two musicians played with so
+      much spirit, and the fiddle, in particular, was so hearty, that Mrs.
+      Bazalgette proposed a little quiet dance on the carpet: and this drew the
+      other men away from the piano, and left David and Lucy to themselves.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She stole a look more than once at his bright eyes and rich ruddy color,
+      and asked herself, &ldquo;Is that really the same face we found looking wan and
+      haggard on the sea? I think I have put an end to that, at all events.&rdquo; The
+      consciousness of this sort of power is secretly agreeable to all men and
+      all women, whether they mean to abuse it or no. She smiled demurely at her
+      mastery over this great heart, and said to herself, &ldquo;One would think I was
+      a witch.&rdquo; Later in the evening she eyed him again, and thought to herself,
+      &ldquo;If my company and a few friendly words can make him so happy, it does
+      seem very hard I should select him to shun for the few days he has to pass
+      in England now; but then, if I let him think&mdash;I don't know what to do
+      with him. Poor Mr. Dodd.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Miss Fountain did not torment her bolder aspirants with alternate distance
+      and familiarity. She rode out every fine day with Mr. Talboys, and was all
+      affability. She sat next Mr. Hardie at dinner, and was all affability.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Narrative has its limits and, to relate in some sequence the honest
+      sailor's tortures in love with a tactician, I have necessarily omitted
+      concurrent incidents of a still tamer character; but the reader may, by
+      the help of his own intelligence, gather their general results from the
+      following dialogues, which took place on the afternoon and evening of the
+      terrible infant's escapade.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Bazalgette. &ldquo;'Well, my dear friend, and how does this naughty girl of
+      mine use you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Hardie. &ldquo;As well as I could expect, and better than I deserve.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. B. &ldquo;Then she must be cleverer than any girl that ever breathed.
+      However, she does appreciate your conversation; she makes no secret of
+      it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. H. &ldquo;I have so little reason to complain of my reception that I will
+      make my proposal to her this evening if you think proper.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Bazalgette started, and glanced admiration on a man of eight thousand
+      a year, who came to the point of points without being either cajoled or
+      spurred thither; but she shook her head. &ldquo;Prudence, my dear Mr. Hardie,
+      prudence. Not just yet. You are making advances every day; and Lucy is an
+      odd girl; with all her apparent tenderness, she is unimpressionable.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is only virgin modesty,&rdquo; said Hardie, dogmatically.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Fiddlestick,&rdquo; replied Mrs. B., good-humoredly. &ldquo;The greatest flirts I
+      ever met with were virgins, as you call them. I tell you she is not
+      disposed toward marriage as all other girls are until they have tasted its
+      bitters.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. H. &ldquo;If I know anything of character, she will make a very loving
+      wife.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. B. (sharply). &ldquo;That means a nice little negro. Well, I think she
+      might, when once caught; but she is not caught, and she is slippery, and,
+      if you are in too great a hurry, she may fly off; but, above all, we have
+      a dangerous rival in the house just now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. H. &ldquo;What, that Mr. Talboys? I don't fear him. He is next door to a
+      fool.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. B. &ldquo;What of that? Fools are dangerous rivals for a lady's favor. We
+      don't object to fools. It depends on the employment. There is one office
+      we are apt to select them for.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. H. &ldquo;A husband, eh?&rdquo; The lady nodded.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. B. &ldquo;I meant to marry a fool in Bazalgette, but I found my mistake.
+      The wretch had only feigned absurdity. He came out in his true colors
+      directly.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. H. &ldquo;A man of sense, eh? The sinister hypocrite! He only wore the caps
+      and bells to allure unguarded beauty, and doffed them when he donned the
+      wedding-suit.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. B. &ldquo;Yes. But these are reminiscences so sweet that I shall be glad to
+      return from them to your little affair. Seriously, then, Mr. Talboys is
+      not to be overlooked, for this reason: he is well backed.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;By whom?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;By some one who has influence with Lucy&mdash;her nearest relation, Mr.
+      Fountain.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What! is he nearer to her than you are?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Certainly; and she is fond of him to infatuation. One day I did but hint
+      that selfishness entered into his character (he is eaten up with it), and
+      that he told fibs; Mr. Hardie, she turned round on me like a tigress&mdash;Oh,
+      how she made me cry!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The keen hand, Hardie, smiled satirically, and after a pause answered with
+      consummate coolness: &ldquo;I believe thus much, that she loves her uncle, and
+      that his influence, exerted unscrupulously&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Which it will be. He may be strong enough to spoil us, even though he
+      should not be able to carry his own point; now trust me, my dear friend,
+      Lucy's preference is clearly for you, but I know the weakness of my own
+      sex, and, above all, I know Lucy Fountain. A mouse can help a lion in a
+      matter of small threads, too small for his nobler and grander wisdom to
+      see. Let me be your mouse for once.&rdquo; The little woman caught the great man
+      with the everlasting hook, and the discussion ended in &ldquo;claw me and I will
+      claw thee,&rdquo; and in the mutual self-complacency that follows that
+      arrangement. <i>Vide</i> &ldquo;Blackwood,&rdquo; <i>passim.</i>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. H. &ldquo;I really think she would accept me if I offered to-day; but I have
+      so high an opinion of your sagacity and friendship for me, madam, that I
+      will defer my judgment to yours. I must, however, make one condition, that
+      you will not displace my plan without suggesting a distinct course of
+      action for me to adopt in its place.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This smooth proposal, made quietly but with twinkling eye, would have shut
+      the mouth of nine advisers in ten, but it found the Bazalgette prepared.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, the pleasure of having a man of ability to deal with!&rdquo; cried she,
+      with enthusiasm. &ldquo;This is my advice, then: stay Mr. Fountain out. He must
+      go in a day or two. His time is up, and I will drop a hint of fresh
+      visitors expected. When he is gone, warm by degrees, and offer yourself
+      either in person, or through Bazalgette, or me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In person, then, certainly. Of all foibles, employing another pair of
+      eyes, another tongue, another person to make love for one is surely the
+      silliest.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am quite of your opinion,&rdquo; cried the lady, with a hearty laugh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Fountain. &ldquo;So you are satisfied with the state of things?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Talboys. &ldquo;Yes, I think I have beaten the sailor out of the field.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, but&mdash;this Hardie?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hardie! a shopkeeper. I don't fear him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In that case, why not propose? I have been doing the preliminaries&mdash;sounding
+      your praises.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Talboys (tyrannically). &ldquo;I propose next Saturday.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Fountain. &ldquo;Very well.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Talboys. &ldquo;In the boat.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In the boat? What boat? There's no boat.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have asked her to sail with me from &mdash;&mdash; in a boat; there is
+      a very nice little lugger-rigged one. I am having the seats padded and
+      stuffed and lined, and an awning put up, and the boat painted white and
+      gold.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Bravo! Cleopatra's galley.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I assure you she looks forward to it with pleasure; she guesses why I
+      want to get her into that boat. She hesitated at first, but at last
+      consented with a look&mdash;a conscious look; I can hardly describe it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There is no need,&rdquo; cried Fountain. &ldquo;I know it; the jade turned all
+      eyelashes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is rather exaggerated, but still&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But still I have described it&mdash;to a hair. Ha! ha!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Talboys (gravely). &ldquo;Well, yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Talboys, I am bound to own, was accurate. During the last day or two
+      Lucy had taken a turn; she had been bewitching; she had flattered him with
+      tact, but deliciously; had consulted him as to which of his beautiful
+      dresses she should wear at the masked ball, and, when pressed to have a
+      sail in the boat he was fitting for her, she ended by giving a demure
+      assent.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Chorus of male readers, <i>&ldquo;Oh, les femmes, les femmes!&rdquo;</i>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      David Dodd had by nature a healthy as well as a high mind; but the fever
+      and ague of an absorbing passion were telling on it. Like many a great
+      heart before his day, his heart was tossed like a ship, and went up to
+      heaven, and down again to despair, as a girl's humor shifted, or seemed to
+      shift, for he forgot that there is such a thing as accident, and that her
+      sex are even more under its dominion than ours. No; whatever she did must
+      be spontaneous, voluntary, premeditated even, and her lightest word worth
+      weighing, her lightest action worth anxious scrutiny as to its cause.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Still he had this about him that the peevish and puny lover has not. Her
+      bare presence was joy to him. Even when she was surrounded by other
+      figures, he saw and felt but the one; the rest were nothings. But when she
+      went out of his sight, some bright illusion seemed to fade into cold and
+      dark reality. Then it fell on him like a weighty, icy hammer, that in
+      three days he must go to sea for two years, and that he was no nearer her
+      heart now than he was at Font Abbey. Was he even as near?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So the next afternoon he thrust in before Talboys, and put Lucy on her
+      horse by brute force, and griped her stout little boot, which she had
+      slyly substituted for a shoe, and touched her glossy habit, and felt a
+      thrill of bliss unspeakable at his momentary contact with her; but she was
+      no sooner out of sight than a hollow ache seized the poor fellow, and he
+      hung his head and sighed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I say, capting,&rdquo; said a voice in his ear. He looked up, and there stood
+      Tom, the stable-boy, with both hands in his pockets. Tom was not there by
+      his own proper movement, but was agent of Betsy, the under-housemaid.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Female servants scan the male guests pretty closely too, without seeming
+      to do it, and judge them upon lamentably broad principles&mdash;youth,
+      health, size, beauty, and good temper. Oh, the coarse-minded critics!
+      Hence it befell that in their eyes, especially after the fiddle business,
+      David was a king compared with his rivals.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If I look at him too long, I shall eat him,&rdquo; said the cook-maid.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He is a darling,&rdquo; said the upper housemaid.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Betsy aforesaid often opened a window to have a sly look at him, and on
+      one of these occasions she inspected him from an upper story at her
+      leisure. His manner drew her attention. She saw him mount Lucy, and eye
+      her departing form sadly and wistfully. Betsy glowered and glowered, and
+      hit the nail on the head, as people will do who are so absurd as to look
+      with their own eyes, and draw their own conclusions instead of other
+      people's. After this she took an opportunity, and said to Tom, with a
+      satirical air, &ldquo;How are you off for nags, your way?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, we have got enough for our corn,&rdquo; replied Tom, on the defensive.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It seems you can't find one for the captain among you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Will you give a kiss if I make you out a liar?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sooner than break my arm. Come, you might, Tom. Now is it reasonable, him
+      never to get a ride with her, and that useless lot prancing about with her
+      all day long?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why don't you ride with 'em, capting?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have no horse.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have got a horse for you, sir&mdash;master's.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That would be taking a liberty.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Liberty, sir! no; master would be so pleased if you would but ride him.
+      He told me so.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then saddle him, pray.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have a-saddled him. You had better come in the stable-yard, capting;
+      then you can mount and follow; you will catch them before they reach the
+      Downs.&rdquo; In another minute David was mounted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you ride short or long, capting?&rdquo; inquired Tom, handling the
+      stirrup-leather.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      David wore a puzzled look. &ldquo;I ride as long as I can stick on;&rdquo; and he
+      trotted out of the stable-yard. As Tom had predicted, he caught the party
+      just as they went off the turn-pike on to the grass. His heart beat with
+      joy; he cantered in among them. His horse was fresh, squeaked, and bucked
+      at finding himself on grass and in company, and David announced his
+      arrival by rolling in among their horses' feet with the reins tight
+      grasped in his fist. The ladies screamed with terror. David got up
+      laughing; his horse had hoped to canter away without him, and now stood
+      facing him and pulling.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, ye don't,&rdquo; said David. &ldquo;I held on to the tiller-ropes though I did go
+      overboard.&rdquo; Then ensued a battle between David and his horse, the one
+      wanting to mount, the other anxious to be unencumbered with sailors. It
+      was settled by David making a vault and sitting on the animal's neck, on
+      which the ladies screamed again, and Lucy, half whimpering, proposed to go
+      home.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't think of it,&rdquo; cried David. &ldquo;I won't be beat by such a small craft
+      as this&mdash;hallo!&rdquo; for, the horse backing into Talboys, that gentleman
+      gave him a clandestine cut, and he bolted, and, being a little
+      hard-mouthed, would gallop in spite of the tiller-ropes. On came the other
+      nags after him, all misbehaving more or less, so fine a thing is example.
+      When they had galloped half a mile the ground began to rise, and David's
+      horse relaxed his pace, whereon David whipped him industriously, and made
+      him gallop again in spite of remonstrance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The others drew the rein, and left him to gallop alone. Accordingly, he
+      made the round of the hill and came back, his horse covered with lather
+      and its tail trembling. &ldquo;There,&rdquo; said he to Lucy, with an air of radiant
+      self-satisfaction, &ldquo;he clapped on sail without orders from quarter-deck,
+      so I made him carry it till his bows were under water.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You will kill my uncle's horse,&rdquo; was the reply, in a chilling tone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Heaven forbid!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Look at its poor flank beating.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      David hung his head like a school-girl rebuked. &ldquo;But why did he clap on
+      sail if he could not carry it?&rdquo; inquired he, ruefully, of his monitress.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The others burst out laughing; but Lucy remained grave and silent.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      David rode along crestfallen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Bazalgette brought her pony close to him, and whispered, &ldquo;Never mind
+      that little cross-patch. <i>She</i> does not care a pin about the <i>horse;</i>
+      you interrupted her flirtation, that is all.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This piece of consolation soothed David like a bunch of stinging-nettles.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      While Mrs. Bazalgette was consoling David with thorns, Kenealy and Talboys
+      were quizzing his figure on horseback.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He sat bent like a bow and visibly sticking on: <i>item,</i> he had no
+      straps, and his trousers rucked up half-way to his knee.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy's attention being slyly drawn to these phenomena by David's friend
+      Talboys, she smiled politely, though somewhat constrainedly; but the
+      gentlemen found it a source of infinite amusement during the whole ride,
+      which, by the way, was not a very long one, for Miss Fountain soon
+      expressed a wish to turn homeward. David felt guilty, he scarce knew why.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The promised happiness was wormwood. On dismounting, she went to the lawn
+      to tend her flowers. David followed her, and said bitterly, &ldquo;I am sorry I
+      came to spoil your pleasure.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Miss Fountain made no answer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I thought I might have one ride with you, when others have so many.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, of course, Mr. Dodd. If you like to expose yourself to ridicule, it
+      is no affair of mine.&rdquo; The lady's manner was a happy mixture of frigidity
+      and crossness. David stood benumbed, and Lucy, having emptied her
+      flower-pot, glided indoors without taking any farther notice of him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      David stood rooted to the spot. Then he gave a heavy sigh, and went and
+      leaned against one of the pillars of the portico, and everything seemed to
+      swim before his eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Presently he heard a female voice inquire, &ldquo;Is Miss Lucy at home?&rdquo; He
+      looked, and there was a tall, strapping woman in conference with Henry.
+      She had on a large bonnet with flaunting ribbons, and a bushy cap
+      infuriated by red flowers. Henry's eye fell upon these embellishments:
+      &ldquo;Not at home,&rdquo; chanted he, sonorously.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Eh, dear,&rdquo; said the woman sadly, &ldquo;I have come a long way to see her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not at home, ma'am,&rdquo; repeated Henry, like a vocal machine.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My name is Wilson, young man,&rdquo; said she, persuasively, and the Amazon's
+      voice was mellow and womanly, spite of her coal-scuttle full of field
+      poppies. &ldquo;I am her nurse, and I have not seen her this five years come
+      Martinmas;&rdquo; and the Amazon gave a gentle sigh of disappointment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not at home, ma'am!&rdquo; rang the inexorable Plush.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But David's good heart took the woman's part. &ldquo;She is at home, now,&rdquo; said
+      he, coming forward. &ldquo;I saw her go into the house scarce a minute ago.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, thank you, sir,&rdquo; said Mrs. Wilson. But Mr. Plush's face was instantly
+      puckered all over with signals, which David not comprehending, he said,
+      &ldquo;Can I say a word with you, sir?&rdquo; and, drawing him on one side, objected,
+      in an injured and piteous tone. &ldquo;We are not at home to such gallimaufry as
+      that; it is as much as my place is worth to denounce that there bonnet to
+      our ladies.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Bonnet be d&mdash;d,&rdquo; roared David, aloud. &ldquo;It is her old nurse. Come,
+      heave ahead;&rdquo; and he pointed up the stairs.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Anything to oblige you, captain,&rdquo; said Henry, and sauntered into the
+      drawing-room; &ldquo;Mrs. Wilson, ma'am, for Miss Fountain.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very well; my niece will be here directly.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy had just gone to her own room for some working materials.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You had better come to an anchor on this seat, Mrs. Wilson,&rdquo; said David.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank ye kindly, young gentleman,&rdquo; said Mrs. Wilson; and she settled her
+      stately figure on the seat. &ldquo;I have walked a many miles to-day, along of
+      our horse being lame, and I am a little tired. You are one of the family,
+      I do suppose?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, I am only a visitor.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ain't ye now? Well, thank ye kindly, all the same. I have seen a worse
+      face than yours, I can tell you,&rdquo; added she; for in the midst of it all
+      she had found time to read countenances <i>more mulierurn.</i>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And I have seen a good many hundred worse than yours, Mrs. Wilson.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Wilson laughed. &ldquo;Twenty years ago, if you had said so, I might have
+      believed you, or even ten; but, bless you, I am an old woman now, and can
+      say what I choose to the men. Forty-two next Candlemas.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      In the country they call themselves old at forty-two, because they feel
+      young. In town they call themselves young at forty-two, because they feel
+      old.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      David found that he had fallen in with a gossip; and, being in no humor
+      for vague chat, he left Mrs. Wilson to herself, with an assurance that
+      Miss Fountain would be down to her directly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In leaving her he went into worse company&mdash;his own thoughts; they
+      were inexpressibly sad and bitter. &ldquo;She hates me, then,&rdquo; said he.
+      &ldquo;Everybody is welcome to her at all hours, except me. That lady said it
+      was because I interrupted her flirtation. Aha! well, I shan't interrupt
+      her flirtation much longer. I shan't be in her way or anybody's long. A
+      few short hours, and this bitter day will be forgotten, and nothing left
+      me but the memory of the kindness she had for me once, or seemed to have,
+      and the angel face I must carry in my heart wherever I go, by land or sea.
+      The sea? would to God I was upon it this minute! I'd rather be at sea than
+      ashore in the dirtiest night that ever blew.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He had been walking to and fro a good half-hour, deeply dejected and
+      turning bitter, when, looking in accidentally at the hall door, he caught
+      sight of Mrs. Wilson sitting all alone where he had left her. &ldquo;Why, what
+      on earth is the meaning of that?&rdquo; thought he; and he went into the hall
+      and asked Mrs. Wilson how she came to be there all alone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is what I have been asking myself a while past,&rdquo; was the dry reply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have you not seen her?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, sir, I have not seen her, and, to my mind, it is doubtful whether I
+      am to see her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But I say you shall see her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no, don't put yourself out, sir,&rdquo; said the woman, carelessly; &ldquo;I dare
+      say I shall have better luck next time, if I should ever come to this
+      house again, which it is not very likely.&rdquo; She added gently, &ldquo;Young folk
+      are thoughtless; we must not judge them too hardly.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thoughtless they may be, but they have no business to be heartless. I
+      have a great mind to go up and fetch her down.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't ye trouble, sir. It is not worth while putting you about for an old
+      woman like me.&rdquo; Then suddenly dropping the mask of nonchalance which women
+      of this class often put on to hide their sensibility, she said, very, very
+      gravely, and with a sad dignity, that one would not have expected from her
+      gossip and her finery, &ldquo;I begin to fear, sir, that the child I have
+      suckled does not care to know me now she is a woman grown.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      David dashed up the stairs with a red streak on his brow. He burst into
+      the drawing-room, and there sat Mrs. Bazalgette overlooking, and Lucy
+      working with a face of beautiful calm. She looked just then so very like a
+      pure, tranquil Madonna making an altar-cloth, or something, that David's
+      intention to give her a scolding was withered in the bud, and he gazed at
+      her surprised and irresolute, and said not a word.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Anything the matter?&rdquo; inquired Mrs. Bazalgette, attracted by the
+      bruskness of his entry.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, there is,&rdquo; said David sternly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy looked up.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Miss Fountain's old nurse has been sitting in the hall more than half an
+      hour, and nobody has had the politeness to go near her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, is that all? Well, don't look daggers at me. There is Lucy; give her
+      a lesson in good-breeding, Mr. Dodd.&rdquo; This was said a little satirically,
+      and rather nettled David.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Perhaps it does not become me to set up for a teacher of that. I know my
+      own deficiencies as well as anybody in this house knows them; but this I
+      know, that, if an old friend walked eight miles to see me, it would not be
+      good-breeding in me to refuse to walk eight yards to see her. And, another
+      thing, everybody's time is worth something; if I did not mean to see her,
+      I would have that much consideration to send down and tell her so, and not
+      keep the woman wasting her time as well as her trouble, and vexing her
+      heart into the bargain.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where is she, Mr. Dodd?&rdquo; asked Lucy quickly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where is she?&rdquo; cried David, getting louder and louder. &ldquo;Why, she is
+      cooling her heels in the hall this half hour and more. They hadn't the
+      manners to show her into a room.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will go to her, Mr. Dodd,&rdquo; said Lucy, turning a little pale. &ldquo;Don't be
+      angry; I will go directly&rdquo;; and, having said this with an abject
+      slavishness that formed a miraculous contrast with her late crossness and
+      imperious chilliness, she put down her work hastily and went out; only at
+      the door she curved her throat, and cast back, Parthian-like, a glance of
+      timid reproach, as much as to say, &ldquo;Need you have been so very harsh with
+      a creature so obedient as this is?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      That deprecating glance did Mr. Dodd's business. It shot him with remorse,
+      and made him feel a brute.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ha! ha! That is the way to speak to her, Mr. Dodd; the other gentlemen
+      spoil her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It was very unbecoming of me to speak to her harshly like that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pooh! nonsense; these girls like to be ordered about; it saves them the
+      trouble of thinking for themselves; but what is to become of me? You have
+      sent off my workwoman.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will do her work for her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What! can you sew?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where is the sailor that can't sew?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Delightful! Then please to sew these two thick ends together. Here is a
+      large needle.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      David whipped out of his pocket a round piece of leather with strings
+      attached, and fastened it to the hollow of his hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is a sailor's thimble.&rdquo; He took the work, held it neatly, and shoved
+      the needle from behind through the thick material. He worked slowly and
+      uncouthly, but with the precision that was a part of his character, and
+      made exact and strong stitches. His task-mistress looked on, and, under
+      the pretense of minute inspection, brought a face that was still arch and
+      pretty unnecessarily close to the marine milliner, in which attitude they
+      were surprised by Mr. Bazalgette, who, having come in through the open
+      folding-doors, stood looking mighty sardonic at them both before they were
+      even aware he was in the room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Omphale colored faintly, but Hercules gave a cool nod to the newcomer, and
+      stitched on with characteristic zeal and strict attention to the matter in
+      hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At this Bazalgette uttered a sort of chuckle, at which Mrs. Bazalgette
+      turned red. David stitched on for the bare life.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I came to offer to invite you to my study, but&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can't come just now,&rdquo; said David, bluntly; &ldquo;I am doing a lady's work
+      for her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So I see,&rdquo; retorted Bazalgette, dryly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We all dine with the Hunts but you and Mr. Dodd,&rdquo; said Mrs. Bazalgette,
+      &ldquo;so you will be <i>en tete-a-tete</i> all the evening.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All the better for us both.&rdquo; And with this ingratiating remark Mr.
+      Bazalgette retired whistling.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Bazalgette heaved a gentle sigh: &ldquo;Pity me, my friend,&rdquo; said she,
+      softly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is the matter?&rdquo; inquired David, rather bluntly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Bazalgette is so harsh to me&mdash;ah!&mdash;to me, who longs so for
+      kindness and gentleness that I feel I could give my very soul in exchange
+      for them.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The bait did not take.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is only his manner,&rdquo; said David, good-naturedly. &ldquo;His heart is all
+      right; I never met a better. What sort of a knot is that you are tying?
+      Why, that is a granny's knot;&rdquo; and he looked morose, at which she looked
+      amazed; so he softened, and explained to her with benevolence the
+      rationale of a knot. &ldquo;A knot is a fastening intended to be undone again by
+      fingers, and not to come undone without them. Accordingly, a knot is no
+      knot at all if it jams or if it slips. A granny's knot does both; when you
+      want to untie it you must pick at it like taking a nail out of a board,
+      and, for all that, sooner or later it always comes undone of itself; now
+      you look here;&rdquo; and he took a piece of string out of his pocket, and tied
+      her a sailor's knot, bidding her observe that she could untie it at once,
+      but it could never come untied of itself. He showed her with this piece of
+      string half a dozen such knots, none of which could either jam or slip.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tie me a lover's knot,&rdquo; suggested the lady, in a whisper.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ay! ay!&rdquo; and he tied her a lover's knot as imperturbably as he had the
+      reef knot, bowling-knot, fisherman's bend, etc.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This is very interesting,&rdquo; said Mrs. Bazalgette, ironically. She thought
+      David might employ a tete-a-tete with a flirt better than this. &ldquo;What a
+      time Lucy is gone!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All the better.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why?&rdquo; and she looked down in mock confusion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because poor Mrs. Wilson will be glad.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Bazalgette was piqued at this unexpected answer. &ldquo;You seem quite
+      captivated with this Mrs. Wilson; it was for her sake you took Lucy to
+      task. Apropos, you need not have scolded her, for she did not know the
+      woman was in the house.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What do you mean?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I mean Lucy was not in the room when Mrs. Wilson was announced. I was,
+      but I did not tell her; the all-important circumstance had escaped my
+      memory. Where are you running to now?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where? why, to ask her pardon, to be sure.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. B. [Brute!]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      David ran down the stairs to look for Lucy, but he found somebody else
+      instead&mdash;his sister Eve, whom the servant had that moment admitted
+      into the hall. It was &ldquo;Oh, Eve!&rdquo; and &ldquo;Oh, David!&rdquo; directly, and an
+      affectionate embrace.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You got my letter, David?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, then you will before long. I wrote to tell you to look out for me;
+      I had better have brought the letter in my pocket. I didn't know I was
+      coming till just an hour before I started. Mother insisted on my going to
+      see the last of you. Cousin Mary had invited me to &mdash;&mdash;, so I
+      shall see you off, Davy dear, after all. I thought I'd just pop in and let
+      you know I was in the neighborhood. Mary and her husband are outside the
+      gate in their four-wheel. I would not let them drive in, because I want to
+      hear your story, and they would have bothered us.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Eve, dear, I have no good news for you. Your words have come true. I have
+      been perplexed, up and down, hot and cold, till I feel sometimes like
+      going mad. Eve, I cannot fathom her. She is deeper than the ocean, and
+      more changeable. What am I saying? the sea and the wind; they are to be
+      read; they have their signs and their warnings; but she&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There! there! that is the old song. I tell you it is only a girl&mdash;a
+      creature as shallow as a puddle, and as easy to fathom, as you call it,
+      only men are so stupid, especially boys. Now just you tell me all she has
+      said, all she has done, and all she has looked, and I will turn her inside
+      out like a glove in a minute.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Cheered by this audacious pledge, David pumped upon Eve all that has
+      trickled on my readers, and some minor details besides, and repeated
+      Lucy's every word, sweet or bitter, and recalled her lightest action&mdash;<i>Meminerunt
+      omnia amantes</i>&mdash;and every now and then he looked sadly into Eve's
+      keen little face for his doom.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She heard him in silence until the last fatal incident, Lucy's severity on
+      the lawn. Then she put in a question. &ldquo;Were those her exact words?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do I ever forget a syllable she says to me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't be angry. I forgot what a ninny she has made of you. Well, David,
+      it is all as plain as my hand. The girl likes you&mdash;that is all.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The girl likes me? What do you mean? How can you say that? What sign of
+      liking is there?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There are two. She avoids you, and she has been rude to you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And those are signs of liking, are they?&rdquo; said David, bitterly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, of course they are, stupid. Tell me, now, does she shun this Captain
+      Keely?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Kenealy. No.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Does she shun Mr. Harvey?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hardie. No.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Does she shun Mr. Talboys?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh Eve, you break my heart&mdash;no! no! She shuns no one but poor
+      David.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now think a little. Here are three on one sort of footing, and one on a
+      different footing; which is likeliest to be <i>the man,</i> the one or the
+      three? You have gained a point since we were all together. She <i>distinguishes</i>
+      you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But what a way to distinguish me. It looks more like hatred than love, or
+      liking either.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not to my eye. Why should she shun you? You are handsome, you are
+      good-tempered, and good company. Why should she be shy of you? She is
+      afraid of you, that is why; and why is she afraid of you? because she is
+      afraid of her own heart. That is how I read her. Then, as for her snubbing
+      you, if her character was like mine, that ought to go for nothing, for I
+      snub all the world; but this is a little queen for politeness. I can't
+      think she would go so far out of her way as to affront anybody unless she
+      had an uncommon respect for him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Listen to that, now! I am on my beam-ends.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now think a minute, David,&rdquo; said Eve, calmly, ignoring his late
+      observation; &ldquo;did you ever know her snub anybody?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Never. Did you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; and she never would, unless she took an uncommon interest in the
+      person. When a girl likes a man, she thinks she has a right to ill-use him
+      a little bit; he has got her affection to set against a scratch or two;
+      the others have not. So she has not the same right to scratch them. La!
+      listen to me teaching him A B C. Why, David, you know nothing; it's
+      scandalous.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Eve's confidence communicated itself at last to David; but when he asked
+      her whether she thought Lucy would consent to be his wife, her countenance
+      fell in her turn. &ldquo;That is a very different thing. I am pretty sure she
+      likes you; how could she help it? but I doubt she will never go to the
+      altar with you. Don't be angry with me, Davy, dear. You are in love with
+      her, and to you she is an angel. But I am of her own sex, and see her as
+      she is; no matter who she likes, she will never be content to make a bad
+      match, as they call it. She told me so once with her own lips. But she had
+      no need to tell me; worldliness is written on her. David, David, you don't
+      know these great houses, nor the fair-spoken creatures that live in them,
+      with tongues tuned to sentiment, and mild eyes fixed on the main chance.
+      Their drawing-rooms are carpeted market-places; you may see the stones
+      bulge through the flowery pattern; there the ladies sell their faces, the
+      gentlemen their titles and their money; and much I fear Miss Fountain's
+      hand will go like the rest&mdash;to the highest bidder.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If I thought so, my love, deep as it is, would turn to contempt; I would
+      tear her out of my heart, though I tore my heart out of my body.&rdquo; He
+      added, &ldquo;I will know what she is before many hours.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do, David. Take her off her guard, and make hot love to her; that is your
+      best chance. It is a pity you are so much in love with her; you might win
+      her by a surprise if you only liked her in moderation.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How so, dear Eve?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The battle would be more even. Your adoring her gives her the upper hand
+      of you. She is sure to say 'no' at first, and then I am afraid you will
+      leave off, instead of going on hotter and hotter. The very look she will
+      put on to check you will check you, you are so green. What a pity I can't
+      take your place for half an hour. I would have her against her will. I
+      would take her by storm. If she said 'no' twenty times, she should say
+      'yes' the twenty-first; but you are afraid of her; fancy being afraid of a
+      woman. Come, David, you must not shilly-shally, but attack her like a man;
+      and, if she is such a fool she can't see your merit, forgive her like a
+      man, and forget her like a man. Come, promise me you will.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I promise you this, that if I lose her it shall not be for want of trying
+      to win her; and, if she refuses me because I am not her fancy, I shall die
+      a bachelor for her sake.&rdquo; Eve sighed. &ldquo;But if she is the mercenary thing
+      you take her for&mdash;if she owns to liking me, but prefers money to
+      love, then from that moment she is no more to me than a picture or a
+      statue, or any other lovely thing that has no soul.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      With these determined words he gave his sister his arm, and walked with
+      her through the grounds to the road where her cousin was waiting for her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy found Mrs. Wilson in the hall. &ldquo;Come into the library, Mrs. Wilson,&rdquo;
+       said she; &ldquo;I have only just heard you were here. Won't you sit down? Are
+      you not well, Mrs. Wilson? You tremble. You are fatigued, I fear. Pray
+      compose yourself. May I ring for a glass of wine for you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no, Miss Lucy,&rdquo; said the woman, smiling; &ldquo;it is only along of you
+      coming to me so sudden, and you so grown. Eh! sure, can this fine young
+      lady be the little girl I held in my lap but t'other day, as it seems?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There was an agitation and ardor about Mrs. Wilson that, coupled with the
+      flaming bonnet, made Miss Fountain uneasy. She thought Mrs. Wilson must be
+      a little cracked, or at least flighty.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pray compose yourself, madam,&rdquo; said she, soothingly, but with that
+      dignity nobody could assume more readily than she could. &ldquo;I dare say I am
+      much grown since I last had the pleasure of seeing you; but I have not
+      outgrown my memory, and I am happy to receive you, or any of our old
+      servants that knew my dear mother.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then I must not look for a welcome,&rdquo; said Mrs. Wilson, with feminine
+      logic, &ldquo;for I was never your servant, nor your mamma's.&rdquo; Lucy opened her
+      eyes, and her face sought an explanation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I never took any money for what I gave you, so how could I be a servant?
+      To see me a dangling of my heels in your hall so long, one would say I was
+      a servant; but I am not a servant, nor like to be, please God, unless I
+      should have the ill luck to bury my two boys, as I have their father. So
+      perhaps the best thing I can do, miss, is to drop you my courtesy and walk
+      back as I came.&rdquo; The Amazon's manner was singularly independent and calm,
+      but the tell-tale tears were in the large gray honest eyes before she
+      ended.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy's natural penetration and habit of attending to faces rather than
+      words came to her aid. &ldquo;Wait a minute, Mrs. Wilson,&rdquo; said she; &ldquo;I think
+      there is some misunderstanding here. Perhaps the fault is mine. And yet I
+      remember more than one nursery-maid that was kind enough to me; but I have
+      heard nothing of them since.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Their blood is not in your veins as mine is, unless the doctors have
+      lanced it out.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I never was bled in my life, if you mean that, madam. But I must ask you
+      to explain how I can possibly have the&mdash;the advantage of possessing
+      <i>your</i> blood in <i>my</i> veins.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Wilson eyed her keenly. &ldquo;Perhaps I had better tell you the story from
+      first to last, young lady,&rdquo; said she quietly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If you please,&rdquo; said the courtier, mastering a sigh; for in Mrs. Wilson
+      there was much that promised fluency.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, miss, when you came into the world, your mamma could not nurse you.
+      I do notice the gentry that eat the fat of the land are none the better
+      for it; for a poor woman can do a mother's part by her child, but
+      high-born and high-fed folk can't always; so you had to be brought up by
+      hand, miss, and it did not agree with you, and that is no great wonder,
+      seeing it is against nature. Well, my little girl, that was born just two
+      days after you, died in my arms of convulsion fits when she was just a
+      month old. She had only just been buried, and me in bitter grief, when
+      doesn't the doctor call and ask me as a great favor, would I nurse Mrs.
+      Fountain's child, that was pining for want of its natural food. I bade him
+      get out of my sight. I felt as if no woman had a right to have a child
+      living when my little darling was gone. But my husband, a just man as ever
+      was, said, 'Take a thought, Mary; the child is really pining, by all
+      accounts.' Well, I would not listen to him. But next Sunday, after
+      afternoon church, my mother, that had not said a word till then, comes to
+      me, and puts her hand on my shoulder with a quiet way she had. 'Mary,'
+      says she, 'I am older than you, and have known more.' She had buried six
+      of us, poor thing. Says she, scarce above a whisper, 'Suckle that failing
+      child. It will be the better for her, and the better for you, Mary, my
+      girl.' Well, miss, my mother was a woman that didn't interfere every
+      minute, and seldom gave her reasons; but, if you scorned her advice, you
+      mostly found them out to your cost; and then she was my mother; and in
+      those days mothers were more thought of, leastways by us that were women
+      and had suffered for our children, and so learned to prize the woman that
+      had suffered for us. 'Well, then,' I said, 'if you say so, mother, I
+      suppose I didn't ought to gainsay you, on the Lord His day.' For you see
+      my mother was one that chose her time for speaking&mdash;eh! but she was
+      wise. 'Mother,' says I, 'to oblige you, so be it'; and with that I fell to
+      crying sore on my mother's neck, and she wasn't long behind me, you may be
+      sure. Whiles we sat a crying in one another's arms, in comes John, and
+      goes to speak a word of comfort. 'It is not that,' says my mother; 'she
+      have given her consent to nurse Mrs. Fountain's little girl.' 'It is much
+      to her credit,' says he: says he, 'I will take her up to the house
+      myself.' 'What for?' says I; 'them that grants the favor has no call to
+      run after them that asks it.' You see, Miss Lucy, that was my ignorance;
+      we were small farmers, too independent to be fawning, and not high enough
+      to weed ourselves of upishness. Your mamma, she was a real lady, so she
+      had no need to trouble about her dignity; she thought only of her child;
+      and she didn't send the child, but she came with it herself. Well, she
+      came into our kitchen, and made her obeisance, and we to her, and mother
+      dusted her a seat. She was pale-like, and a mother's care was in her face,
+      and that went to my heart. 'This is very, very kind of you, Mrs. Wilson,'
+      said she. Those were her words. 'Mayhap it is,' says I; and my heart felt
+      like lead. Mother made a sign to your mamma that she should not hurry me.
+      I saw the signal, for I was as quick as she was; but I never let on I saw
+      it. At last I plucked up a bit of courage, and I said, 'Let me see it.' So
+      mother took you from the girl that held you all wrapped up, and mother put
+      you on my knees; and I took a good look at you. You had the sweetest
+      little face that ever came into the world, but all peaked and pining for
+      want of nature. With you being on my knees, my bosom began to yearn over
+      you, it did. 'The child is starved,' said I; 'that is all its grief. And
+      you did right to bring it' here.' Your mother clasps her hands, 'Oh, Mrs.
+      Wilson,' says she, 'God grant it is not too late.' So then I smiled back
+      to her, and I said, 'Don't you fret; in a fortnight you shan't know her.'
+      You see I was beginning to feel proud of what I knew I could do for you. I
+      was a healthy young woman, and could have nursed two children as easy as
+      some can one. To make a long story short, I gave you the breast then and
+      there; and you didn't leave us long in doubt whether cow's milk or
+      mother's milk is God's will for sucklings. Well, your mamma put her hands
+      before her face, and I saw the tears force their way between her fingers.
+      So, when she was gone, I said to my mother, 'What was that for?' 'I shan't
+      tell you,' says she. 'Do, mother,' says I. So she said, 'I wonder at your
+      having to ask; can't you see it was jealousy-like. Do you think she has
+      not her burden to bear in this world as well as you? How would you like to
+      see another woman do a mother's part for a child of yours, and you sit
+      looking on like a toy-mother? Eh! Miss Lucy, but I was vexed for her at
+      that, and my heart softened; and I used to take you up to the great house,
+      and spend nearly the whole day there, not to rob her of her child more
+      than need be.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Mrs. Wilson! Oh, you kind, noble-hearted creature, surely Heaven will
+      reward you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is past praying for, my dear. Heaven wasn't going to be long in debt
+      to a farmer's wife, you may be sure; not a day, not an hour. I had hardly
+      laid you to my breast when you seemed to grow to my heart. My milk had
+      been tormenting me for one thing. My good mother had thought of that, I'll
+      go bail; and of course you relieved me. But, above all, you numbed the
+      wound in my heart, and healed it by degrees: a part of my love that lay in
+      the churchyard seemed to come back like, and settle on the little helpless
+      darling that milked me. At whiles I forgot you were not my own; and even
+      when I remembered it, it was&mdash;I don't know&mdash;somehow&mdash;as if
+      it wasn't so. I knew in my head you were none of mine, but what of that? I
+      didn't feel it here. Well, miss, I nursed you a year and two months, and a
+      finer little girl never was seen, and such a weight! And, of course, I was
+      proud of you; and often your dear mother tried to persuade me to take a
+      twenty-pound note, or ten; but I never would. I could not sell my milk to
+      a queen. I'd refuse it, or I'd make a gift of it, and the love that goes
+      with it, which is beyond price. I didn't say so to her in so many words,
+      but I did use to tell her 'I was as much in her little girl's debt as she
+      was in mine,' and so I was. But as for a silk gown, and a shawl, and the
+      like, I didn't say 'No' to them; who ever does?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nurse!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My lamb!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Can you ever forgive me for confounding you with a servant? I am so
+      inexperienced. I knew nothing of all this.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Miss Lucy, 'let that flea stick in the wall,' as the saying is.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But, dear Mrs. Wilson, now only think that your affection for me should
+      have lasted all these years. You speak as if such tenderness was common. I
+      fear you are mistaken there: most nurses go away and think no more of
+      those to whom they have been as mothers in infancy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How do you know that, Miss Lucy? Who can tell what passes inside those
+      poor women that are ground down into slaves, and never dare show their
+      real hearts to a living creature? Certainly hirelings will be hirelings,
+      and a poor creature that is forced to sell her breast, and is bundled off
+      as soon as she has served the grand folks' turn, why, she behooves to
+      steel herself against nature, and she knows that from the first; but
+      whether she always does get to harden herself, I take leave to doubt. Miss
+      Lucy; I knew an unfortunate girl that nursed a young gentleman, leastways
+      a young nobleman it was, and years after that I have known her to stand
+      outside the hedge for an hour to catch a sight of him at play on the lawn
+      among the other children. Ay, and if she had a penny piece to spare she
+      would go and buy him sugar-plums, and lay wait for him, and give them him,
+      and he heir to thousands a year.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Poor thing! Poor thing!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Next to the tie of blood, Miss Lucy, the tie of milk is a binding
+      affection. When you went to live twenty miles from us, I behooved to come
+      in the cart and see you from time to time.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I remember, nurse, I remember.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;When I came to our new farm hard by, you were away; but as soon as I
+      heard you were come back, it was like a magnet drawing me. I could not
+      keep away from you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Heaven forbid you should; and I will come and see you, dear nurse.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Will ye, now? Do now. I have got a nice little parlor for you. It is a
+      very good house for a farm-house; and there we can set and talk at our
+      ease, and no fine servants, dressed like lords, coming staring in.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy now proffered a timid request that Mrs. Wilson would take off her
+      bonnet. &ldquo;I want to see your good kind face without any ornament.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hear to that, now, the darling;&rdquo; and off came the bonnet.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now your cap.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I don't know; I hadn't time to do my hair as should be before
+      coming.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What does that matter with me? I must see you without that cap.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What! don't you like my new cap? Isn't it a pretty cap? Why, I bought it
+      a purpose to come and see you in.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, it is a very pretty cap in itself,&rdquo; said the courtier, &ldquo;but it does
+      not suit the shape of your face. Oh, what a difference! Ah! now I see your
+      heart in your face. Will you let me make you a cap?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Will you, now, Miss Lucy? I shall be so proud wearing it our house will
+      scarce hold me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At this juncture a footman came in with a message from Mrs. Bazalgette to
+      remind Lucy that they dined out.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I must go and dress, nurse.&rdquo; She then kissed her and promised to ride
+      over and visit her at her farm next week, and spend a long time with her
+      quietly, and so these new old friends parted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy pondered every word Mrs. Wilson had said to her, and said to herself:
+      &ldquo;What a child I am still! How little I know! How feebly I must have
+      observed!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The party at dinner consisted of Mr. Bazalgette, David, and Reginald, who,
+      taking advantage of his mother's absence and Lucy's, had prevailed on the
+      servants to let him dine with the grown-up ones. &ldquo;Halo? urchin,&rdquo; said Mr.
+      Bazalgette, &ldquo;to what do we owe this honor?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Papa,&rdquo; said Reginald, quaking at heart, &ldquo;if I don't ever begin to be a
+      man what is to become of me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Reginald did not exhibit his full powers at dinner-time. He was
+      greatest at dessert. Peaches and apricots fell like blackberries. He
+      topped up with the ginger and other preserves; then he uttered a sigh, and
+      his eye dwelt on some candied pineapple he had respited too long. Putting
+      the pineapple's escape and the sigh together, Mr. Bazalgette judged that
+      absolute repletion had been attained. &ldquo;Come, Reginald,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;run away
+      now, and let Mr. Dodd and me have our talk.&rdquo; Before the words were even
+      out of his mouth a howl broke from the terrible infant. He had evidently
+      feared the proposal, and got this dismal howl all ready.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, papa! Oh! oh!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is the matter?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't make me go away with the ladies this time. Jane says I am not a man
+      because I go away when the ladies go. And Cousin Lucy won't marry me till
+      I am a man. Oh, papa, do let me be a man this once.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Let him stay, sir,&rdquo; said David.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then he must go and play at the end of the room, and not interrupt our
+      conversation.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Reginald consented with rapture. He had got a new puzzle. He could
+      play at it in a corner; all he wanted was to be able to stop Jane's mouth,
+      should she ever jeer him again. Reginald thus disposed of, Mr. Bazalgette
+      courted David to replenish his glass and sit round to the fire. The fire
+      was huge and glowing, the cut glass sparkled, and the ruby wine glowed,
+      and even the faces shone, and all invited genial talk. Yet David, on the
+      eve of his departure and of his fate, oppressed with suspense and care,
+      was out of the reach of those genial, superficial influences. He could
+      only just mutter a word of assent here and there, then relapsed into his
+      reverie, and eyed the fire thoughtfully, as if his destiny lay there
+      revealed. Mr. Bazalgette, on the contrary, glowed more and more in manner
+      as well as face, and, like many of his countrymen, seemed to imbibe
+      friendship with each fresh glass of port.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At last, under the double influence of his real liking for David and of
+      the Englishman-thawing Portuguese decoction, he gave his favorite a
+      singular proof of friendship. It came about as follows. Observing that he
+      had all the talk to himself, he fixed his eyes with an expression of
+      paternal benevolence on his companion, and was silent in turn.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      David looked up, as we all do when a voice ceases, and saw this mild gaze
+      dwelling on him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dodd, my boy, you don't say a word; what is the matter?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am very bad company, sir, that is the truth.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, fill your glass, then, and I'll talk for you. I have got something
+      to say for you, young gentleman.&rdquo; David filled his glass and forced
+      himself to attend; after a while no effort was needed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dodd,&rdquo; resumed the mature merchant, &ldquo;I need hardly tell you that I have a
+      particular regard for you; the reason is, you are a young man of uncommon
+      merit.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Bazalgette! sir! I don't know which way to look when you praise me
+      like that. It is your goodness; you overrate me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, I don't. I am a judge of men. I have seen thousands, and seen them
+      too close to be taken in by their outside. You are the only one of my
+      wife's friends that ever had the run of my study. What do you think of
+      that, now?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am very proud of it, sir; that is all I can find to say.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, young man, that same good opinion I have of you induces me to do
+      something else, that I have never done for any of your predecessors.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Bazalgette paused. David's heart beat. Quick as lightning it darted
+      through his mind, &ldquo;He is going to ask a favor for me. Promotion? Why not?
+      He is a merchant. He has friends in the Company.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am going to interfere in your concerns, Dodd.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are very good, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, perhaps I am. I have to overcome a natural reluctance. But you are
+      worth the struggle. I shall therefore go against the usages of the world,
+      which I don't care a button for, and my own habits, which I care a great
+      deal for, and give you, humph&mdash;a piece of friendly advice.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      David looked blank.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dodd, my boy, you are playing the fool in this house.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      David looked blanker.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is not your fault; you are led into it by one of those sweet creatures
+      that love to reduce men to the level of their own wisdom. You are in love,
+      or soon will be.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      David colored all over like a girl, and his face of distress was painful
+      to see.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You need not look so frightened; I am your friend, not your enemy. And do
+      you really think others besides me have not seen what is going on? Now,
+      Dodd, my dear fellow, I am an old man, and you are a young one. Moreover,
+      I understand the lady, and you don't.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is true, sir; I feel I cannot fathom her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Poor fellow! Well, but I have known her longer than you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is true, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And on closer terms of intimacy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No doubt, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then listen to me. She is all very charming outside, and full of
+      sensibility outside, but she has no more real feeling than a fish. She
+      will go a certain length with you, or with any agreeable young man, but
+      she can always stop where it suits her. No lady in England values position
+      and luxury more than she does, or is less likely to sacrifice them to
+      love, a passion she is incapable of. Here, then, is a game at which you
+      run all the risk. No! leave her to puppies like Kenealy; they are her
+      natural prey. You must not play such a heart as yours against a marble
+      taw. It is not an even stake.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      David groaned audibly. His first thought was, &ldquo;Eve says the same of her.&rdquo;
+       His second, &ldquo;All the world is against her, poor thing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is she to bear the blame of my folly?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why not? She is the cause of your folly. It began with her setting her
+      cap at you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, sir, you do her wrong. She is modesty itself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ta! ta! ta! you are a sailor, green as sea-weed.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Bazalgette, as I am a gentleman, she never has encouraged me to love
+      her as I do.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your statement, sir, is one which becomes a gentleman&mdash;under the
+      circumstances. But I happen to have watched her. It is a thing I have
+      taken the trouble to do for some time past. It was my interest in you that
+      made me curious, and apprehensive&mdash;on your account.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then, if you have watched her, you must have seen her avoid me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pooh! pooh! that was drawing the bait; these old stagers can all do
+      that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Old stagers!&rdquo; and David looked as if blasphemy had been uttered.
+      Bazalgette wore a grin of infinite irony.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't be shocked,&rdquo; said he; &ldquo;of course, I mean old in flirtation; no lady
+      is old in years.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;<i>She</i> is not, at all events.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is agreed. There are legal fictions, and why not social ones?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't understand you, sir; and, in truth, it is all a puzzle to me. You
+      don't seem angry with me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, of course not, my poor fellow; I pity you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yet you discourage me, Mr. Bazalgette.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But not from any selfish motive. I want to spare you the mortification
+      that is in store for you. Remember, I have seen the <i>end</i> of about a
+      dozen of you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good Heavens! And what is the end of us?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The cold shoulder without a day's warning, and another fool set in your
+      place, and the house door slammed in your face, etc., etc. Oh, with her
+      there is but one step from flirtation to detestation. Not one of her
+      flames is her friend at this moment.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      David hung his head, and his heart turned sick; there was a silence of
+      some seconds, during which Bazalgette eyed him keenly. &ldquo;Sir,&rdquo; said David,
+      at last, &ldquo;your words go through me like a knife.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Never mind. It is a friendly surgeon's knife, not an assassin's.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yet you say it is only out of regard for me you warn me so against her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I repeat it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then, sir, if, by Heaven's mercy, you should be mistaken in her character&mdash;if,
+      little as I deserve it, I should succeed in winning her regard&mdash;I
+      might reckon on your permission&mdash;on your kind&mdash;support?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hardly,&rdquo; said Mr. Bazalgette, hastily. He then stared at the honest
+      earnest face that was turned toward him. &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;you modest
+      gentlemen have a marvelous fund of assurance at bottom. No, sir; with the
+      exception of this piece of friendly advice I shall be strictly neutral. In
+      return for it, if you should succeed, be so good as to take her out of the
+      house, that is the only stipulation I venture to propose.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I should be sure to do that,&rdquo; cried David, lifting his eyes to Heaven
+      with rapture; &ldquo;but I shall not have the chance.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So I keep telling you. You might as well hope to tempt a statue of the
+      Goddess Flirtation. She infinitely prefers wealth and vanity to anything,
+      even to vice.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Vice, sir! is that a term for us to apply to a lady like her, whom we are
+      all unworthy to approach?&rdquo; and David turned very red.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, <i>you</i> need not quarrel with <i>me</i> about her, as <i>I</i>
+      don't with <i>you.&rdquo;</i>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Quarrel with you, dear sir? I hope I feel your kindness, and know my duty
+      better; but, sir, I am agitated, and my heart is troubled; and surely you
+      go beyond reason. She is not old enough to have had so many lovers.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Humph! she has made good use of her time.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Even could I believe that she, who seems to me an angel, is a coquette,
+      still she cannot be hard and heartless as you describe her. It is
+      impossible; it does not belong to her years.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You keep harping on her age, Dodd. Do you know her age? If you do, you
+      have the advantage of me. I have not seen her baptismal register. Have
+      you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, sir, but I know what she says is her age.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is only evidence of what is not her age.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But there is her face, sir; that is evidence.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have never seen her face; it is always got up to deceive the public.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have seen it at the dawn, before any of you were up.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is that? Halo! the deuce&mdash;where?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In the garden.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In the garden? Oh, she does not jump off her down-bed on to a flowerbed.
+      She had been an hour at work on that face before ever the sun or you got
+      leave to look on it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll stake my head I tell her age within a year, Mr. Bazalgette.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No you will not, nor within ten years.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is soon seen. I call her one-and-twenty.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;One-and-twenty! You are mad! Why, she has had a child that would be
+      fifteen now if it had lived.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Miss Lucy? A child? Fifteen years? What on earth do you mean?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What do <i>you</i> mean? What has Miss Lucy to do with it? You know very
+      well it is MY WIFE I am warning you against, not that innocent girl.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At this David burst out in his turn. &ldquo;YOUR WIFE! and have you so vile an
+      opinion of me as to think I would eat your bread and tempt your wife under
+      your roof. Oh, Mr. Bazalgette, is this the esteem you profess for me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Go to the Devil!&rdquo; shouted Bazalgette, in double ire at his own blunder
+      and at being taken to task by his own Telemachus; he added, but in a very
+      different tone, &ldquo;You are too good for this world.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The best things we say miss fire in conversation; only second-rate shots
+      hit the mind through the ear. This, we will suppose, is why David derived
+      no amusement or delectation from Mr. Bazalgette's inadvertent but
+      admirable <i>bon-mot.</i>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Go to the Devil! you are too good for this world.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He merely rose, and said gravely, &ldquo;Heaven forgive you your unjust
+      suspicions, and God bless you for your other kindness. Good-by!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, where on earth are you going?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To stow away my things; to pack up, as they call it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come back! come back! why, what a terrible fellow you are; you make no
+      allowances for metaphors. There, forgive me, and shake hands. Now sit
+      down. I esteem you more than ever. You have come down from another age and
+      a much better one than this. Now let us be calm, quiet, sensible,
+      tranquil. Hallo!&rdquo; (starting up in agitation), &ldquo;a sudden light bursts on
+      me. You are in love, and not with my wife; then it is my ward.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is too late to deny it, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is far more serious than the other,&rdquo; said Bazalgette, very gravely;
+      &ldquo;the old one would have been sure to cure you of your fancy for her, soon
+      or late, but Lucy! Now, just look at that young buffer's eyes glaring at
+      us like a pair of saucers.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am not listening, papa; I haven't heard a word you and Mr. Dodd have
+      said about naughty ladies. I have been such a good boy, minding my
+      puzzle.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wish he may not have been minding ours instead,&rdquo; muttered his sire, and
+      rang the bell, and ordered the servant to take away Master Reginald and
+      bring coffee.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The pair sipped their coffee in dead silence. It was broken at last by
+      David saying sadly and a little bitterly, &ldquo;I fear, sir, your good opinion
+      of me does not go the length of letting me come into your family.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The merchant seemed during the last five minutes to have undergone some
+      starching process, so changed was his whole manner now; so distant,
+      dignified and stiff. &ldquo;Mr. Dodd,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;I am in a difficult position.
+      Insincerity is no part of my character. When I say I have a regard for a
+      man, I mean it. But I am the young lady's guardian, sir. She is a minor,
+      though on the verge of her majority, and I cannot advise her to a match
+      which, in the received sense, would be a very bad one for her. On the
+      other hand, there are so many insuperable obstacles between you and her,
+      that I need not combat my personal sentiments so far as to act against
+      you; it would, indeed, hardly be just, as I have surprised your secret
+      unfairly, though with no unfair intention. My promise not to act hostilely
+      implies that I shall not reveal this conversation to Mrs. Bazalgette; if I
+      did I should launch the deadliest of all enemies&mdash;irritated vanity&mdash;upon
+      you, for she certainly looks on you as her plaything, not her niece's; and
+      you would instantly be the victim of her spite, and of her influence over
+      Lucy, if she discovered you have the insolence to escape her, and pursue
+      another of her sex. I shall therefore keep silence and neutrality.
+      Meantime, in the character, not of her guardian, but of your friend, I do
+      strongly advise you not to think seriously of her. She will never marry
+      you. She is a good, kind, amiable creature, but still she is a girl of the
+      world&mdash;has all its lessons at her finger ends. Bless your heart,
+      these meek beauties are as ambitious as Lucifer, and this one's ambition
+      is fed by constant admiration, by daily matrimonial discussions with the
+      old stager, and I believe by a good offer every now and then, which she
+      refuses, because she is waiting for a better. Come, now, it only wants one
+      good wrench&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      David interrupted him mildly: &ldquo;Then, sir,&rdquo; said he, thoughtfully; &ldquo;the
+      upshot is that, if she says 'Yes,' you won't say 'No.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The mature merchant stared.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If,&rdquo; said he, and with this short sentence and a sardonic grin he broke
+      off trying
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+           &ldquo;To fetter flame with flaxen band.&rdquo;
+ </pre>
+    <p>
+      So nothing more was said or done that evening worth recording.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The next day, being the day of the masquerade, was devoted by the ladies
+      to the making, altering, and trying on of dresses in their bedrooms. This
+      turned the downstairs rooms so dark and unlovely that the gentlemen
+      deserted the house one after the other. Kenealy and Talboys rode to see a
+      cricket match ten miles off. Hardie drove into the town of &mdash;&mdash;
+      and David paced the gravel walk in hopes that by keeping near the house he
+      might find Lucy alone, for he was determined to know his fate and end his
+      intolerable suspense.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He had paced the walk about an hour when fortune seemed to favor his
+      desires. Lucy came out into the garden. David's heart beat violently. To
+      his great annoyance, Mr. Fountain followed her out of the house and called
+      her. She stopped, and he joined her; and very soon uncle and niece were
+      engaged in a conversation which seemed so earnest that David withdrew to
+      another part of the garden not to interfere with them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He waited, and waited, and waited till they should separate; but no, they
+      walked more and more slowly, and the conversation seemed to deepen in
+      interest. David chafed. If he had known the nature of that conversation he
+      would have writhed with torture as well as fretted with impatience, for
+      there the hand of her he loved was sought in marriage before his eyes, and
+      within a few steps of him. On such threads hangs human life. Had he been
+      at the hall door instead of in the garden, he might have anticipated Mr.
+      Fountain. As it was, Mr. Fountain stole the march on him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XV.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      TO-MORROW Lucy had agreed to sail, and in the boat Mr. Talboys was to ask
+      and win her band. But from the first Mr. Fountain had never a childlike
+      confidence in the scheme, and his understanding kept rebelling more and
+      more.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'The man that means to pop, pops,&rdquo; said he; &ldquo;one needn't go to sea&mdash;to
+      pop. Terra firma is poppable on, if it is nothing else. These young
+      fellows are like novices with a gun: the bird must be in a position or
+      they can't shoot it&mdash;with their pop-guns. The young sparks in my day
+      could pop them down flying. We popped out walking, popped out riding,
+      popped dancing, popped psalm-singing. Talboys could not pop on horseback,
+      because the lady's pony fidgeted, not his. Well, it will be so to-morrow.
+      The boat will misbehave, or the wind will be easterly, and I shall be told
+      southerly is the popping wind. The truth is, he is faint-hearted. His
+      sires conquered England, and he is afraid of a young girl. I'll end this
+      nonsense. He shall pop by proxy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      In pursuance of this resolve, seeing his niece pass through the hall with
+      her garden hat on, he called to her that he would get his hat and join
+      her. They took one turn together almost in silence. Fountain was thinking
+      how he should best open the subject, and Lucy waiting after her own
+      fashion, for she saw by the old man's manner he had something to say to
+      her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Lucy, my dear, I leave you in a day or two.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So soon, uncle.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And it depends on you whether I am to go away a happy or a disappointed
+      old man.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At these words, to which she was too cautious to reply in words, Lucy wore
+      a puzzled air; but underneath it a keen observer might have noticed her
+      cheek pale a little, a very little, and a quiver of suppressed agitation
+      pass over her like a current of air in summer over a smooth lake.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Receiving no answer, Mr. Fountain went on to remind her that he was her
+      only kinsman, Mrs. Bazalgette being her relation by half-blood only; and
+      told her that, looking on himself as her father, he had always been
+      anxious to see her position in life secured before his own death.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have been ambitious for you, my dear,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;but not more so than
+      your beauty and accomplishments, and your family name entitle us to be.
+      Well, my ambition for you and my affection for you are both about to be
+      gratified; at least, it now rests with you to gratify them. Will you be
+      Mrs. Talboys?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy looked down, and said demurely, &ldquo;What a question for a third person
+      to put!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Should I put it if I had not a right?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know.&rdquo;'
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You ought to know, Lucy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Talboys has authorized you, dear?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He has.&rdquo;'
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then this is a formal proposal from Mr. Talboy's?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course it is,&rdquo; said the old gentleman, fearlessly, for Lucy's manner
+      of putting these questions was colorless; nobody would have guessed what
+      she was at.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She now drew her arm round her uncle's neck, and kissed him, which made
+      him exult prematurely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then, dear uncle,&rdquo; said she lovingly, &ldquo;you must tell Mr. Talboys that I
+      thank him for the honor he does me, and that I decline.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Accept, you mean?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No I don't&mdash;ha! ha!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Her laugh died rapidly away at sight of the effect of her words. Mr.
+      Fountain started, and his face turned red and pale alternately.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Refuse my friend&mdash;refuse Talboys in that way? Thoughtless girl, you
+      don't know what you are doing. His family is all but noble. What am I
+      saying? noble? why, half the House of Peers is sprung from the dregs of
+      the people, and got there either by pettifogging in the courts of law, or
+      selling consciences in the Lower House; and of the other half, that are
+      gentlemen of descent, not two in twenty can show a pedigree like Talboys.
+      And with that name a princely mansion&mdash;antiquity stamped on it&mdash;stands
+      in its own park, in the middle of its vast estates, with title-deeds in
+      black-letter, girl.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But, uncle, all this is encumbered&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is false, whoever told you so. There is not a mortgage on any part of
+      it&mdash;only a few trifling copyholds and pepper-corn rents.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You misunderstand me; I was going to say, it is encumbered with a
+      gentleman for whom I could never feel affection, because he does not
+      inspire me with respect.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nonsense! he inspires universal respect.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It must be by his estates, then, not his character. You know, uncle, the
+      world is more apt to ask, 'What <i>has</i> he, then what <i>is</i> he?'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He <i>is</i> a polished gentleman.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But not a well-bred one.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The best bred I ever saw.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then you never looked in a glass, dear. No, dear uncle, I will tell you.
+      Mr. Talboys has seen the world, has kept good society, is at his ease (a
+      great point), and is perfect in externals. But his good manners are&mdash;what
+      shall I say?&mdash;coat deep. His politeness is not proof against
+      temptation, however petty. The reason is, it is only a spurious
+      politeness. Real politeness is founded and built on the golden rule,
+      however delicate and artificial its superstructure may be. But, leaving
+      out of the question the politeness of the heart, he has not in any sense
+      the true art of good-breeding; he has only the common traditions. Put him
+      in a novel situation, with no rules and examples to guide him, he would be
+      maladroit as a school-boy. He is just the counterpart of Mr. Dodd in that
+      respect. Poor Mr. Dodd is always shocking one by violating the commonest
+      rules of society; but every now and then he bursts out with a flash of
+      natural courtesy so bright, so refined, so original, yet so worthy of
+      imitation, that you say to yourself this is genius&mdash;the genius of
+      good-breeding.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Fountain chafed with impatience during this tirade, in which he justly
+      suspected an attempt to fritter away a serious discussion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come off your hobby, Lucy,&rdquo; cried he, &ldquo;and speak to me like a woman and
+      like my niece. If this is your objection, overcome it for my sake.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I would, dear,&rdquo; said Lucy, &ldquo;but it is only one of my objections, and by
+      no means the most serious.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      On being invited to come at once to the latter, Lucy hesitated. &ldquo;Would not
+      that be unamiable on my part? Mr. Talboys has just paid me the highest
+      compliment a gentleman can pay a lady; it is for me to decline him
+      courteously, not abuse him to his friend and representative.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No humbug, Lucy, if you please; I am in no humor for it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We should all be savages without a <i>little</i> of it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am waiting.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then pledge me your word of honor no word of what I now say to the
+      disadvantage of poor Mr. Talboys shall ever reach him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You may take your oath of that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then he is a detractor, a character I despise.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who does he detract from? I never heard him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;From all his superiors&mdash;in other words, from everybody he meets. Did
+      you ever know him fail to sneer at Mr. Hardie?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, that is the offense, is it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, it is the same with others; there, the other day, Mr. Dodd joined us
+      on horseback. He did not dress for the occasion. He had no straps on. He
+      came in a hurry to have our society, not to cut a dash. But there was Mr.
+      Talboys, who can only do this one thing well, and who, thanks to his
+      servant, had straps on, sneering the whole time at Mr. Dodd, who has
+      mastered a dozen far more difficult and more honorable accomplishments
+      than putting on straps and sitting on horses. But he is always backbiting
+      and sneering; he admires nothing and nobody.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He has admired you ever since he saw you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What! has he never sneered at me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Never! ungrateful girl, never.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How humiliating! He takes me for his inferior. His superiors he always
+      sneers at. If he had seen anything good or spirited in me, he could not
+      have helped detracting from me. Is not this a serious reason&mdash;that I
+      despise the person who now solicits my love, honor and obedience? Well,
+      then, there is another&mdash;a stronger still. But perhaps you will call
+      it a woman's reason.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know. You don't like him&mdash;that is, you fancy you don't, and
+      can't.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, uncle, it is not that I don't like him. It is that I HATE HIM.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You hate him?&rdquo; and Mr. Fountain looked at her to see if it was his niece
+      Lucy who was uttering words so entirely out of character.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am but a poor hater. I have but little practice; but, with all the
+      power of hating I do possess, I hate that Mr. Talboys. Oh, how delicious
+      it is to speak one's mind out nice and rudely. It is a luxury I seldom
+      indulge in. Yes, uncle,&rdquo; said Lucy, clinching her white teeth, &ldquo;I hate
+      that man, and I did hope his proposal would come from himself; then there
+      would have been nothing to alloy my quiet satisfaction at mortifying one
+      who is so ready to mortify others. But no, he has bewitched you; and you
+      take his part, and you look vexed; so all my pleasure is turned to pain.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is all self-deception,&rdquo; gasped Fountain, in considerable agitation;
+      &ldquo;you girls are always deceiving yourselves: you none of you hate any man&mdash;unless
+      you love him. He tells me you have encouraged him of late. You had better
+      tell me that is a lie.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A lie, uncle; what an expression! Mr. Talboys is a gentleman; he would
+      not tell a falsehood, I presume.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Aha! it is true, then, you have encouraged him?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A little.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There, you see; the moment we come from the generalities to facts, what a
+      simpleton you are proved to be. Come, now, did you or did you not agree to
+      go in a boat with him?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I did, dear.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That was a pretty strong measure, Lucy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very strong, I think. I can tell you I hesitated.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now you see how you have mistaken your own feelings.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy hung her head. &ldquo;Oh uncle, you call me simple&mdash;and look at you!
+      fancy not seeing why I agreed to go&mdash;<i>dans cette galere.</i> It was
+      that Mr. Talboys might declare himself, and so I might get rid of him
+      forever. I saw that if I could not bring him to the point, he would dangle
+      about me for years, and perhaps, at last, succeed in irritating me to
+      rudeness. But now, of course, I shall stay on shore with my uncle
+      to-morrow. <i>Qu'irais je faire dana cette galere?</i> you have done it
+      all for me. Oh, my dear, dear uncle, I am so grateful to you!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She showed symptoms of caressing Mr. Fountain, but he recoiled from her
+      angrily. &ldquo;Viper! but no, this is not you. There is a deeper hand than you
+      in all this. This is that Mrs. Bazalgette's doings.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, indeed, uncle.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Give me a proof it is not.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;With pleasure; any proof that is in my power.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then promise me not to marry Mr. Hardie.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My dear uncle, Mr. Hardie has never asked me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But he will.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What right have I to say so? What right have I to constitute Mr. Hardie
+      my admirer? I would not for all the world put it into any gentleman's
+      power to say, 'Why say &ldquo;no,&rdquo; Miss Fountain, before I have asked you to say
+      &ldquo;yes&rdquo;?' Oh!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And, with this, Lucy put her face into her hands, but they were not large
+      enough to hide the deep blush that suffused her whole face at the bare
+      idea of being betrayed into an indelicacy of this sort.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How could he say that? how could he know?&rdquo; said Mr. Fountain, pettishly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Uncle, I cannot, I dare not. You and my aunt hate one another; so you
+      might be tempted to tell her, and she would be sure to tell him. Besides,
+      I cannot; my very instinct revolts from it. It would not be modest. I love
+      you, uncle. Let me know your wishes, and have some faith in my affection,
+      but pray do not press me further. Oh, what have I done, to be spoken of
+      with so many gentlemen!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy was in evident agitation, and the blushes glowed more and more round
+      her snowy hands and between her delicate fingers; and there is something
+      so sacred about the modesty alarmed of an intelligent young woman&mdash;it
+      is a feeling which, however fantastical, is so genuine in her, and so
+      manifestly intense beyond all we can ourselves feel of the kind, that no
+      man who is not utterly stupid or depraved can see it without a certain
+      awe. Even Mr. Fountain, who looked on Lucy's distress as transcendent
+      folly with a dash of hypocrisy, could not go on making her cheek burn so.
+      &ldquo;There! there!&rdquo; cried he, &ldquo;don't torment yourself, Lucy. I will spare your
+      fanciful delicacy, though you have no pity on me&mdash;on your poor old
+      uncle, whose heart you will break if you decline this match.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At these words, and the old man's change from anger to sadness, Lucy
+      looked up in dismay, and the vivid color died, like a retiring wave, out
+      of her cheek.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You look surprised, Lucy. What! do you think this will not be a
+      heartbreaking disappointment to me? If you knew how I have schemed for it&mdash;what
+      I have done and endured to bring it about! To quarter the arms of Fontaine
+      and Talboys! I put by the 5,000 pounds directly, and as much more of my
+      own, that you should not go into that noble family without a proper
+      settlement. It was the dream of my heart; I could have died contented the
+      next hour. More fool I to care for anybody but myself. Your selfish people
+      escape these bitter disappointments. Well, it is a lesson. From this hour
+      I will live for myself and care for nobody, for nobody cares for me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      These words, uttered with great agitation, and, I believe, with perfect
+      sincerity, on his own unselfishness and hard fate, were terrible to Lucy.
+      She wreathed her arms suddenly round him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, uncle,&rdquo; she cried, despairingly, &ldquo;kill me! send me to Heaven! send me
+      to my mother, but don't stab me with such bitter words;&rdquo; and she trembled
+      with an emotion so much more powerful and convulsing than his, in which
+      temper had a large share, that she once more cowed him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There! there!&rdquo; he muttered, &ldquo;I don't want to kill you, child, God knows,
+      or to hurt you in any way.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy trembled, and tried to smile. The good nature, which was the upper
+      crust of this man's character, got the better of him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There! there! don't distress yourself so. I know who I have to thank for
+      all this.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She has not the power,&rdquo; said Lucy, in a faint voice, &ldquo;to make me
+      ungrateful to you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mind is more rapid than lightning. At this moment, in the middle of a
+      sentence, it flashed across Lucy that her aunt had convinced her, sore
+      against her will, that there was a strong element of selfishness in Mr.
+      Fountain. &ldquo;But it is that he deceives himself,&rdquo; thought Lucy. &ldquo;He would
+      sacrifice my happiness to his hobby, and think he has done it for love of
+      me.&rdquo; Enlightened by this rapid reflection, she did not say to him as one
+      of his own sex would, &ldquo;Look in your own heart, and you will see that all
+      this is not love of me, but of your own schemes.&rdquo; Oh, dear, no, that would
+      not have been the woman. She took him round the neck, and, fixing her
+      sapphire eyes lovingly on his, she said, &ldquo;It is for love of me you set
+      your heart on this great match? You wish to see me well settled in the
+      world, and, above all, happy?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course it is. I told you so. What other object can I have?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then, if you saw me wretched, and degraded in my own eyes, your heart
+      would bleed for your poor niece&mdash;too late. Well, uncle, I love you,
+      too, and I save you this day from remorse. Oh, think what it must be to
+      hate and despise a man, and link yourself body and soul to that man for
+      life. Oh, think and shudder with me. I have a quick eye. I have seen your
+      lip curl with contempt when that fool has been talking&mdash;ah! you
+      blush. You are too much his superior in everything but fortune not to
+      despise him at heart. See the thing as it is. Speak to me as you would if
+      my mother stood here beside us, uncle, and to speak to me, you must look
+      her in the face. Could you say to me before her, 'I love you; marry a man
+      we both despise!'?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Fountain made no answer. He was disconcerted. Nothing is so easy to
+      resist as logic solo. We see it, as a general rule, resisted with great
+      success in public and private every day; but when it comes in good
+      company, a voice of music, an angel face, gentle, persuasive caresses, and
+      imploring eyes, it ceases to revolt the understanding. And so, caught in
+      his own trap, foiled, baffled, soothed, caressed, all in one breath, Mr.
+      Fountain hung his head, and could not immediately reply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy followed up her advantage. &ldquo;No,&rdquo; cried she; &ldquo;say to me, 'I love you,
+      Lucy; marry nobody; stay with your uncle, and find your happiness in
+      contributing to his comfort.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is the use my saying that, when I have got Mother Bazalgette against
+      me, and her shopkeeper?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Never mind, uncle, you say it, and time will show whether your influence
+      is small with me, and my affections small for you&rdquo;; and she looked in his
+      face with glistening eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, then,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;I do say it, and I suppose that means I must urge
+      you no more about poor Talboys.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A shower of kisses descended upon him that moment. Moral: Lose no time in
+      sealing a good bargain.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come, now, Lucy, you must do me a favor.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, thank you! thank you! what is it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! but it is about Talboys too.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Never mind,&rdquo; faltered Lucy, &ldquo;if it is anything short of&mdash;&rdquo; (full
+      stop).
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is a long way short of that. Look here, Lucy, I must tell you the
+      truth. He intends to ask your hand himself: he confided this to me, but he
+      never authorized me to commit him as I have done, so that this
+      conversation cannot be acted on: it must be a secret between you and me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, dear! and I thought I had got rid of him so nicely.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't be alarmed,&rdquo; groaned Fountain; &ldquo;such matches as this can always be
+      dropped; the difficulty is to bring them on. All I ask of you, then, is
+      not to make mischief between me and my friend, the proudest man in
+      England. If you don't value his friendship, I do. You must not let him
+      know I have got him insulted by a refusal. For instance, you had better go
+      out sailing with him to-morrow as if nothing had passed. Will your
+      affection for me carry you as far as that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The proposal was wormwood to Lucy. So she smiled and said eagerly: &ldquo;Is
+      that all? Why, I will do it with pleasure, dear. It is not like being in
+      the same boat with him for life, you know. Can you give me nothing more
+      than that to do for you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; it does not do to test people's affection too severely. You have
+      shown me that. Go on with your walk, Lucy. I shall go in.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;May I not come with you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; my head aches with all this; if I don't mind I shall eat no dinner.
+      Agitation and vexation, don't agree with me. I have carefully avoided them
+      all my life. I must go in and lie down for an hour&rdquo;; and he left her
+      rather abruptly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She looked after him; her subtle eye noticed directly that he walked a
+      little more feebly than usual. She ascribed this to his disappointment,
+      justly perhaps, for at his age the body has less elastic force to resist a
+      mental blow. The sight of him creeping away disappointed, and leaning
+      heavier than usual on his stick, knocked at her cool but affectionate
+      heart. She began to cry bitterly. When he was quite out of sight, she
+      turned and paced the gravel slowly and sadly. It was new to her to refuse
+      her uncle anything, still more strange to have to refuse him a serious
+      wish. She was prepared, thoroughly prepared, for the proposal, but not to
+      find the old man's heart so deeply set upon it. A wild impulse came over
+      her to call him back and sacrifice herself; but the high spirit and
+      intelligence that lay beneath her tenderness and complaisance stood firm.
+      Yet she felt almost guilty, and very, very unhappy, as we call it at her
+      age. She kept sighing; &ldquo;Poor uncle!&rdquo; and paced the gravel very slowly,
+      hanging her sweet head, and crying as she went.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At the end of the walk David Dodd stood suddenly before her. He came
+      flurried on his own account, but stopped thunder-struck at her tears.
+      &ldquo;What is the matter, Miss Lucy?&rdquo;' said he, anxiously.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, nothing, Mr. Dodd;&rdquo; and they flowed afresh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Can I do anything for you, Miss Lucy?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, Mr. Dodd.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Won't you tell me what is the matter? Are you not friends with me
+      to-day?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was put out by a very foolish circumstance, Mr. Dodd, and it is one
+      with which I shall not trouble you, nor any person of sense. I prefer to
+      retain your sympathy by not revealing the contemptible cause of my babyish&mdash;There!&rdquo;
+       She shook her head proudly, as if tears were to be dispersed like
+      dewdrops. &ldquo;There!&rdquo; she repeated; and at this second effort she smiled
+      radiantly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is like the sun coming out after a shower,&rdquo; cried David rapturously.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That reminds me I must be <i>going</i> in, Mr. Dodd.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't say that, Miss Lucy. What for?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To arrange another shower, one of pearls, on a dress I am to wear
+      to-night.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      David sighed. &ldquo;Ah! Miss Lucy, at sight of me you always make for the hall
+      door.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy colored. &ldquo;Oh, do I? I really was not aware of that. Then I suppose I
+      am afraid of you. Is that what you would insinuate? &ldquo;'
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, Miss Lucy, you are not afraid of me; but I sometimes fear&mdash;&rdquo; and
+      he hesitated.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It must blow very hard that day,&rdquo; said Lucy, with a world of politeness.
+      Her tongue was too quick for him. He found it so, and announced the fact
+      after his fashion. &ldquo;I can't tack fast enough to follow you,&rdquo; said he
+      despondently.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But you are not required to follow me,&rdquo; replied this amiable eel, with
+      hypocritical benignity; &ldquo;I am going to my aunt's room to do what I told
+      you. I leave you in charge of the quarter-deck.&rdquo; So saying, she walked
+      slowly up the steps, and left David standing sorrowfully on the gravel. At
+      the top step Miss Lucy turned and inquired gently when he was to sail. He
+      told her the ship was expected to anchor off the fort to-morrow, but she
+      would not sail till she had got all her passengers on board.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh!&rdquo; said Lucy, with an air of reflection. She then leaned in an easy
+      posture against the wall, and, whether it was that she relented a little,
+      or that, having secured her retreat, she was now indifferent to flight,
+      certain it is that she did after her own fashion what many a daughter of
+      Eve has done before her, and many a duchess and many a dairymaid will do
+      after La Fountain and I are gone from earth. A minute ago it had been,
+      &ldquo;She must go directly.&rdquo; The more opposition to her departure, the more
+      inexorable the necessity for her going; opposition withdrawn, and the door
+      open, she stayed no end.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Full twenty minutes did that young lady stand there unsolicited, and chat
+      with David Dodd in the kindest, sweetest, most amicable way imaginable.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She little knew she had an auditor&mdash;a female auditor, keen as a lynx.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      All this day Reginald George Bazalgette, Esq., might have been defined &ldquo;a
+      pest in search of a playmate.&rdquo; Tom had got a holiday. Lucy only came out
+      of her workshop to be seized by Mr. Fountain. David, who was waiting in
+      the garden for Lucy, begged Reginald to excuse him for once. The young
+      gentleman had recourse as a <i>pis aller</i> to his mamma. He invaded her
+      bedroom, and besought her piteously to play at battledoor. That lady,
+      sighing deeply at being taken from her dress, consented. Her soul not
+      being in it, she played very badly. Her cub did not fail to tell her so.
+      &ldquo;Why, I can keep up a hundred with Mr. Dodd,&rdquo; said he.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, we all know Mr. Dodd is perfection,&rdquo; said the lady with a sneer. She
+      was piqued with David. He had gone and left her in a brutal way, to make
+      his apologies to Lucy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, he is not,&rdquo; said Reginald. &ldquo;I have found him out. He is as unjust as
+      the rest of them.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dear me! and, pray, what has he done?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will tell you, mamma, if you will promise not to tell papa, because he
+      told me not to listen, and I didn't listen, mamma, because, you know, a
+      gentleman always keeps his word; but they talked so loud the words would
+      come into my ear; I could not keep them out. Mamma, are there any naughty
+      ladies here?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, my dear.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then what did papa mean, warning Mr. Dodd against one?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Bazalgette began to listen as he wished.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, he called her all the names. He said she was a statue of flirtation.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who? Lucy?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Lucy? no! the naughty lady&mdash;the one that had twelve husbands. He
+      kept warning him, and warning him, and then Mr. Dodd and papa they began
+      to quarrel almost, because Mr. Dodd said the naughty lady was quite young,
+      and papa said she was ever so old. Mr. Dodd said she was twenty-one. But
+      papa told him she must be more than that, because she had a child that
+      would be fifteen years old; only it died. How old would sister Emily be if
+      she was alive, mamma? La, mamma, how pretty you are: you have got red
+      cheeks like Lucy&mdash;redder, oh, ever so much redder&mdash;and in
+      general they are so pale before dinner. Let me kiss you, mamma. I do love
+      the ladies when their cheeks are red.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There! there! now go on, dear; tell me some more.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is very interesting, isn't it, dear mamma?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is amusing, at all events.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, it is not amusing&mdash;at least, what came after, isn't: it is
+      wicked, it is unjust, it is abominable.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tell me, dear.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It turned out it wasn't the naughty lady Mr. Dodd was in love for, and
+      who do you think he is in love of?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have not an idea.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <h3>
+      &ldquo;MY LUCY!!!&rdquo;
+     </h3>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nonsense, child.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no, mamma, it is not. He owned it plump.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are you quite sure, love?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Upon my honor.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What did they say next?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, next papa began to talk his fine words that I don't know what the
+      meaning of them is one bit. But Mr. Dodd, he could make them out, I
+      suppose, for he said, 'So, then, the upshot is&mdash;' There, now, what is
+      upshot? I don't know. How stupid grown-up people are; they keep using
+      words that one doesn't know the meaning of.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Never mind, love! tell me. What came <i>after</i> upshot?&rdquo; said Mrs.
+      Bazalgette, soothingly, with great apparent calmness and flashing eye.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How kind you are to-day, mamma! That is twice you have called me love,
+      and three times dear; only think. I should love you if you were always so
+      kind, and your cheeks as red as they are now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Never mind my cheeks. What did Mr. Dodd say? Try and remember&mdash;come&mdash;'The
+      upshot was&mdash;'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The upshot was&mdash;what was the upshot? I forget. No, I remember; the
+      upshot was, if Lucy said 'yes,' papa would not say 'no;' that meant to
+      marry him. Now didn't you promise me her ever so long ago&mdash;the day
+      you and I agreed if I went a whole day without being naughty once I should
+      have her for ever and ever? and I did go.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Go to Lucy's room, and tell her to come to me,&rdquo; said Mrs. Bazalgette, in
+      a stern, thoughtful voice, which startled poor Reginald, coming so soon
+      after the <i>calinerie.</i> However, he told her it was no use his going
+      to Lucy's room, for she was out in the garden; he had seen her there
+      walking with Mr. Fountain. Reginald then ran to the window which commanded
+      the garden, to look for Lucy. He had scarcely reached it when he began to
+      squeak wildly, &ldquo;Come here! come here! come here!&rdquo; Mrs. Bazalgette was at
+      the window in a moment, and lo! at the end of the garden, walking slowly
+      side by side, were Lucy and Mr. Dodd.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ridiculous as it may appear, a pang of jealousy shot through the married
+      flirt's heart that made her almost feel sick. This was followed at the
+      interval of half a second by as pretty a flame of hatred as ever the <i>spretoe
+      injuria formoe</i> lighted up in a coquette's heart. Doubt drove in its
+      smaller sting besides, and at sight of the couple she resolved to have
+      better evidence than Reginald's, especially as to Lucy's sentiments. The
+      plan she hit upon was effective, but vulgar, and must not be witnessed by
+      a boy of inconvenient memory and mistimed fluency. She got rid of him with
+      high-principled dexterity. &ldquo;Reginald,&rdquo; said she, sadly, &ldquo;you are a naughty
+      boy, a disobedient boy, to listen when your papa told you not, and to tell
+      me a pack of falsehoods. I must either tell your papa, or I must punish
+      you myself; I prefer to do it myself, he would whip you so&rdquo;; with this she
+      suddenly opened her dressing-room door, and pushed the terrible infant in,
+      and locked the door. She then told him through the keyhole he had better
+      cease yelling, because, if he kept quiet, his punishment would only last
+      half an hour, and she flew downstairs. There was a large hot-house with
+      two doors, one of which came very near to the house door that opened into
+      the garden. Mrs. Bazalgette entered the hothouse at the other end, and,
+      hidden by the exotic trees and flowers, made rapidly for the door Lucy and
+      David must pass. She found it wide open. She half shut it, and slipped
+      behind it, listening like a hare and spying like a hawk through the
+      hinges. And, strange as it may appear, she had an idea she should make a
+      discovery. As the finished sportsman watches a narrow ride in the wood,
+      not despairing by a snap-shot to bag his hare as she crosses it, though
+      seen but for a moment, so the Bazalgette felt sure that, as the couple
+      passed her ambush, something, either in the two sentences they might
+      utter, or, more probably, in their tones and general manner, would reveal
+      to one of her experience on what footing they were.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A shrewd calculation! But things will be things. They take such turns, I
+      might without exaggeration say twists, that calculation is baffled, and
+      prophecy dissolved into pitch and toss. This thing turned just as not
+      expected. <i>Primo,</i> instead of getting only a snap-shot, Mrs.
+      Bazalgette heard every word of a long conversation; and, <i>secundo,</i>
+      when she had heard it she could not tell for certain on what footing the
+      lady and gentleman were. At first, from their familiarity, she inclined to
+      think they were lovers; but, the more she listened, the more doubtful she
+      seemed. Lucy was the chief speaker, and what she said showed an
+      undisguised interest in her companion; but the subject accounted in great
+      measure for that; she was talking of his approaching voyage, of the
+      dangers and hardships of his profession, and of his return two years
+      hence, his chances of promotion, etc. But here was no proof positive of
+      love; they were acquaintances of some standing. Then Lucy's manner struck
+      her as rather amicable than amorous. She was calm, kind, self-possessed,
+      and almost voluble. As for David, he only got in a word here and there.
+      When he did, there was something so different in his voice from anything
+      he had ever bestowed on <i>her,</i> that she hated him, and longed to
+      stick scissors into him from the rear, unseen. At last Lucy suddenly
+      recollected, or seemed to recollect, she was busy, and retired hastily&mdash;so
+      hastily that David saw too late his opportunity lost. But the music of her
+      voice had so charmed him that he did not like to interrupt it even to
+      speak of that which was nearest his heart. David sighed deeply, standing
+      there alone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Bazalgette clinched her little fists and looked round for the means
+      of vengeance. David went down on his knees. La Bazalgette glared through
+      the crack, and wondered what on earth he was at now. Oh! he was praying.
+      &ldquo;He loves her: he is eccentricity itself; so he is praying for her, and on
+      <i>my</i> doorsteps&rdquo; (the householder wounded as well as the flirt). It
+      was lucky she had not &ldquo;a thunderbolt in her eye&rdquo;&mdash;Shakespeare, or a
+      celestial messenger of the wrong sort would have descended on the devout
+      mariner. It was more than Mrs. Bazalgette could bear: she had now and
+      then, not often, unladylike impulses. One of them had set her crouching
+      behind the door of an outhouse, and listening through a crack; and now she
+      had another, an irresistible one: it was, to take that empty flower-pot,
+      fling it as hard as ever she could at the devotee, then shut the door
+      quick, fly out at the other door, and leave her faithless swain in the
+      agony of knowing himself detected and exposed by some unknown and
+      undiscoverable enemy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For a vengeance extemporized in less than half a second this was very
+      respectable. Well, she clawed the flower-pot noiselessly, put her other
+      hand on the door, cast a hasty glance at the means of retreat, and&mdash;things
+      took another twist: she heard the rustle of a coming gown, and drew back
+      again, and out came Lucy, and nearly ran over David, who was not on his
+      knees after all, but down on his nose, prostrate Orientally. The fact is,
+      Lucy, among her other qualities, good and bad, was a born housewife, and
+      solicitously careful of certain odds and ends called property. She found
+      she had dropped one of her gloves in the garden, and she came back in a
+      state of disproportionate uneasiness to find it, and nearly ran over David
+      Dodd.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What <i>are</i> you doing, Mr. Dodd?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      David arose from his Oriental position, and, being a young man whose
+      impulse always was to tell the simple truth, replied, &ldquo;I was kissing the
+      place where you stood so long.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He did not feel he had done anything extraordinary, so he gave her this
+      information composedly; but her face was scarlet in an instant; and he,
+      seeing that, began to blush too. For once Lucy's tact was baffled; she did
+      not know what on earth to say, and she stood blushing like a girl of
+      fifteen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then she tried to turn it off.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Dodd, how can you be so ridiculous?&rdquo; said she, affecting humorous
+      disdain.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But David was not to be put down now; he was launched.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am not ridiculous for loving and worshiping you, for you are worthy of
+      even more love than any human heart can hold.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, hush, Mr. Dodd. I must not hear this.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Miss Lucy, I can't keep it any longer&mdash;you must, you shall hear me.
+      You can despise my love if you will, but you <i>shall</i> know it before
+      you reject it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Dodd, you have every right to be heard, but let me persuade you not
+      to insist. Oh, why did I come back?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The first moment I saw you, Miss Lucy, it was a new life to me. I never
+      looked twice at any girl before. It is not your beauty only&mdash;oh, no!
+      it is your goodness&mdash;goodness such as I never thought was to be found
+      on earth. Don't turn your head from me; I know my defects; could I look on
+      you and not see them? My manners are blunt and rude&mdash;oh, how
+      different from yours! but you could soon make me a fine gentleman, I love
+      you so. And I am only the first mate of an Indiaman; but I should be a
+      captain next voyage, Miss Lucy, and a sailor like me has no expenses; all
+      he has is his wife's. The first lady in the land will not be petted as you
+      will, if you will look kindly on me. Listen to me,&rdquo; trying to tempt her.
+      &ldquo;No, Miss Lucy, I have nothing to offer you worth your acceptance, only my
+      love. No man ever loved woman as I love you; it is not love, it is
+      worship, it is adoration! Ah! she is going to speak to me at last!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy presented at this moment a strange contrast of calmness and
+      agitation. Her bosom heaved quickly, and she was pale, but her voice was
+      calm, and, though gentle, decided.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know you love me, Mr. Dodd, and I feared this. I have tried to save you
+      the mortification of being declined by one who, in many things, is your
+      inferior. I have even been rude and unkind to you. Forgive me for it. I
+      meant it kindly. I regret it now. Mr. Dodd, I thank you for the honor you
+      do me, but I cannot accept your love.&rdquo; There was a pause, but David's
+      tongue seemed glued to the roof of his mouth. He was not surprised, yet he
+      was stupefied when the blow came.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At last he gasped out, &ldquo;You love some other man?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy was silent.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Answer me, for pity's sake; give me something to help me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have no right to ask me such a question, but&mdash;I have no
+      attachment, Mr. Dodd.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! then one word more. Is it because you cannot love me, or because I am
+      poor, and only first mate of an Indiaman?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;<i>That</i> I will not answer. You have no right to question a lady why
+      she&mdash;Stay! you wish to despise me. Well, why not, if that will cure
+      you of this unfortunate&mdash;Think what you please of me, Mr. Dodd,&rdquo;
+       murmured Lucy, sadly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! you know I can't,&rdquo; cried David, despairingly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know that you esteem me more than I deserve. Well, I esteem you, Mr.
+      Dodd. Why, then, can we not be friends? You have only to promise me you
+      will never return to this subject&mdash;come!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Me promise not to love you! What is the use? Me be your friend, and
+      nothing more, and stand looking on at the heaven that is to be another's,
+      and never to be mine? It is my turn to decline. Never. Betrothed lovers or
+      strangers, but nothing between! It would drive me mad. Away from you, and
+      out of sight of your sweet face, I may make shift to live, and go through
+      my duty somehow, for my mother's and sister's sake.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are wiser than I was, Mr. Dodd. Yes, we must part.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course we must. I have got my answer, and a kinder one than I deserve;
+      and now what is the polite thing for me to do, I wonder?&rdquo; David said this
+      with terrible bitterness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You frighten me,&rdquo; sighed Lucy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't you be frightened, sweet angel; there! I have been used to obey
+      orders all my life, and I am like a ship tossed in the breakers, and you
+      are calm&mdash;calm as death. Give me my orders, for God's sake.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is not for me to command you, Mr. Dodd. I have forfeited that right.
+      But listen to her who still asks to be your friend, and she will tell you
+      what will be best for you, and kindest and most generous to her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tell me about that last; the other is a waste of words.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will, then. Your sister is somewhere in the neighborhood.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She is at &mdash;&mdash;; how did you know?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I saw her on your arm. I am glad she is so near&mdash;Oh, so glad! Bid my
+      uncle and aunt good-by; make some excuse. Go to your sister at once. <i>She</i>
+      loves you. She is better than I am, if you will but see us as we really
+      are. Go to her at once,&rdquo; faltered Lucy, who disliked Eve, and Eve her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will! I will! I have thought too little of my own flesh and blood.
+      Shall I go now?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; murmured Lucy softly, trying to disarm the fatal word. &ldquo;Forget me&mdash;and&mdash;forgive
+      me!&rdquo; and, with this last word scarce audible, she averted her face, and
+      held out her hand with angelic dignity, modesty and pity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The kind words and the gentle action brought down the stout heart that had
+      looked death in the face so often without flinching. &ldquo;Forgive you, sweet
+      angel!&rdquo; he cried; &ldquo;I pray Heaven to bless you, and to make you as happy as
+      I am desolate for your sake. Oh, you show me more and more what I lose
+      this day. God bless you! God bless&mdash;&rdquo; and David's heart filled to
+      choking, and he burst out sobbing despairingly, and the hot tears ran
+      suddenly from his eyes over her hand as he kissed and kissed it. Then,
+      with an almost savage feeling of shame (for these were not eyes that were
+      wont to weep), he uttered one cry of despair and ran away, leaving her
+      pale and panting heavily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She looked piteously at her hand, wet with a hero's tears, and for the
+      second time to-day her own began to gush. She felt a need of being alone.
+      She wanted to think on what she had done. She would hide in the garden.
+      She ran down the steps; lo! there was Mr. Hardie coming up the
+      gravel-walk. She uttered a little cry of impatience, and dashed
+      impetuously into the hot-house, driving the half-open door before her with
+      her person as well as her arm.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A scream of terror and pain issued from behind it, with a crash of
+      pottery.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy wheeled round at the sound, and there was her aunt, flattened against
+      the flower-frame.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy stood transfixed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But soon her look of surprise gave way to a frown; ay! and a somber one.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XVI.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      THAT ready-minded lady extricated herself from the pots, and wriggled out
+      of the moral situation. &ldquo;I was a listener, dear! an unwilling listener;
+      but now I do not regret it. How nobly you behaved!&rdquo; and with this she came
+      at her with open arms, crying, &ldquo;My own dear niece.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Her own dear niece recoiled with a shiver, and put up both her hands as a
+      shield.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, don't touch me, please. I never heard of a lady listening!!!!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She then turned her back on her aunt in a somewhat uncourtier-like manner,
+      and darted out of the place, every fiber of her frame strung up tight with
+      excitement. She felt she was not the calm, dispassionate being of
+      yesterday, and hurried to her own room and locked herself in.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Bazalgette remained behind in a state of bitter mortification, and
+      breathing fury on her small scale. But what could she do? David would be
+      out of her reach in a few minutes, and Lucy was scarce vulnerable.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In the absence of any definite spite, she thought she could not go wrong
+      in thwarting whatever Lucy wished, and her wish had been that David should
+      go. Besides, if she kept him in the house, who knows, she might pique him
+      with Lucy, and even yet turn him her way; so she lay in wait for him in
+      the hall. He soon appeared with his bag in his hand. She inquired, with
+      great simplicity, where he was going. He told her he was going away. She
+      remonstrated, first tenderly, then almost angrily. &ldquo;We all counted on you
+      to play the violin. We can't dance to the piano alone.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am very sorry, but I have got my orders.&rdquo; Then this subtle lady said,
+      carelessly, &ldquo;Lucy will be <i>au desespoir.</i> She will get no dancing.
+      She said to me just now, 'Aunt, do try and persuade Mr. Dodd to stay over
+      the ball. We shall miss him so.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;When did she say that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Just this minute. Standing at the door there.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very well; then I'll stay over the ball.&rdquo; And without a word more he
+      carried his bag and violin-case up to his room again. Oh, how La
+      Bazalgette hated him! She now resigned all hope of fighting with him, and
+      contented herself with the pleasure of watching him and Lucy together. One
+      would be wretched, and the other must be uncomfortable.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy did not come down to dinner; she was lying down with headache. She
+      even sent a message to Mrs. Bazalgette to know whether she could be
+      dispensed with at the ball. Answer, &ldquo;Impossible!&rdquo; At half-past eight she
+      got up, put on her costume, took it off again, and dressed in white
+      watered silk. Her assumption of a character was confined to wearing a
+      little crown rising to a peak in front. Many of the guests had arrived
+      when she glided into the room looking every inch a queen. David was
+      dazzled at her, and awestruck at her beauty and mien, and at his own
+      presumption.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Her eye fell on him. She gave a little start, but passed on without a
+      word. The carpets had been taken up, and the dancing began.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Bazalgette arranged that Lucy and David should play pianoforte and
+      violin until some lady could be found to take her part.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I incline to think Mrs. Bazalgette, spiteful as mortified vanity is apt to
+      be, did not know the depth of anguish her subtle vengeance inflicted on
+      David Dodd.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He was pale and stern with the bitter struggle for composure. He ground
+      his teeth, fixed his eyes on the music-book, and plowed the merry tunes as
+      the fainting ox plows the furrow. He dared not look at Lucy, nor did he
+      speak to her more than was necessary for what they were doing, nor she to
+      him. She was vexed with him for subjecting himself and her to unnecessary
+      pain, and in the eye of society&mdash;her divinity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Another unhappy one was Mr. Fountain. He sat disconsolate on a seat all
+      alone. Mrs. Bazalgette fluttered about like a butterfly, and sparkled like
+      a Chinese firework.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Two young ladies, sisters, went to the piano to give Miss Fountain an
+      opportunity of dancing. She danced quadrilles with four or five gentlemen,
+      including her special admirers. She declined to waltz: &ldquo;I have a little
+      headache; nothing to speak of.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She then sat down to the piano again. &ldquo;I can play alone, Mr. Dodd; you
+      have not danced at all.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am not in the humor.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very well.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This time they played some of the tunes they had rehearsed together that
+      happy evening, and David's lip quivered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy eyed him unobserved.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Was this wise&mdash;to subject yourself to this?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I must obey orders, whatever it costs me&mdash;'ri tum ti tum ti tum ti
+      tum.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who ordered you to neglect my advice?&mdash;'ri tum tum tum.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <i>&ldquo;You</i> did&mdash;'ri tum ti tum tiddy iddy.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A look of silent disdain: &ldquo;Ri tum, ti tum, tiddy iddy.&rdquo; (Ah! perdona for
+      relating things as they happen, and not as your grand writers pretend they
+      happen.)
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Between the quadrilles she asked an explanation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your aunt met me with my bag in my hand, and told me you wanted me to
+      play to the company.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      When he said this, David heard a sound like the click of a trigger. He
+      looked up; it was Lucy clinching her teeth convulsively. But time was up:
+      the woman of the world must go on like the prizefighter. The couples were
+      waiting.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ri tum ti tum ti tum ti tum tiddy iddy.&rdquo; For all that, she did not finish
+      the tune. In the middle of it she said to David, &ldquo;'Ri tum ti tum&mdash;'
+      can you get through this without me?&mdash;'ri tum.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If I can get through life without you, I can surely get through this
+      twaddle: 'ri tum ti tum ti tum ti tum tiddy iddy.'&rdquo; Lucy started from her
+      seat, leaving David plowing solo. She started from her seat and stood a
+      moment, looking like an angel stung by vipers. Her eye went all round the
+      room in one moment in search of some one to blight. It surprised Mr.
+      Hardie and Mrs. Bazalgette sitting together and casting ironical glances
+      pianoward: &ldquo;So she has been betraying to Mr. Hardie the secret she gained
+      by listening,&rdquo; thought Lucy. The pair were probably enjoying David's
+      mortification, his misery.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She walked very slowly down the room to this couple. She looked them long
+      and full in the face with that confronting yet overlooking glance which
+      women of the world can command on great occasions. It fell, and pressed on
+      them both like lead, they could not have told you why. They looked at one
+      another ruefully when she had passed them, and then their eyes followed
+      her. They saw her walk straight up to her uncle, and sit down by him, and
+      take his hand. They exchanged another uneasy look.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Uncle,&rdquo; said Lucy, speaking very quickly, &ldquo;you are unhappy. I am the
+      cause. I am come to say that I promise you not to marry anyone my aunt
+      shall propose to me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My dear girl, then you won't marry that shopkeeper there?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What need of names, still less of epithets? I will marry no friend of
+      hers.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! now you are my brother's daughter again.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, I love you no better than I did this morning; but the&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Celestial happiness diffused itself over old Fountain's face, and Lucy
+      glided back to the piano just as the quadrille ended.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Give me your arm, Mr. Dodd,&rdquo; said she, authoritatively. She took his arm,
+      and made the tour of the room leaning on him, and chatting gayly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She introduced him to the best people, and contrived to appear to the
+      whole room joyous and flattered, leaning on David's arm.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The young fellows envied him so.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Every now and then David felt her noble white arm twitch convulsively, and
+      her fingers pinch the cloth of his sleeve where it was loose.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She guided him to the supper-room. It was empty. &ldquo;Oblige me with a glass
+      of water.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He gave it her. She drank it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Dodd, the advice I gave you with my own lips I never retracted. My
+      aunt imposed upon you. It was done to mortify you. It has failed, as you
+      may have observed. My head aches so, it is intolerable. When they ask you
+      where I am, say I am unwell, and have retired to my room. I shall not be
+      at breakfast; directly after breakfast go to your sister, and tell her
+      your friend Lucy declined you, though she knows your value, and would not
+      let you be mortified by nullities and heartless fools. Good-by, Mr. Dodd;
+      try and believe that none of us you leave in this house are worth
+      remembering, far less regretting.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She vanished haughtily; David crept back to the ball-room. It seemed dark
+      by comparison now she who lent it luster was gone. He stayed a few
+      minutes, then heavy-hearted to bed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The next morning he shook hands with Mr. Bazalgette, the only one who was
+      up, kissed the terrible infant, who, suddenly remembering his many
+      virtues, formally forgave him his one piece of injustice, and, as he came,
+      so he went away, his bag on his shoulder and his violin-case in his hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He went to Cousin Mary and asked for Eve. Cousin Mary's face turned red:
+      &ldquo;You will find her at No. 80 in this street. She is gone into lodgings.&rdquo;
+       The fact is, the cousins had had a tiff, and Eve had left the house that
+      moment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Oh! my sweet, my beloved heroines&mdash;you young vipers, when will you
+      learn to be faultless, like other people? You have turned my face into a
+      peony, blushing for you at every fourth page.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      David came into her apartment. He smiled sweetly, but sadly. &ldquo;Well, it is
+      all over. I have offered, and been declined.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At seeing him so quiet and resigned, Eve burst out crying.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't you cry, dear,&rdquo; said David. &ldquo;It is best so. It is almost a relief.
+      Anything before the suspense I was enduring.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then Eve, recovering her spirits by the help of anger, began to abuse Lucy
+      for a cold-hearted, deceitful girl; but David stopped her sternly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not a word against her&mdash;not a word. I should hate anyone that
+      miscalled her. She speaks well of you, Eve; why need you speak ill of her?
+      She and I parted friends, and friends let us be. There is no hate can lie
+      alongside love in a true heart. No, let nobody speak of her at all to me.
+      I shan't; my thoughts, they are my own. 'Go to your sister,' said she, and
+      here I am; and I beg your pardon, Eve, for neglecting you as I have of
+      late.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, never mind <i>that,</i> David; <i>our</i> affection will outlast this
+      folly many a long year.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Please God! Your hand in mine, Eve, my lamb, and let us talk of ourselves
+      and mother: the time is short.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They sat hand in hand, and never mentioned Lucy's name again; and, strange
+      to say, it was David who consoled Eve; for, now the battle was lost, her
+      spirit seemed to have all deserted her, and she kept bursting out crying
+      every now and then irrelevantly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was three in the afternoon. David was sitting by the window, and Eve
+      packing his chest in the same room, not to be out of his sight a minute,
+      when suddenly he started up and cried, &ldquo;There she is,&rdquo; and an instinctive
+      unreasonable joy illumined his face; the next moment his countenance fell.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The carriage passed down the street.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I remember now,&rdquo; muttered David, &ldquo;I heard she was to go sailing, and Mr.
+      Talboys was to be skipper of the boat. Ah! well.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, let them sail, David. It is not your business.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That it is not, Eve&mdash;nobody's less than mine.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Eve, there is plenty of wind blowing up from the nor'east.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is there? I am afraid that will bring your ship down quick.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; but it is not that. I am afraid that lubber won't think of looking
+      to windward.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nonsense about the wind; it is a beautiful day. Come, David, it is no use
+      lighting against nature. Put on your hat, then, and run down to the beach,
+      and see the last of her; only, for my sake, don't let the others see you,
+      to jeer you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And mind and be back to dinner at four. I have got a nice roast fowl for
+      you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ay ay.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A little before four o'clock a sailor brought a note from David, written
+      hastily in pencil. It was sent up to Eve. She read it, and clasped her
+      hands vehemently.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, David, she was born to be your destruction.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XVII.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      MR. FOUNTAIN, Miss Fountain, and Mr. Talboys started to go on the boating
+      expedition. As they were getting into the boat, Mr. Fountain felt a little
+      ill, and begged to be excused. Mr. Talboys offered to return with him. He
+      declined: &ldquo;Have your little sail. I will wait at the inn for you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This pantomime had, I blush to say, been arranged beforehand. Miss
+      Fountain, we may be sure, saw through it, but she gave no sign. A lofty
+      impassibility marked her demeanor, and she let them do just what they
+      liked with her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The boat was launched, the foresail set, and Fountain remained on shore in
+      anything but a calm and happy state.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But friendships like these are not free from dross; and I must confess
+      that among the feelings which crossed his mind was a hope that Talboys
+      would pop, and be refused, as <i>he</i> had been. Why should he, Fountain,
+      monopolize defeat? We should share all things with a friend.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Meantime, by one of those caprices to which her sex are said to be
+      peculiarly subject, Lucy seemed to have given up all intention of carrying
+      out her plan for getting rid of Mr. Talboys. Instead of leading him on to
+      his fate, she interposed a subtle but almost impassable barrier between
+      him and destruction; her manner and deportment were of a nature to freeze
+      declarations of love upon the human lip. She leaned back languidly and
+      imperially on the luxurious cushions, and listlessly eyed the sky and the
+      water, and ignored with perfect impartiality all the living creatures in
+      the boat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Talboys endeavored in vain to draw her out of this languid mood. He
+      selected an interesting subject of conversation to&mdash;himself; he told
+      her of his feats yachting in the Mediterranean; he did not tell her,
+      though, that his yacht was sailed by the master and not by him, her
+      proprietor. In reply to all this Lucy dropped out languid monosyllables.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At last Talboys got piqued and clapped on sail.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There had not been a breath of air until half an hour before they started;
+      but now a stiff breeze had sprung up; so they had smooth water and yet
+      plenty of wind, and the boat cut swiftly through-the bubbling water.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She walks well,&rdquo; said the yachtsman.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy smiled a gracious, though still rather too queenly assent. I think
+      the motion was pleasing her. Lively motion is very agreeable to her sex.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This is a very fast boat,&rdquo; said Mr. Talboys. &ldquo;I should like to try her
+      speed. What do you say, Miss Fountain?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;With all my heart,&rdquo; said Lucy, in a tone that expressed her utter
+      indifference.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Here is this lateen-rigged boat creeping down on our quarter; we will
+      stand east till she runs down to us, and then we will run by her and
+      challenge her.&rdquo; Accordingly Talboys stood east.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But he did not get his race; for, somewhat to his surprise, the
+      lateen-rigged boat, instead of holding her course, which was about
+      south-southwest, bore up directly and stood east, keeping about half a
+      mile to windward of Talboys.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This puzzled Talboys. &ldquo;They are afraid to try it,&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;If they are
+      afraid of us sailing on a wind, they would not have much chance with us in
+      beating to windward. A lugger can lie two points nearer the wind than a
+      schooner.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      All this science was lost on Lucy. She lay back languid and listless.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Talboy's crew consisted of a man and a boy. He steered the boat
+      himself. He ordered them to go about and sail due west. It was no sooner
+      done than, lo and behold, the schooner came about and sailed west, keeping
+      always half a mile to windward.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That boat is following us, Miss Fountain.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What for?&rdquo; inquired she; &ldquo;is it my uncle coming after us?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; I see no one aboard but a couple of fishermen.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They are not fishermen,&rdquo; put in the boy; &ldquo;they are sailors&mdash;coastguard
+      men, likely.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Besides,&rdquo; said Mr. Talboys, &ldquo;your uncle would run down to us at once, but
+      these keep waiting on us and dogging us. Confound their impudence.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is all fancy,&rdquo; said Lucy; &ldquo;run away as fast as you can that way,&rdquo; and
+      she pointed down the wind, &ldquo;and you will see nobody will take the trouble
+      to run after us.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hoist the mainsail,&rdquo; cried Talboys.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They had hitherto been sailing under the foresail only. In another minute
+      they were running furiously before the wind with both sails set. The boat
+      yawed, and Lucy began to be nervous; still, the increased rapidity of
+      motion excited her agreeably. The lateen-schooner, sailing under her
+      fore-sail only, luffed directly and stood on in the lugger's wake. Lucy's
+      cheek burned, but she said nothing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There,&rdquo; cried Talboys, &ldquo;now do you believe me? I think we gain on her,
+      though.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We are going three knots to her two, sir,&rdquo; said the old man, &ldquo;but it is
+      by her good will; that is the fastest boat in the town, sailing on a wind;
+      at beating to windward we could tackle her easy enough, but not at running
+      free. Ah! there goes her mainsel up; I thought she would not be long
+      before she gave us that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, how beautiful!&rdquo; cried Lucy; &ldquo;it is like a falcon or an eagle sailing
+      down on us; it seems all wings. Why don't we spread wings too and fly
+      away?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You see, miss,&rdquo; explained the boatman, &ldquo;that schooner works her sails
+      different from us; going down wind she can carry her mainsel on one side
+      of the craft and her foresel on the other. By that she keeps on an even
+      keel, and, what is more, her mainsel does not take the wind out of her
+      foresel. Bless you, that little schooner would run past the fastest
+      frigate in the king's service with the wind dead aft as we have got it
+      now; she is coming up with us hand over head, and as stiff on her keel as
+      a rock; this is her point of sailing, beating to windward is ours. Why, if
+      they ain't reefing the foresel, to make the race even; and there go three
+      reefs into her mainsel too.&rdquo; The old boatman scratched his head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who is aboard her, Dick? they are strangers to me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      By taking in so many reefs the lateen had lowered her rate of sailing, and
+      she now followed in their wake, keeping a quarter of a mile to windward.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Talboys lost all patience. &ldquo;Who is it, I wonder, that has the insolence to
+      dog us so?&rdquo; and he looked keenly at Miss Fountain.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She did not think herself bound to reply, and gazed with a superior air of
+      indifference on the sky and the water.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will soon know,&rdquo; said Talboys.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What does it matter?&rdquo; inquired Lucy. &ldquo;Probably somebody who is wasting
+      his time as we are.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The road we are on is as free to him as to us,&rdquo; suggested the old
+      boatman, with a fine sense of natural justice. He added, &ldquo;But if you will
+      take my advice, sir, you will shorten sail, and put her about for home. It
+      is blowing half a gale of wind, and the sea will be getting up, and that
+      won't be agreeable for the young lady.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Gale of wind? Nonsense,&rdquo; said Talboys; &ldquo;it is a fine breeze.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, thank you, sir,&rdquo; said Lucy to the old man; &ldquo;I love the sea, but I
+      should not like to be out in a storm.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The old boatman grinned. &ldquo;'Storm is a word that an old salt reserves for
+      one of those hurricanes that blow a field of turnips flat, and teeth down
+      your throat. You can turn round and lean your back against it like a post;
+      and a carrion-crow making for the next parish gets fanned into another
+      county. That is a storm.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The old boatman went forward grinning, and he and his boy lowered the
+      mainsail. Then Talboys at the helm brought the boat's head round to the
+      wind. She came down to her bearings directly, which is as much as to say
+      that to Lucy she seemed to be upsetting.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy gave a little scream. The sail, too, made a report like the crack of
+      a pistol.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, what is that?&rdquo; cried Lucy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wind, mum,&rdquo; replied the boatman, composedly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is that purple line on the water, sir, out there, a long way beyond
+      the other boat?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wind, mum.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It seems to move. It is coming this way.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ay, mum, that is a thing that always makes to leeward,&rdquo; said the old
+      fellow, grinning. &ldquo;I'll take in a couple of reefs before it comes to us.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Meantime, the moment the lugger lowered her mainsail, the schooner,
+      divining, as it appeared, her intention, did the same, and luffed
+      immediately, and was on the new tack first of the two.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ay, my lass,&rdquo; said the old boatman, &ldquo;you are smartly handled, no doubt,
+      but your square stern and your try-hanglar sail they will take you to
+      leeward of us pretty soon, do what you can.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The event seemed to justify this assertion; the little lugger was on her
+      best point of sailing, and in about ten minutes the distance between the
+      two boats was slightly but sensibly diminished. The lateen, no doubt,
+      observed this, for she began to play the game of short tacks, and hoisted
+      her mainsail, and carried on till she seemed to sail on her beam-ends, to
+      make up, as far as possible, by speed and smartness for what she lost by
+      rig in beating to windward.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They go about quicker than we do,&rdquo; said Talboys.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course they do; they have not got to dip their sail, as we have, every
+      time we tack.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This was the true solution, but Mr. Talboys did not accept it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We are not so smart as we ought to be. Now you go to the helm, and I and
+      the boy will dip the lug.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The old boatman took the helm as requested, and gave the word of command
+      to Mr. Talboys. &ldquo;Stand <i>by</i> the foretack.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Mr. Talboys, &ldquo;here I am.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Let <i>go</i> the fore-tack&rdquo;; and, contemporaneously with the order, he
+      brought the boat's head round.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Now this operation is always a nice one, particularly in these small
+      luggers, where the lug has to be dipped, that is to say, lowered, and
+      raised again on the opposite side of the mast; for the lug should not be
+      lowered a moment too soon, or the boat, losing her way, would not come
+      round; nor a moment too late, lest the sail, owing to the new position the
+      boat is taking under the influence of the rudder, should receive the wind
+      while between the wind and the mast, and so the craft be taken aback, than
+      which nothing can well happen more disastrous.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Talboys, though not the accomplished sailor he thought himself, knew
+      this as well as anybody, and with the boy's help he lowered the sail at
+      the right moment; but, getting his head awkwardly in the way, the yard, in
+      coming down, hit him on the nose and nearly knocked him on to his
+      beam-ends. It would have been better if it had done so quite instead of
+      bounding off his nose on to his shoulder and there resting; for, as it
+      was, the descent of the sail being thus arrested half-way at the critical
+      moment, and the boat's head coming round all the same, a gust of wind
+      caught the sail and wrapped it tight round the mast to windward. The boy
+      uttered a cry of terror so significant that Lucy trembled all over, and by
+      an uncontrollable impulse leaned despairingly back and waved her white
+      handkerchief toward the antagonist boat. The old boatman with an oath
+      darted forward with an agility he could not have shown ashore.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The effect on the craft was alarming. If the whole sail had been thus
+      taken aback, she would have gone down like lead; for, as it was, she was
+      driven on her side and at the same time driven back by the stern; the
+      whole sea seemed to rise an inch above her gunwale; the water poured into
+      her at every drive the gusts of wind gave her, and the only wonder seemed
+      why the waves did not run clean over her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In vain the old boatman, cursing and swearing, tugged at the canvas to
+      free it from the mast. It was wrapped round it like Dejanira's shirt, and
+      with as fatal an effect; the boat was filling; and as this brought her
+      lower in the water, and robbed her of much of her buoyancy, and as the
+      fatal cause continued immovable, her destruction was certain.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Every cheek was blanched with fear but Lucy's, and hers was red as fire
+      ever since she waved her handkerchief; so powerful is modesty with her
+      sex. A true virgin can blush in death's very grasp.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In the midst of this agitation and terror, suddenly the boat was hailed.
+      They all looked up, and there was the lateen coming tearing down on them
+      under all her canvas, both her broad sails spread out to the full, one on
+      each side. She seemed all monstrous wing. The lugger being now nearly head
+      to wind, she came flying down on her weather bow as if to run past her,
+      then, lowering her foresail, made a broad sweep, and brought up suddenly
+      between the lugger and the wind. As her foresail fell, a sailor bounded
+      over it on to the forecastle, and stood there with one foot on the
+      gunwale, active as Mercury, eye glowing, and a rope in his hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stand by to lower your mast,&rdquo; roared this sailor in a voice of thunder to
+      the boatman of the lugger; and the moment the schooner came up into the
+      wind athwart the lugger's bows he bounded over ten feet of water into her,
+      and with a turn of the hand made the rope fast to her thwart, then hauling
+      upon it, brought her alongside with her head literally under the
+      schooner's wing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He and the old boatman then instantly unstepped the mast and laid it down
+      in the boat, sail and all. It was not his great strength that enabled them
+      to do this (a dozen of him could not have done it while the wind pressed
+      on the mast); it was his address in taking all the wind out of the lug by
+      means of the schooner's mainsail. The old man never said a word till the
+      work was done; then he remarked, &ldquo;That was clever of you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The new-comer took no notice whatever. &ldquo;Reef that sail, Jack,&rdquo; he cried;
+      &ldquo;it will be in the lady's face by and by; and heave your bailer in here;
+      their boat is full of water.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not so full as it would if you hadn't brought up alongside,&rdquo; said the old
+      boatman.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you want to frighten the lady?&rdquo; replied the sailor, in his driest and
+      least courtier-like way.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am not frightened, Mr. Dodd,&rdquo; said Lucy. &ldquo;I was, but I am not now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come and help me get the water out of her, Jack. Stay! Miss Fountain had
+      better step into the dry boat, meantime. Now, Jack, look alive; lash her
+      longside aft.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This done, the two sailors, one standing on the lugger's gunwale, one on
+      the schooner's, handed Miss Fountain into the schooner, and gave her the
+      cushions of the lugger to sit upon. They then went to work with a will,
+      and bailed half a ton of water out.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When she was dry David jumped back into his own boat. &ldquo;Now, Miss Fountain,
+      your boat is dry, but the sea is getting up, and I think, if I were you, I
+      would stay where you are.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I mean to,&rdquo; said the lady, calmly. &ldquo;Mr. Talboys, <i>would</i> you mind
+      coming into this boat? We shall be safer here; it&mdash;it is larger.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The gentleman thus addressed was embarrassed between two mortifications,
+      one on each side him. If he came into David's boat he would be second
+      fiddle, he who had gone out of port first fiddle. If he stuck to the
+      lugger Lucy would go off with Dodd, and he would look like a fool coming
+      ashore without her. He hesitated.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      David got impatient. &ldquo;Come, sir,&rdquo; he cried, &ldquo;don't you hear the lady
+      invite you? and every moment is precious.&rdquo; And he held out his hand to
+      him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Talboys decided on taking it, and he even unbent so far as to jump
+      vigorously&mdash;so vigorously that, David pulling him with force at the
+      same moment, he came flying into the schooner like a cannon-ball, and,
+      toppling over on his heels, went down on the seat with his head resting on
+      the weather gunwale, and his legs at a right angle with his back.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is one way of boarding a craft,&rdquo; muttered David, a little
+      discontentedly; then to the old boatman: &ldquo;Here, fling us that tarpaulin. I
+      say, here is more wind coming; are you sure you can work that lugger, you
+      two?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We will be ashore before you can, now there's nobody to bother us,&rdquo; was
+      the prompt reply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then cast loose; here we are, drifting out to sea.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The old man cast the rope loose; David hauled it on board, and the
+      schooner shot away from her companion and bore up north-north-west,
+      leaving the luggar rocking from side to side on the rising waves. But the
+      next minute Lucy saw her sail rise, and she bore up and stood northeast.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good-by to you, little horror,&rdquo; said Lucy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We shall fall in with her a good many times more before we make the
+      land,&rdquo; said David Dodd.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy inquired what he meant; but he had fallen to hauling the sheet aft
+      and making the sail stand flatter, and did not answer her. Indeed, he
+      seemed much more taken up with Jack than with her, and, above all,
+      entirely absorbed in the business of sailing the boat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She was a little mortified at this behavior, and held her tongue. Talboys
+      was sulky, and held his. It was a curious situation. In the hurry and
+      bustle, none of the parties had realized it; but now, as the boat breasted
+      the waves, and all was silent on board, they had time to review their
+      position.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Talboys grew gloomier and gloomier at the poor figure he cut. Lucy kept
+      blushing at intervals as she reflected on the obligation she had laid
+      herself under to a rejected lover. The rejected lover alone seemed to mind
+      his business and nothing else; and, as he was almost ludicrously
+      unconscious that he was doing a chivalrous action, a misfortune to which
+      those who do these things are singularly liable, he did not gild the
+      transaction with a single graceful speech, and permitted himself to be
+      more occupied with the sails than with rescued beauty.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Succeeding events, however, explained, and in some degree excused, this
+      commonplace behavior.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The next time they tacked some spray came flying in, and wetted all hands.
+      Lucy laughed. The lugger had also tacked, and the two boats were now
+      standing toward each other; when they met the lugger had weathered on them
+      some sixty or seventy yards.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A furious rain now came on almost horizontally, and the sailors arranged
+      the tarpaulin so as to protect Mr. Talboys and Miss Fountain.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But you will be wet through yourself, Mr. Dodd. Will you not come under
+      shelter too?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And who is to sail the boat?&rdquo; He added, &ldquo;I am glad to see the rain. I
+      hope it will still the wind; if it doesn't, we shall have to try something
+      else, that is all.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pray, when do you undertake to land us, Mr. Dodd?&rdquo; inquired Mr. Talboys,
+      superciliously.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, sir, if it does not blow any harder, about eight bells.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Eight bells? Why, that means midnight,&rdquo; exclaimed Talboys.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wind and tide both dead against us,&rdquo; replied David, coolly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Mr. Dodd, tell me the truth: is there any danger?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Danger? Not that I see; but it is very uncomfortable, and unbecoming, for
+      you to be beating to windward against the tide for so many hours, when you
+      ought to be sitting on the sofa at home. However, next time you run out of
+      port, I hope those that take charge of you will look to the almanac for
+      the tide, and look to windward for the weather: Jack, the lugger lies
+      nearer the wind than we do.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A little, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Will you take the helm a minute, Mr. Talboys? and <i>you</i> come forward
+      and unbend this.&rdquo; The two sailors put their heads together amidships, and
+      spoke in an undertone. &ldquo;The wind is rising with the rain instead of
+      falling.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Seems so, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What do you think yourself?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, sir, it has been blowing harder and harder ever since we came out,
+      and very steady.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It will turn out one of those dry nor'easters, Jack.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shouldn't wonder, sir. I wish she was cutter-rigged, sir. A boat has no
+      business to be any other rig but cutter; there ought to be a nact o'
+      parliam't against these outlandish rigs.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know; I have seen wonders done with this lateen rig in the
+      Pacific.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The lugger forereaches on us, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A little, but, for all that, I am glad she is on board our craft; we have
+      got more beam, and, if it comes to the worst, we can run. The lugger can't
+      with her sharp stern. I'll go to the helm.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Just as David was stepping aft to take the helm, a wave struck the boat
+      hard on the weather bow, close to the gunwale, and sent a bucket of salt
+      water flying all over him; he never turned his head even&mdash;took no
+      more notice of it than a rock does when the sea spits at it. Lucy shrieked
+      and crouched behind the tarpaulin. David took the helm, and, seeing
+      Talboys white, said kindly: &ldquo;Why don't you go forward, sir, and make
+      yourself snug under the folksel deck? she is sure to wet us abaft before
+      we can make the land.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      No. Talboys resisted his inclination and the deadly nausea that was
+      creeping over him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank you, but I like to see what is going on; and&rdquo; (with an heroic
+      attempt at sea-slang) &ldquo;I like a wet boat.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They now fell in with the lugger again lying on the opposite tack, and a
+      hundred yards at least to windward.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Just before they crossed her wake David sang out to Jack:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Our masts&mdash;are they sound?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Bran-new, sir; best Norway pine.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What d'ye think?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Think we are wasting time and daylight.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then stand <i>by</i> the main sheet.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <i>&ldquo;Slack</i> the main sheet.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ay, ay, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The boat instantly fell off into the wind, and, as she went round, David
+      stood up in the stern-sheets and waved his cap to the men on board the
+      lugger, who were watching him. The old man was seen to shake his head in
+      answer to the signal, and point to his lug-sail standing flat as a board,
+      and the next moment they parted company, and the lateen was running
+      close-reefed before the wind.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Talboys was sitting collapsed in the lethargy that precedes
+      seasickness. He started up. &ldquo;What are you doing?&rdquo; he shrieked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Keep quiet, sir, and don't bother,&rdquo; said David, with calm sternness, and
+      in his deepest tones.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pray don't interfere with Mr. Dodd,&rdquo; said Lucy; &ldquo;he must know best.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You don't see what he is doing, then,&rdquo; cried Talboys, wildly; &ldquo;the madman
+      is taking us out to sea.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are you taking us out to sea, Mr. Dodd?&rdquo; inquired Lucy, with dismay.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am doing according to my judgment of tide and wind, and the abilities
+      of the craft I am sailing,&rdquo; said David, firmly; &ldquo;and on board my own craft
+      I am skipper, and skipper I will be. Go forward, sir, if you please, and
+      don't speak except to obey orders.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Talboys, sick, despondent and sulky, went gloomily forward, coiled
+      himself up under the forecastle deck, and was silent and motionless.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't send me,&rdquo; cried Lucy, &ldquo;for I will not go. Nothing but your eye
+      keeps up my courage. I don't mind the water,&rdquo; added she, hastily and a
+      little timidly, anxious to meet every reason that could be urged for
+      imprisoning her in the forecastle hold.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are all right where you are, miss,&rdquo; said Jack, cheerfully; &ldquo;we shan't
+      have no more spray come aboard us; it won't come in by the can full if it
+      doesn't come by the ton.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Will you belay your jaw?&rdquo; roared David, in a fury that Lucy did not
+      comprehend at the time. &ldquo;What a set of tarnation babblers in one little
+      boat.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I won't speak any more, Mr. Dodd; I won't speak.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Bless your heart, it isn't you I meant. 'Twould be hard if a lady might
+      not put her word in. But a man is different. I do love to see a man belay
+      his jaw, and wait for orders, and then do his duty; hoist the mainsel,
+      you!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ay, ay, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Shake out a couple of reefs.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ay, ay, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And the lateen spread both her great wings like an albatross, and leaped
+      and plunged, and flew before the mighty gale.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XVIII.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;THIS is nice. The boat does not upset or tumble as it did. It only
+      courtesies and plunges. I like it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The sea has not got up yet, miss,&rdquo; said Jack.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hasn't it? the waves seem very large.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Lord love you, wait till we have had four or five hours more of this.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Belay your jaw, Jack.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ay, ay, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why so, Mr. Dodd?&rdquo; objected Lucy gently. &ldquo;I am not so weak as you think
+      me. Do not keep the truth from me. I share the danger; let me share the
+      sense of danger, too. You shall not blush for me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Danger? There is not a grain of it, unless we make danger by inattention&mdash;and
+      babbling.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You will not do that,&rdquo; said Lucy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Equivoque missed fire.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not while you are on board,&rdquo; replied David, simply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy felt inclined to give him her hand. She had it out half-way; but he
+      had lately asked her to marry him, so she drew it back, and her eyes
+      rested on the bottom of the boat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The wind rose higher. The masts bent so that each sail had every possible
+      reef taken in. Her canvas thus reduced she scudded as fast as before, such
+      was now the fury of the gale. The sea rose so that the boat seemed to
+      mount with each wave as high as the second story of a house, and go down
+      again to the cellar at every plunge. Talboys, prostrated by seasickness in
+      the forehold, lay curled but motionless, like a crooked log, and almost as
+      indifferent to life or death. Lucy, pale but firm, put no more questions
+      that she felt would not be answered, but scanned David Dodd's face
+      furtively yet closely. The result was encouraging to her. His cheek was
+      not pale, as she felt her own. On the contrary, it was slightly flushed;
+      his eye bright and watchful, but lion-like. He gave a word or two of
+      command to Jack every now and then very sharply, but without the slightest
+      shade of agitation, and Jack's &ldquo;ay, ay&rdquo; came back as sharply, but
+      cheerfully.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The principal feature she discerned in both sailors was a very attentive,
+      business-like manner. The romantic air with which heroes face danger in
+      story was entirely absent; and so, being convinced by his yarns that David
+      <i>was</i> a hero, she inferred that their situation could not be
+      dangerous, but, as David himself had inferred, merely one in which
+      watchfulness was requisite.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The sun went down red and angry. The night came on dark and howling. No
+      moon. A murky sky, like a black bellying curtain above, and huge ebony
+      waves, that in the appalling blackness seemed all crested with devouring
+      fire, hemmed in the tossing boat, and growled, and snarled, and raged
+      above, below, and around her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then, in that awful hour, Lucy Fountain felt her littleness and the
+      littleness of man. She cowered and trembled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The sailors, rough but tender nurses, wrapped shawls round her one above
+      the other, &ldquo;to make her snug for the night,&rdquo; they said. They seemed to her
+      to be mocking her. &ldquo;Snug? Who could hope to outlive such a fearful night?
+      and what did it matter whether she was drowned in one shawl or a dozen?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      David being amidships, bailing the boat out, and Jack at the helm, she
+      took the opportunity, and got very close to the latter, and said in his
+      ear&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Jack, we are in danger.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not exactly in danger, miss; but, of course, we must mind our eye. But I
+      have often been where I have had to mind my eye, and hope to be again.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Jack,&rdquo; said Lucy, shivering, &ldquo;what is our danger? Tell me the nature
+      of it, then I shall not be so cowardly; will the boat break?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Lord bless you, no.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Will it upset?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No fear of that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Will not the sea swallow us?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, miss. How can the sea swallow us? She rides like a cork, and there is
+      the skipper bailing her out, to make her lighter still. No; I'll tell you,
+      miss; all we have got to mind is two things; we must not let her broach
+      to, and we must not get pooped.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But <i>why</i> must we not?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;<i>Why?</i> Because we <i>mustn't.&rdquo;</i>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But I mean, what would be the consequence of&mdash;broaching to?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Jack opened his eyes in astonishment. &ldquo;Why, the sea would run over her
+      quarter, and swamp her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh!! And if we get pooped?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We shall go to Davy Jones, like a bullet.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who is Davy Jones?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The Old One, you know&mdash;down below. Leastways you won't go there,
+      miss; you will go aloft, and perhaps the skipper; but Davy will have me;
+      so I won't give him a chance, if I can help it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy cried.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where are we, Mr. Jack?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;British Channel.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know that; but whereabouts?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Heaven knows; and no doubt the skipper, he knows; but I don't. I am only
+      a common sailor. Shall I hail the skipper? he will tell you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no, no. He is so angry if we speak.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He won't be angry if you speak to him, miss,&rdquo; said Jack, with a sly grin,
+      that brought a faint color into Lucy's cheek; &ldquo;you should have seen him,
+      how anxious he was about you before we came alongside; and the moment that
+      lubber went forward to dip the lug, says he, 'Jack, there will be
+      mischief; up mainsail and run down to them. I have no confidence in that
+      tall boy.' (He do seem a long, weedy, useless sort of lubber.) Lord bless
+      you, miss, we luffed, and were running down to you long before you made
+      the signal of distress with your little white flag.&rdquo; Lucy's cheeks got
+      redder. &ldquo;No, miss, if the skipper speaks severe to you, Jack Painter is
+      blind with one eye, and can't see with t'other.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy's cheeks were carnation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But the next moment they were white, for a terrible event interrupted this
+      chat. Two huge waves rolled one behind the other, an occurrence which
+      luckily is not frequent; the boat, descending into the valley of the sea,
+      had the wind taken out of her sails by the high wave that was coming. Her
+      sails flapped, she lost her speed, and, as she rose again, the second wave
+      was a moment too quick for her, and its combing crest caught her. The
+      first thing Lucy saw was Jack running from the helm with a loud cry of
+      fear, followed by what looked an arch of fire, but sounded like a lion
+      rushing, growling on its prey, and directly her feet and ankles were in a
+      pool of water. David bounded aft, swearing and splashing through it, and
+      it turned into sparks of white fire flying this way and that. He seized
+      the helm, and discharged a loud volley of curses at Jack.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Fling out ballast, ye d&mdash;d cowardly, useless lubber,&rdquo; cried he; and
+      while Jack, who had recoiled into his normal state of nerves with almost
+      ridiculous rapidity, was heaving out ballast, David discharged another
+      rolling volley at him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, pray don't!&rdquo; cried Lucy, trembling like an aspen leaf. &ldquo;Oh, think! we
+      shall soon be in the presence of our Maker&mdash;of Him whose name you&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not we,&rdquo; cried David, with broad, cheerful incredulity; &ldquo;we have lots
+      more mischief to do&mdash;that lubber and I. And if he thinks he is going
+      there, let him end like a man, not like a skulking lubber, running from
+      the helm, and letting the craft come up in the wind.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no, it was the sea he ran from. Who would not?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The lubber! If it had been a tiger or a bear I'd say nothing; but what is
+      the use of trying to run from the sea? Should have stuck to his post, and
+      set that thundering back of his up&mdash;it's broad enough&mdash;and kept
+      the sea out of your boots. The sea, indeed! I have seen the sea come on
+      board me, and clear the deck fore and aft, but it didn't come in the shape
+      of a cupful o' water and a spoonful o' foam.&rdquo; Here David's wrath and
+      contempt were interrupted by Jack singing waggishly at his work,
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+           &ldquo;Cease&mdash;rude Boreas&mdash;blustering&mdash;railer!!&rdquo;
+ </pre>
+    <p>
+      At which sly hit David was pleased, and burst into a loud, boisterous
+      laugh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy put her hands to her ears. &ldquo;Oh, don't! don't! this is worse than your
+      blasphemies&mdash;laughing on the brink of eternity; these are not men&mdash;they
+      are devils.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you hear that, Jack? Come, you behave!&rdquo; roared David.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A faint snarl from Talboys. The water had penetrated him, and roused him
+      from a state of sick torpor; he lay in a tidy little pool some eight
+      inches deep.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The boat was bailed and lightened, but Lucy's fears were not set at rest.
+      What was to hinder the recurrence of the same danger, and with more fatal
+      effect? She timidly asked David's permission to let her keep the sea out.
+      Instead of snubbing her as she expected, David consented with a sort of
+      paternal benevolence tinged with incredulity. She then developed her plan;
+      it was, that David, Jack, and she should sit in a triangle, and hold the
+      tarpaulin out to windward and fence the ocean out. Jack, being summoned
+      aft to council, burst into a hoarse laugh; but David checked him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There is more in it than you see, Jack&mdash;more than she sees, perhaps.
+      My only doubt is whether it is possible; but you can try.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy and Jack then tried to get the tarpaulin out to windward; instead of
+      which, it carried them to leeward by the force of the wind. The mast
+      brought them up, or Heaven knows where their new invention would have
+      taken them. With infinite difficulty they got it down and kneeled upon it,
+      and even then it struggled. But Lucy would not be defeated; she made Jack
+      gather it up in the middle, and roll it first to the right, then to the
+      left, till it became a solid roll with two narrow open edges. They then
+      carried it abaft, and lowered it vertically over the stern-port; then
+      suddenly turned it round, and sat down. &ldquo;Crack!&rdquo; the wind opened it, and
+      wrapped it round the boat and the trio.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hallo!&rdquo; cried David, &ldquo;it is foul of the rudder;&rdquo; and, he whipped out his
+      knife and made a slit in the stuff. It now clung like a blister.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There, Mr. Dodd, will not that keep the sea out?&rdquo; asked Lucy,
+      triumphantly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;At any rate, it may help to keep us ahead of the sea. Why, Jack, I seem
+      to feel it lift her; it is as good as a mizzen.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But, oh, Mr. Dodd, there is another danger. We may broach to.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How can she broach to when I am at the helm? Here is the arm that won't
+      let her broach to.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then I feel safe.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are as safe as on your own sofa; it is the discomfort you are put to
+      that worries me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't think so meanly of me, Mr. Dodd. If it was not for my cowardice, I
+      should enjoy this voyage far more than the luxurious ease you think so
+      dear to me. I despise it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Dodd, now I am no longer afraid. I am, oh, so sleepy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No wonder&mdash;go to sleep. It is the best thing you can do.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank you, sir. I am aware my conversation is not very interesting.&rdquo;
+       Having administered this sudden bloodless scratch, to show that, at sea or
+      ashore, in fair weather or foul, she retained her sex, Lucy disposed
+      herself to sleep.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      David, steering the boat with his left hand, arranged the cushion with his
+      right. She settled herself to sleep, for an irresistible drowsiness had
+      followed the many hours of excitement she had gone through. Twice the
+      heavy plunging sea brought her into light contact with David. She
+      instantly awoke, and apologized to him with gentle dismay for taking so
+      audacious a liberty with that great man, commander of the vessel; the
+      third time she said nothing, a sure sign she was unconscious.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then David, for fear she might hurt herself, curled his arm around her,
+      and let her head decline upon his shoulder. Her bonnet fell off; he put it
+      reverently on the other side the helm. The air now cleared, but the gale
+      increased rather than diminished. And now the moon rose large and bright.
+      The boat and masts stood out like white stone-work against the
+      flint-colored sky, and the silver light played on Lucy's face. There she
+      lay, all unconscious of her posture, on the man's shoulder who loved her,
+      and whom she had refused; her head thrown back in sweet helplessness, her
+      rich hair streaming over David's shoulder, her eyes closed, but the long,
+      lovely lashes meeting so that the double fringe was as speaking as most
+      eyes, and her lips half open in an innocent smile. The storm was no storm
+      to her now. She slept the sleep of childhood, of innocence and peace; and
+      David gazed and gazed on her, and joy and tenderness almost more than
+      human thrilled through him, and the storm was no storm to him either; he
+      forgot the past, despised the future, and in the delirium of his joy
+      blessed the sea and the wind, and wished for nothing but, instead of the
+      Channel, a boundless ocean, and to sail upon it thus, her bosom tenderly
+      grazing him, and her lovely head resting on his shoulder, for ever, and
+      ever, and ever.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Thus they sailed on two hours and more, and Jack now began to nod.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      All of a sudden Lucy awoke, and, opening her eyes, surprised David gazing
+      at her with tenderness unspeakable. Awaking possessed with the notion that
+      she was sleeping at home on a bed of down, she looked dumfounded an
+      instant; but David's eyes soon sent the blood into her cheek. Her whole
+      supple person turned eel-like, and she glided quickly, but not the least
+      bruskly, from him; the latter might have seemed discourteous.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Mr. Dodd,&rdquo; she cried, &ldquo;what am I doing?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have been getting a nice sleep, thank Heaven.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, and making use of you even in my sleep; but we all impose on your
+      goodness.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why did you awake? You were happy; you felt no care, and I was happy
+      seeing you so.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy's eyes filled. &ldquo;Kind, true friend,&rdquo; she murmured, &ldquo;how can I ever
+      thank you as I ought? I little deserved that you should watch over my
+      safety as you have done, and, alas! risk your own. Any other but you would
+      have borne me malice, and let me perish, and said, 'It serves her right.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Malice! Miss Lucy. What for, in Heaven's name?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;For&mdash;for the affront I put upon you; for the&mdash;the honor I
+      declined.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hate cannot lie alongside love in a true heart.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I see it cannot in a noble one. And then you are so generous. You have
+      never once recurred to that unfortunate topic; yet you have gained a right
+      to request me&mdash;to reconsider&mdash;Mr. Dodd, you have saved my
+      life!!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What! do you praise me because I don't take a mean advantage? That would
+      not be behaving like a man.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know that. You overrate your sex&mdash;and mine. We don't deserve
+      such generosity. The proof is, we reward those who are not so&mdash;delicate.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't trouble my head about your sex. They are nothing to me, and never
+      will be. If you think I have done my duty like a man, and as much like a
+      gentleman as my homely education permits, that is enough for me, and I
+      shall sail for China as happy as anything on earth can make me now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy answered this by crying gently, silently, tenderly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't ye cry. Have I said something to vex you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh no, no.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are you alarmed still?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, no; I have such faith in you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then go to sleep again, like a lamb.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will; then I shall not tease you with my conversation.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now there is a way to put it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Forgive me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That I will, if you will take some repose. There, I will lash you to my
+      arm with this handkerchief; then you can lie the other way, and hold on by
+      the handkerchief&mdash;there.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She closed her eyes and fell apparently to sleep, but really to thinking.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then David nudged Jack, and waked him. &ldquo;Speak low now, Jack.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is it, sir?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Land ahead.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Jack looked out, and there was a mountain of jet rising out of the sea,
+      and, to a landsman's eye, within a stone's throw of them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is it the French coast, sir? I must have been asleep.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;French coast? no, Channel Island&mdash;smallest of the lot.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Better give it a wide berth, sir. We shall go smash like a teacup if we
+      run on to one of them rocky islands.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, Jack,&rdquo; said David, reproachfully, &ldquo;am I the man to run upon a
+      leeshore, and such a night as this?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not likely. You will keep her head for Cherbourg or St. Malo, sir; it is
+      our only chance.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is not our only chance, nor our best. We have been running a little
+      ahead of this gale, Jack; there is worse in store for us; the sea is
+      rolling mountains high on the French coast this morning, I know. We are
+      like enough to be pooped before we get there, or swamped on some
+      harbor-bar at last.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, sir, we must take our chance.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Take our chance? What! with heads on our shoulders, and an angel on board
+      that Heaven has given us charge of? No, I sha'n't take my chance. I shall
+      try all I know, and hang on to life by my eyelids. Listen to me.
+      'Knowledge is gold;' a little of it goes a long way. I don't know much
+      myself, but I do know the soundings of the British Channel. I have made
+      them my study. On the south side of this rocky point there is forty
+      fathoms water close to the shore, and good anchorage-ground.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then I wish we could jump over the thundering island, and drop on the lee
+      side of it; but, as we can't, what's the use?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We may be able to round the point.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There will be an awful sea running off that point, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course there will. I mean to try it, for all that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So be it, sir; that is what I like to hear. I hate palaver. Let one give
+      his orders, and the rest obey them. We are not above half a mile from it
+      now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You had better wake the landsman. We must have a third hand for this.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; said a woman's voice, sweet, but clear and unwavering. &ldquo;I shall be
+      the third hand.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Curse it,&rdquo; cried David, &ldquo;she has heard us.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Every word. And I have no confidence in Mr. Talboys; and, believe me, I
+      am more to be trusted than he is. See, my cowardice is all worn out. Do
+      but trust me, and you shall find I want neither courage nor intelligence.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      David eyed her keenly, and full in the face. She met his glance calmly,
+      with her fine nostrils slightly expanding, and her compressed lip curving
+      proudly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is all right, Jack. It is not a flash in the pan. She is as steady as
+      a rock.&rdquo; He then addressed her rapidly and business-like, but with
+      deference. &ldquo;You will stand by the helm on this side, and the moment I run
+      forward, you will take the helm and hold it in this position. That will
+      require all your strength. Come, try it. Well done.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How the sea struggles with me! But I am strong, you see,&rdquo; cried Lucy, her
+      brow flushed with the battle.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very good; you are strong, and, what is better, resolute. Now, observe
+      me: this is port, this is starboard, and this is amidships.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I see; but how am I to know which to do?&rdquo;'
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shall give you the word of command.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And all I have to do is to obey it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is all; but you will find it enough, because the sea will seem to
+      fight you. It will shake the boat to make you leave go, and will perhaps
+      dash in your face to make you leave go.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Forewarned, forearmed, Mr. Dodd. I will not let go. I will hold on by my
+      eyelids sooner than add to your danger.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Jack, she is on fire; she gives me double heart.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So she does me. She makes it a pleasure.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They were now near enough the point to judge what they had to do, and the
+      appearance of the sea was truly terrible; the waves were all broken, and a
+      surge of devouring fire seemed to rage and roar round the point, and
+      oppose an impassable barrier between them and the inky pool beyond, where
+      safety lay under the lee of the high rocks.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't like it,&rdquo; said David. &ldquo;It looks to me like going through a strip
+      of hell fire.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But it is narrow,&rdquo; said Lucy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is our chance; and the tide is coming in. We will try it. She will
+      drench us, but I don't much think she will swamp us. Are you ready, all
+      hands?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! please wait a minute, till I do up my hair.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Take a minute, but no more.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There, it is done. Mr. Dodd, one word. If all should fail, and death be
+      inevitable, tell me so just before we perish, and I shall have something
+      to say to you. Now, I am ready.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Jump forward, Jack.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stand by to jibe the foresail.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ay, ay, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;See our sweeps all clear.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ay.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      David now handled the main sheet, and at the same time looked earnestly at
+      Lucy, who met his eye with a look of eager attention.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Starboard a little. That will do. Steady&mdash;steady as you go,&rdquo; As the
+      boat yielded to the helm, Jack gathered in on the sheet, took two turns
+      round the cleat, and eased away till the sail drew its best: so far so
+      good. Both sails were now on the same side of the boat, the wind on her
+      port quarter; but now came the dangerous operation of coming to the wind,
+      in a rough and broken sea, among the eddies of wind and tide so prevalent
+      off headlands. David, with the main sheet in his right hand, directed Lucy
+      with his left as well as his voice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Starboard the helm&mdash;starboard yet&mdash;now meet her&mdash;so!&rdquo; and,
+      as she rounded to Jack and he kept hauling the sheets aft, and the boat,
+      her course and trim altered, darted among the breakers like a brave man
+      attacking danger. After the first plunge she went up and down like a
+      pickax, coming down almost where she went up; but she held her course,
+      with the waves roaring round her like a pack of hell-hounds.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      More than half the terrible strip was passed. &ldquo;Starboard yet,&rdquo; cried
+      David; and she headed toward the high mainland under whose lee was calm
+      and safety. Alas! at this moment a snorter of a sea broke under her
+      broadside, and hove her to leeward like a cork, and a tide eddy catching
+      her under the counter, she came to more than two points, and her canvas,
+      thus emptied, shook enough to tear the masts out of her by the board.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Port your helm! PORT! PORT!&rdquo; roared David, in a voice like the roar of a
+      wounded lion; and, in his anxiety, he bounded to the helm himself; but
+      Lucy obeyed orders at half a word, and David, seeing this, sprang forward
+      to help Jack flatten in the foresheet. The boat, which all through
+      answered the helm beautifully, fell off the moment Lucy ported the helm,
+      and thus they escaped the impending and terrible danger of her making
+      sternway. &ldquo;Helm amidships!&rdquo; and all drew again: the black water was in
+      sight. But will they ever reach it? She tosses like a cork. Bang! A
+      breaker caught her bows, and drenched David and Jack to the very bone. She
+      quivered like an aspen-leaf but held on.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Starboard one point,&rdquo; cried David, sitting down, and lifting an oar out
+      from the boat; but just as Lucy, in obeying the order, leaned a little
+      over the lee gunwale with the tiller, a breaker broke like a shell upon
+      the boat's broadside abaft, stove in her upper plank, and filled her with
+      water; some flew and slapped Lucy in the face like an open hand. She
+      screamed, but clung to the gunwale, and griped the helm: her arm seemed
+      iron, and her heart was steel. While she clung thus to her work, blinded
+      by the spray, and expecting death, she heard oars splash into the water,
+      and mellow stentorian voices burst out singing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In amazement she turned, squeezed the brine out of her eyes, and looked
+      all round, and lo! the boat was in a trifling bobble of a sea, and close
+      astern was the surge of fire raging, and growling, and blazing in vain,
+      and the two sailors were pulling the boat, with superhuman strength and
+      inspiration, into a monster mill-pool that now lay right ahead, black as
+      ink and smooth as oil, singing loudly as they rowed:
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+         &ldquo;Cheerily oh oh! (pull) cheerily oh oh! (pull)
+          To port we go oh (pull), to port we go (pull).&rdquo;
+ </pre>
+    <p>
+      FLARE!! a great flaming eye opened on them in the center of the universal
+      blackness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Look! look!&rdquo; cried Lucy; &ldquo;a fire in the mountain.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was the lantern of a French sloop anchored close to the shore. The crew
+      had heard the sailors' voices. At sight of it David and Jack cheered so
+      lustily that Talboys crawled out of the water and glared vaguely. The
+      sailors pulled under the sloop's lee quarter: a couple of ropes were
+      instantly lowered, the lantern held aloft, ruby heads and hands clustered
+      at the gangway, and in another minute the boat's party were all upon deck,
+      under a hailstorm of French, and the boat fast to her stern.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XIX.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      THE skipper of the ship, hearing a commotion on deck, came up, and, taking
+      off his cap, made Lucy a bow in a style remote from an English sailor's.
+      She courtesied to him, and, to his surprise, addressed him in Parisian
+      French. When he learned she was from England, and had rounded that point
+      in an open boat, he was astonished.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Diables d'Anglais!&rdquo; said he.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The good-natured Frenchman insisted on Lucy taking sole possession of his
+      cabin, in which was a cheerful stove. His crew were just as kind to David,
+      Jack, and Talboys. This latter now resumed his right place&mdash;at the
+      head of mankind; being the only one who could talk French, he interpreted
+      for his companions. He improved upon my narrative in one particular: he
+      led the Frenchmen to suppose it was he who had sailed the boat from
+      England, and weathered the point. Who can blame him?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dry clothes were found them, and grog and beef.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      While employed on the victuals, a little Anglo-Frank, aged ten, suddenly
+      rolled out of a hammock and offered aid in the sweet accents of their
+      native tongue. The sound of the knives and forks had woke the urchin out
+      of a deep sleep. David filled the hybrid, and then sent him to Lucy's
+      cabin to learn how she was getting on. He returned, and told them the lady
+      was sitting on deck.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dear me,&rdquo; said David, &ldquo;she ought to be in her bed.&rdquo; He rose and went on
+      deck, followed by Mr. Talboys. &ldquo;Had you not better rest yourself?&rdquo; said
+      David.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, thank you, Mr. Dodd; I had a delicious sleep in the boat.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Here Talboys put in his word, and made her a rueful apology for the turn
+      his pleasure-excursion had taken.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She stopped him most graciously.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;On the contrary, I have to thank you, indirectly, for one of the
+      pleasantest evenings I ever spent. I never was in danger before, and it is
+      delightful. I was a little frightened at first, but it soon wore off, and
+      I feel I should shortly revel in it; only I must have a brave man near
+      just to look at, then I gather courage from his eye; do I not now, Mr.
+      Dodd?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Indeed you do,&rdquo; said David, simply enough.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy Fountain's appearance and manner bore out her words. Talboys was
+      white; even David and Jack showed some signs of a night of watching and
+      anxiety; but the young lady's cheek was red and fresh, her eye bright, and
+      she shone with an inspired and sprightly ardor that was never seen, or
+      never observed in her before. They had found the way to put her blood up,
+      after all&mdash;the blood of the Funteyns. Such are thoroughbreds: they
+      rise with the occasion; snobs descend as the situation rises. See that
+      straight-necked, small-nosed mare stepping delicately on the turnpike:
+      why, it is Languor in person, picking its way among eggs. Now the hounds
+      cry and the horn rings. Put her at timber, stream, and plowed field in
+      pleasing rotation, and see her now: up ears; open nostril; nerves steel;
+      heart immovable; eye of fire; foot of wind. And ho! there! What stuck in
+      that last arable, dead stiff as the Rosinantes in Trafalgar Square, all
+      but one limb, which goes like a water-wagtail's? Why, by Jove! if it isn't
+      the hero of the turnpike road: the gallant, impatient, foaming, champing,
+      space-devouring, curveting cocktail.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Out of consideration for her male companions' infirmities, and observing
+      that they were ashamed to take needful rest while she remained on deck,
+      Lucy at length retired to her cabin.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She slept a good many hours, and was awakened at last by the rocking of
+      the sloop. The wind had fallen gently, but it had also changed to due
+      east, which brought a heavy ground-swell round the point into their little
+      haven. Lucy made her toilet, and came on deck blooming like a rose. The
+      first person she encountered was Mr. Talboys. She saluted him cordially,
+      and then inquired for their companions.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, they are gone.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Gone! What do you mean?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sailed half an hour ago. Look, there is the boat coasting the island. No,
+      not that way&mdash;westward; out there, just weathering that point Don't
+      you see?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are they making a tour of the island, then?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Here the little Anglo-Frank put in his word. &ldquo;No, ma'ainselle, gone to
+      catch sheep bound for ze East Indeeze.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Gone! gone! for good?&rdquo; and Lucy turned very pale. The next moment
+      offended pride sent the blood rushing to her brow. &ldquo;That is just like Mr.
+      Dodd; there is not another gentleman in the world would have had the
+      ill-breeding to go off like that to India without even bidding us
+      good-morning or good-by. Did he bid <i>you</i> good-by, Mr. Talboys?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There, now, it is insolent&mdash;it is barbarous.&rdquo; Her vexation at the
+      affront David had put on Mr. Talboys soon passed into indignation. &ldquo;This
+      was done to insult&mdash;to humiliate us. A noble revenge. You know we
+      used sometimes to quiz him a little ashore, especially you; so now, out of
+      spite, he has saved our lives, and then turned his back arrogantly upon us
+      before we could express our gratitude; that is as much as to say he values
+      us as so many dogs or cats, flings us our lives haughtily, and then turned
+      his back disdainfully on us. Life is not worth having when given so
+      insultingly.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Talboys soothed the offended fair. &ldquo;I really don't think he meant to
+      insult us; but you know Dodd; he is a good-natured fellow, but he never
+      had the slightest pretension to good-breeding.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't you think,&rdquo; replied the lady, &ldquo;it would be as well to leave off
+      detracting from Mr. Dodd now that he has just saved your life?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Talboys opened his eyes. &ldquo;Why, you began it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Mr. Talboys, do not descend to evasion. What I say goes for nothing.
+      Mr. Dodd and I are fast friends, and nobody will ever succeed in robbing
+      me of my esteem for him. But you always hated him, and you seize every
+      opportunity of showing your dislike. Poor Mr. Dodd! He has too many great
+      virtues not to be envied&mdash;and hated.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Talboys stood puzzled, and was at a loss which way to steer his tongue,
+      the wind being so shifty. At last he observed a little haughtily that &ldquo;he
+      never made Mr. Dodd of so much importance as all this. He owned he <i>had</i>
+      quizzed him, but it was not his intention to quiz him any more; for I do
+      feel under considerable obligations to Mr. Dodd; he has brought us safe
+      across the Channel; at the same time, I own I should have been more
+      grateful if he had beat against the wind and landed us on our native
+      coast; the lugger is there long before this, and our boat was the best of
+      the two.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Absurd!&rdquo; replied Lucy, with cold hauteur. &ldquo;The lugger had a sharp stern,
+      but ours was a square stern, so we were obliged to <i>run;</i> if we had
+      <i>beat,</i> we should all have been drowned directly.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Talboys was staggered by this sudden influx of science; but he held his
+      ground. &ldquo;There is something in that,&rdquo; said he; &ldquo;but still, a&mdash;a&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There, Mr. Talboys,&rdquo; said the young lady suddenly, assuming extreme
+      languor after delivering a facer, &ldquo;pray do not engage me in an argument. I
+      do not feel equal to one, especially on a subject that has lost its
+      interest. Can you inform me when this vessel sails?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not till to-morrow morning.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then will you be so kind as to borrow me that little boat? it is dangling
+      from the ship, so it must belong to it. I wish to land, and see whether he
+      has cast us upon an in- or an uninhabited island.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The sloop's boat speedily landed them on the island, and Lucy proposed to
+      cross the narrow neck of land and view the sea they had crossed in the
+      dark. This was soon done, and she took that opportunity of looking about
+      for the lateen, for her mind had taken another turn, and she doubted the
+      report that David had gone to intercept the East-Indiaman. A short glance
+      convinced her it was true. About seven miles to leeward, her course
+      west-northwest, her hull every now and then hidden by the waves, her white
+      sails spread like a bird's, the lateen was flying through the foam at its
+      fastest rate. Lucy gazed at her so long and steadfastly that Talboys took
+      the huff, and strolled along the cliff.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When Lucy turned to go back, she found the French skipper coming toward
+      her with a scrap of paper in his hand. He presented it with a low bow; she
+      took it with a courtesy. It was neatly folded, though not as letters are
+      folded ashore, and it bore her address. She opened it and read:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It was not worth while disturbing your rest just to see us go off. God
+      bless you, Miss Lucy! The Frenchman is bound for &mdash;&mdash;, and will
+      take you safe; and mind you don't step ashore till the plank is fast.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yours, respectfully,
+    </p>
+    <h3>
+      &ldquo;DAVID DODD.&rdquo;
+     </h3>
+    <p>
+      That was all. She folded it back thoughtfully into the original folds, and
+      turned away. When she had gone but a few steps she stopped and put her
+      rejected lover's little note into her bosom, and went slowly back to the
+      boat, hanging her sweet head, and crying as she went.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XX.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      MR. FOUNTAIN remained in the town waiting for his niece's return. Six
+      o'clock came&mdash;no boat. Eight o'clock&mdash;no boat, and a heavy gale
+      blowing. He went down to the beach in great anxiety; and when he got there
+      he soon found it was shared to the full by many human beings. There were
+      little knots of fishermen and sailors discussing it, and one poor woman,
+      mother and wife, stealing from group to group and listening anxiously to
+      the men's conjectures. But the most striking feature of the scene was an
+      old white-haired man, who walked wildly, throwing his arms about. The
+      others rather avoided him, but Mr. Fountain felt he had a right to speak
+      to him; so he came to him, and told him &ldquo;his niece was on board; and you,
+      too, I fear, have some one dear to you in danger.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The old man replied sorrowfully that &ldquo;his lovely new boat was in danger&mdash;in
+      such danger that he should never see her again;&rdquo; then added, going
+      suddenly into a fury, that &ldquo;as to the two rascally bluejackets that were
+      on board of her, and had borrowed her of his wife while he was out, all he
+      wished was that they had been swamped to all eternity long ago, then they
+      would not have been able to come and swamp his dear boat.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Peppery old Fountain cursed him for a heartless old vagabond, and joined
+      the group whose grief and anxiety were less ostentatious, being for the
+      other boat that carried their own flesh and blood. But all night long that
+      white-haired old man paced the shore, flinging his arms, weeping and
+      cursing alternately for his dear schooner.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Oh holy love&mdash;of property! how venerable you looked in the moonlight,
+      with your white hairs streaming! How well you imitated, how close you
+      rivaled, the holiest effusions of the heart, and not for the first time
+      nor the last.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My daughter! my ducats! my ducats! my daughter!&rdquo; etc.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The morning broke; no sign of either boat. The wind had shifted to the
+      east, and greatly abated. The fishermen began to have hopes for their
+      comrades; these communicated themselves to Mr. Fountain.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was about one o'clock in the afternoon when this latter observed people
+      streaming along the shore to a distant point. He asked a coastguard man,
+      whom he observed scanning the place with a glass, &ldquo;What it was?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The man lowered his voice and said, &ldquo;Well, sir, it will be something
+      coming ashore, by the way the folk are running.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Fountain got a carriage, and, urging the driver to use speed, was
+      hastily conveyed by the road to a part whence a few steps brought him down
+      to the sea. He thrust wildly in among the crowd.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Make way,&rdquo; said the rough fellows: they saw he was one of those who had
+      the best right to be there.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He looked, and there, scarce fifty yards from the shore, was the lugger,
+      keel uppermost, drifting in with the tide. The old man staggered, and was
+      supported by a beach man.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When the wreck came within fifteen yards of the shore, she hung, owing to
+      the under suction, and could get neither way. The cries of the women broke
+      out afresh at this. Then half a dozen stout fellows swam in with ropes,
+      and with some difficulty righted her, and in another minute she was hauled
+      ashore.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The crowd rushed upon her. She was empty! Not an oar, not a boat-hook&mdash;nothing.
+      But jammed in between the tiller and the boat they found a purple veil.
+      The discovery was announced loudly by one of the females, but the
+      consequent outcry was instantly hushed by the men, and the oldest
+      fisherman there took it, and, in a sudden dead and solemn silence, gave it
+      with a world of subdued meaning to Mr. Fountain.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XXI.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      MR. FOUNTAIN'S grief was violent; the more so, perhaps, that it was not
+      pure sorrow, but heated with anger and despair. He had not only lost the
+      creature he loved better than anyone else except himself, but all his
+      plans and all his ambition were upset forever. I am sorry to say there
+      were moments when he felt indignant with Heaven, and accused its justice.
+      At other times the virtues of her he had lost came to his recollection,
+      and he wept genuine tears. Now she was dead he asked himself a question
+      that is sometimes reserved for that occasion, and then asked with bitter
+      regret and idle remorse at its postponement, &ldquo;What can I do to show my
+      love and respect for her?&rdquo; The poor old fellow could think of nothing now
+      but to try and recover her body from the sea, and to record her virtues on
+      her tomb. He employed six men to watch the coast for her along a space of
+      twelve miles, and he went to a marble-cutter and ordered a block of
+      beautiful white marble. He drew up the record of her virtues himself, and
+      spelled her &ldquo;Fontaine,&rdquo; and so settled that question by brute force.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Oh, you may giggle, but men are not most sincere when they are most
+      reasonable, nor most reasonable when most sincere. When a man's heart is
+      in a thing, it is in it&mdash;wise or nonsensical, it is all one; so it is
+      no use talking.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I lack words to describe the gloom that fell on Mr. Bazalgette's home when
+      the sad tidings reached it. And, indeed, it would be trifling with my
+      reader to hang many more pages with black when he and I both know Lucy
+      Fontaine is alive all the time.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Meantime the French sloop lay at her anchor, and Lucy fretted with
+      impatience. At noon the next day she sailed, and, being a slow vessel, did
+      not anchor off the port of &mdash;&mdash; till daybreak the day after.
+      Then she had to wait for the tide, and it was nearly eleven o'clock when
+      Lucy landed. She went immediately to the principal inn to get a
+      conveyance. On the road, whom should she meet but Mr. Hardie. He gave a
+      joyful start at sight of her, and with more heart than she could have
+      expected welcomed her to life again. From him she learned all the proofs
+      of her death. This made her more anxious to fly to her aunt's house at
+      once and undeceive her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Hardie would not let her hire a carriage; he would drive her over in
+      half the time. He beckoned his servant, who was standing at the inn door,
+      and ordered it immediately. &ldquo;Meantime, Miss Fountain, if you will take my
+      arm, I will show you something that I think will amuse you, though <i>we</i>
+      have found it anything but amusing, as you may well suppose.&rdquo; Lucy took
+      his arm somewhat timidly, and he walked her to the marble-cutter's shop.
+      &ldquo;Look there,&rdquo; said he. Lucy looked and there was an unfinished slab on
+      which she read these words:
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+               Sacred to the Memory
+                       OF
+                  LUCY FONTAINE,
+         WHO WAS DROWNED AT SEA ON THE
+                10TH SEPT., 18&mdash;.
+
+      As her beauty endeared her to all eyes,
+         So her modesty, piety, docilit
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      At this point in her moral virtues the chisel had stopped. Eleven o'clock
+      struck, and the chisel went for its beer; for your English workman would
+      leave the d in &ldquo;God&rdquo; half finished when strikes the hour of beer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The fact is that the shopkeeper had newly set up, was proud of the
+      commission, and, whenever the chisel left off, he whipped into the
+      workshop and brought the slab out, <i>pro tem.,</i> into his window for an
+      advertisement.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hardie pointed it out to Lucy with a chuckle. Lucy turned pale, and put
+      her hand to her heart. Hardie saw his mistake too late, and muttered
+      excuses.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy gave a little gasp and stopped him. &ldquo;Pray say no more; it is my
+      fault; if people will feign death, they must expect these little tributes.
+      My uncle has lost no time.&rdquo; And two unreasonable tears swelled to her eyes
+      and trickled one after another down her cheeks; then she turned her back
+      quickly on the thing, and Mr. Hardie felt her arm tremble. &ldquo;I think, Mr.
+      Hardie,&rdquo; said she presently, with marked courtesy, &ldquo;I should, under the
+      circumstances, prefer to go home alone. My aunt's nerves are sensitive,
+      and I must think of the best way of breaking to her the news that I am
+      alive.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It would be best, Miss Fountain; and, to tell the truth, I feel myself
+      unworthy to accompany you after being so maladroit as to give you pain in
+      thinking to amuse you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Mr. Hardie,&rdquo; said Lucy, growing more and more courteous, &ldquo;you are not
+      to be called to account for my weakness; that <i>would</i> be unjust. I
+      shall have the pleasure of seeing you at dinner?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Certainly, since you permit me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He put Lucy into the carriage and off she drove. &ldquo;Come,&rdquo; thought Mr.
+      Hardie, &ldquo;I have had an escape; what a stupid blunder for me to make! She
+      is not angry, though, so it does not matter. She asked me to dinner.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Said Lucy to herself: &ldquo;The man is a fool! Poor Mr. Dodd! <i>he</i> would
+      not have shown me my tombstone&mdash;to amuse me.&rdquo; And she dismissed the
+      subject from her mind.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She sent away the carriage and entered Mr. Bazalgette's house on foot.
+      After some consideration she determined to employ Jane, a girl of some
+      tact, to break her existence to her aunt. She glided into the drawing-room
+      unobserved, fully expecting to find Jane at work there for Mrs.
+      Bazalgette. But the room was empty. While she hesitated what to do next,
+      the handle of the door was turned, and she had only just time to dart
+      behind a heavy window-curtain, when it opened, and Mrs. Bazalgette walked
+      slowly and silently in, followed by a woman. Mrs. Bazalgette seated
+      herself and sighed deeply. Her companion kept a respectful silence. After
+      a considerable pause, Mrs. Bazalgette said a few words in a voice so
+      thoroughly subdued and solemn, and every now and then so stifled, that
+      Lucy's heart yearned for her, and nothing but the fear of frightening her
+      aunt into a hysterical fit kept her from flying into her arms.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I need not tell you,&rdquo; said Mrs. Bazalgette, &ldquo;why I sent for you. You know
+      the sad bereavement that has fallen on me, but you cannot know all I have
+      lost in her. Nobody can tell what she was to all of us, but most of all to
+      me. I was her darling, and she was mine.&rdquo; Here tears choked Mrs.
+      Bazalgette's words, for a while. Recovering herself, she paid a tribute to
+      the character of the deceased. &ldquo;It was a soul without one grain of
+      selfishness; all her thoughts were for others, not one for herself. She
+      loved us all&mdash;indeed, she loved some that were hardly worthy of so
+      pure a creature's love; but the reason was, she had no eye for the faults
+      of her friends; she pictured them like herself, and loved her own sweet
+      image in them. <i>And</i> such a temper! and so free from guile. I may
+      truly say her mind was as lovely as her person.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She was, indeed, a sweet young lady,&rdquo; sighed the woman.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She was an angel, Baldwin&mdash;an angel sent to bear us company a little
+      while, and now she is a saint in Heaven.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! ma'am, the best goes first, that is an old saying.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So I have heard; but my niece was as healthy as she was lovely and good.
+      Everything promised long life. I hoped she would have closed my eyes. In
+      the bloom of health one day, and the next lying cold, stark, and
+      drenched!! Oh, how terrible! Oh, my poor Lucy! oh! oh! oh!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In the midst of life we are in death, ma'am. I am sure it is a warning to
+      me, ma'am, as well as to my betters.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It, is, indeed, Baldwin, a warning to all of us who have lived too much
+      for vanities, to think of this sweet flower, snatched in a moment from our
+      bosoms and from the world; we ought to think of it on our knees, and
+      remember our own latter end. That last skirt you sent me was rather
+      scrimped, my poor Baldwin.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Was it, ma'am?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, it does not matter; I shall never wear it now; and, under such a blow
+      as this, I am in no humor to find fault. Indeed, with my grief I neglect
+      my household and my very children. I forget everything; what did I send
+      for you for?&rdquo; and she looked with lack-luster eyes full in Mrs. Baldwin's
+      face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Jane did not say, ma'am, but I am at your orders.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, of course; I am distracted. It was to pay the last tribute of respect
+      to her dear memory. Ah! Baldwin, often and often the black dress is all;
+      but here the heart mourns beyond the power of grief to express by any
+      outward trappings. No matter; the world, the shallow world, respects these
+      signs of woe, and let mine be the deepest mourning ever worn, and the
+      richest. And out of that mourning I shall never go while I live.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, ma'am,&rdquo; said Baldwin soothingly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you doubt me?&rdquo; asked the lady, with a touch of sharpness that did not
+      seemed called for by Baldwin's humble acquiescence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, no, ma'am; it is a very natural thought under the present affliction,
+      and most becoming the sad occasion. Well, ma'am, the deepest mourning, if
+      you please, I should say cashmere and crape.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, that would be deep. Oh, Baldwin, it is her violent death that kills
+      me. Well?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Cashmere and crape, ma'am, and with nothing white about the neck and
+      arms.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; oh yes; but will not that be rather unbecoming?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, ma'am&mdash;&rdquo; and Baldwin hesitated.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I hardly see how I <i>could</i> wear that, it makes one look so old. Now
+      don't you think black <i>glace</i> silk, and trimmed with love-ribbon,
+      black of course, but scalloped&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That would be very rich, indeed, ma'am, and very becoming to you; but,
+      being so near and dear, it would not be so deep as you are desirous of.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, Baldwin, you don't attend to what I say; I told you I was never
+      going out of mourning again, so what is the use of your proposing anything
+      to me that I can't wear all my life? Now tell me, can I always wear
+      cashmere and crape?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh no, ma'am, that is out of the question; and if it is for a permanency,
+      I don't see how we could improve on <i>glace</i> silk, with crape, and
+      love-ribbons. Would you like the body trimmed with jet, ma'am?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, don't ask me; I don't know. If my darling had only died comfortably
+      in her bed, then we could have laid out her sweet remains, and dressed
+      them for her virgin tomb.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It would have been a satisfaction, ma'am.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A sad one, at the best; but now the very earth, perhaps, will never
+      receive her. Oh yes, anything you like&mdash;the body trimmed with jet, if
+      you wish it, and let me see, a gauze bodice, goffered, fastened to the
+      throat. That is all, I think; the sleeves confined at the wrist just
+      enough not to expose the arm, and yet look light&mdash;you understand.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, ma'am.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She kissed me just before she went on that fatal excursion, Baldwin; she
+      will never kiss me again&mdash;oh! oh! You must call on Dejazet for me,
+      and bespeak me a bonnet to match; it is not to be supposed I can run about
+      after her trumpery at such a time; besides, it is not usual.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Indeed, ma'am, you are in no state for it; I will undertake any purchases
+      you may require.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank you, my good Baldwin; you are a good, kind, feeling, useful soul.
+      Oh, Baldwin, if it had pleased Heaven to take her by disease, it would
+      have been bad enough to lose her; but to be drowned! her clothes all
+      wetted through and through; her poor hair drenched, too; and then the
+      water is so cold at this time of year&mdash;oh! oh! Send me a cross of
+      jet, and jet beads, with the dress, and a jet brooch, and a set of jet
+      buttons, in case&mdash;besides&mdash;oh! oh! oh!&mdash;I expect every
+      moment to see her carried home, all pale and wetted by the nasty sea&mdash;oh!
+      oh!&mdash;and an evening dress of the same&mdash;the newest fashion. I
+      leave it to you; don't ask me any questions about it, for I can't and
+      won't go into that. I can try it on when it is made&mdash;oh! oh! oh!&mdash;it
+      does not do to love any creature as I loved my poor lost Lucy&mdash;and a
+      black fan&mdash;-oh! oh!&mdash;and a dozen pair of black kid gloves&mdash;oh!&mdash;and
+      a mourning-ring&mdash;and&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stop, aunt, or your love for me will be your ruin!&rdquo; said Lucy, coldly,
+      and stood suddenly before the pair, looking rather cynical.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What, Lucy! alive! No, her ghost&mdash;ah! ah!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Be calm, aunt; I am alive and well. Now, don't be childish, dear; I have
+      been in danger, but here I am.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Bazalgette and Mrs. Baldwin flew together, and trembled in one
+      another's arms. Lucy tried to soothe them, but at last could not help
+      laughing at them. This brought Baldwin to her senses quicker than
+      anything; but Mrs. Bazalgette, who, like many false women, was hysterical,
+      went off into spasms&mdash;genuine ones. They gave her salts&mdash;in
+      vain. Slapped her hands&mdash;in vain.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then Lucy cried to Baldwin, &ldquo;Quick! the tumbler; I must sprinkle her face
+      and bosom.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, don't spoil my lilac gown!&rdquo; gasped the sufferer, and with a mighty
+      effort she came to. She would have come back from the edge of the grave to
+      shield silk from water. Finally she wreathed her arms round Lucy, and
+      kissed her so tenderly, warmly and sobbingly, that Lucy got over the shock
+      of her shallowness, and they kissed and cried together most joyously,
+      while Baldwin, after a heroic attempt at jubilation, retired from the room
+      with a face as long as your arm. <i>A bas les revenants!!</i> She went to
+      the housekeeper's room. The housekeeper persuaded her to stay and take a
+      bit of dinner, and soon after dinner she was sent for to Mrs. Bazalgette's
+      room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy met her coming out of it. &ldquo;I fear I came <i>mal apropos,</i> Mrs.
+      Baldwin; if I had thought of it, I would have waited till you had secured
+      that munificent order.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am much obliged to you, miss, I am sure; but you were always a
+      considerate young lady. You'll be glad to learn, miss, it makes no
+      difference; I have got the order; it is all right.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is fortunate,&rdquo; replied Lucy, kindly, &ldquo;otherwise I should have been
+      tempted to commit an extravagance with you myself. Well, and what is my
+      aunt's new dress to be now?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, the same, miss.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The same? why, she is not going into mourning on my return? ha! ha!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;La bless you, miss, mourning? you can't call that mourning&mdash;<i>glace</i>
+      silk and love-ribbons scalloped out, and cetera. Of course it was not my
+      business to tell her so; but I could not help thinking to myself, if that
+      is the way my folk are going to mourn for me, they may just let it alone.
+      However, that is all over now; and your aunt sent for me, and says she,
+      'Black becomes <i>me;</i> you will make the dresses all the same.'&rdquo; And
+      Baldwin retired radiant.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy put her hand to her bosom. &ldquo;Make the dresses all the same&mdash;all
+      the same, whether I am alive or dead. No, I will not cry; no, I will not.
+      Who is worth a tear? what is worth a tear? All the same. It is not to be
+      forgotten&mdash;nor forgiven. Poor Mr. Dodd!!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Fountain learned the good news in the town, so his meeting with Lucy
+      was one of pure joy. Mr. Talboys did not hear anything. He had business up
+      in London, and did not stay ten minutes in &mdash;&mdash;.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The house revived, and <i>jubilabat, jubilabat.</i> But after the first
+      burst of triumph things went flat. David Dodd was gone, and was missed;
+      and Lucy was changed. She looked a shade older, and more than one shade
+      graver; and, instead of living solely for those who happened to be basking
+      in her rays, she was now and then comparatively inattentive, thoughtful,
+      and <i>distraite.</i>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Fountain watched her keenly; ditto Mrs. Bazalgette. A slight reaction
+      had taken place in both their bosoms. &ldquo;Hang the girl! there were we
+      breaking our hearts for her, and she was alive.&rdquo; She had &ldquo;<i>beguiled</i>
+      them of their tears.&rdquo;&mdash;Othello. But they still loved her quite well
+      enough to take charge of her fate.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A sort of itch for settling other people's destinies, and so gaining a
+      title to their curses for our pragmatical and fatal interference, is the
+      commonest of all the forms of sanctioned lunacy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Moreover, these two had imbibed the spirit of rivalry, and each was
+      stimulated by the suspicion that the other was secretly at work.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy's voluntary promise in the ballroom was a double sheet-anchor to Mr.
+      Fountain. It secured him against the only rival he dreaded. Talboys, too,
+      was out of the way just now, and the absence of the suitor is favorable to
+      his success, where the lady has no personal liking for him. To work went
+      our Machiavel again, heart and soul, and whom do you think he had the
+      cheek, or, as the French say, the forehead, to try and win over?&mdash;Mrs.
+      Bazalgette.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This bold step, however, was not so strange as it would have been a month
+      ago. The fact is, I have brought you unfairly close to this pair. When you
+      meet them in the world you will be charmed with both of them, and
+      recognize neither. There are those whose faults are all on the surface:
+      these are generally disliked; there are those whose faults are all at the
+      core: they charm creation. Mrs. Bazalgette is allowed by both sexes to be
+      the most delightful, amiable woman in the county, and will carry that
+      reputation to her grave. Fountain is &ldquo;the jolliest old buck ever went on
+      two legs.&rdquo; I myself would rather meet twelve such agreeable humbugs&mdash;six
+      of a sex&mdash;<i>at dinner</i> than the twelve apostles, and so would
+      you, though you don't know it. These two, then, had long ere this found
+      each other mighty agreeable. The woman saw the man's vanity, and flattered
+      it. The man the woman's, and flattered it. Neither saw&mdash;am I to say?&mdash;his
+      own or her own, or what? Hang language!!! In short, they had long ago
+      oiled one another's asperities, and their intercourse was smooth and
+      frequent: they were always chatting together&mdash;strewing flowers of
+      speech over their mines and countermines.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Fountain, then, who, in virtue of his sex, had the less patience,
+      broke ground.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My dear Mrs. Bazalgette, I would not have missed this visit for a
+      thousand pounds. Certainly there is nothing like contact for rubbing off
+      prejudices. I little thought, when I first came here, the principal
+      attraction of the place would prove to be my fair hostess.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know you were prejudiced, my dear Mr. Fountain. I can't say I ever had
+      any against you, but certainly I did not know half your good qualities.
+      However, your courtesy to me when I invaded you at Font Abbey prepared me
+      for your real character; and now this visit, I trust, makes us friends.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! my dear Mrs. Bazalgette, one thing only is wanting to make you my
+      benefactor as well as friend&mdash;if I could only persuade you to
+      withdraw your powerful opposition to a poor old fellow's dream.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What poor old fellow?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You? why, you are not so very old. You are not above fifty.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! fair lady, you must not evade me. Come, can nothing soften you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know what you mean, Mr. Fountain&rdquo;; and the mellifluous tones
+      dried suddenly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are too sagacious not to know everything; you know my heart is set on
+      marrying my niece to a man of ancient family.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;With all my heart. You have only to use your influence with her. If she
+      consents, I will not oppose.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You cruel little lady, you know it is not enough to withdraw opposition;
+      I can't succeed without your kind aid and support.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now, Mr. Fountain, I am a great coward, but, really, I could almost
+      venture to scold you a little. Is not a poor little woman to be allowed to
+      set her heart on things as well as a poor old gentleman who does not look
+      fifty? You know my poor little heart is bent on her marrying into our own
+      set, yet you can ask me to influence her the other way&mdash;me, who have
+      never once said a word to her for my own favorites! No; the fairest,
+      kindest, and best way is to leave her to select her own happiness.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A fine thing it would be if young people were left to marry who they
+      like,&rdquo; retorted Fountain. &ldquo;My dear lady, I would never have asked your aid
+      so long as there was the least chance of her marrying Mr. Hardie; but, now
+      that she has of her own accord declined him&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is that? declined Mr. Hardie? when did he ever propose for her?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You misunderstand me. She came to me and told me she would never marry
+      him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;When was that? I don't believe it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It was in the ball-room.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Bazalgette reflected; then she turned very red. &ldquo;Well, sir,&rdquo; said
+      she, &ldquo;don't build too much on that; for four months ago she made me a
+      solemn promise she would never marry any lover you should find her, and
+      she repeated that promise in your very house.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't believe it, madam.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is polite, sir. Come, Mr. Fountain, you are agitated and cross, and
+      it is no use being cross either with me or with Lucy. You asked my
+      co-operation. You gentlemen can ask anything; and you are wise to do these
+      droll things; that is where you gain the advantage over us poor cowards of
+      women. Well, I will co-operate with you. Now listen. Lucy's <i>penchant</i>
+      is neither for Mr. Hardie, nor Mr. Talboys, but for Mr. Dodd.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You don't mean it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, she does not care <i>much</i> for him; she has refused him to my
+      knowledge, and would again; besides, he is gone to India, so there is an
+      end of <i>him.</i> She seems a little languid and out of spirits; it may
+      be because he <i>is</i> gone. Now, then, is the very time to press a
+      marriage upon her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The very worst time, surely, if she is really such an idiot as to be
+      fretting for a fellow who is away.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Bazalgette informed her new ally condescendingly that he knew nothing
+      of the sex he had undertaken to tackle.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;When a cold-blooded girl like this, who has no strong attachment, is out
+      of spirits, and all that sort of thing, then is the time she falls to any
+      resolute wooer. She will yield if we both insist, and we <i>will</i>
+      insist. Only keep your temper, and let nothing tempt you to say an unkind
+      word to her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She then rang the bell, and desired that Miss Fountain might be requested
+      to come into the drawing-room for a minute.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But what are you going to do?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Give her the choice of two husbands&mdash;Mr. Talboys or Mr. Hardie.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She will take neither, I am afraid.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, yes, she will.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Which?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! the one she dislikes the least.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;By Jove, you are right&mdash;you are an angel.&rdquo; And the old gentleman in
+      his gratitude to her who was outwitting him, and vice versa, kissed Mrs.
+      Bazalgette's hand with great devotion, in which act he was surprised by
+      Lucy, who floated through the folding-doors. She said nothing, but her
+      face volumes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sit down, love.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, aunt.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She sat down, and her eye mildly bored both relatives, like, if you can
+      imagine a gentle gimlet, worked by insinuation, not force.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then the favored Fountain enjoyed the inestimable privilege of beholding a
+      small bout of female fence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The accomplished actress of forty began.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The novice held herself apparently all open with a sweet smile, the eye
+      being the only weapon that showed point.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My love, your uncle and I, who were not always just to one another, have
+      been united by our love for you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So I observed as I came in&mdash;ahem!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Henceforth we are one where your welfare is concerned, and we have
+      something serious to say to you now. There is a report, dearest, creeping
+      about that you have formed an unfortunate attachment&mdash;to a person
+      beneath you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who told you that, aunt? Name, as they say in the House.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No matter; these things are commonly said without foundation in this
+      wicked world; but, still, it is always worth our while to prove them
+      false, not, of course, directly&mdash;<i>'qui s'excuse s'accuse''</i>&mdash;but
+      indirectly.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I agree with you, and I shall do so in my uncle's presence. You were
+      present, aunt&mdash;though uninvited&mdash;when the gentleman you allude
+      to offered me what I consider a great honor, and you heard me decline it;
+      you are therefore fully able to contradict that report, whose source, by
+      the by, you have not given me, and of course you will contradict it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Bazalgette colored a little. But she said affectionately: &ldquo;These
+      silly rumors are best contradicted by a good marriage, love, and that
+      brings me to something more important. We have two proposals for you, and
+      both of them excellent ones. Now, in a matter where your happiness is at
+      stake, your uncle and I are determined not to let our private partialities
+      speak. We do press you to select one of these offers, but leave you quite
+      free as to which you take. Mr. Talboys is a gentleman of old family and
+      large estates. Mr. Hardie is a wealthy, and able, and rising man. They are
+      both attached to you; both excellent matches.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Whichever you choose your uncle and I shall both feel that an excellent
+      position for life is yours, and no regret that you did not choose our
+      especial favorite shall stain our joy or our love.&rdquo; With this generous
+      sentiment tears welled from her eyes, whereat Fountain worshiped her and
+      felt his littleness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But Lucy was of her own sex, and had observed what an unlimited command of
+      eye-water an hysterical female possesses. She merely bowed her head
+      graciously, and smiled politely. Thus encouraged to proceed, her aunt
+      dried her eyes with a smile, and with genial cheerfulness proceeded:
+      &ldquo;Well, then, dear, which shall it be&mdash;Mr. Talboys?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy opened her eyes <i>so</i> innocently. &ldquo;My dear aunt, I wonder at that
+      question from you. Did you not make me promise you I would never marry
+      that gentleman, nor any friend of my uncle's?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And did you?&rdquo; cried Fountain.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I did,&rdquo; replied the penitent, hanging her head. &ldquo;My aunt was so kind to
+      me about something or other, I forget what.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fountain bounced up and paced the room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Bazalgette lowered her voice: &ldquo;It is to be Mr. Hardie, then?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Hardie!!!&rdquo; cried Lucy, rather loudly, to attract her uncle's
+      attention.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, no, the same objection applies there; I made my uncle a solemn
+      promise not to marry any friend of yours, aunt. Poor uncle! I refused at
+      first, but he looked so unhappy my resolution failed, and I gave my
+      promise. I will keep it, uncle. Don't fear me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It caused Mrs. Bazalgette a fierce struggle to command her temper. Both
+      she and Fountain were dumb for a minute; then elastic Mrs. Bazalgette
+      said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We were both to blame; you and I did not really know each other. The best
+      thing we can do now is to release the poor girl from these silly promises,
+      that stand in the way of her settlement in life.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I agree, madam.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So do I. There, Lucy, choose, for we both release you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank you,&rdquo; said Lucy gravely; &ldquo;but how can you? No unfair advantage was
+      taken of me; I plighted my word knowingly and solemnly, and no human power
+      can release persons of honor from a solemn pledge. Besides, just now you
+      would release me; but you might not always be in the same mind. No, I will
+      keep faith with you both, and not place my truth at the mercy of any human
+      being nor of any circumstance. If that is all, please permit me to retire.
+      The less a young lady of my age thinks or talks about the other sex, the
+      more time she has for her books and her needle;&rdquo; and, having delivered
+      this precious sentence, with a deliberate and most deceiving imitation of
+      the pedantic prude, she departed, and outside the door broke instantly
+      into a joyous chuckle at the expense of the plotters she had left looking
+      moonstruck in one another's faces. If the new allies had been both
+      Fountain, the apple of discord this sweet novice threw down between them
+      would have dissolved the alliance, as the sly novice meant it to do; but,
+      while the gentleman went storming about the room ripe for civil war, the
+      lady leaned back in her chair and laughed heartily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come, Mr. Fountain, it is no use your being cross with a female, or she
+      will get the better of you. She has outwitted us. We took her for a fool,
+      and she is a clever girl. I'll&mdash;tell&mdash;you&mdash;what, she is a
+      very clever girl. Never mind that, she is only a girl; and, if you will be
+      ruled by me, her happiness shall be secured in spite of her, and she shall
+      be engaged in less than a week.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fountain recognized his superior, and put himself under the lady's orders&mdash;in
+      an evil hour for Lucy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The poor girl's triumph over the forces was but momentary; her ground was
+      not tenable. The person promised can release the person who promises&mdash;<i>volenti
+      non fit injuria.</i> Lucy found herself attacked with female weapons, that
+      you and I, sir, should laugh at; but they made her miserable. Cold looks;
+      short answers; solemnity; distance; hints at ingratitude and perverseness;
+      kisses intermitted all day, and the parting one at night degraded to a
+      dignified ceremony. Under this impalpable persecution the young
+      thoroughbred, that had steered the boat across the breakers, winced and
+      pined.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She did not want a husband or a lover, but she could not live without
+      being loved. She was not sent into the world for that. She began secretly
+      to hate the two gentlemen that had lost her her relations' affection, and
+      she looked round to see how she could get rid of them without giving fresh
+      offense to her dear aunt and uncle. If she could only make it their own
+      act! Now a man in such a case inclines to give the obnoxious parties a
+      chance of showing themselves generous and delicate; he would reveal the
+      whole situation to them, and indicate the generous and manly course; but
+      your thorough woman cannot do this. It is physically as well as morally
+      impossible to her. Misogynists say it is too wise, and not cunning enough.
+      So what does Miss Lucy do but turn round and make love to Captain Kenealy?
+      And the cold virgin being at last by irrevocable fate driven to
+      love-making, I will say this for her, she did not do it by halves. She
+      felt quite safe here. The good-natured, hollow captain was fortified
+      against passion by self-admiration. She said to herself: &ldquo;Now here is a
+      peg with a military suit hanging to it; if I can only fix my eyes on this
+      piece of wood and regimentals, and make warm love to it, the love that
+      poets have dreamed and romances described, I may surely hope to disgust my
+      two admirers, and then they will abandon me and despise me. Ah! I could
+      love them if they would only do that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Well, for a young lady that had never, to her knowledge, felt the tender
+      passion, the imitation thereof which she now favored that little society
+      with was a wonderful piece of representation. Was Kenealy absent, behold
+      Lucy uneasy and restless; was he present; but at a distance, her eye
+      demurely devoured him; was he near her, she wooed him with such a god-like
+      mixture of fire, of tenderness, of flattery, of tact; she did so
+      serpentinely approach and coil round the soldier and his mental cavity,
+      that all the males in creation should have been permitted to defile past
+      (like the beasts going into the ark), and view this sweet picture a
+      moment, and infer how women would be wooed, and then go and do it. Effect:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Talboys and Hardie mortified to the heart's core; thought they had
+      altogether mistaken her character. &ldquo;She is a love-sick fool.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      On Bazalgette: &ldquo;Ass! Dodd was worth a hundred of him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      On Kenealy: made him twirl his mustache.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On Fountain: filled him with dismay. There remained only one to be
+      hoodwinked.
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+           SCENA.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      A letter is brought in and handed to Captain Kenealy. He reads it, and
+      looks a little&mdash;a very little&mdash;vexed. Nobody else notices it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy. &ldquo;What is the matter? Oh, what has occurred?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Kenealy. &ldquo;Nothing particulaa.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy. &ldquo;Don't deceive us: it is an order for you to join the horrid army.&rdquo;
+       (Clasps her hands.) &ldquo;You are going to leave us.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Kenealy. &ldquo;No, it is from my tailaa. He waunts to be paed.&rdquo; (Glares
+      astonished.)
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy. &ldquo;Pay the creature, and nevermore employ him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Kenealy. &ldquo;Can't. Haven't got the money. Uncle won't daie. The begaa knows
+      I can't pay him, that is the reason why he duns.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy. &ldquo;He knows it? then what business has he to annoy you thus? Take my
+      advice. Return no reply. That is not courteous. But when the sole motive
+      of an application is impertinence, silent contempt is the course best
+      befitting your dignity.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Kenealy (twirling his mustache). &ldquo;Dem the fellaa. Shan't take any notice
+      of him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Bazalgette (to Lucy in passing). &ldquo;Do you think we are all fools?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <i>Ibi omnis effusus amor;</i> for La Bazalgette undeceived her ally and
+      Mr. Hardie, and the screw was put harder still on poor Lucy. She was no
+      longer treated like an equal, but made for the first time to feel that her
+      uncle and aunt were her elders and superiors, and, that she was in revolt.
+      All external signs of affection were withdrawn, and this was like docking
+      a strawberry of its water. A young girl may have flashes of spirit,
+      heroism even, but her mind is never steel from top to toe; it is sure to
+      be wax in more places than one.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nobody loves me now that poor Mr. Dodd is gone,&rdquo; sighed Lucy. &ldquo;Nobody
+      ever will love me unless I consent to sacrifice myself. Well, why not? I
+      shall never love any gentleman as others of my sex can love. I will go and
+      see Mrs. Wilson.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      So she ordered out her captain, and rode to Mrs. Wilson, and made her
+      captain hold her pony while she went in. Mrs. Wilson received her with a
+      tenor scream of delight that revived Lucy's heart to hear, and then it was
+      nothing but one broad gush of hilarity and cordiality&mdash;showed her the
+      house, showed her the cows, showed her the parlor at last, and made her
+      sit down.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come, set ye down, set ye down, and let me have a downright good look at
+      ye. It is not often I clap eyes on ye, or on anything like ye, for that
+      matter. Aren't ye well, my dear?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are ye sure? Haven't ye ailed anything since I saw ye up at the house?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, dear nurse.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then you are in care. Bless you, it is not the same face&mdash;to a
+      stranger, belike, but not to the one that suckled you. Why, there is next
+      door to a wrinkle on your pretty brow, and a little hollow under your eye,
+      and your face is drawn like, and not half the color. You are in trouble or
+      grief of some sort, Miss Lucy; and&mdash;who knows?&mdash;mayhap you be
+      come to tell it your poor old nurse. You might go to a worse part. Ay!
+      what touches you will touch me, my nursling dear, all one as if it was
+      your own mother.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! <i>you</i> love me,&rdquo; cried Lucy; &ldquo;I don't know why you love me so; I
+      have not deserved it of you, as I have of others that look coldly on me.
+      Yes, you love me, or you would not read my face like this. It is true, I
+      am a little&mdash;Oh, nurse, I am unhappy;&rdquo; and in a moment she was
+      weeping and sobbing in Mrs. Wilson's arms.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Amazon sat down with her, and rocked to and fro with her as if she was
+      still a child. &ldquo;Don't check it, my lamb,&rdquo; said she; &ldquo;have a good cry;
+      never drive a cry back on your heart&rdquo;; and so Lucy sobbed and sobbed, and
+      Mrs. Wilson rocked her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When she had done sobbing she put up a grateful face and kissed Mrs.
+      Wilson. But the good woman would not let her go. She still rocked with
+      her, and said, &ldquo;Ay, ay, it wasn't for nothing I was drawed so to go to
+      your house that day. I didn't know you were there; but I was drawed. I WAS
+      WANTED. Tell me all, my lamb; never keep grief on your heart; give it a
+      vent; put a part on't on me; I do claim it; you will see how much lighter
+      your heart will feel. Is it a young man?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh no, no; I hate young men; I wish there were no such things. But for
+      them no dissension could ever have entered the house. My uncle and aunt
+      both loved me once, and oh! they were so kind to me. Yes; since you permit
+      me, I will tell you all.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And she told her a part.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She told her the whole Talboys and Hardie part.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Wilson took a broad and somewhat vulgar view of the distress.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, Miss Lucy,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;if that is all, you can soon sew up their
+      stockings. You don't depend on <i>them,</i> anyways: you are a young lady
+      of property.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, am I?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sure. I have heard your dear mother say often as all her money was
+      settled on you by deed. Why, you must be of age, Miss Lucy, or near it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The day after to-morrow, nurse.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There now! I knew your birthday could not be far off. Well, then, you
+      must wait till you are of age, and then, if they torment you or put on
+      you, 'Good-morning,' says you; 'if we can't agree together, let's agree to
+      part,' says you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What! leave my relations!!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is their own fault. Good friends before bad kindred! They only want to
+      make a handle of you to get 'em rich son-in-laws. You pluck up a sperrit,
+      Miss Lucy. There's no getting through the world without a bit of a
+      sperrit. You'll get put upon at every turn else; and if they don't vally
+      you in that house, why, off to another; y'ain't chained to their door, I
+      do suppose.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But, nurse, a young lady cannot live by herself: there is no instance of
+      it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All wisdom had a beginning. 'Oh, shan't I spoil the pudding once I cut
+      it?' quoth Jack's wife.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What would people say?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What could they say? You come to me, which I am all the mother you have
+      got left upon earth, and what scandal could they make out of that, I
+      should like to know? Let them try it. But don't let me catch it atween
+      their lips, or down they do go on the bare ground, and their caps in
+      pieces to the winds of heaven;&rdquo; and she flourished her hand and a massive
+      arm with a gesture free, inspired, and formidable.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! nurse, with you I should indeed feel safe from every ill. But, for
+      all that, I shall never go beyond the usages of society. I shall never
+      leave my aunt's house.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't say as you will. But I shall get your room ready this afternoon,
+      and no later.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, nurse, you must not do that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tell'ee I shall. Then, whether you come or not, there 'tis. And when they
+      put on you, you have no call to fret. Says you, 'There's my room awaiting,
+      and likewise my welcome, too, at Dame Wilson's; I don't need to stand no
+      more nonsense here than I do choose,' says you. Dear heart! even a little
+      foolish, simple thought like that will help keep your sperrit up. You'll
+      see else&mdash;you'll see.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, nurse, how wise you are! You know human nature.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I am older than you, miss, a precious sight; and if I hadn't got
+      one eye open at this time of day, why, when should I, you know?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      After this, a little home-made wine forcibly administered, and then much
+      kissing, and Lucy rode away revivified and cheered, and quite another
+      girl. Her spirits rose so that she proposed to Kenealy to extend their
+      ride by crossing the country to &mdash;&mdash;. She wanted to buy some
+      gloves.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yaas,&rdquo; said the assenter; and off they cantered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In the glove-shop who should Lucy find but Eve Dodd. She held out her
+      hand, but Eve affected not to observe, and bowed distantly. Lucy would not
+      take the hint. After a pause she said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have you any news of Mr. Dodd?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have,&rdquo; was the stiff reply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He left us without even saying good-by.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did he?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, after saving all our lives. Need I say that we are anxious, in our
+      turn, to hear of his safety? It was still very tempestuous when he left us
+      to catch the great ship, and he was in an open boat.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My brother is alive, Miss Fountain, if that is what you wish to know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Alive? is he not well? has he met with any accident? any misfortune? is
+      he in the East Indiaman? has he written to you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are very curious: it is rather late in the day; but, if I am to speak
+      about my brother, it must be at home, and not in an open shop. I can't
+      trust my feelings.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are you going home, Miss Dodd?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Shall I come with you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If you like: it is close by.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy's heart quaked. Eve was so stern, and her eyes like basilisks'.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sit down, Miss Fountain, and I will tell you what you have done for my
+      brother. I did not court this, you know; I would have avoided your eye if
+      I could; it is your doing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, Miss Dodd,&rdquo; faltered Lucy, &ldquo;and I should do it again. I have a right
+      to inquire after his welfare who saved my life.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, then, Miss Fountain, his saving your life has lost him his ship and
+      ruined him for life.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He came in sight of the ship; but the captain, that was jealous of him
+      like all the rest, made all sail and ran from him: he chased her, and
+      often was near catching her, but she got clear out of the Channel, and my
+      poor David had to come back disgraced, ruined for life, and
+      broken-hearted. The Company will never forgive him for deserting his ship.
+      His career is blighted, and all for one that never cared a straw for him.
+      Oh, Miss Fountain, it was an evil day for my poor brother when first he
+      saw your face!&rdquo; Eve would have said more, for her heart was burning with
+      wrath and bitterness, but she was interrupted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy raised both her hands to Heaven, and then, bowing her head, wept
+      tenderly and humbly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A woman's tears do not always affect another woman; but one reason is,
+      they are very often no sign of grief or of any worthy feeling. The sex,
+      accustomed to read the nicer shades of emotion, distinguishes tears of
+      pique, tears of disappointment, tears of spite, tears various, from tears
+      of grief. But Lucy's was a burst of regret so sincere, of sorrow and pity
+      so tender and innocent that it fell on Eve's hot heart like the dew.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! well,&rdquo; she cried, &ldquo;it was to be, it was to be; and I suppose I
+      oughtn't to blame you. But all he does for you tells against himself, and
+      that does seem hard. It isn't as if he and you were anything to one
+      another; then I shouldn't grudge it so much. He has lost his character as
+      a seaman.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh dear!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He valued it a deal more than his life. He was always ready to throw THAT
+      away for you or anybody else. He has lost his standing in the <i>service.&rdquo;</i>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You see he has no interest, like some of them; he only got on by being
+      better and cleverer than all the rest; so the Company won't listen to any
+      excuses from him, and, indeed, he is too proud to make them.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He will never be captain of a ship now?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Captain of a ship! Will he ever leave the bed of sickness he lies on?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The bed of sickness! Is he ill? Oh, what have I done?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is he ill? What! do you think my brother is made of iron? Out all night
+      with you&mdash;then off, with scarce a wink of sleep; then two days and
+      two nights chasing the <i>Combermere,</i> sometimes gaining, sometimes
+      losing, and his credit and his good name hanging on it; then to beat back
+      against wind, heartbroken, and no food on board&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, it is too horrible.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He staggered into me, white as a ghost. I got him to bed: he was in a
+      burning fever. In the night he was lightheaded, and all his talk was about
+      you. He kept fretting lest you should not have got safe home. It is always
+      so. We care the most for those that care the least for us.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is he in the Indiaman?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, Miss Fountain, he is not in the Indiaman,&rdquo; cried Eve, her wrath
+      suddenly rising again; &ldquo;he lies there, Miss Fountain, in that room, at
+      death's door, and you to thank for it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At this stab Lucy uttered a cry like a wounded deer. But this cry was
+      followed immediately by one of terror: the door opened suddenly, and there
+      stood David Dodd, looking as white as his sister had said, but, as usual,
+      not in the humor to succumb. &ldquo;Me at death's port, did you say?&rdquo; cried he,
+      in a loud tone of cheerful defiance; &ldquo;tell that to the marines!!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XXII.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I HEARD your voice, Miss Lucy; I would know it among a million; so I
+      rigged myself directly. Why, what is the matter?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Mr. Dodd,&rdquo; sobbed Lucy, &ldquo;she has told me all you have gone through,
+      and I am the wicked, wicked cause!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      David groaned. &ldquo;If I didn't think as much. I heard the mill going. Ah!
+      Eve, my girl, your jawing-tackle is too well hung. Eve is a good sister to
+      me, Miss Lucy, and, where I am concerned, let her alone for making a
+      mountain out of a mole-hill. If you believe all she says, you are to
+      blame. The thing that went to my heart was to see my skipper run out his
+      stunsel booms the moment he saw me overhauling him; it was a dirty action,
+      and him an old shipmate. I am glad now I couldn't catch her, for if I had
+      my foot would not have been on the deck two seconds before his carcass
+      would have been in the Channel. And pray, Eve, what has Miss Fountain got
+      to do with that? the dirty lubber wasn't bred at her school, or he would
+      not have served an old messmate so.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Belay all that, and let's hear something worth hearing. Now, Miss Lucy,
+      you tell me&mdash;oh, Lord, Eve, I say, isn't the thundering old dingy
+      room bright now?&mdash;you spin me your own yarn, if you will be so good.
+      Here you are, safe and sound, the Lord be praised! But I left you under
+      the lee of that thundering island: wasn't very polite, was it? but you
+      will excuse, won't you? Duty, you know&mdash;a seaman must leave his
+      pleasure for his duty. Tell me, now, how did you come on? Was the vessel
+      comfortable? You would not sail till the wind fell? Had you a good voyage?
+      A tiresome one, I am afraid: the sloop wasn't built for fast sailing. When
+      did you land?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      To this fire of eager questions Lucy was in no state to answer. &ldquo;Oh, no,
+      Mr. Dodd,&rdquo; she cried, &ldquo;I can't. I am choking. Yes, Miss Dodd, I am the
+      heartless, unfeeling girl you think me.&rdquo; Then, with a sudden dart, she
+      took David's hand and kissed it, and, both her hands hiding her blushing
+      face, she fled, and a single sob she let fall at the door was the last of
+      her. So sudden was her exit, it left both brother and sister stupefied.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Eve, she is offended,&rdquo; said David, with dismay.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What if she is?&rdquo; retorted Eve; &ldquo;no, she is not offended; but I have made
+      her feel at last, and a good job, too. Why should she escape? she has done
+      all the mischief. Come, you go to bed.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not I; I have been long enough on my beam-ends. And I have heard her
+      voice, and have seen her face, and they have put life into me. I shall
+      cruise about the port. I have gone to leeward of John Company's favor, but
+      there are plenty of coasting-vessels; I may get the command of one. I'll
+      try; a seaman never strikes his flag while there's a shot in the locker.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Here, put me up, Captain Kenealy! Oh, do pray make haste! don't dawdle
+      so!&rdquo; Off cantered Lucy, and fanned her pony along without mercy. At the
+      door of the house she jumped off without assistance, and ran to Mr.
+      Bazalgette's study, and knocked hastily, and that gentleman was not a
+      little surprised when this unusual visitor came to his side with some
+      signs of awe at having penetrated his sanctum, but evidently driven by an
+      overpowering excitement. &ldquo;Oh, Uncle Bazalgette! Oh, Uncle Bazalgette!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, what is the matter? Why, the child is ill. Don't gasp like that,
+      Lucy. Come, pluck up courage; I am sure to be on your side, you know. What
+      is it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Uncle, you are always so kind to me; you know you are.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, am I? Noble old fellow!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, don't make me laugh! ha! ha! oh! oh! oh! ha! oh!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Confound it, I have sent her into hysterics; no, she is coming round. Ten
+      thousand million devils, has anybody been insulting the child in my house?
+      They have. My wife, for a guinea.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no, no. It is about Mr. Dodd.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Dodd? oho!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have ruined him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How have you managed that, my dear?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then Lucy, all in a flutter, told Mr. Bazalgette what the reader has just
+      learned.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He looked grave. &ldquo;Lucy,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;be frank with me. Is not Mr. Dodd in
+      love with you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I <i>will</i> be frank with <i>you,</i> dear uncle, because you are
+      frank. Poor Mr. Dodd did love me once; but I refused him, and so his good
+      sense and manliness cured him directly.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So, now that he no longer loves you, you love him; that is so like you
+      girls.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, no, uncle; how ridiculous! If I loved Mr. Dodd, I could repair the
+      cruel injuries I have done him with a single word. I have only to recall
+      my refusal, and he&mdash;But I do not love Mr. Dodd. Esteem him I do, and
+      he has saved my life; and is he to lose his health, and his character, and
+      his means of honorable ambition for that? Do you not see how shocking this
+      is, and how galling to my pride? Yes, uncle, I <i>have</i> been insulted.
+      His sister told me to my face it was an evil day for him when he and I
+      first met&mdash;that was at Uncle Fountain's.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, and what am I to do, Lucy?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dear Uncle, what I thought was, if you would be so kind as to use your
+      influence with the Company in his favor. Tell them that if he did miss his
+      ship it was not by a fault, but by a noble virtue; tell them that it was
+      to save a fellow creature's life&mdash;a young lady's life&mdash;one that
+      did not deserve it from him, your own niece's; tell them it is not for
+      your honor he should be disgraced. Oh, uncle, you know what to say so much
+      better than I do.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Bazalgette grinned, and straightway resolved to perpetrate a practical
+      joke, and a very innocent one. &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;the best way I can think
+      of to meet your views will be, I think, to get him appointed to the new
+      ship the Company is building.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy opened her eyes, and the blood rushed to her cheek. &ldquo;Oh uncle, do I
+      hear right? a ship? Are you so powerful? are you so kind? do you love your
+      poor niece so well as all this? Oh, Uncle Bazalgette!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There is no end to my power,&rdquo; said the old man, solemnly; &ldquo;no limit to my
+      goodness, no bounds to my love for my poor niece. Are you in a hurry, my
+      poor niece? Shall we have his commission down to-morrow, or wait a month?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To-morrow? is it possible? Oh, yes! I count the minutes till I say to his
+      sister, 'There, Miss Dodd, I have friends who value me too highly to let
+      me lie under these galling obligations.' Dear, dear uncle, I don't mind
+      being under them to you, because I love you&rdquo; (kisses).
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And not Mr. Dodd?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, dear; and that is the reason I would rather give him a ship than&mdash;the
+      only other thing that would make him happy. And really, but for your
+      goodness, I should have been tempted to&mdash;ha! ha! Oh, I am so happy
+      now. No; much as I admire my preserver's courage and delicacy and
+      unselfishness and goodness, I don't love him; so, but for this, he MUST
+      have been unhappy for life, and then I should have been miserable
+      forever.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Perfectly clear and satisfactory, my dear. Now, if the commission is to
+      be down to-morrow, you must not stay here, because I have other letters to
+      write, to go by the same courier that takes my application for the ship.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And do you really think I will go till I have kissed you, Uncle
+      Bazalgette?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;On a subject so important, I hardly venture to give an opin&mdash;hallo!
+      kissing, indeed? Why, it is like a young wolf flying at horseflesh.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then that will teach you not to be kinder to me than anybody else is.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy ran out radiant and into the garden. Here she encountered Kenealy,
+      and, coming on him with a blaze of beauty and triumph, fired a resolution
+      that had smoldered in him a day or two.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He twirled his mustache and&mdash;popped briefly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XXIII.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      AFTER the first start of rueful astonishment, the indignation of the just
+      fired Lucy's eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She scolded him well. &ldquo;Was this his return for all her late kindness?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She hinted broadly at the viper of Aesop, and indicated more faintly an
+      animal that, when one bestows the choicest favors on it, turns and rends
+      one. Then, becoming suddenly just to the brute creation, she said: &ldquo;No, it
+      is only your abominable sex that would behave so perversely, so
+      ungratefully.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't understand,&rdquo; drawled Kenealy, &ldquo;I thought you would laike it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, you see, I don't laike it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You seemed to be getting rather spooney on me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Spooney! what is that? one of your mess-room terms, I suppose.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yaas; so I thought you waunted me to pawp.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Captain Kenealy, this subterfuge is unworthy of you. You know perfectly
+      well why I distinguished you. Others pestered me with their attachments
+      and nonsense, and you spared me that annoyance. In return, I did all in my
+      power to show you the grateful friendship I thought you worthy of. But you
+      have broken faith; you have violated the clear, though tacit understanding
+      that subsisted between us, and I am very angry with you. I have some
+      little influence left with my aunt, sir, and, unless I am much mistaken,
+      you will shortly rejoin the army, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What a boa! what a dem'd boa!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And don't swear; that is another foolish custom you gentlemen have; it is
+      almost as foolish as the other. Yes, I'll tell my aunt of you, and then
+      you will see.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What a boa! How horrid spaiteful you are.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I am rather vindictive. But my aunt is ten times worse, as her
+      deserter shall find, unless&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Unless whawt?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Unless you beg my pardon directly.&rdquo; And at this part of the conversation
+      Lucy was fain to turn her head away, for she found it getting difficult to
+      maintain that severe countenance which she thought necessary to clothe her
+      words with terror, and subjugate the gallant captain.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, then, I apolojaize,&rdquo; said Kenealy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And I accept your apology; and don't do it again.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I won't, 'pon honaa. Look heah; I swear I didn't mean to affront yah; I
+      don't waunt yah to mayrry me; I only proposed out of civility.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come, then, it was not so black as it appeared. Courtesy is a good thing;
+      and if you thought that, after staying a month in a house, you were bound
+      by etiquette to propose to the marriageable part of it, it is pardonable,
+      only don't do it again, <i>please.&rdquo;</i>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll take caa&mdash;I'll take caa. I say your tempaa is not&mdash;quite&mdash;what
+      those other fools think it is&mdash;no, by Jove;&rdquo; and the captain glared.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nonsense: I am only a little fiendish on this one point. Well, then,
+      steer clear of it, and you will find me a good crechaa on every other.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Kenealy vowed he would profit by the advice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then there is my hand: we are friends again.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You won't tell your aunt, nor the other fellaas?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Captain Kenealy, I am not one of your garrison ladies; I am a young
+      person who has been educated; your extra civility will never be known to a
+      soul: and you shall not join the army but as a volunteer.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then, dem me, Miss Fountain, if I wouldn't be cut in pieces to oblaige
+      you. Just you tray me, and you'll faind, if I am not very braight, I am a
+      man of honah. If those ether begaas annoy you, jaast tell me, and I'll
+      parade 'em at twelve paces, dem me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I must try and find some less insane vent for your friendly feelings; and
+      what can I do for you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yah couldn't go on pretending to be spooney on me, could yah?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, no, no. What for?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I laike it; makes the other begaas misable.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What worthy sentiments! it is a sin to balk them. I am sure there is no
+      reason why I should not appear to adore you in public, so long as you let
+      me keep my distance in private; but persons of my sex cannot do just what
+      they would like. We have feelings that pull us this way and that, and,
+      after all this, I am afraid I shall never have the courage to play those
+      pranks with you again; and that is a pity, since it amused you, and teased
+      those that tease me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      In short, the house now contained two &ldquo;holy alliances&rdquo; instead of one.
+      Unfortunately for Lucy, the hostile one was by far the stronger of the
+      two; and even now it was preparing a terrible coup.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This evening the storm that was preparing blew good to one of a depressed
+      class, which cannot fail to gratify the just.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Bazalgette. &ldquo;Jane, come to my room a minute; I have something for
+      you. Here is a cashmere gown and cloak; the cloak I want; I can wear it
+      with anything; but you may have the gown.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, thank you, mum; it is beautiful, and a'most as good as new. I am
+      sure, mum, I am very much obliged to you for your kindness.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no, you are a good girl, and a sensible girl. By the by, you might
+      give me your opinion upon something. Does Miss Lucy prefer any one of our
+      guests? You understand me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, mum, it is hard to say. Miss Lucy is as reserved as ever.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I thought she might&mdash;ahem!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, mum, I do assure you, not a word.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, but you are a shrewd girl; tell me what you think: now, for
+      instance, suppose she was compelled to choose between, say Mr. Hardie and
+      Mr. Talboys, which would it be?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, mum, if you ask my opinion, I don't think Miss Lucy is the one to
+      marry a fool; and by all accounts, there's a deal more in Mr. Hardies's
+      head than what there isn't in Mr. Talboysese's.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are a clever girl. You shall have the cloak as well, and, if my niece
+      marries, you shall remain in her service all the same.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank you kindly, mum. I don't desire no better mistress, married or
+      single; and Mr. Hardies is much respected in the town, and heaps o' money;
+      so miss and me we couldn't do no better, neither of us. Your servant, mum,
+      and thanks you for your bounty&rdquo;; and Jane courtesied twice and went off
+      with the spoils.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In the corridor she met old Fountain. &ldquo;Stop, Jane,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;I want to
+      speak to you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;At your service, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In the first place, I want to give you something to buy a new gown&rdquo;; and
+      he took out a couple of sovereigns. &ldquo;Where am I to put them? in your
+      breast-pocket?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Put them under the cloak, sir,&rdquo; murmured Jane, tenderly. She loved
+      sovereigns.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He put his hand under the heap of cashmere, and a quick little claw hit
+      the coins and closed on them by almighty instinct.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now I want to ask your opinion. Is my niece in love with anyone?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, Mr. Fountains, if she is she don't show it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But doesn't she like one man better than another?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You may take your oath of that, if we could but get to her mind.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Which does she like best, this Hardie or Mr. Talboys? Come, tell me,
+      now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, sir, you know Mr. Talboys is an old acquaintance, and like brother
+      and sister at Font Abbey. I do suppose she have been a scare of times
+      alone with him for one, with Mr. Hardie's. That she should take up with a
+      stranger and jilt an old acquaintance, now is it feasible?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, of course not. It was a foolish question; you are a young woman of
+      sense. Here's a 5 pound note for you. You must not tell I spoke to you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now is it likely, sir? My character would be broken forever.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you shall be with my niece when she is Mrs. Talboys.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I might do worse, sir, and so might she. He is respected far and wide,
+      and a grand house, and a carriage and four, and everything to make a lady
+      comfortable. Your servant, sir, and wishes you many thanks.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And such as Jane was, all true servants are.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The ancients used to bribe the Oracle of Delphi. Curious.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XXIV.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Lucy's twenty-first birthday dawned, but it was not to her the gay
+      exulting day it is to some. Last night her uncle and aunt had gone a step
+      further, and, instead of kissing her ceremoniously, had evaded her. They
+      were drawing matters to a climax: once of age, each day would make her
+      more independent in spirit as in circumstances. This morning she hoped
+      custom would shield her from unkindness for one day at least. But no, they
+      made it clear there was but one way back to their smiles. Their
+      congratulations at the breakfast-table were cold and constrained; her
+      heart fell; and long before noon on her birthday she was crying. Thus
+      weakened, she had to encounter a thoroughly prepared attack. Mr.
+      Bazalgette summoned her to his study at one o'clock, and there she found
+      him and Mrs. Bazalgette and Mr. Fountain seated solemnly in conclave. The
+      merchant was adding up figures.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come, now, business,&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;Dick has added them up: his figures are
+      in that envelope; break the seal and open it, Lucy. If his total
+      corresponds with mine, we are right; if not, I am wrong, and you will all
+      have to go over it with me till we are right.&rdquo; A general groan followed
+      this announcement. Luckily, the sum totals corresponded to a fraction.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then Mr. Bazalgette made Lucy a little speech.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My dear, in laying down that office which your amiable nature has
+      rendered so agreeable, I feel a natural regret on your account that the
+      property my colleague there and I have had to deal with on your account
+      has not been more important. However, as far as it goes, we have been
+      fortunate. Consols have risen amazingly since we took you off land and
+      funded you. The rise in value of your little capital since your mother's
+      death is calculated on this card. You have, also, some loose cash, which I
+      will hand over to you immediately. Let me see&mdash;eleven hundred and
+      sixty pounds and five shillings. Write your name in full on that paper,
+      Lucy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He touched a bell; a servant came. He wrote a line and folded it,
+      inclosing Lucy's signature.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Let this go to Mr. Hardie's bank immediately. Hardie will give you three
+      per cent for your money. Better than nothing. You must have a check-book.
+      He sent me a new one yesterday. Here it is; you shall have it. I wonder
+      whether you know how to draw a check?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, uncle.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Look here, then. You note the particulars first on this counter-foil,
+      which thus serves in some degree for an account-book. In drawing the
+      check, place the sum in letters close to these printed words, and the sum
+      in figures close to the pound. For want of this precaution, the holder of
+      the check has been known to turn a 10 pound check into 110 pounds.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh how wicked!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mind what you say. Dexterity is the only virtue left in England; so we
+      must be on our guard, especially in what we write with our name attached.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I must say, Mr. Bazalgette, you are unwise to put such a sum of money
+      into a young girl's hands.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The young girl has been a woman an hour and ten minutes, and come into
+      her property, movables, and cash aforesaid.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If you were her real friend, you would take care of her money for her
+      till she marries.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The eighth commandment, my dear, the eighth commandment, and other
+      primitive axioms: <i>suum cuique,</i> and such odd sayings: 'Him as keeps
+      what isn't hisn, soon or late shall go to prison,' with similar apothegms.
+      Total: let us keep the British merchant and the Newgate thief as distinct
+      as the times permit. Fountain and Bazalgette, account squared, books
+      closed, and I'm off!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, uncle, pray stay!&rdquo; said Lucy. &ldquo;When you are by me, Rectitude and
+      Sense seem present in person, and I can lean on them.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Lean on yourself; the law has cut your leading-strings. Why patch 'em? It
+      has made you a woman from a baby. Rise to your new rank. Rectitude and
+      Sense are just as much wanted in the town of &mdash;&mdash;, where I am
+      due, as they are in this house. Besides, Sense has spoken uninterrupted
+      for ten minutes; prodigious! so now it is Nonsense's turn for the next ten
+      hours.&rdquo; He made for the door; then suddenly returning, said: &ldquo;I will leave
+      a grain of sense, etc., behind me. What is marriage? Do you give it up?
+      Marriage is a contract. Who are the parties? the papas and mammas, uncles
+      and aunts? By George, you would think so to hear them talk. No, the
+      contract is between two parties, and these two only. It is a printed
+      contract. Anybody can read it gratis. None but idiots sign a contract
+      without reading it; none but knaves sign a contract which, having read,
+      they find they cannot execute. Matrimony is a mercantile affair; very
+      well, then, import into it sound mercantile morality. Go to market; sell
+      well; but, d&mdash;n it all, deliver the merchandise as per sample, viz.,
+      a woman warranted to love, honor and obey the purchaser. If you swindle
+      the other contracting party in the essentials of the contract, don't
+      complain when you are unhappy. Are shufflers entitled to happiness? and
+      what are those who shuffle and prevaricate in a church any better than
+      those who shuffle and prevaricate in a counting-house?&rdquo; and the brute
+      bolted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My husband is a worthy man,&rdquo; said Mrs. Bazalgette, languidly, &ldquo;but now
+      and then he makes me blush for him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Our good friend is a humorist,&rdquo; replied Fountain, good-humoredly, &ldquo;and
+      dearly loves a paradox&rdquo;; and they pooh-poohed him without a particle of
+      malice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then Mrs. Bazalgette turned to Lucy, and hoped that she did her the
+      justice to believe she had none but affectionate motives in wishing to see
+      her speedily established.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh no, aunt,&rdquo; said Lucy. &ldquo;Why should you wish to part with me? I give you
+      but little trouble in your great house.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Trouble, child? you know you are a comfort to have in any house.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This pleased Lucy; it was the first gracious word for a long time. Having
+      thus softened her, Mrs. Bazalgette proceeded to attack her by all the
+      weaknesses of her sex and age, and for a good hour pressed her so hard
+      that the tears often gushed from Lucy's eyes over her red cheeks. The girl
+      was worn by the length of the struggle and the pertinacity of the assault.
+      She was as determined as ever to do nothing, but she had no longer the
+      power to resist in words. Seeing her reduced to silence, and not exactly
+      distinguishing between impassibility and yielding, Mrs. Bazalgette
+      delivered the <i>coup-de-grace.</i>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I must now tell you plainly, Lucy, that your character is compromised by
+      being out all night with persons of the other sex. I would have spared you
+      this, but your resistance compels those who love you to tell you all.
+      Owing to that unfortunate trip, you are in such a situation that you <i>must</i>
+      marry.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The world is surely not so unjust as all this,&rdquo; sighed Lucy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You don't know the world as I do,&rdquo; was the reply. &ldquo;And those who live in
+      it cannot defy it. I tell you plainly, Lucy, neither your uncle nor I can
+      keep you any longer, except as an engaged person. And even that engagement
+      ought to be a very short one.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What, aunt? what, uncle? your house is no longer mine?&rdquo; and she buried
+      her head upon the table.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, Lucy,&rdquo; said Mr. Fountain, &ldquo;of course we would not have told you
+      this yesterday. It would have been ungenerous. But you are now your own
+      mistress; you are independent. Young persons in your situation can
+      generally forget in a day or two a few years of kindness. You have now an
+      opportunity of showing us whether you are one of that sort.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Here Mrs. Bazalgette put in her word. &ldquo;You will not lack people to
+      encourage you in ingratitude&mdash;perhaps my husband himself; but if he
+      does, it will make a lasting breach between him and me, of which you will
+      have been the cause.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Heaven forbid!&rdquo; said Lucy, with a shudder. &ldquo;Why should dear Mr.
+      Bazalgette be drawn into my troubles? He is no relation of mine, only a
+      loyal friend, whom may God bless and reward for his kindness to a poor
+      fatherless, motherless girl. Aunt, uncle, if you will let me stay with
+      you, I will be more kind, more attentive to you than I have been. Be
+      persuaded; be advised. If you succeeded in getting rid of me, you might
+      miss me, indeed you might. I know all your little ways so well.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Lucy, we are not to be tempted to do wrong,&rdquo; said Mrs. Bazalgette,
+      sternly. &ldquo;Choose which of these two offers you will accept. Choose which
+      you please. If you refuse both, you must pack up your things, and go and
+      live by yourself, or with Mr. Dodd.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Dodd? why is his name introduced? Was it necessary to insult me?&rdquo; and
+      her eyes flashed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nobody wishes to insult you, Lucy. And I propose, madam, we give her a
+      day to consider.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank you, uncle.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;With all my heart; only, until she decides, she must excuse me if I do
+      not treat her with the same affection as I used, and as I hope to do
+      again. I am deeply wounded, and I am one that cannot feign.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You need not fear me, aunt; my heart is turned to ice. I shall never
+      intrude that love on which you set no value. May I retire?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Bazalgette looked to Mr. Fountain, and both bowed acquiescence. Lucy
+      went out pale, but dry-eyed; despair never looked so lovely, or carried
+      its head more proudly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't like it,&rdquo; said Mr. Fountain. &ldquo;I am afraid we have driven the poor
+      girl too hard.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What are you afraid of, pray?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She looked to me just like a woman who would go and take an ounce of
+      laudanum. Poor Lucy! she has been a good niece to me, after all;&rdquo; and the
+      water stood in the old bachelor's eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Bazalgette tapped him on the shoulder and said archly, but with a
+      tone that carried conviction, &ldquo;She will take no poison. She will hate us
+      for an hour; then she will have a good cry: to-morrow she will come to our
+      terms; and this day next year she will be very much obliged to us for
+      doing what all women like, forcing her to her good with a little
+      harshness.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0025" id="link2HCH0025">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XXV.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      SAID Lucy as she went from the door, &ldquo;Thank Heaven, they have insulted
+      me!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This does not sound logical, but that is only because the logic is so
+      subtle and swift. She meant something of this kind: &ldquo;I am of a yielding
+      nature; I might have sacrificed myself to retain their affection; but they
+      have roused a vice of mine, my pride, against them, so now I shall be
+      immovable in right, thanks to my wicked pride. Thank Heaven, they have
+      insulted me!&rdquo; She then laid her head upon her bed and moaned, for she was
+      stricken to the heart. Then she rose and wrote a hasty note, and, putting
+      it in her bosom, came downstairs and looked for Captain Kenealy. He proved
+      to be in the billiard-room, playing the spotted ball against the plain
+      one. &ldquo;Oh, Captain Kenealy, I am come to try your friendship; you said I
+      might command you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yaas!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then <i>will</i> you mount my pony, and ride with this to Mrs. Wilson, to
+      that farm where I kept you waiting so long, and you were not angry as
+      anyone else would have been?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yaas!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But not a soul must see it, or know where you are gone.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All raight, Miss Fountain. Don't you be fraightened; I'm close as the
+      grave, and I'll be there in less than haelf an hour.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; but don't hurt my dear pony either; don't beat him; and, above all,
+      don't come back without an answer.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll bring you an answer in an hour and twenty minutes.&rdquo; The captain
+      looked at his watch, and went out with a smartness that contrasted happily
+      with his slowness of speech.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy went back to her own room and locked herself in, and with trembling
+      hands began to pack up her jewels and some of her clothes. But when it
+      came to this, wounded pride was sorely taxed by a host of reminiscences
+      and tender regrets, and every now and then the tears suddenly gushed and
+      fell upon her poor hands as she put things out, or patted them flat, to
+      wander on the world.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      While she is thus sorrowfully employed, let me try and give an outline of
+      the feelings that had now for some time been secretly growing in her,
+      since without their co-operation she would never have been driven to the
+      strange step she now meditated.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy was a very unselfish and very intelligent girl. The first trait had
+      long blinded her to something; the second had lately helped to open her
+      eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      If ever you find a person quick to discover selfishness in others, be sure
+      that person is selfish; for it is only the selfish who come into habitual
+      collision with selfishness, and feel how sharp-pointed a thing it is. When
+      Unselfish meets Selfish, each acts after his kind; Unselfish gives way,
+      Selfish holds his course, and so neither is thwarted, and neither finds
+      out the other's character.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy, then, of herself, would never have discovered her relatives'
+      egotism. But they helped her, and she was too bright not to see anything
+      that was properly pointed out to her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When Fountain kept showing and proving Mrs. Bazalgette's egotism, and Mrs.
+      Bazalgette kept showing and proving Mr. Fountain's egotism, Lucy ended by
+      seeing both their egotisms, as clearly as either could desire; and, as she
+      despised egotism, she lost her respect for both these people, and let them
+      convince her they were both persons against whom she must be on her guard.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This was the direct result of their mines and countermines heretofore
+      narrated, but not the only result. It followed indirectly, but inevitably,
+      that the present holy alliance failed. Lucy had not forgotten the past;
+      and to her this seemed not a holy, but an unholy, hollow, and empty
+      alliance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They hate one another,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;but it seems they hate me worse, since
+      they can hide their mutual dislike to combine against poor me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Another thing: Lucy was one of those women who thirst for love, and,
+      though not vain enough to be always showing they think they ought to be
+      beloved, have quite secret <i>amour propre</i> enough to feel at the
+      bottom of their hearts that they were sent here to that end, and that it
+      is a folly and a shame not to love them more or less.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      If ever Madame Ristori plays &ldquo;Maria Stuarda&rdquo; within a mile of you, go and
+      see her. Don't chatter: you can do that at home; attend to the scene; the
+      worst play ever played is not so unimproving as chit-chat. Then, when the
+      scaffold is even now erected, and the poor queen, pale and tearful,
+      palpitates in death's grasp, you shall see her suddenly illumined with a
+      strange joy, and hear her say, with a marvelous burst of feminine triumph,
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+           &ldquo;I have been <i>amata molto!!!&rdquo;</i>
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      Uttered, under a scaffold, as the Italian utters it, this line is a
+      revelation of womanhood.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The English virgin of our humbler tale had a soul full of this feeling,
+      only she had never learned to set the love of sex above other loves; but,
+      mark you, for that very reason, a mortal insult to her heart from her
+      beloved relatives was as mortifying, humiliating and unpardonable as is,
+      to other high-spirited girls, an insult from their favored lover.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      What could she do more than she had done to win their love? No, their
+      hearts were inaccessible to her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They wish to get rid of me. Well, they shall. They refuse me their
+      houses. Well, I will show them the value of their houses to me. It was
+      their hearts I clung to, not their houses.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A tap came to Lucy's door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who is that? I am busy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, miss!&rdquo; said an agitated voice, &ldquo;may I speak to you&mdash;the
+      captain!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What captain?&rdquo; inquired Lucy, without opening the door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Knealys, miss.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will come out to you. Now. Has Captain Kenealy returned already?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;La! no, miss. He haven't been anywhere as I know of. He had them about
+      him as couldn't spare him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Something is the matter, Jane. What is it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Jane lowered her voice mysteriously. &ldquo;Well, miss, the captain is&mdash;in
+      trouble.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, dear, what has happened?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, the fact is, miss, the captain's&mdash;took&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I cannot understand you. Pray speak intelligibly.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Arrested, miss.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Captain Kenealy arrested! Oh, Heaven! for what crime?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;La, miss, no crime at all&mdash;leastways not so considered by the
+      gentry. He is only took in payment of them beautiful reg-mentals. However,
+      black or red, he is always well put on. I am sure he looks just out of a
+      band-box; and I got it all out of one of the men as it's a army tailor,
+      which he wrote again and again, and sent his bill, and the captain he took
+      no notice; then the tailor he sent him a writ, and the captain he took no
+      notice; then the tailor he lawed him, but the captain he kep' on a taking
+      no more notice nor if it was a dog a barking, and then a putting all them
+      ere barks one after another in a letter, and sending them by the post; so
+      the end is, the captain is arrested; and now he behooves to attend a bit
+      to what is a going on around an about him, as the saying is, and so he is
+      waiting to pay you his respects before he starts for Bridewell.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My fatal advice! I ruin all my friends.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Keep dark,&rdquo; says he; &ldquo;don't tell a soul except Miss Fountain.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where is he? Oh?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Jane offered to show her that, and took her to the stable yard. Arriving
+      with a face full of tender pity and concern, Lucy was not a little
+      surprised to find the victim smoking cigars in the center of his smoking
+      captors. The men touched their hats, and Captain Kenealy said: &ldquo;Isn't it a
+      boa, Miss Fountain? they won't let me do your little commission. In London
+      they will go anywhere with a fellaa.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;London ye knows,&rdquo; explained the assistant, &ldquo;but this here is full of hins
+      and houts, and folyidge.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, sir,&rdquo; cried Lucy to the best-dressed captor, &ldquo;surely you will not be
+      so cruel as to take a gentleman like Captain Kenealy to prison?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very sorry, marm, but we 'ave no hoption: takes 'em every day; don't we,
+      Bill?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Bill nodded.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But, sir, as it is only for money, can you not be induced by&mdash;by&mdash;money&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Bill, lady's going to pay the debtancosts. Show her the ticket. Debt
+      eighty pund, costs seven pund eighteen six.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What! will you liberate him if I pay you eighty-eight pounds?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, marm, to oblige you we will; won't we, Bill?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He winked. Bill nodded.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then pray stay here a minute, and this shall be arranged to your entire
+      satisfaction&rdquo;; and she glided swiftly away, followed by Jane, wriggling.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Quite the lady, Bill.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Kevite. Captn is in luck. Hare ve to be at the vedding, capn?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dem your impudence! I'll cross-buttock yah!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hold your tongue, Bill&mdash;queering a gent. Draw it mild, captain.
+      Debtancosts ain't paid yet. Here they come, though.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy returned swiftly, holding aloft a slip of paper.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There, sir, that is a check for 90 pounds; it is the same thing as money,
+      you are doubtless aware.&rdquo; The man took it and inspected it keenly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very sorry, marm, but can't take it. It's a lady's check.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What! is it not written properly?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Beautiful, marm. But when we takes these beautiful-wrote checks to the
+      bank, the cry is always, 'No assets.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But Uncle Bazalgette said everybody would give me money for it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What! is Mr. Bazalgette your uncle, marm? then you go to him, and get his
+      check in place of yours, and the captain will be free as the birds in the
+      hair.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, thank you, sir,&rdquo; cried Lucy, and the next minute she was in Mr.
+      Bazalgette's study. &ldquo;Uncle, don't be angry with me: it is for no unworthy
+      purpose; only don't ask me; it might mortify another; but <i>would</i> you
+      give me a check of your own for mine? They will not receive mine.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Bazalgette looked grave, and even sad; but he sat quietly down without
+      a word, and drew her a check, taking hers, which he locked in his desk.
+      The tears were in Lucy's eyes at his gravity and his delicacy. &ldquo;Some day I
+      will tell you,&rdquo; said she. &ldquo;I have nothing to reproach myself, indeed&mdash;indeed.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Make the rogue&mdash;or jade&mdash;give you a receipt,&rdquo; groaned
+      Bazalgette.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All right, marm, this time. Captain, the world is hall before you where
+      to chewse. But this is for ninety, marm;&rdquo; and he put his hand very slowly
+      into his pocket.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do me the favor to keep the rest for your trouble, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Trouble's a pleasure, marm. It is not often we gets a tip for taking a
+      gent. Ve are funk shin hairies as is not depreciated, mam, and the more
+      genteel we takes 'em the rougher they cuts; and the very women no more
+      like you nor dark to light; but flies at us like ryal Bengal tigers,
+      through taking of us for the creditors.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Verehas we hare honly servants of the ke veen;&rdquo; suggested No. 2, hashing
+      his mistress's English.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stow your gab, Bill, and mizzle. Let the captain thank the lady.
+      Good-day, marm.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, my poor friend, what language! and my ill advice threw you into their
+      company!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Captain Kenealy told her, in his brief way, that the circumstance was one
+      of no import, except in so far as it had impeded his discharge of his duty
+      to her. He then mounted the pony, which had been waiting for him more than
+      half an hour.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But it is five o'clock,&rdquo; said Lucy; &ldquo;you will be too late for dinner.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dinner be dem&mdash;d,&rdquo; drawled the man of action, and rode off like a
+      flash.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is to be, then,&rdquo; said Lucy, and her heart ebbed. It had ebbed and
+      flowed a good many times in the last hour or two.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Captain Kenealy reappeared in the middle of dinner. Lucy scanned his face,
+      but it was like the outside of a copy-book, and she was on thorns. Being
+      too late, he lost his place near her at dinner, and she could not whisper
+      to him. However, when the ladies retired he opened the door, and Lucy let
+      fall a word at his feet: &ldquo;Come up before the rest.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Acting on this order, Kenealy came up, and found Lucy playing sad tunes
+      softly on the piano and Mrs. Bazalgette absent. She was trying something
+      on upstairs. He gave Lucy a note from Mrs. Wilson. She opened it, and the
+      joyful color suffused her cheek, and she held out her hand to him; but, as
+      she turned her head away mighty prettily at the same time, she did not see
+      the captain was proffering a second document, and she was a little
+      surprised when, instead of a warm grasp, all friendship and no love, a
+      piece of paper was shoved into her delicate palm. She took it; looked
+      first at Kenealy, then at it, and was sore puzzled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The document was in Kenealy's handwriting, and at first Lucy thought it
+      must be intended as a mere specimen of caligraphy; for not only was it
+      beautifully written, but in letters of various sizes. There were three
+      gigantic vowels, I. O. U. There were little wee notifications of time and
+      place, and other particulars of medium size. The general result was that
+      Henry Kenealy O'd Lucy Fountain ninety pound for value received per loan.
+      Lucy caught at the meaning. &ldquo;But, my dear friend,&rdquo; said she, innocently,
+      &ldquo;you mistake. I did not lend it you; I meant to give it you. Will you not
+      accept it? Are we not friends?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Much oblaiged. Couldn't do it. Dishonable.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, pray do not let me wound your pride. I know what it is to have one's
+      pride wounded; call it a loan if you wish. But, dear friend, what am I to
+      do with this?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;When you want the money, order your man of business to present it to me,
+      and, if I don't pay, lock me up, for I shall deserve it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think I understand. This is a memorandum&mdash;a sort of reminder.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yaas.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then clearly I am not the person to whom it should be given. No; if you
+      want to be reminded of this mighty matter, put this in your desk; if it
+      gets into mine, you will never see it again; I will give you fair warning.
+      There&mdash;hide it&mdash;quick&mdash;here they come.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They did come, all but Mr. Bazalgette, who was at work in his study. Mr.
+      Talboys came up to the piano and said gravely, &ldquo;Miss Fountain, are you
+      aware of the fate of the lugger&mdash;of the boat we went out in?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Indeed I am. I have sent the poor widow some clothes and a little money.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have only just been informed of it,&rdquo; said Mr. Talboys, &ldquo;and I feel
+      under considerable obligations to Mr. Dodd.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The feeling does you credit.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Should you meet him, will you do me the honor to express my gratitude to
+      him?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I would, with pleasure, Mr. Talboys, but there is no chance whatever of
+      my seeing Mr. Dodd. His sister is staying in Market Street, No. 80, and if
+      you would call on them or write to them, it would be a kindness, and I
+      think they would both feel it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Humph!&rdquo; said Talboys, doubtfully. Here a servant stepped up to Miss
+      Fountain. &ldquo;Master would be glad to see you in his study, miss.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have got something for you, Lucy. I know what it is, so run away with
+      it, and read it in your own room, for I am busy.&rdquo; He handed her a long
+      sealed packet. She took it, trembling, and flew to her own room with it,
+      like a hawk carrying off a little bird to its nest. She broke the enormous
+      seal and took out the inclosure. It was David Dodd's commission. He was
+      captain of the <i>Rajah,</i> the new ship of eleven hundred tons' burden.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      While she gazes at it with dilating eye and throbbing heart, I may as well
+      undeceive the reader. This was not really effected in forty-eight hours.
+      Bazalgette only pretended that, partly out of fun, partly out of nobility.
+      Ever since a certain interview in his study with David Dodd, who was a man
+      after his own heart, he had taken a note, and had worked for him with &ldquo;the
+      Company;&rdquo; for Bazalgette was one of those rare men who reduce performance
+      to a certainty long before they promise. His promises were like pie-crust
+      made to be eaten, and eaten hot.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy came out of her room, and at the same moment issued forth from hers
+      Mrs. Bazalgette in a fine new dress. It was that black <i>glace;</i> silk,
+      divested of gloom by cheerful accessories, in which she had threatened to
+      mourn eternally Lucy's watery fate. Fire flashed from the young lady's
+      eyes at the sight of it. She went down to her uncle, muttering between her
+      ivory teeth: &ldquo;All the same&mdash;all the same;&rdquo; and her heart flowed. The
+      next minute, at sight of Mr. Bazalgette it ebbed. She came into his room,
+      saying: &ldquo;Oh, Uncle Bazalgette, it is not to thank you&mdash;that I can
+      never do worthily; it is to ask another favor. Do, pray, let me spend this
+      evening with you; let me be where you are. I will be as still as a mouse.
+      See, I have brought some work; or, if you <i>would</i> but let me help
+      you. Indeed, uncle, I am not a fool. I am very quick to learn at the
+      bidding of those I love. Let me write your letters for you, or fold them
+      up, or direct them, or something&mdash;do, pray!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, the caprices of young ladies! Well, can you write large and plain?
+      Not you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can <i>imitate</i> anything or anybody.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Imitate this hand then. I'll walk and dictate, you sit and write.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, how nice!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Delicious! The first is to&mdash;Hetherington. Now, Lucy, this is a
+      dishonest, ungrateful old rogue, who has made thousands by me, and now
+      wants to let me into a mine, with nothing in it but water. It would suck
+      up twenty thousand pounds as easily as that blotting-paper will suck up
+      our signature.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Heartless traitor! monster!&rdquo; cried Lucy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are you ready?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; and her eye flashed and the pen was to her a stiletto.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Bazalgette dictated, &ldquo;My dear Sir&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What? to a cheat?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Custom, child. I'll have a stamp made. Besides, if we let them see we see
+      through them, they would play closer and closer&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My dear Sir&mdash;In answer to yours of date 11th instant, I regret to
+      say&mdash;that circumstances prevent&mdash;my closing&mdash;with your
+      obliging&mdash;and friendly offer.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They wrote eight letters; and Lucy's quick fingers folded up prospectuses,
+      and her rays brightened the room. When the work was done, she clung round
+      Mr. Bazalgette and caressed him, and seemed strangely unwilling to part
+      with him at all; in fact, it was twelve o'clock, and the drawing-room
+      empty, when they parted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At one o'clock the whole house was dark except one room, and both windows
+      of that room blazed with light. And it happened there was a spectator of
+      this phenomenon. A man stood upon the grass and eyed those lights as if
+      they were the stars of his destiny.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was David Dodd. Poor David! he had struck a bargain, and was to command
+      a coasting vessel, and carry wood from the Thames to our southern ports.
+      An irresistible impulse brought him to look, before he sailed, on the
+      place that held the angel who had destroyed his prospects, and whom he
+      loved as much as ever, though he was too proud to court a second refusal.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She watches, too,&rdquo; thought David, &ldquo;but it is not for me, as I for her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At half past one the lights began to dance before his wearied eyes, and
+      presently David, weakened by his late fever, dozed off and forgot all his
+      troubles, and slept as sweetly on the grass as he had often slept on the
+      hard deck, with his head upon a gun.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Luck was against the poor fellow. He had not been unconscious much more
+      than ten minutes when Lucy's window opened and she looked out; and he
+      never saw her. Nor did she see him; for, though the moon was bright, it
+      was not shining on him; he lay within the shadow of a tree. But Lucy did
+      see something&mdash;a light upon the turnpike road about forty yards from
+      Mr. Bazalgette's gates. She slipped cautiously down, a band-box in her
+      hand, and, unbolting the door that opened on the garden, issued out,
+      passed within a few yards of Dodd, and went round to the front, and
+      finally reached the turnpike road. There she found Mrs. Wilson, with a
+      light-covered cart and horse, and a lantern. At sight of her Mrs. Wilson
+      put out the light, and they embraced; then they spoke in whispers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come, darling, don't tremble; have you got much more?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, yes, several things.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Look at that, now! But, dear heart, I was the same at your age, and
+      should be now, like enough. Fetch them all, as quick as you like. I am
+      feared to leave Blackbird, or I'd help you down with 'em.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is there nobody with you to take care of us?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What do you mean&mdash;men folk? Not if I know it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are right. You are wise. Oh, how courageous!&rdquo; And she went back for
+      her finery. And certain it is she had more baggage than I should choose
+      for a forced march.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But all has an end&mdash;even a female luggage train; so at last she put
+      out all her lights and came down, stepping like a fairy, with a large
+      basket in her hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Now it happened that by this time the moon's position was changed, and
+      only a part of David lay in the shade; his head and shoulders glittered in
+      broad moonlight; and Lucy, taking her farewell of a house where she had
+      spent many happy days, cast her eyes all around to bid good-by, and spied
+      a man lying within a few paces, and looking like a corpse in the silver
+      sheen. She dropped her basket; her knees knocked together with fear, and
+      she flew toward Mrs. Wilson. But she did not go far, for the features,
+      indistinct as they were by distance and pale light, struck her mind, and
+      she stopped and looked timidly over her shoulder. The figure never moved.
+      Then, with beating heart, she went toward him slowly and so stealthily
+      that she would have passed a mouse without disturbing it, and presently
+      she stood by him and looked down on him as he lay.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And as she looked at him lying there, so pale, so uncomplaining, so
+      placid, under her windows, this silent proof of love, and the thought of
+      the raging sea this helpless form had steered her through, and all he had
+      suffered as well as acted for her, made her bosom heave, and stirred all
+      that was woman within her. He loved her still, then, or why was he here?
+      And then the thought that she had done something for him too warmed her
+      heart still more toward him. And there was nothing for her to repel now,
+      for he lay motionless; there was nothing for her to escape&mdash;he did
+      not pursue her; nothing to negative&mdash;he did not propose anything to
+      her. Her instinct of defense had nothing to lay hold of; so, womanlike,
+      she had a strong impulse to wake him and be kind to him&mdash;as kind as
+      she could be without committing herself. But, on the other hand, there was
+      shy, trembling, virgin modesty, and shame that he should detect her making
+      a midnight evasion, and fear of letting him think she loved him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      While she stood thus, with something drawing her on and something drawing
+      her back, and palpitating in every fiber, Mrs. Wilson's voice was heard in
+      low but anxious tones calling her. A feather turned the balanced scale.
+      She must go. Fate had decided for her. She was called. Then the sprites of
+      mischief tempted her to let David know she <i>had been</i> near him. She
+      longed to put his commission into his pocket; but that was impossible. It
+      was at the very bottom of her box. She took out her tablets, wrote the
+      word &ldquo;Adieu,&rdquo; tore out half the leaf, and, bending over David, attached
+      the little bit of paper by a pin to the tail of his coat. If he had been
+      ever so much awake he could not have felt her doing it; for her hand
+      touching him, and the white paper settling on his coat, was all done as
+      lights a spot of down on still water from the bending neck of a swan.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, dear Mrs. Wilson, we must not go yet. I will hold the horse, and you
+      must go back for me for something.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm agreeable. What is it? Why, what is up? How you do pant!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have made a discovery. There is a gentleman lying asleep there on the
+      wet grass.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Lackadaisy! why, you don't say so.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is a friend; and he will catch his death.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, of course he will. He will have had a drop too much, Miss Lucy. I'll
+      wake him, and we will take him along home with us.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, not for the world, nurse. I would not have him see what I am doing,
+      oh, not for all the world!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where is he?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In there, under the great tree.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, you get into the cart, miss, and hold the reins&rdquo;; and Mrs. Wilson
+      went into the grounds and soon found David.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She put her hand on his shoulder, and he awoke directly, and looked
+      surprised at Mrs. Wilson.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are you better, sir?&rdquo; said the good woman. &ldquo;Why, if it isn't the handsome
+      gentleman that was so kind to me! Now do ee go in, sir&mdash;do ee go in.
+      You will catch your death o' cold.&rdquo; She made sure he was staying at the
+      house.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      David looked up at Lucy's windows. &ldquo;Yes, I will go home, Mrs. Wilson;
+      there is nothing to stay for now&rdquo;; and he accompanied her to the cart. But
+      Mrs. Wilson remembered Lucy's desire not to be seen; so she said very
+      loud, &ldquo;I'm sure it's very lucky me and <i>my niece</i> happened to be
+      coming home so late, and see you lying there. Well, one good turn deserves
+      another. Come and see me at my farm; you go through the village of
+      Harrowden, and anybody there will tell you where Dame Wilson do live. I <i>would</i>
+      ask you to-night, but&mdash;&rdquo; she hesitated, and Lucy let down her veil.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, thank you, not now; my sister will be fretting as it is.
+      Good-morning&rdquo;; and his steps were heard retreating as Mrs. Wilson mounted
+      the cart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I should have liked to have taken him home and warmed him a bit,&rdquo;
+       said the good woman to Lucy; &ldquo;it is enough to give him the rheumatics for
+      life. However, he is not the first honest man as has had a drop too much,
+      and taken 's rest without a feather-bed. Alack, miss, why, you are all of
+      a tremble! What ails <i>you?</i> I'm a fool to ask. Ah! well, you'll soon
+      be at home, and naught to vex you. That is right; have a good cry, do. Ay,
+      ay, <i>'tis</i> hard to be forced to leave our nest. But all places are
+      bright where love abides; and there's honest hearts both here and there,
+      and the same sky above us wherever we wander, and the God of the
+      fatherless above that; and better a peaceful cottage than a palace full of
+      strife.&rdquo; And with many such homely sayings the rustic consoled her
+      nursling on their little journey, not quite in vain.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0026" id="link2HCH0026">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XXVI.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      NEXT morning the house was in an uproar. Servants ran to and fro, and the
+      fish-pond was dragged at Mr. Fountain's request. But on these occasions
+      everybody claims a right to speak, and Jane came into the breakfast-room
+      and said: &ldquo;If you please, mum, Miss Lucy isn't in the pond, for she have
+      taken a good part of her clothes, and all her jewels.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This piece of common sense convinced everybody on the spot except Mrs.
+      Bazalgette. That lady, if she had decided on &ldquo;making a hole in the water,&rdquo;
+       would have sat on the bank first, and clapped on all her jewels, and all
+      her richest dresses, one on the top of another. Finally, Mr. Bazalgette,
+      who wore a somber air, and had not said a word, requested everybody to
+      mind their own business. &ldquo;I have a communication from Lucy,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;and
+      I do not at present disapprove the step she has taken.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      All eyes turned with astonishment toward him, and the next moment all
+      voices opened on him like a pack of hounds. But he declined to give them
+      any further information. Between ourselves he had none to give. The little
+      note Lucy left on his table merely begged him to be under no anxiety, and
+      prayed him to suspend his judgment of her conduct till he should know the
+      whole case. It was his strong good sense which led him to pretend he was
+      in the whole secret. By this means he substituted mystery for scandal, and
+      contrived that the girl's folly might not be irreparable.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At the same time he was deeply indignant with her, and, above all, with
+      her hypocrisy in clinging round him and kissing him the very night she
+      meditated flight from his house.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I must find the girl out and get her back;&rdquo; said he, and directly after
+      breakfast he collected his myrmidons and set them to discover her retreat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The outward frame-work of the holy alliance remained standing, but within
+      it was dissolving fast. Each of the allies was even now thinking how to
+      find Lucy and make a separate peace. During the flutter which now
+      subsided, one person had done nothing but eat pigeon-pie. It was Kenealy,
+      captain of horse.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Now eating pigeon-pie is not in itself a suspicious act, but ladies are so
+      sharp. Mrs. Bazalgette said to herself, &ldquo;This creature alone is not a bit
+      surprised (for Bazalgette is fibbing); why is this creature not surprised?
+      humph! Captain Kenealy,&rdquo; said she, in honeyed tones, &ldquo;what would you
+      advise us to do?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Advertaize,&rdquo; drawled the captain, as cool as a cucumber.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Advertise? What! publish her name?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no names. I'll tell you;&rdquo; and he proceeded to drawl out very slowly,
+      from memory, the following advertisement. N. B.&mdash;The captain was a
+      great reader of advertisements, and of little else.
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+           &ldquo;WANDERAA, RETARN.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If L. F. will retarn&mdash;to her afflicted&mdash;relatives&mdash;she
+      shall be received with open aams. And shall be forgotten and forgiven&mdash;and
+      reunaited affection shall solace every wound.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is the style. It always brings 'em back&mdash;dayvilish good paie&mdash;have
+      some moa.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Fountain and Mrs. Bazalgette raised an outcry against the captain's
+      advice, and, when the table was calm again, Mrs. Bazalgette surprised them
+      all by fixing her eyes on Kenealy, and saying quietly, &ldquo;You know where she
+      is.&rdquo; She added more excitedly: &ldquo;Now don't deny it. On your honor, sir,
+      have you no idea where my niece is?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Upon my honah, I have an idea.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then tell me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'd rayther not.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Perhaps you would prefer to tell me in private?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; prefer not to tell at all.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then the whole table opened on him, and appealed to his manly feeling, his
+      sense of hospitality, his humanity&mdash;to gratify their curiosity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Kenealy stretched himself out from the waist downward, and delivered
+      himself thus, with a double infusion of his drawl:&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;See yah all dem&mdash;d first.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At noon on the same day, by the interference of Mrs. Bazalgette, the
+      British army was swelled with Kenealy, captain of horse.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The whole day passed, and Lucy's retreat was not yet discovered. But more
+      than one hunter was hemming her in.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The next day, being the second after her elopement with her nurse, at
+      eleven in the forenoon, Lucy and Mrs. Wilson sat in the little parlor
+      working. Mrs. Wilson had seen the poultry fed, the butter churned, and the
+      pudding safe in the pot, and her mind was at ease for a good hour to come,
+      so she sat quiet and peaceful. Lucy, too, was at peace. Her eye was clear;
+      and her color coming back; she was not bursting with happiness, for there
+      was a sweet pensiveness mixed with her sweet tranquillity; but she looked
+      every now and then smiling from her work up at Mrs. Wilson, and the dame
+      kept looking at her with a motherly joy caused by her bare presence on
+      that hearth. Lucy basked in these maternal glances. At last she said:
+      &ldquo;Nurse.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My dear?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If you had never done anything for me, still I should know you loved me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Should ye, now?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh yes; there is the look in your eye that I used to long to see in my
+      poor aunt's, but it never came.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, Miss Lucy, I can't help it. To think it is really you setting there
+      by my fire! I do feel like a cat with one kitten. You should check me
+      glaring you out o' countenance like that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Check you? I could not bear to lose one glance of that honest tender eye.
+      I would not exchange one for all the flatteries of the world. I am so
+      happy here, so tranquil, under my nurse's wing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      With this declaration came a little sigh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Wilson caught it. &ldquo;Is there nothing wanting, dear?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I do keep wishing for one thing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I can't help my thoughts.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But you can help keeping them from me, nurse.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, my dear, I am like a mother; I watch every word of yours and every
+      look; and it is my belief you deceive yourself a bit: many a young maid
+      has done that. I do judge there is a young man that is more to you than
+      you think for.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who on earth is that, nurse?&rdquo; asked Lucy, coloring.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The handsome young gentleman.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, they are all handsome&mdash;all my pests.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The one I found under your window, Miss Lucy; he wasn't in liquor; so
+      what was he there for? and you know you were not at your ease till you had
+      made me go and wake him, and send him home; and you were all of a tremble.
+      I'm a widdy now, and can speak my mind to men-folk all one as women-folk;
+      but I've been a maid, and I can mind how I was in those days. Liking did
+      use to whisper me to do so and so; Shyness up and said, 'La! not for all
+      the world; what'll he think?'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, nurse, do you believe me capable of loving one who does not love me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No. Who said he doesn't love you? What was he there for? I stick to
+      that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now, nurse, dear, be reasonable; if Mr. Dodd loved me, would he go to
+      sleep in my presence?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Eh! Miss Lucy, the poor soul was maybe asleep before you left your room.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is all the same. He slept while I stood close to him ever so long.
+      Slept while I&mdash;If I loved anybody as these gentlemen pretend they
+      love us, should I sleep while the being I adored was close to me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are too hard upon him. 'The spirit is willing but the flesh is weak.'
+      Why, miss, we do read of Eutychus, how he snoozed off setting under Paul
+      himself&mdash;up in a windy&mdash;and down a-tumbled. But parson says it
+      wasn't that he didn't love religion, or why should Paul make it his
+      business to bring him to life again, 'stead of letting un lie for a
+      warning to the sleepy-headed ones. ''Twas a wearied body, not a heart cold
+      to God,' says our parson.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now, nurse, I take you at your word. If Eutychus had been Eutycha, and in
+      love with St. Paul, Eutycha would never have gone to sleep, though St.
+      Paul preached all day and all night; and if Dorcas had preached instead of
+      St. Paul, and Eutychus been in love with her, he would never have gone to
+      sleep, and you know it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At this home-thrust Mrs. Wilson was staggered, but the next moment her
+      sense of discomfiture gave way to a broad expression of triumph at her
+      nursling's wit.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Eh! Miss Lucy,&rdquo; cried she, showing a broadside of great white teeth in a
+      rustic chuckle, &ldquo;but ye've got a tongue in your head. Ye've sewed up my
+      stocking, and 'tisn't many of them can do that.&rdquo; Lucy followed up her
+      advantage.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And, nurse, even when he was wide awake and stood by the cart, no inward
+      sentiment warned him of my presence; a sure sign he did not love me.
+      Though I have never experienced love, I have read of it, and know all
+      about it.&rdquo; [<i>Jus-tice des Femmes!</i>]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, Miss Lucy, have it your own way; after all, if he loves you he will
+      find you out.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course he would, and you will see he will do nothing of the kind.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then I wish I knew where he was; I would pull him in at my door by the
+      scruf of the neck.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And then I should jump out at the window. Come, try on your new cap,
+      nurse, that I have made for you, and let us talk about anything you like
+      except gentlemen. Gentlemen are a sore subject with me. Gentlemen have
+      been my ruin.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;La, Miss Lucy!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I assure you they have; why, have they not set my uncle's heart against
+      me, and my aunt's, and robbed me of the affection I once had for both? I
+      believe gentlemen to be the pests of society; and oh! the delight of being
+      here in this calm retreat, where love dwells, and no gentleman can find
+      me. Ah! ah! Oh! What is that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      For a heavy blow descended on the door. &ldquo;That is Jenny's <i>knock,&rdquo;</i>
+      said Mrs. Wilson; dryly. &ldquo;Come in, Jenny.&rdquo; The servant, thus invited,
+      burst the door open as savagely as she had struck it, and announced with a
+      knowing grin, &ldquo;A GENTLEMAN&mdash;<i>for Miss Fountain!!&rdquo;</i>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0027" id="link2HCH0027">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XXVII.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      DAVID and Eve sat together at their little breakfast, and pressed each
+      other to eat; but neither could eat. David's night excursion had filled
+      Eve with new misgivings. It was the act of a madman; and we know the fears
+      that beset her on that head, and their ground. He had come home shivering,
+      and she had forced him to keep his bed all that day. He was not well now,
+      and bodily weakness, added to his other afflictions, bore his spirit down,
+      though nothing could cow it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;When are you to sail?&rdquo; inquired Eve, sick-like.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In three days. Cargo won't be on board before.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A coasting vessel?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A man can do his duty in a coaster as well as a merchantman or a
+      frigate.&rdquo; But he sighed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Would to God you had never seen her!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't blame her&mdash;blame me. I had good advice from my little sister,
+      but I was willful. Never mind, Eve, I needn't to blush for loving her; she
+      is worthy of it all.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, think so, David, if you can.&rdquo; And Eve, thoroughly depressed,
+      relapsed into silence. The postman's rap was heard, and soon after a long
+      inclosure was placed in Eve's hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Poor little Eve did not receive many letters; and, sad as she was, she
+      opened this with some interest; but how shall I paint its effect? She kept
+      uttering shrieks of joy, one after another, at each sentence. And when she
+      had shrieked with joy many times, she ran with the large paper round to
+      David. &ldquo;You are captain of the <i>Rajah!</i> ah! the new ship! ah! eleven
+      hundred tons! Oh, David! Oh, my heart! Oh! oh! oh!&rdquo; and the poor little
+      thing clasped her arms round her brother's neck, and kissed him again and
+      again, and cried and sobbed for joy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      All men, and most women, go through life without once knowing what it is
+      to cry for joy, and it is a comfort to think that Eve's pure and deep
+      affection brought her such a moment as this in return for much trouble and
+      sorrow. David, stout-hearted as he was, was shaken as the sea and the wind
+      had never yet shaken him. He turned red and white alternately, and
+      trembled. &ldquo;Captain of the <i>Rajah!</i> It is too good&mdash;it is too
+      good! I have done nothing <i>for it&rdquo;;</i> and he was incredulous.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Eve was devouring the inclosure. &ldquo;It is her doing,&rdquo; she cried; &ldquo;it is all
+      her doing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Whose?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who do you think? I am in the air! I am in heaven! Bless her&mdash;oh,
+      God, bless her for this. Never speak against cold-blooded folk before me;
+      they have twice the principle of us hot ones: I always said so. She is a
+      good creature; she is a true friend; and you accused her of ingratitude!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That I never did.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You did&mdash;<i>Rajah</i>&mdash;he! he! oh!&mdash;and I defended her.
+      Here, take and read that: is that a commission or not? Now you be quiet,
+      and let us see what she says. No, I can't; I cannot keep the tears out of
+      my eyes. Do take and read it, David; I'm blind.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      David took the letter, kissed it, and read it out to Eve, and she kept
+      crowing and shedding tears all the time.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;DEAR MISS DODD&mdash;I admire too much your true affection for your
+      brother to be indifferent to your good opinion. Think of me as leniently
+      as you can. Perhaps it gives me as much pleasure to be able to forward you
+      the inclosed as the receipt of it, I hope, may give you.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It would, I think, be more wise, and certainly more generous, not to let
+      Mr. Dodd think he owes in any degree to me that which, if the world were
+      just, would surely have been his long ago. Only, some few months hence,
+      when it can do him no harm, I could wish him not to think his friend Lucy
+      was ungrateful, or even cold in his service, who saved her life, and once
+      honored her with so warm an esteem. But all this I confide to your
+      discretion and your justice. Dear Miss Dodd, those who give pain to others
+      do not escape it themselves, nor is it just they should. My insensibility
+      to the merit of persons of the other sex has provoked my relatives; they
+      have punished me for declining Mr. Dodd's inferiors with a bitterness Mr.
+      Dodd, with far more cause, never showed me; so you see at each turn I am
+      reminded of his superiority.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The result is, I am separated from my friends, and am living all alone
+      with my dear old nurse, at her farmhouse.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Since, then, I am unhappy, and you are generous, you will, I think,
+      forgive me all the pain I have caused you, and will let me, in bidding you
+      adieu, subscribe myself,
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+                                 &ldquo;Yours affectionately,
+
+                                 &ldquo;LUCY FOUNTAIN&rdquo;
+ </pre>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is the letter of a sweet girl, David, with a noble heart; and she has
+      taken a noble revenge of me for what I said to her the other day, and made
+      her cry, like a little brute as I am. Why, how glum you look!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Eve,&rdquo; said David, &ldquo;do you think I will accept this from her without
+      herself?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course you will. Don't be too greedy, David. Leave the girl in peace;
+      she has shown you what she will do and what she won't. One such friend as
+      this is worth a hundred lovers. Give me her dear little note.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      While Eve was persuing it, David went out, but soon returned, with his
+      best coat on, and his hat in his hand. Eve asked in some surprise where he
+      was going in such a hurry.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, David, now I come to read her letter quietly, it is a woman's
+      letter all over; you may read it which way you like. What need had she to
+      tell me she has just refused offers? And then she tells me she is all
+      alone. That sounds like a hint. The company of a friend might he
+      agreeable. Brush your coat first, at any rate; there's something white on
+      it; it is a paper; it is pinned on. Come here. Why, what is this? It is
+      written on. 'Adieu.'&rdquo; And Eve opened her eyes and mouth as well.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She asked him when he wore the coat last.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The day before yesterday.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Were you in company of any girls?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not I.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But this is written by a girl, and it is pinned on by a girl; see how it
+      is quilted in!! that's proof positive. Oh! oh! oh! look here. Look at
+      these two 'Adieus'&mdash;the one in the letter and this; they are the same&mdash;precisely
+      the same. What, in Heaven's name, is the meaning of this? Were you in her
+      company that night?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Will you swear that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, I can't swear it, because I was asleep a part of the time; but waking
+      in her company I was not.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is her writing, and she pinned it on you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How can that be, Eve?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know; I am sure she did, though. Look at this 'Adieu' and that;
+      you'll never get it out of my head but what one hand wrote them both. You
+      are so green, a girl would come behind you and pin it on you, and you
+      never feel her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      While saying these words, Eve slyly repinned it on him without his feeling
+      or knowing anything about it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      David was impatient to be gone, but she held him a minute to advise him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tell her she must and shall. Don't take a denial. If you are cowardly,
+      she will be bold; but if you are bold and resolute, she will knuckle down.
+      Mind that; and don't go about it with such a face as that, as long as my
+      arm. If she says 'No,' you have got the ship to comfort you. Oh! I am so
+      happy!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, Eve,&rdquo; said David, &ldquo;if she won't give me herself, I'll never take her
+      ship. I'd die a foretopman sooner;&rdquo; and, with these parting words, he
+      renewed all his sister's anxiety. She sat down sorrowfully, and the
+      horrible idea gained on her that there was mania in David's love for Lucy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0028" id="link2HCH0028">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XXVIII.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      DAVID had one advantage over others that were now hunting Lucy. Mrs.
+      Wilson had unwittingly given him pretty plain directions how to find her
+      farmhouse; and as Eve, in the exercise of her discretion, or indiscretion,
+      had shown David Lucy's letter, he had only to ride to Harrowden and
+      inquire. But, on the other hand, his competitors were a few miles nearer
+      the game, and had a day's start.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      David got a horse and galloped to Harrowden, fed him at the inn, and asked
+      where Mrs. Wilson's farm was. The waiter, a female, did not know, but
+      would inquire. Meantime David asked for two sheets of paper, and wrote a
+      few lines on each; then folded them both (in those days envelopes were
+      not), but did not seal them. Mrs. Wilson's farm turned out to be only two
+      miles from Harrowden, and the road easy to find. He was soon there; gave
+      his horse to one of the farm-boys, and went into the kitchen and asked if
+      Miss Fountain lived there. This question threw him into the hands of
+      Jenny, who invited him to follow her, and, unlike your powdered and
+      noiseless lackey, pounded the door with her fist, kicked it open with her
+      foot, and announced him with that thunderbolt of language which fell so
+      inopportunely on Lucy's self-congratulations.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The look Mrs. Wilson cast on Lucy was droll enough; but when David's
+      square shoulders and handsome face filled up the doorway, a second look
+      followed that spoke folios.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy rose, and with heightened color, but admirable self-possession,
+      welcomed David like a valued friend.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Wilson's greeting was broad and hearty; and, very soon after she had
+      made him sit down, she bounced up, crying: &ldquo;You will stay dinner now you
+      be come, and I must see as they don't starve you.&rdquo; So saying, out she
+      went; but, looking back at the door, was transfixed by an arrow of
+      reproach from her nursling's eye.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy's reception of David, kind as it was, was not encouraging to one
+      coming on David's errand, for there was the wrong shade of amity in it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In times past it would have cooled David with misgivings, but now he did
+      not give himself time to be discouraged; he came to make a last desperate
+      effort, and he made it at once.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Miss Lucy, I have got the <i>Rajah,</i> thanks to you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thanks to me, Mr. Dodd? Thanks to your own high character and merit.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, Miss Lucy, you know better, and I know better, and there is your own
+      sweet handwriting to prove it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Miss Dodd has showed you my letter?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How could she help it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What a pity! how injudicious!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The truth is like the light; why keep it out? Yes; what I have worked
+      for, and battled the weather so many years, and been sober and prudent,
+      and a hard student at every idle hour&mdash;that has come to me in one
+      moment from your dear hand.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is a shame.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Bless you, Miss Lucy,&rdquo; cried David, not noting the remark.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy blushed, and the water stood in her eyes. She murmured softly: &ldquo;You
+      should not say Miss Lucy; it is not customary. You should say Lucy, or
+      Miss Fountain.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This <i>apropos</i> remark by way of a female diversion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then let me say Lucy to-day, for perhaps I shall never say that, or
+      anything that is sweet to say again. Lucy, you know what I came for?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, yes, to receive my congratulations.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;More than that, a great deal&mdash;to ask you to go halves in the <i>Rajah.&rdquo;</i>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy's eyebrows demanded an explanation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She is worth two thousand a year to her commander; and that is too much
+      for a bachelor.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy colored and smiled. &ldquo;Why, it is only just enough for bachelors to
+      live upon.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is too much for me alone under the circumstances,&rdquo; said David,
+      gravely; and there was a little silence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Lucy, I love you. With you the <i>Rajah</i> would be a godsend. She will
+      help me keep you in the company you have been used to, and were made to
+      brighten and adorn; but without you I cannot take her from your hand, and,
+      to speak plain, I won't.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Mr. Dodd!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, Lucy; before I knew you, to command a ship was the height of my
+      ambition&mdash;her quarter-deck my Heaven on earth; and this is a clipper,
+      I own it; I saw her in the docks. But you have taught me to look higher.
+      Share my ship and my heart with me, and certainly the ship will be my
+      child, and all the dearer to me that she came to us from her I love. But
+      don't say to me, 'Me you shan't have; you are not good enough for that;
+      but there is a ship for you in my place.' I wouldn't accept a star out of
+      the firmament on those terms.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How unreasonable! On the contrary you should say, 'I am doubly fortunate:
+      I escape a foolish, weak companion for life, and I have a beautiful ship.'
+      But friendship such as mine for you was never appreciated; I do you
+      injustice; you only talk like that to tease me and make me unhappy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Lucy, Lucy, did you ever know me&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There, now, forgive me; and own you are not in earnest.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This will show you,&rdquo; said David, sadly; and he took out two letters from
+      his bosom. &ldquo;Here are two letters to the secretary. In one I accept the
+      ship with thanks, and offer to superintend her when her rigging is being
+      set up; and in this one I decline her altogether, with my humble and
+      sincere thanks.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh yes, you are very humble, sir,&rdquo; said Lucy. &ldquo;Now&mdash;dear friend&mdash;listen
+      to reason. You have others&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Excuse my interrupting you, but it is a rule with me never to reason
+      about right and wrong; I notice that whoever does that ends by choosing
+      wrong. I don't go to my head to find out my duty, I go to my heart; and
+      what little manhood there is in me all cries out against me compounding
+      with the woman I love, and taking a ship instead of her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How unkind you are! It is not as if I was under no obligations to you. Is
+      not my life worth a ship? an angel like me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can't see it so. It was a greater pleasure to me to save your life, as
+      you call it, than it could be to you. I can't let that into the account. A
+      woman is a woman, but a man is a man; and I will be under no obligation to
+      you but one.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What arrogance!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't you be angry; I'll love you and bless you all the same. But I am a
+      man, and a man I'll die, whether I die captain of a ship or of a foretop.
+      Poor Eve!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;See how power tries people, and brings out their true character. Since
+      you commanded the <i>Rajah</i> you are all changed. You used to be
+      submissive; now you must have your own way entirely. You will fling my
+      poor ship in my face unless I give you&mdash;but this is really using
+      force&mdash;yes, Mr. Dodd, this is using force. Somebody has told you that
+      my sex yield when downright compulsion is used. It is true; and the more
+      ungenerous to apply it;&rdquo; and she melted into a few placid tears.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      David did not know this sign of yielding in a woman, and he groaned at the
+      sight and hung his head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Advise me what I had better do.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      To this singular proposal, David, listening to the ill advice of the fiend
+      Generosity, groaned out, &ldquo;Why should you be tormented and made cry?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why indeed?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nothing can change me; I advise you to cut it short.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, do you? very well. Why did you say 'poor Eve'?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, poor thing! she cried for joy when she read your letter, but when I
+      go back she will cry for grief;&rdquo; and his voice faltered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will cut this short, Mr. Dodd; give me that paper.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Which?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The wicked one, where you refuse my <i>Rajah</i>.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      David hesitated.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are no gentleman, sir, if you refuse a lady. Give it me this
+      instant,&rdquo; cried Lucy, so haughtily and imperiously that David did not know
+      her, and gave her the letter with a half-cowed air.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She took it, and with both her supple white hands tore it with insulting
+      precision exactly in half. &ldquo;There, sir and there, sir&rdquo; (exactly in four);
+      &ldquo;and there&rdquo; (in eight, with malicious exactness); &ldquo;and there&rdquo;; and, though
+      it seemed impossible to effect another separation, yet the taper fingers
+      and a resolute will reduced it to tiny bits. She then made a gesture to
+      throw them in the fire, but thought better of it and held them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      David looked on, almost amused at this zealous demolition of a thing he
+      could so easily replace. He said, part sadly, part doggedly, part
+      apologetically, &ldquo;I can write another.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But you will not. Oh, Mr. Dodd, don't you see?!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He looked up at her eagerly. To his surprise, her haughty eagle look had
+      gone, and she seemed a pitying goddess, all tenderness and benignity; only
+      her mantling, burning cheek showed her to be woman.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She faltered, in answer to his wild, eager look. &ldquo;Was I ever so rude
+      before? What right have I to tear your letter unless I&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The characteristic full stop, and, above all, the heaving bosom, the
+      melting eye, and the red cheek, were enough even for poor simple David.
+      Heaven seemed to open on him. His burning kisses fell on the sweet hands
+      that had torn his death-warrant. No resistance. She blushed higher, but
+      smiled. His powerful arm curled round her. She looked a little scared, but
+      not much. He kissed her sweet cheek: the blush spread to her very forehead
+      at that, but no resistance. As the winged and rapid bird, if her feathers
+      be but touched with a speck of bird-lime, loses all power of flight, so it
+      seemed as if that one kiss, the first a stranger had ever pressed on
+      Lucy's virgin cheek, paralyzed her eel-like and evasive powers; under it
+      her whole supple frame seemed to yield as David drew her closer and closer
+      to him, till she hid her forehead and wet eyelashes on his shoulder, and
+      murmured:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How could I let <i>you</i> be unhappy?!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Neither spoke for a while. Each felt the other's heart beat; and David
+      drank that ecstasy of silent, delirious bliss which comes to great hearts
+      once in a life.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Had he not earned it?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0029" id="link2HCH0029">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XXIX.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      By some mighty instinct Mrs. Wilson knew when to come in. She came to the
+      door just one minute after Lucy had capitulated, and, turning the handle,
+      but without opening the door, bawled some fresh directions to Jenny: this
+      was to enable Lucy to smooth her ruffled feathers, if necessary, and look
+      Agnes. But Lucy's actual contact with that honest heart seemed to have
+      made a change in her; instead of doing Agnes, she confronted (after a
+      fashion of her own) the situation she had so long evaded.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, nurse!&rdquo; she cried, and wreathed her arms round her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't cry, my lamb! I can guess.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Cry? Oh no; I would not pay him so poor a compliment. It was to say,
+      'Dear nurse, you must love Mr. Dodd as well as me now.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The dame received this indirect intelligence with hearty delight.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That won't cost me much trouble,&rdquo; said she. &ldquo;He is the one I'd have
+      picked out of all England for my nursling. When a young man is kind to an
+      old woman, it is a good sign; but la! his face is enough for me: who ever
+      saw guile in such a face as that. Aren't ye hungry by this time? Dinner
+      will be ready in about a minute.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nurse, can I speak to you a word?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, sure.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was to inquire whether she would invite Miss Dodd.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She loves her brother very dearly, and it is cruel to separate them. Mr.
+      Dodd will be nearly always here now, will he not?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You may take your davy of that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      In a very few minutes a note was written, and Mrs. Wilson's eldest son, a
+      handsome young farmer, started in the covered cart with his mother's
+      orders &ldquo;to bring the young lady willy-nilly.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The holy allies both openly scouted Kenealy's advice, and both slyly
+      stepped down into the town and acted on it. Mr. Fountain then returned to
+      Font Abbey. Their two advertisements appeared side by side, and
+      exasperated them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      After dinner Mrs. Wilson sent Lucy and David out to take a walk. At the
+      gate they met with a little interruption; a carriage drove up; the
+      coachman touched his hat, and Mrs. Bazalgette put her head out of the
+      window.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I came to take you back, love.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      David quaked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank you, aunt; but it is not worth while now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; said Mrs. Bazalgette, casting a venomous look on David; &ldquo;I am too
+      late, am I? Poor girl!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy soothed her aunt with the information that she was much happier now
+      than she had been for a long time past. For this was a fencing-match.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;May I have a word in private with my niece?&rdquo; inquired Mrs. Bazalgette,
+      bitterly, of David.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why not?&rdquo; said David stoutly; but his heart turned sick as he retired.
+      Lucy saw the look of anxiety.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Lucy,&rdquo; said Mrs. Bazalgette, &ldquo;you left me because you are averse to
+      matrimony, and I urged you to it; of course, with those sentiments, you
+      have no idea of marrying that man there. I don't suspect you of such
+      hypocrisy, and therefore I say come home with me, and you shall marry
+      nobody; your inclination shall be free as air.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Aunt,&rdquo; said Lucy, demurely, &ldquo;why didn't you come yesterday? I always said
+      those who love me best would find me first, and you let Mr. Dodd come
+      first. I am so sorry!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then your pretended aversion to marriage was all hypocrisy, was it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy informed her that marriage was a contract, and the contracting
+      parties two, and no more&mdash;the bride and bridegroom; and that to sign
+      a contract without reading it is silly, and meaning not to keep it is
+      wicked. &ldquo;So,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;I read the contract over in the prayer-book this
+      morning, for fear of accidents.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      My reader may, perhaps, be amused at this admission; but Mrs. Bazalgette
+      was disgusted, and inquired, &ldquo;What stuff is the girl talking now?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is called common sense. Well, I find the contract is one I can carry
+      out with Mr. Dodd, and with nobody else. I can love him a little, can
+      honor him a great deal, and obey him entirely. I begin now. There he is;
+      and if you feel you cannot show him the courtesy of making him one in our
+      conversation, permit me to retire and relieve his solitude.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mighty fine; and if you don't instantly leave him and come home, you
+      shall never enter my house again.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Unless sickness or trouble should visit your house, and then you will
+      send for me, and I shall come.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Bazalgette (to the coachman).&mdash;&ldquo;Home!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy made her a polite obeisance, to keep up appearances before the
+      servants and the farm-people, who were gaping. She, whose breeding was
+      inferior, flounced into a corner without returning it. The carriage drove
+      off.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      David inquired with great anxiety whether something had not been said to
+      vex her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not in the least,&rdquo; replied Lucy, calmly. &ldquo;Little things and little people
+      can no longer vex me. I have great duties to think of and a great heart to
+      share them with me. Let us walk toward Harrowden; we may perhaps meet a
+      friend.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sure enough, just on this side Harrowden they met the covered cart, and
+      Eve in it, radiant with unexpected delight. The engaged ones&mdash;for
+      such they had become in those two miles&mdash;mounted the cart, and the
+      two men sat in front, and Eve and Lucy intertwined at the back, and opened
+      their hearts to each other.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Eve. And you have taken the paper off again?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lucy. What paper? It was no longer applicable.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0030" id="link2HCH0030">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XXX.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      I HAVE already noticed that Lucy, after capitulation, laid down her arms
+      gracefully and sensibly. When she was asked to name a very early day for
+      the wedding, she opposed no childish delay to David's happiness, for the
+      <i>Rajah</i> was to sail in six weeks and separate them. So the license
+      was got, and the wedding-day came; and all Lucy's previous study of the
+      contract did not prevent her from being deeply affected by the solemn
+      words that joined her to David in holy matrimony.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She bore up, though, stoutly; for her sense of propriety and courtesy
+      forbade her to cloud a festivity. But, when the post-chaise came to convey
+      bride and bridegroom on their little tour, and she had to leave Mrs.
+      Wilson and Eve for a whole week, the tears would not be denied; and, to
+      show how perilous a road matrimony is, these two risked a misunderstanding
+      on their wedding-day, thus: Lucy, all alone in the post-chaise with David,
+      dissolved&mdash;a perfect Niobe&mdash;gushing at short intervals.
+      Sometimes a faint explanation gurgled out with the tears: &ldquo;Poor Eve! her
+      dear little face was working so not to cry. Oh! oh! I should not have
+      minded so much if she had cried right out.&rdquo; Then, again, it was &ldquo;Poor Mrs.
+      Wilson! I was only a week with her, for all her love. I have made a c&mdash;at's
+      p&mdash;paw of her&mdash;oh!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then, again, &ldquo;Uncle Bazalgette has never noticed us; he thinks me a h&mdash;h&mdash;ypocrite.&rdquo;
+       But quite as often they flowed without any accompanying reason.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Now if David had been a poetaster, he would have said: &ldquo;Why these tears?
+      she has got me. Am I not more than an equivalent to these puny
+      considerations?&rdquo; and all this salt water would have burned into his vanity
+      like liquid caustic. If he had been a poet, he would have said: &ldquo;Alas! I
+      make her unhappy whom I hoped to make happy&rdquo;; and with this he would have
+      been sad, and so prolonged her sadness, and perhaps ended by sulking. But
+      David had two good things&mdash;a kind heart and a skin not too thin: and
+      such are the men that make women happy, in spite of their weak nerves and
+      craven spirits.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He gave her time; soothed her kindly; but did not check her weakness dead
+      short.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At last my Lady Chesterfield said to him, penitently, &ldquo;This is a poor
+      compliment to you, Mr. Dodd&rdquo;; and then Niobized again, partly, I believe,
+      with regret that she was behaving so discourteously.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is very natural,&rdquo; said David, kindly, &ldquo;but we shall soon see them all
+      again, you know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Presently she looked in his radiant face, with wet eyes, but a half-smile.
+      &ldquo;You amaze me; you don't seem the least terrified at what we have done.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not a bit,&rdquo; cried David, like a cheerful horn: &ldquo;I have been in worse
+      peril than this, and so have you. Our troubles are all over; I see nothing
+      but happiness ahead.&rdquo; He then drew a sunny picture of their future life,
+      to all which she listened demurely; and, in short, he treated her little
+      feminine distress as the summer sun treats a mist that tries to vie with
+      it. He soon dried her up, and when they reached their journey's end she
+      was as bright as himself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0031" id="link2HCH0031">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XXXI.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      THEY had been married a week. A slight change, but quite distinct to an
+      observer of her sex, bloomed in Lucy's face and manner. A new beauty was
+      in her face&mdash;the blossom of wifehood. Her eyes, though not less
+      modest, were less timid than before; and now they often met David's full,
+      and seemed to sip affection at them. When he came near her, her lovely
+      frame showed itself conscious of his approach. His queen, though he did
+      not know it, was his vassal. They sat at table at a little inn, twenty
+      miles from Harrowden, for they were on their return to Mrs. Wilson. Lucy
+      went to the window while David settled the bill. At the window it is
+      probable she had her own thoughts, for she glided up behind David, and,
+      fanning his hair with her cool, honeyed breath, she said, in the tone of a
+      humble inquirer seeking historical or antiquarian information, &ldquo;I want to
+      ask you a question, David: are you happy <i>too?&rdquo;</i>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      David answered promptly, but inarticulately; so his reply is lost to
+      posterity. Conjecture alone survives.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One disappointment awaited Lucy at Mrs. Wilson's. There were several
+      letters for both David and her, but none from Mr. Bazalgette. She knew by
+      that she had lost his respect. She could not blame him, for she saw how
+      like disingenuousness and hypocrisy her conduct must look to him. &ldquo;I must
+      trust to time and opportunity,&rdquo; she said, with a sigh. She proposed to
+      David to read all her letters, and she would read all his. He thought this
+      a droll idea; but nothing that identified him with his royal vassal came
+      amiss. The first letter of Lucy's that David opened was from Mr. Talboys.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;DEAR MADAM&mdash;I have heard of your marriage with Mr. Dodd, and desire
+      to offer both you and him my cordial congratulations.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I feel under considerable obligation to Mr. Dodd; and, should my house
+      ever have a mistress, I hope she will be able to tempt you both to renew
+      our acquaintance under my roof, and so give me once more that opportunity
+      I have too little improved of showing you both the sincere respect and
+      gratitude with which I am,
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your very faithful servant,
+    </p>
+    <h3>
+      &ldquo;REGINALD TALBOYS.&rdquo;
+     </h3>
+    <p>
+      Lucy was delighted with this note. &ldquo;Who says it was nothing to have been
+      born a gentleman?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The second letter was from Reginald No. 2; and, if I only give the reader
+      a fragment of it, I still expect his gratitude, all one as if I had
+      disinterred a fragment of Orpheus or Tiresias.
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+     Dear lucy.
+     It is very ungust of you to go and
+     Mary other peeple wen you
+     Promised me. but it is mr. dod.
+     So i dont so much mind i like
+     Mr. dod. he is a duc. and they all
+     Say i am too litle and jane says
+     Sailors always end by been
+     Drouned so it is only put off.
+     But you reely must keep your
+     Promise to me. wen i am biger
+     And mr. Dod is drouned. my
+     Ginny pigs&mdash;
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      Here a white hand drew the pleasing composition out of David's hand, and
+      dropped it on the floor; two piteous, tearful eyes were bent on him, and a
+      white arm went tenderly round his neck to save him from the threatened
+      fate.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At this sight Eve pounced on the horrid scroll, and hurled it, with
+      general acclamation, into the flames.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Thus that sweet infant revenged himself, and, like Sampson, hit hardest of
+      all at parting&mdash;in tears and flame vanished from written fiction,
+      and, I conclude, went back to Gavarni.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was a letter from Mr. Fountain&mdash;all fire and fury. She was
+      never to write or speak to him any more. He was now looking out for a
+      youth of good family to adopt and to make a Fontaine of by act of
+      Parliament, etc., etc. A fusillade of written thunderbolts.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was another from Mrs. Bazalgette, written with cream&mdash;of tartar
+      and oil&mdash;of vitriol. She forgave her niece and wished her every
+      happiness it was possible for a young person to enjoy who had deceived her
+      relations and married beneath her. She felt pity rather than anger; and
+      there was no reason why Mr. and Mrs. Dodd should not visit her house, as
+      far as she was concerned; but Mr. Bazalgette was a man of very stern
+      rectitude, and, as she could not make sure that he would treat them with
+      common courtesy after what had passed, she thought a temporary separation
+      might be the better course for all parties.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I may as well take this opportunity of saying that these two egotists
+      carried out the promise of their respective letters. Mr. Fountain
+      blustered for a year or two, and then showed manifest signs of relenting.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Bazalgette kept cool, and wrote, in oils, twice a year to Mrs. Dodd:
+    </p>
+    <h3>
+      &ldquo;ET GARDAIT TOUT DOUCEMENT UNE HAINE IRRECONCILIABLE.&rdquo;
+     </h3>
+    <p>
+      Lucy had to answer these letters. In signing one of them, she took a look
+      at her new signature and smiled. &ldquo;What a dear, quaint little name mine
+      is!&rdquo; said she. &ldquo;Lucy Dodd;&rdquo; and she kissed the signature.
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+           A Month after Marriage.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      The Dodds took a house in London and Eve came up to them. David was nearly
+      all day superintending the ship, but spent the whole evening with his wife
+      at home. Zeal always produces irritation. The servant that is anxious for
+      his employer's interest is sure to get into a passion or two with the
+      deadness, indifference and heartless injustice of the genuine hireling. So
+      David was often irritated and worried, and in hot water, while
+      superintending the <i>Rajah,</i> but the moment he saw his own door, away
+      he threw it all, and came into the house like a jocund sunbeam. Nothing
+      wins a woman more than this, provided she is already inclined in the man's
+      favor. As the hour that brought David approached, Lucy's spirits and Eve's
+      used both to rise by anticipation, and that anticipation his hearty,
+      genial temper never disappointed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One day Lucy came to David for information. &ldquo;David, there is a singular
+      change in me. It is since we came to London. I used to be a placid girl;
+      now I am a fidget.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't see it, love.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; how should you, dear? It always goes away when you come. Now listen.
+      When five o'clock comes near, I turn hot and restless, and can hardly keep
+      from the window; and if you are five minutes after your time, I really
+      cannot keep from the window; and my nerves <i>se crispent,</i> and I
+      cannot sit still. It is very foolish. What does it mean? Can you tell me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course I can. I am just the same when people are unpunctual. It is
+      inexcusable, and nothing is so vexing. I ought to be&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh David, what nonsense! it is not that. Could I ever be vexed with my
+      David?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, then, there is Eve; we'll ask her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If you dare, sir!&rdquo; and Mrs. Dodd was carnation.
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+           Four years after the above events
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      Two ladies were gossiping.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      1st Lady. &ldquo;What I like about Mrs. Dodd is that she is so truthful.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      2d Lady. &ldquo;Oh, is she?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      1st Lady. &ldquo;Yes, she is indeed. Certainly she is not a woman that blurts
+      out unpleasant things without any necessity; she is kind and considerate
+      in word and deed, but she is always true. She has got an eye that meets
+      you like a little lion's eye, and a tongue without guile. I do love Mrs.
+      Dodd dearly.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Two Qui his were talking in Leadenhall Street.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      1st Qui hi. &ldquo;Well, so you are going out again.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      2d Qui hi. &ldquo;Yes; they have offered me a commissionership. I must make
+      another lac for the children.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      1st Qui hi. &ldquo;When do you sail?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      2d Qui hi. &ldquo;By the first good ship. I should like a good ship.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      1st Qui hi. &ldquo;Well, then, you had better go out with Gentleman Dodd.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      2d Qui hi. &ldquo;Gentleman Dodd? I should prefer Sailor Dodd. I don't want to
+      founder off the Cape.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      1st Qui hi. &ldquo;Oh, but this is a first-rate sailor, and a first-rate fellow
+      altogether.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      2d Qui hi. &ldquo;Then why do you call him 'Gentleman Dodd'?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      1st Qui hi. &ldquo;Oh, because he is so polite. He won't stand an oath within
+      hearing of his quarter-deck, and is particularly kind and courteous to the
+      passengers, especially to the ladies. His ship is always full.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      2d Qui hi. &ldquo;Is it? Then I'll go out with 'Gentleman Dodd.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+                          &mdash;&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;
+</pre>
+    <h3>
+      TO MY MALE READERS.
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      I SEE with some surprise that there still linger in the field of letters
+      writers who think that, in fiction, when a personage speaks with an air of
+      conviction, the sentiments must be the author's own. (When two of his
+      personages give each other the lie, which represents the author? both?)
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I must ask you to shun this error; for instance, do not go and take Eve
+      Dodd's opinion of my heroine, or Mrs. Bazalgette's, for mine.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Miss Dodd, in particular, however epigrammatic she may appear, is shallow:
+      her criticism <i>peche par la base.</i> She talks too much as if young
+      girls were in the habit of looking into their own minds, like little
+      metaphysicians, and knowing all that goes on there; but, on the contrary,
+      this is just what women in general don't do, and young women can't do.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      No male will quite understand Lucy Fountain who does not take &ldquo;instinct&rdquo;
+       and &ldquo;self-deception&rdquo; into the account. But with those two dews and your
+      own intelligence, you cannot fail to unravel her, and will, I hope, thank
+      me in your hearts for leaving you something to study, and not clogging my
+      sluggish narrative with a mass of comment and explanation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The End.
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 6em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's Love Me Little, Love Me Long, by Charles Reade
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+</pre>
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+  </body>
+</html>
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+++ b/4607.txt
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Love Me Little, Love Me Long, by Charles Reade
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Love Me Little, Love Me Long
+
+Author: Charles Reade
+
+
+Release Date: November, 2003 [Etext #4607]
+This file was first posted on February 18, 2002
+Last Updated: April 12, 2013
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LOVE ME LITTLE, LOVE ME LONG ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by James Rusk
+
+
+
+
+
+
+LOVE ME LITTLE, LOVE ME LONG
+
+By Charles Reade
+
+
+
+
+PREFACE
+
+SHOULD these characters, imbedded in carpet incidents, interest the
+public at all, they will probably reappear in more potent scenes. This
+design, which I may never live to execute, is, I fear, the only excuse
+I can at present offer for some pages, forming the twelfth chapter of
+this volume.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+NEARLY a quarter of a century ago, Lucy Fountain, a young lady of
+beauty and distinction, was, by the death of her mother, her sole
+surviving parent, left in the hands of her two trustees, Edward
+Fountain, Esq., of Font Abbey, and Mr. Bazalgette, a merchant whose
+wife was Mrs. Fountain's half-sister.
+
+They agreed to lighten the burden by dividing it. She should spend
+half the year with each trustee in turn, until marriage should take
+her off their hands.
+
+Our mild tale begins in Mr. Bazalgette's own house, two years after
+the date of that arrangement.
+
+The chit-chat must be your main clue to the characters. In life it is
+the same. Men and women won't come to you ticketed, or explanation in
+hand.
+
+"Lucy, you are a great comfort in a house; it is so nice to have some
+one to pour out one's heart to; my husband is no use at all."
+
+"Aunt Bazalgette!"
+
+"In that way. You listen to my faded illusions, to the aspirations of
+a nature too finely organized, ah! to find its happiness in this
+rough, selfish world. When I open my bosom to him, what does he do?
+Guess now--whistles."
+
+"Then I call that rude."
+
+"So do I; and then he whistles more and more."
+
+"Yes; but, aunt, if any serious trouble or grief fell upon you, you
+would find Mr. Bazalgette a much greater comfort and a better stay
+than poor spiritless me."
+
+"Oh, if the house took fire and fell about our ears, he would come out
+of his shell, no doubt; or if the children all died one after another,
+poor dear little souls; but those great troubles only come in stories.
+Give me a friend that can sympathize with the real hourly
+mortifications of a too susceptible nature; sit on this ottoman, and
+let me go on. Where was I when Jones came and interrupted us? They
+always do just at the interesting point."
+
+Miss Fountain's face promptly wreathed itself into an expectant smile.
+She abandoned her hand and her ear, and leaned her graceful person
+toward her aunt, while that lady murmured to her in low and thrilling
+tones--his eyes, his long hair, his imaginative expressions, his
+romantic projects of frugal love; how her harsh papa had warned Adonis
+off the premises; how Adonis went without a word (as pale as death,
+love), and soon after, in his despair, flung himself--to an ugly
+heiress; and how this disappointment had darkened her whole life, and
+so on.
+
+Perhaps, if Adonis had stood before her now, rolling his eyes, and his
+phrases hot from the annuals, the flourishing matron might have sent
+him to the servants' hall with a wave of her white and jeweled hand.
+But the melody disarms this sort of brutal criticism--a woman's voice
+relating love's young dream; and then the picture--a matron still
+handsome pouring into a lovely virgin's ear the last thing she ought;
+the young beauty's eyes mimicking sympathy; the ripe beauty's soft,
+delicious accents--purr! purr! purr!
+
+Crash overhead! a window smashed aie! aie! clatter! clatter! screams
+of infantine rage and feminine remonstrance, feet pattering, and a
+general hullabaloo, cut the soft recital in two. The ladies clasped
+hands, like guilty things surprised.
+
+Lucy sprang to her feet; the oppressed one sank slowly and gracefully
+back, inch by inch, on the ottoman, with a sigh of ostentatious
+resignation, and gazed, martyr-like, on the chandelier.
+
+"Will you not go up to the nursery?" cried Lucy, in a flutter.
+
+"No, dear," replied the other, faintly, but as cool as a marble slab;
+"you go; cast some of your oil upon those ever-troubled waters and
+then come back and let us try once more."
+
+Miss Fountain heard but half this sentence; she was already gliding up
+the stairs. She opened the nursery door, and there stood in the middle
+of the room "Original Sin." Its name after the flesh was Master
+Reginald. It was half-past six, had been baptized in church, after
+which every child becomes, according to polemic divines of the day, "a
+little soul of Christian fire" until it goes to a public school. And
+there it straddled, two scarlet cheeks puffed out with rage, soft
+flaxen hair streaming, cerulean eyes glowing, the poker grasped in two
+chubby fists. It had poked a window in vague ire, and now threatened
+two females with extinction if they riled it any more.
+
+The two grown-up women were discovered, erect, but flat, in distant
+corners, avoiding the bayonet and trusting to their artillery.
+
+     "Wicked boy!"
+     "Naughty boy!" (grape.)
+     "Little ruffian!" etc.
+
+And hints as to the ultimate destination of so sanguinary a soul
+(round shot).
+
+"Ah! here's miss. Oh, miss, we are so glad you are come up; don't go
+anigh him, miss; he is a tiger."
+
+Miss Fountain smiled, and went gracefully on one knee beside him. This
+brought her angelic face level with the fallen cherub's. "What is the
+matter, dear?" asked she, in a tone of soft pity.
+
+The tiger was not prepared for this: he dropped his poker and flung
+his little arm round his cousin's neck.
+
+"I love YOU. Oh! oh! oh!"
+
+"Yes, dear; then tell me, now--what is the matter? What have you been
+doing?"
+
+"Noth--noth--nothing--it's th--them been na--a--agging me!"
+
+"Nagging you?" and she smiled at the word and a tiger's horror of it.
+
+"Who has been nagging you, love?"
+
+"Th--those--bit--bit--it." The word was unfortunately lost in a sob.
+It was followed by red faces and two simultaneous yells of
+remonstrance and objurgation.
+
+"I must ask you to be silent a minute," said Miss Fountain, quietly.
+"Reginald, what do you mean by--by--nagging?"
+
+Reginald explained. "By nagging he meant--why--nagging."
+
+"Well, then, what had they been doing to him?"
+
+No; poor Reginald was not analytical, dialectical and critical, like
+certain pedanticules who figure in story as children. He was a
+terrible infant, not a horrible one.
+
+"They won't fight and they won't make it up, and they keep nagging,"
+was all could be got out of him.
+
+"Come with me, dear," said Lucy, gravely.
+
+"Yes," assented the tiger, softly, and went out awestruck, holding her
+hand, and paddling three steps to each of her serpentine glides.
+
+Seated in her own room, tiger at knee, she tried topics of admonition.
+During these his eyes wandered about the room in search of matter more
+amusing, so she was obliged to bring up her reserve.
+
+"And no young lady will ever marry you."
+
+"I don't want them to, cousin; I wouldn't let them; you will marry me,
+because you promised."
+
+"Did I?"
+
+"Why, you know you did--upon your honor; and no lady or gentleman ever
+breaks their word when they say that; you told me so yourself," added
+he of the inconvenient memory.
+
+"Ah! but there is another rule that I forgot to tell you."
+
+"What is that?"
+
+"That no lady ever marries a gentleman who has a violent temper."
+
+"Oh, don't they?"
+
+"No; they would be afraid. If you had a wife, and took up the poker,
+she would faint away, and die--perhaps!"
+
+"Oh, dear!"
+
+"I should."
+
+"But, cousin, you would not _want_ the poker taken to you; you
+never nag."
+
+"Perhaps that is because we are not married yet."
+
+"What, then, when we are, shall you turn like the others?"
+
+"Impossible to say."
+
+"Well, then" (after a moment's hesitation), "I'll marry you all the
+same."
+
+"No! you forget; I shall be afraid until your temper mends."
+
+"I'll mend it. It is mended now. See how good I am now," added he,
+with self-admiration and a shade of surprise.
+
+"I don't call this mending it, for I am not the one that offended you;
+mending it is promising me never, never to call naughty names again.
+How would you like to be called a dog?"
+
+"I'd kill 'em."
+
+"There, you see--then how can you expect poor nurse to like it?"
+
+"You don't understand, cousin--Tom said to George the groom that Mrs.
+Jones was an--old--stingy--b--"
+
+"I don't want to hear anything about Tom."
+
+"He is such a clever fellow, cousin. So I think, if Jones is an old
+one, those two that keep nagging me must be young ones. What do you
+think yourself?" asked Reginald, appealing suddenly to her candor.
+
+"And no doubt it was Tom that taught you this other vulgar word
+'nagging,'" was the evasive reply.
+
+"No, that was mamma."
+
+Lucy colored, wheeled quickly, and demanded severely of the terrible
+infant: "Who is this Tom?"
+
+"What! don't you know Tom?" Reginald began to lose a grain of his
+respect for her. "Why, he helps in the stables; oh, cousin, he is such
+a nice fellow!"
+
+"Reginald, I shall never marry you if you keep company with grooms,
+and speak their language."
+
+"Well!" sighed the victim, "I'll give up Tom sooner than you."
+
+"Thank you, dear; now I _am_ flattered. One struggle more; we
+must go together and ask the nurses' pardon."
+
+"Must we? ugh!"
+
+"Yes--and kiss them--and make it up."
+
+Reginald made a wry face; but, after a pause of solemn reflection, he
+consented, on condition that Lucy would keep near him, and kiss him
+directly afterward.
+
+"I shall be sure to do that, because you will be a good boy then."
+
+Outside the door Reginald paused: "I have a favor to ask you,
+cousin--a great favor. You see I am so very little, and you are so
+big; now the husband ought to be the biggest."
+
+"Quite my own opinion, Reggy."
+
+"Well, dear, now if you would be so kind as not to grow any older till
+I catch you up, I shall be so very, very, very much obliged to you,
+dear."
+
+"I will try, Reggy. Nineteen is a very good age. I will stay there as
+long as my friends will let me."
+
+"Thank you, cousin."
+
+"But that is not what we have in hand."
+
+The nurses were just agreeing what a shame it was of miss to take that
+little vagabond's part against them, when she opened the door. "Nurse,
+here is a penitent--a young gentleman who is never going to use rude
+words, or be violent and naughty again."
+
+"La! miss, why, it is witchcraft--the dear child--soon up and soon
+down, as a boy should."
+
+"Beg par'n, nurse--beg par'n, Kitty," recited the dear child, late
+tiger, and kissed them both hastily; and, this double formula gone
+through, ran to Miss Fountain and kissed her with warmth, while the
+nurses were reciting "little angel," "all heart," etc.
+
+"To take the taste out of my mouth," explained the penitent, and was
+left with his propitiated females; and didn't they nag him at short
+intervals until sunset! But, strong in the contemplation of his future
+union with Cousin Lucy, this great heart in a little body despised the
+pins and needles that had goaded him to fury before.
+
+Lucy went down to the drawing-room. She found Mrs. Bazalgette leaning
+with one elbow on the table, her hand shading her high, polished
+forehead; her grave face reflecting great mental power taxed to the
+uttermost. So Newton looked, solving Nature.
+
+Miss Fountain came in full of the nursery business, but, catching
+sight of so much mind in labor, approached it with silent curiosity.
+
+The oracle looked up with an absorbed air, and delivered itself very
+slowly, with eye turned inward.
+
+"I am afraid--I don't think--I quite like my new dress."
+
+"That _is_ unfortunate."
+
+"That would not matter; I never like anything till I have altered it;
+but here is Baldwin has just sent me word that her mother is dying,
+and she can't undertake any work for a week. Provoking! could not the
+woman die just as well after the ball?"
+
+"Oh, aunt!"
+
+"And my maid has no more taste than an owl. What on earth am I to do?"
+
+"Wear another dress."
+
+"What other can I?"
+
+"Nothing can be prettier than your white mousseline de soie with the
+tartan trimming."
+
+"No, I have worn that at four balls already; I won't be known by my
+colors, like a bird. I have made up my mind to wear the jaune, and I
+will, in spite of them all; that is, if I can find anybody who cares
+enough for me to try it on, and tell me what it wants." Lucy offered
+at once to go with her to her room and try it on.
+
+"No--no--it is so cold there; we will do it here by the fire. You will
+find it in the large wardrobe, dear. Mind how you carry it. Lucy! lots
+of pins."
+
+Mrs. Bazalgette then rang the bell, and told the servant to say she
+was out if anyone called, no matter who.
+
+Meantime Lucy, impressed with the gravity of her office, took the
+dress carefully down from the pegs; and as it would have been death to
+crease it, and destruction to let its hem sweep against any of the
+inferior forms of matter, she came down the stairs and into the room
+holding this female weapon of destruction as high above her head as
+Judith waves the sword of Holofernes in Etty's immortal picture.
+
+The other had just found time to loosen her dress and lock one of the
+doors. She now locked the other, and the rites began. Well!!??
+
+"It fits you like a glove."
+
+"Really? tell the truth now; it is a sin to tell a story--about a new
+gown. What a nuisance one can't see behind one!"
+
+"I could fetch another glass, but you may trust my word, aunt. This
+point behind is very becoming; it gives distinction to the waist."
+
+"Yes, Baldwin cuts these bodies better than Olivier; but the worst of
+her is, when it comes to the trimming you have to think for yourself.
+The woman has no mind; she is a pair of hands, and there is an end of
+her."
+
+"I must confess it is a little plain, for one thing," said Lucy.
+
+"Why, you little goose, you don't think I am going to wear it like
+this. No. I thought of having down a wreath and bouquet from Foster's
+of violets and heart's-ease--the bosom and sleeves covered with blond,
+you know, and caught up here and there with a small bunch of the
+flowers. Then, in the center heart's-ease of the bosom, I meant to
+have had two of my largest diamonds set--hush!"
+
+The door-handle worked viciously; then came rap! rap! rap! rap!
+
+"Tic--tic--tic; this is always the way. Who is there? Go away; you
+can't come here."
+
+"But I want to speak to you. What the deuce are you doing?" said
+through the keyhole the wretch that owned the room in a mere legal
+sense.
+
+"We are trying a dress. Come again in an hour."
+
+"Confound your dresses! Who is we?"
+
+"Lucy has got a new dress."
+
+"Aunt!" whispered Lucy, in a tone of piteous expostulation.
+
+"Oh, if it is Lucy. Well, good-by, ladies. I am obliged to go to
+London at a moment's notice for a couple of days. You will have done
+by when I come back, perhaps," and off went Bazalgette whistling, but
+not best pleased. He had told his wife more than once that the
+drawing-rooms and dining-rooms of a house are the public rooms, and
+the bedrooms the private ones.
+
+Lucy colored with mortification. It was death to her to annoy anyone;
+so her aunt had thrust her into a cruel position.
+
+"Poor Mr. Bazalgette!" sighed she.
+
+"Fiddle de dee. Let him go, and come back in a better temper--set
+transparent; so then, backed by the violet, you know, they will
+imitate dewdrops to the life."
+
+"Charming! Why not let Olivier do it for you, as poor Baldwin cannot?"
+
+"Because Olivier works for the Claytons, and we should have that Emily
+Clayton out as my double; and as we visit the same houses--"
+
+"And as she is extremely pretty--aunt, what a generalissima you are!"
+
+"Pretty! Snub-nosed little toad. No, she is not pretty. But she is
+eighteen; so I can't afford to dress her. No. I see I shall have to
+moderate my views for this gown, and buy another dress for the flowers
+and diamonds. There, take it off, and let us think it calmly over. I
+never act in a hurry but I am sorry for it afterward--I mean in things
+of real importance." The gown was taken off in silence, broken only by
+occasional sighs from the sufferer, in whose heart a dozen projects
+battled fiercely for the mastery, and worried and sore perplexed her,
+and rent her inmost soul fiercely divers ways.
+
+"Black lace, dear," suggested Lucy, soothingly.
+
+Mrs. B. curled her arm lovingly round Lucy's waist. "Just what I was
+beginning to think," said she, warmly. "And we can't both be mistaken,
+can we? But where can I get enough?" and her countenance, that the
+cheering coincidence had rendered seraphic, was once more clouded with
+doubt.
+
+"Why, you have yards of it."
+
+"Yes, but mine is all made up in some form or other, and it musses
+one's things so to pick them to pieces."
+
+"So it does, dear," replied Lucy, with gentle but genuine feeling.
+
+"It would only be for one night, Lucy--I should not hurt it, love--you
+would not like to fetch down your Brussels point scarf, and see how it
+would look, would you? We need not cut the lace, dear; we could tack
+it on again the next morning; you are not so particular as I am--you
+look well in anything."
+
+Lucy was soon seated denuding herself and embellishing her aunt. The
+latter reclined with grace, and furthered the work by smile and
+gesture.
+
+"You don't ask me about the skirmish in the nursery."
+
+"Their squabbles bore me, dear; but you can tell me who was the most
+in fault, if you think it worth while."
+
+"Reginald, then, I am afraid; but it is not the poor boy; it is the
+influence of the stable-yard; and I do advise and entreat you to keep
+him out of it."
+
+"Impossible, my dear; you don't know boys. The stable is their
+paradise. When he grows older his father must interfere; meantime, let
+us talk of something more agreeable."
+
+"Yes; you shall go on with your story. You had got to his look of
+despair when your papa came in that morning."
+
+"Oh, I have no time for anybody's despair just now; I can think of
+nothing but this detestable gown. Lucy, I suspect I almost wish I had
+made them put another breadth into the skirt."
+
+"Luncheon, ma'am."
+
+Lucy begged her aunt to go down alone; she would stay and work.
+
+"No, you must come to luncheon; there is a dish on purpose for
+you--stewed eels."
+
+"Eels; why, I abhor them; I think they are water-serpents."
+
+"Who is it that is so fond of them, then?"
+
+"It is you, aunt."
+
+"So it is. I thought it had been you. Come, you must come down,
+whether you eat anything or not. I like somebody to talk to me while I
+am eating, and I had an idea just now--it is gone--but perhaps it will
+come back to me: it was about this abominable gown. O! how I wish
+there was not such a thing as dress in the world!!!"
+
+While Mrs. Bazalgette was munching water-snakes with delicate zeal,
+and Lucy nibbling cake, came a letter. Mrs. Bazalgette read it with
+heightening color, laid it down, cast a pitying glance on Lucy, and
+said, with a sigh, "Poor girl!"
+
+Lucy turned a little pale. "Has anything happened?" she faltered.
+
+"Something is going to happen; you are to be torn away from here,
+where you are so happy--where we all love you, dear. It is from that
+selfish old bachelor. Listen: 'Dear madam, my niece Lucy has been due
+here three days. I have waited to see whether you would part with her
+without being dunned. My curiosity on that point is satisfied, and I
+have now only my affection to consult, which I do by requesting you to
+put her and her maid into a carriage that will be waiting for her at
+your door twenty-four hours after you receive this note. I have the
+honor to be, madam,' an old brute!!"
+
+"And you can smile; but that is you all over; you don't care a straw
+whether you are happy or miserable."
+
+"Don't I?"
+
+"Not you; you will leave this, where you are a little queen, and go
+and bury yourself three months with that old bachelor, and nobody will
+ever gather from your face that you are bored to death; and here we
+are asked to the Cavendishes' next Wednesday, and the Hunts' ball on
+Friday--you are such a lucky girl--our best invitations always drop in
+while you are with us--we go out three times as often during your
+months as at other times; it is your good fortune, or the weather, or
+something."
+
+"Dear aunt, this was your own arrangement with Uncle Fountain. I used
+to be six months with each in turn till you insisted on its being
+three. You make me almost laugh, both you and Uncle Fountain; what
+_do_ you see in me worth quarreling for?"
+
+"I will tell you what _he_ sees--a good little spiritless
+thing--"
+
+"I am larger than you, dear."
+
+"Yes, in body--that he can make a slave of--always ready to nurse him
+and his foe, or to put down your work and to take up his--to play at
+his vile backgammon."
+
+"Piquet, please."
+
+"Where is the difference?--to share his desolation, and take half his
+blue devils on your own shoulders, till he will hyp you so that to get
+away you will consent to marry into his set--the county set--some
+beggarly old family that came down from the Conquest, and has been
+going down ever since; so then he will let you fly--with a string: you
+must vegetate two miles from him; so then he can have you in to
+Backquette and write his letters: he will settle four hundred a year
+on you, and you will be miserable for life."
+
+"Poor Uncle Fountain, what a schemer he turns out!"
+
+"Men all turn out schemers when you know them, Miss Impertinence.
+Well, dear, I have no selfish views for you. I love my few friends too
+single-heartedly for that; but I _am_ sad when I see you leaving
+us to go where you are not prized."
+
+"Indeed, aunt, I am prized at Font Abbey. I am overrated there as I am
+here. They all receive me with open arms."
+
+"So is a hare when it comes into a trap," said Mrs. Bazalgette,
+sharply, drawing upon a limited knowledge of grammar and field-sports.
+
+"No--Uncle Fountain really loves me."
+
+"As much as I do?" asked the lady, with a treacherous smile.
+
+"Very nearly," was the young courtier's reply. She went on to console
+her aunt's unselfish solicitude, by assuring her that Font Abbey was
+not a solitude; that dinners and balls abounded, and her uncle was
+invited to them all.
+
+"You little goose, don't you see? all those invitations are for your
+sake, not his. If we could look in on him now we should find him
+literally in single cursedness. Those county folks are not without
+cunning. They say beauty has come to stay with the beast; we must ask
+the beast to dinner, so then beauty will come along with him.
+
+"What other pleasure awaits you at Font Abbey?"
+
+"The pleasure of giving pleasure," replied Lucy, apologetically.
+
+"Ah! that is your weakness, Lucy. It is all very well with those who
+won't take advantage; but it is the wrong game to play with all the
+world. You will be made a tool of, and a slave of, and use of. I speak
+from experience. You know how I sacrifice myself to those I love;
+luckily, they are not many."
+
+"Not so many as love you, dear."
+
+"Heaven forbid! but you are at the head of them all, and I am going to
+prove it--by deeds, not words."
+
+Lucy looked up at this additional feature in her aunt's affection.
+
+"You must go to the great bear's den for three months, but it shall be
+the last time!" Lucy said nothing.
+
+"You will return never to quit us, or, at all events, not the
+neighborhood."
+
+"That--would be nice," said the courtier warmly, but hesitatingly;
+"but how will you gain uncle's consent?"
+
+"By dispensing with it."
+
+"Yes; but the means, aunt?"
+
+"A husband!"
+
+Lucy started and colored all over, and looked askant at her aunt with
+opening eyes, like a thoroughbred filly just going to start all across
+the road. Mrs. Bazalgette laid a loving hand on her shoulder, and
+whispered knowingly in her ear: "Trust to me; I'll have one ready for
+you against you come back this time."
+
+"No, please don't! pray don't!" cried Lucy, clasping her hands in
+feeble-minded distress.
+
+"In this neighborhood--one of the right sort."
+
+"I am so happy as I am."
+
+"You will be happier when you are quite a slave, and so I shall save
+you from being snapped up by some country wiseacre, and marry you into
+our own set."
+
+"Merchant princes," suggested Lucy, demurely, having just recovered
+her breath and what little sauce there was in her.
+
+"Yes, merchant princes--the men of the age--the men who could buy all
+the acres in the country without feeling it--the men who make this
+little island great, and a woman happy, by letting her have everything
+her heart can desire."
+
+"You mean everything that money can buy."
+
+"Of course. I said so, didn't I?"
+
+"So, then, you are tired of me in the house?" remonstrated Lucy,
+sadly.
+
+"No, ingrate; but you will be sure to marry soon or late."
+
+"No, I will not, if I can possibly help it."
+
+"But you can't help it; you are not the character to help it. The
+first man that comes to you and says: 'I know you rather dislike me'
+(you could not hate anybody, Lucy,) 'but if you don't take me I shall
+die of a broken fiddlestick,' you will whine out, 'Oh, dear! shall
+you? Well, then, sooner than disoblige you, here--take me!'"
+
+"Am I so weak as this?" asked Lucy, coloring, and the water coming
+into her eyes.
+
+"Don't be offended," said the other, coolly; "we won't call it
+weakness, but excess of complaisance; you can't say no to anybody."
+
+"Yet I have said it," replied Lucy, thoughtfully.
+
+"Have you? When? Oh, to me. Yes; where I am concerned you have
+sometimes a will of your own, and a pretty stout one; but never with
+anybody else."
+
+The aunt then inquired of the niece, "frankly, now, between
+ourselves," whether she had no wish to be married. The niece informed
+her in confidence that she had not, and was puzzled to conceive how
+the bare idea of marriage came to be so tempting to her sex. Of
+course, she could understand a lady wishing to marry, if she loved a
+gentleman who was determined to be unhappy without her; but that women
+should look about for some hunter to catch instead of waiting quietly
+till the hunter caught them, this puzzled her; and as for the
+superstitious love of females for the marriage rite in cases when it
+took away their liberty and gave them nothing amiable in return, it
+amazed her. "So, aunt," she concluded, "if you really love me, driving
+me to the altar will be an unfortunate way of showing it."
+
+While listening to this tirade, which the young lady delivered with
+great serenity, and concluded with a little yawn, Mrs. Bazalgette had
+two thoughts. The first was: "This girl is not flesh and blood; she is
+made of curds and whey, or something else;" the second was: "No, she
+is a shade hypocriticaler than other girls--before they are married,
+that is all;" and, acting on this latter conviction, she smiled a
+lofty incredulity, and fell to counting on her fingers all the moneyed
+bachelors for miles.
+
+At this Lucy winced with sensitive modesty, and for once a shade of
+vexation showed itself on her lovely features. The quick-sighted,
+keen-witted matron caught it, and instantly made a masterly move of
+feigned retreat. "No," cried she, "I will not tease you anymore, love;
+just promise me not to receive any gentleman's addresses at Font
+Abbey, and I will never drive you from my arms to the altar."
+
+"I promise that," cried Lucy, eagerly.
+
+"Upon your honor?"
+
+"Upon my honor."
+
+"Kiss me, dear. I know you won't deceive me now you have pledged your
+honor. This solemn promise consoles me more than you can conceive."
+
+"I am so glad; but if you knew how little it costs me."
+
+"All the better; you will be more likely to keep it," was the dry
+reply.
+
+The conversation then took a more tender turn. "And so to-morrow you
+go! How dull the house will be without you! and who is to keep my
+brats in order now I have no idea. Well, there is nothing but meeting
+and parting in this world; it does not do to love people, does it?
+(ah!) Don't cry, love, or I shall give way; my desolate heart already
+brims over--no--now don't cry" (a little sharply); "the servants will
+be coming in to take away the things."
+
+"Will you c--c--come and h--help me pack, dear?"
+
+"Me, love? oh no! I could not bear the sight of your things put out to
+go away. I promised to call on Mrs. Hunt this afternoon; and you must
+not stop in all day yourself--I cannot let your health be sacrificed;
+you had better take a brisk walk, and pack afterward."
+
+"Thank you, aunt. I will go and finish my drawing of Harrowden Church
+to take with me."
+
+"No, don't go there; the meadows are wet. Walk upon the Hatton road;
+it is all gravel."
+
+"Yes; only it is so ugly, and I have nothing to do that way."
+
+"But I'll give you something to do," said Mrs. Bazalgette, obligingly.
+"You know where old Sarah and her daughter live--the last cottages on
+that road; I don't like the shape of the last two collars they made
+me; you can take them back, if you like, and lend them one of yours I
+admire so for a pattern."
+
+"That I will, with pleasure."
+
+"Shall you come back through the garden? If you don't--never mind;
+but, if you do, you may choose me a bouquet. The servants are
+incapable of a bouquet."
+
+"I will; thank you, dear. How kind and thoughtful of you to give me
+something to occupy me now that I am a little sad." Mrs. Bazalgette
+accepted this tribute with a benignant smile, and the ladies parted.
+
+
+The next morning a traveling-carriage, with four smoking post-horses,
+came wheeling round the gravel to the front door. Uncle Fountain's
+factotum got down from the dicky, packed Lucy's imperial on the roof,
+and slung a box below the dicky; stowed her maid away aft, arranged
+the foot-cushion and a shawl or two inside, and, half obsequiously,
+half bumptiously, awaited the descent of his fair charge.
+
+Then, upstairs, came a sudden simultaneous attack of ardent lips, and
+a long, clinging embrace that would have graced the most glorious,
+passionate, antique love. Sculpture outdone, the young lady went down,
+and was handed into the carriage. Her ardent aunt followed presently,
+and fired many glowing phrases in at the window; and, just as the
+carriage moved, she uttered a single word quite quietly, as much as to
+say, Now, this I mean. This genuine word, the last Aunt Bazalgette
+spoke, had been, two hundred years before, the last word of Charles
+the First. Note the coincidences of history.
+
+The two postboys lifted their whips level to their eyes by one
+instinct, the horses tightened the traces, the wheels ground the
+gravel, and Lucy was whirled away with that quiet, emphatic post-dict
+ringing in her ears,
+
+Remember!
+
+
+Font Hill was sixty miles off: they reached it in less than six hours.
+There was Uncle Fountain on the hall steps to receive her, and the
+comely housekeeper, Mrs. Brown, ducking and smiling in the background.
+While the servants were unpacking the carriage, Mr. Fountain took Lucy
+to her bedroom. Mrs. Brown had gone on before to see for the third
+time whether all was comfortable. There was a huge fire, all red; and
+on the table a gigantic nosegay of spring flowers, with smell to them
+all.
+
+"Oh how nice, after a journey!" said Lucy, mowing down Uncle Fountain
+and Mrs. Brown with one comprehensive smile.
+
+Mrs. Brown flamed with complacency.
+
+"What!" cried her uncle; "I suppose you expected a black fire and
+impertinent apologies by way of substitute for warmth; a stuffy room,
+and damp sheets, roasted, like a woodcock, twenty minutes before use."
+
+"No, uncle, dear, I expected every comfort at Font Abbey." Brown
+retired with a courtesy.
+
+"Aha! What! you have found out that it is all humbug about old
+bachelors not knowing comfort? Do bachelors ever put their friends
+into damp sheets? No; that is the women's trick with their household
+science. Your sex have killed more men with damp sheets than ever fell
+by the sword."
+
+"Yet nobody erects monuments to us," put in Lucy, slyly.
+
+She missed fire. Uncle Fountain, like most Englishmen, could take in a
+pun by the ear, but wit only by the eye. "Do you remember when Mrs.
+Bazalgette put you into the linen sponge, and killed you?"
+
+"Killed me?"
+
+"Certainly, as far as in her lay. We can but do our best; well, she
+did hers, and went the right way to work."
+
+"You see I survive."
+
+"By a miracle. Dinner is at six."
+
+"Very well, dear."
+
+"Yes; but six in this house means sixty minutes after five and sixty
+minutes before seven. I mention this the first day because you are
+just come from a place where it means twenty minutes to seven; also
+let me observe that I think I have noticed soup and potatoes eat
+better hot than cold, and meat tastes nicer done to a turn than--"
+
+"To a cinder?"
+
+"Ha! ha! and come with an appetite, please."
+
+"Uncle, no tyranny, I beg."
+
+"Tyranny? you know this is Liberty Hall; only when I eat I expect my
+companion to-eat too; besides, there is nothing to be gained by humbug
+to-day. There will be only us two at dinner; and when I see young
+ladies fiddling with an asparagus head instead of eating their dinner,
+it don't fall into the greenhorn's notion--exquisite creature! all
+soul! no stomach! feeds on air, ideas, and quadrille music--no; what
+do you think I say?"
+
+"Something flattering, I feel sure."
+
+"On the contrary, something true. I say hypocrite! Been grubbing like
+a pig all day, so can't eat like a Christian at meal time; you can't
+humbug me."
+
+"Alas! so I see. That decides me to be candid--and hungry."
+
+"Well, I am off; I don't stick to my friends and bore them with my
+affairs like that egotistical hussy, Jane Bazalgette. I amuse myself,
+and leave them to amuse themselves; that is my notion of politeness. I
+am going to see my pigs fed, then into the village. I am building a
+new blacksmith's shop there (you must come and look at it the first
+thing to-morrow); and at six, if you want to find me--"
+
+"I shall peep behind the soup-tureen."
+
+"And there I shall be, if I am alive." At dinner the old boy threw
+himself into the work with such zeal that soon after the cloth was
+removed, from fatigue and repletion, he dropped asleep, with his
+shoulder toward Lucy, but his face instinctively turned toward the
+fire. Lucy crept away on tiptoe, not to disturb him.
+
+In about an hour he bustled into the drawing-room, ordered tea, blew
+up the footman because the cook had not water boiling that moment,
+drank three cups, then brightened up, rubbed his hands, and with a
+cheerful, benevolent manner, "Now, Lucy," cried he, "come and help me
+puzzle out this tiresome genealogy."
+
+A smile of warm assent from Lucy, and the old bachelor and the
+blooming Hebe were soon seated with a mountain of parchments by their
+side, and a tree spreading before them.
+
+It was not a finite tree like an elm or an oak; no, it was a banyan
+tree; covered an acre, and from its boughs little suckers dropped to
+earth, and turned to little trees, and had suckers in their turn, and
+"confounded the confusion."
+
+Uncle Fountain's happiness depended, _pro tem,_ on proving that
+he was a sucker from the great bough of the Fontaines of Melton; and
+why? Because, this effected, he had only to go along that bough by an
+established pedigree to the great trunk of the Funteyns of Salle, and
+the first Funteyn of Salle was said to be (and this he hoped to prove
+true) great-grandson of Robert de Fontibus, son of John de Fonte.
+
+Now Uncle Fountain could prove himself the shoot of George his father
+(a step at which so many pedigrees halt), who was the shoot of
+William, who was the shoot of Richard; but here came a gap of eighty
+years between him and that Fountain, younger son of Melton, to whom he
+wanted to hook on. Now the logic of women, children, and criticasters
+is a thing of gaps; they reason as marches a kangaroo; but to
+mathematicians, logicians, and genealogists, a link wanting is a chain
+broken. This blank then made Uncle Fountain miserable, and he cried
+out for help. Lucy came with her young eyes, her woman's patience, and
+her own complaisance. A great ditch yawned between a crocheteer and a
+rotten branch he coveted. Our Quinta Curtia flung herself, her
+eyesight, and her time into that ditch.
+
+Twelve o'clock came, and found them still wallowing in modern
+antiquity.
+
+"Bless me!" cried Mr. Fountain when John brought up the bed-candles,
+"how time flies when one is really employed."
+
+"Yes, indeed, uncle;" and by a gymnastic of courtesy she first crushed
+and then so molded a yawn that it glided into society a smile.
+
+"We have spent a delightful evening, Lucy."
+
+"Thanks to you, uncle."
+
+"I hope you will sleep well, child."
+
+"I am sure I shall, dear," said she, sweetly and inadvertently.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+A LARGE aspiration is a rarity; but who has not some small ambition,
+none the less keen for being narrow--keener, perhaps? Mrs. Bazalgette
+burned to be great by dress; Mr. Fountain, member of a sex with higher
+aims, aspired to be great in the county.
+
+Unluckily, his main property was in the funds. He had acres
+in ----shire; but so few that, some years ago, its lord lieutenant
+declined to make him an injustice of the peace. That functionary died,
+and on his death the mortified aspirant bought a coppice, christened
+it Springwood, and under cover of this fringe to his three meadows,
+applied to the new lord lieutenant as M'Duff approached M'Beth. The
+new man made him a magistrate; so now he aspired to be a deputy
+lieutenant, and attended all the boards of magistrates, and turnpike
+trusts, etc., and brought up votes and beer-barrels at each election,
+and, in, short, played all the cards in his pack, Lucy included, to
+earn that distinction.
+
+We may as well confess that there lurked in him a half-unconscious
+hope that some day or other, in some strange collision or combination
+of parties, a man profound in county business, zealous in county
+interests, personally obnoxious to nobody, might drop into the seat of
+county member; and, if this should be, would not he have the sense to
+hold his tongue upon the noisy questions that waste Parliament's time,
+and the nation's; but, on the first of those periodical attacks to
+which the wretched landowner is subject, wouldn't he speak, and show
+the difference between a mere member of the Commons and a member for
+the county?
+
+If anyone had asked this man plump which is the most important,
+England or ----shire, he would have certainly told you England; but
+our opinions are not the notions we repeat, and can defend by reasons
+or even by facts: our opinions are the notions we feel and act on.
+
+Could you have looked inside Mr. Fountain's head, you would have seen
+ideas corresponding to the following diagrams:
+
+[drawing]
+
+Mr. Fountain courted the stomach of the county.
+
+Without this, he knew, an angel could not reach its heart; and here
+one of his eccentricities broke out. He drew a line, in his
+dictatorial way, between dinner and feeding parties. "A dinner party
+is two rubbers. Four gentlemen and four ladies sit round a circular
+table; then each can hear what anyone says, and need not twist the
+neck at every word. Foraging parties are from fourteen to thirty, set
+up and down a plank, each separated from those he could talk to as
+effectually as if the ocean rolled between, and bawling into one
+person's ear amid the din of knives, forks, and multitude. I go to
+those long strings of noisy duets because I must, but I give
+_society_ at home."
+
+The county people had just strength of mind to like the old boy's
+sociable dinners, though not to imitate them, and an invitation from
+him was very rarely declined when Lucy was with him.
+
+And she was in her glory. She could carry complaisance such a long way
+at Font Abbey--she was mistress of the house.
+
+She listened with a wonderful appearance of interest to county
+matters, i.e., to minute scandal and infinitesimal politics; to
+the county cricket match and archery meeting; to the past ball and the
+ball to come. In the drawing-room, when a cold fit fell on the
+coterie, she would glide to one egotist after another, find out the
+monotope, and set the critter Peter's, the Place de Concorde, the
+Square of St. Mark, Versailles, the Alhambra, the Apollo Belvidere,
+the Madonna of the Chair, and all the glories of nature and the feats
+of art could not warm. So, then, the fine gentleman began to act--to
+walk himself out as a person who had seen and could give details about
+anything, but was exalted far above admiring anything _(quel grand
+homme! rien ne peut lui plaire);_ and on this, while the women were
+gazing sweetly on him, and revering his superiority to all great
+impressions, and the men envying, rather hating, but secretly admiring
+him too, she who had launched him bent on him a look of soft pity, and
+abandoned him to admiration.
+
+"Poor Mr. Talboys," thought she, "I fear I have done him an ill turn
+by drawing him out;" and she glided to her uncle, who was sitting
+apart, and nobody talking to him.
+
+Mr. Talboys, started by Lucy, ambled out his high-pacing
+_nil admirantem_ character, and derived a little quiet
+self-satisfaction. This was the highest happiness he was capable of;
+so he was not ungrateful to Miss Fountain, who had procured it him,
+and partly for this, partly because he had been kind to her and lent
+her a pony, he shook hands with her somewhat cordially at parting. As
+it happened, he was the last guest.
+
+"You have won that, man's heart, Lucy," cried Mr. Fountain, with a
+mixture of surprise and pride.
+
+Lucy made no reply. She looked quickly into his face to see if he was
+jesting.
+
+
+"Writing, Lucy--so late?"
+
+"Only a few lines, uncle. You shall see them; I note the more
+remarkable phenomena of society. I am recalling a conversation between
+three of our guests this evening, and shall be grateful for your
+opinion on it. There! Read it out, please."
+
+
+Mrs. Luttrell. "We missed you at the archery meeting--ha! ha! ha!"
+
+Mrs. Willis. "Mr. Willis would not let me go--he! he! he!"
+
+Mrs. James. "Well, at all events--he! he!--you will come to the flower
+show."
+
+Mrs. Willis. "Oh yes!--he! he!--I am so fond of flowers--ha! ha!"
+
+Mrs. Luttrell. "So am I. I adore them--he! he!"
+
+Mrs. Willis. "How sweetly Miss Malcolm sings--he! he!"
+
+Mrs. Luttrell. "Yes, she shakes like a bird--ha! ha!"
+
+Mrs. James. "A little Scotch accent though--he! he!"
+
+Mrs. Luttrell. "She is Scotch--he! he!" (To John offering her tea.)
+"No more, thank you--he! he!"
+
+Mrs. James. "Shall you go the Assize sermon?--ha! ha!"
+
+Mrs. Willis. "Oh, yes--he! he!--the last was very dry--he! he! Who
+preaches it this term?--he!"
+
+Mrs. James. "The Bishop--he! he!"
+
+Mrs. Willis. "Then I shall certainly go; he is such a dear
+preacher--he! he!"
+
+
+"Just tell me what is the precise meaning of 'ha! ha!' and what of
+'he! he!'"
+
+"The precise meaning? There you puzzle me, uncle."
+
+"I mean, what do you mean by them?"
+
+"Oh, I put 'ha! ha!' when they giggle, and 'he! he!' when they only
+chuckle."
+
+"Then this is a caricature, my lady?"
+
+"No, dear, you know I have no satire in me; it is taken down to the
+letter, and I fear I must trouble you for the solution."
+
+"Well, the solution is, they are three fools."
+
+"No, uncle, begging your pardon, they are not," replied Lucy, politely
+but firmly.
+
+"Well, then, three d--d fools."
+
+Lucy winced at the participle, but was two polite to lecture her
+elder. "They have not that excuse," said she; "they are all sensible
+women, who discharge the duties of life with discretion except
+society; and they can discriminate between grave and gay whenever they
+are not at a party; and as for Mrs. Luttrell, when she is alone with
+me she is a sweet, natural love."
+
+"They cackled--at every word--like that--the whole evening!!??"
+
+"Except when you told that funny story about the Irish corporal who
+was attacked by a mastiff, and killed him with his halberd, and, when
+he was reproached by his captain for not being content to repel so
+valuable an animal with the butt end of his lance, answered--ha! ha!"
+
+"So, then, he answered 'Haw! haw!' did he?"
+
+"Now, uncle! No; he answered, 'So I would, your arnr, if he had run at
+me with his tail!' Now, that was genuine wit, mixed with quite enough
+fun to make an intelligent person laugh; and then you told it so
+drolly--ha! ha!"
+
+"They did not laugh at _that?"_
+
+"Sat as grave as judges."
+
+"And you tell me they are not fools."
+
+"I must repeat, they have not that excuse. Perhaps their risibility
+had been exhausted. After laughing three hours _a propos de
+rien,_ it is time to be serious out of place. I will tell you what
+they _did_ laugh at, though. Miss Malcolm sang a song with a
+title I dare not attempt. There were two lines in it which I am going
+to mispronounce; but you are not Scotch, so I don't care for
+_you,_ uncle, darling.
+
+      "'He had but a saxpence; he break it in twa,
+        And he gave me the half o't when he gaed awa.'
+
+"They laughed at that; a general giggle went round."
+
+"Well, I must confess, I don't see much to laugh at in that, Lucy."
+
+"It would be odd if you did, uncle, dear; why, it is pathetic."
+
+"Pathetic? Oh, is it?"
+
+"You naughty, cunning uncle, you know it is; it is pathetic, and
+almost heroic. Consider, dear: in a world where the very newspapers
+show how mercenary we all are, a poor young man is parted from his
+love. He has but one coin to go through the world with, and what does
+he do with it? Scheme to make the sixpence a crown, and to make the
+crown a pound? No; he breaks this one treasure in two, that both the
+poor things may have a silver token of love and a pledge of his
+return. I am sure, if the poet had been here, he would have been quite
+angry with us for laughing at that line."
+
+"Keep your temper. Why, this is new from you, Lucy; but you women of
+sugar can all cauterize your own sex; the theme inspires you."
+
+"Uncle, how dare you! Are you not afraid I shall be angry one of these
+days, dear!!? The gentlemen were equally concerned in this last
+enormity. Poor Jemmy, or Jammy, with his devotion and tenderness that
+soothed, and his high spirit that supported the weaker vessel, was as
+funny to our male as to our female guests--so there. I saw but one
+that understood him, and did not laugh at him."
+
+"Talboys, for a pound."
+
+"Mr. Talboys? no! _You,_ dear uncle; you did not laugh; I noticed
+it with all a niece's pride."
+
+"Of course I didn't. Can I hear a word these ladies mew? can I tell in
+what language even they are whining and miauling? I have given up
+trying this twenty years and more."
+
+"I return to my question," said Lucy hastily.
+
+"And I to my solution; your three graces are three d--d fools. If you
+can account for it in any other way, do."
+
+"No, uncle dear. If you had happened to agree with me beforehand, I
+would; but as you do not, I beg to be excused. But keep the paper, and
+the next time listen to the talk and unmeaning laughter; you will find
+I have not exaggerated, and some day, dear, I will tell you how my
+mamma used to account for similar monstrosities in society."
+
+"Here is a mysterious little toad. Well, Lucy, for all this you
+enjoyed yourself. I never saw you in better spirits."
+
+"I am glad you saw that," said Lucy, with a languid smile.
+
+"And how Talboys came out."
+
+"He did," sighed Lucy.
+
+Here the young lady lighted softly on an ottoman, and sank gracefully
+back with a weary-o'-the-world air; and when she had settled down like
+so much floss silk, fixing her eye on the ceiling, and doling her
+words out languidly yet thoughtfully--just above a whisper, "Uncle,
+darling," inquired she, "where are the men we have all heard of?"
+
+"How should I know? What men?"
+
+"Where are the men of sentiment, that can understand a woman, and win
+her to reveal her real heart, the best treasure she has, uncle dear?"
+She paused for a reply; none coming, she continued with decreasing
+energy:
+
+"Where are the men of spirit? the men of action? the upright,
+downright men, that Heaven sends to cure us of our disingenuousness?
+Where are the heroes and the wits?" (an infinitesimal yawn); "where
+are the real men? And where are the women to whom such men can do
+homage without degrading themselves? where are the men who elevate a
+woman without making her masculine, and the women who can brighten and
+polish, and yet not soften the steel of manhood--tell me, tell me
+instantly," said she, with still greater languor and want of
+earnestness, and her eyes remained fixed on the ceiling in deep
+abstraction.
+
+"They are all in this house at this moment," said Mr. Fountain,
+coolly.
+
+"Who, dear? I fear I was not attending to you. How rude!!"
+
+"Horrid. I say the men and women you inquire for are all in this house
+of mine;" and the old gentleman's eyes twinkled.
+
+"Uncle! Heaven forgive you, and--oh, fie!"
+
+"They are, upon my soul."
+
+"Then they must be in some part of it I have not visited. Are they in
+the kitchen?" (with a little saucy sneer.)
+
+"No, they are in the library."
+
+"In the lib--Ah! _le malin!"_
+
+"They were never seen in the drawing-room, and never will be."
+
+"Yet surely they must have lived in nature before they were embalmed
+in print," said Lucy, interrogating the ceiling again.
+
+"The nearest approach you will meet to these paragons is Reginald
+Talboys," said Fountain, stoutly.
+
+"Uncle, I do love you;" and Lucy rose with Juno-like slowness and
+dignity, and, leaning over the old boy, kissed him with sudden small
+fury.
+
+"Why?" asked he, eagerly, connecting this majestic squirt of affection
+with his last speech.
+
+"Because you are such a nice, dear, _sarcastic_ thing. Let us
+drink tea in the library to-morrow, then that will be an approach
+to--"
+
+With this illegitimate full stop the conversation ended, and Miss
+Fountain took a candle and sauntered to bed.
+
+
+In church next Sunday Lucy observed a young lady with a beaming face,
+who eyed her by stealth in all the interstices of devotion. She asked
+her uncle who was that pretty girl with a _nez retrousse._
+
+"A cocked nose? It must be my little friend, Eve Dodd. I didn't know
+she was come back."
+
+"What a pretty face to be in such--such a--such an impossible bonnet.
+It has come down from another epoch." This not maliciously, but with a
+sort of tender, womanly concern for beauty set off to the most
+disadvantage.
+
+"O, hang her bonnet! She is full of fun; she shall drink tea with us;
+she is a great favorite of mine."
+
+They quickened their pace, and caught Eve Dodd just as she took a
+flying leap over some water that lay in her path, and showed a
+charming ankle. In those days female dress committed two errors that
+are disappearing: it revealed the whole foot by day, and hid a section
+of the bosom at night.
+
+After the usual greetings, Mr. Fountain asked Eve if she would come
+over and drink tea with him and his niece.
+
+Miss Dodd colored and cast a glance of undisguised admiration at Miss
+Fountain, but she said: "Thank you, sir; I am much obliged, but I am
+afraid I can't come. My brother would miss me."
+
+"What--the sailor? Is he at home?"
+
+"Yes, sir; came home last night"; and she clapped her hands by way of
+comment. "He has been with my mother all church-time; so now it is my
+turn, and I don't know how to let him out of my sight yet awhile." And
+she gave a glance at Miss Fountain, as much as to say, "You
+understand."
+
+"Well, Eve," said Mr. Fountain good-humoredly, "we must not separate
+brother and sister," and he was turning to go.
+
+"Perhaps, uncle," said Lucy, looking not at Mr. Fountain, but at
+Eve--"Mr.--Mr.--"
+
+"David Dodd is my brother's name," said Eve, quickly.
+
+"Mr. David Dodd might be persuaded to give us the pleasure of his
+company too."
+
+"Oh yes, if I may bring dear David with me," burst out the child of
+nature, coloring again with pleasure.
+
+"It will add to the obligation," said Lucy, finishing the sentence in
+character.
+
+"So that is settled," said Mr. Fountain, somewhat dryly.
+
+As they were walking home together, the courtier asked her uncle
+rather coldly, "Who are these we have invited, dear?"
+
+"Who are they? A pretty girl and a man she wouldn't come without."
+
+"And who is the gentleman? What is he?"
+
+"A marine animal--first mate of a ship."
+
+"First mate? mate? Is that what in the novels is called boatswain's
+mate?"
+
+"Haw! haw! haw! I say, Lucy, ask him when he comes if he is the
+bosen's mate. How little Eve will blaze!"
+
+"Then I shall ask him nothing of the kind. Do tell me! I know
+admirals--they swear--and captains, and, I think, lieutenants, and,
+_above all,_ those little loves of midshipmen, strutting with
+their dirks and cocked hats, like warlike bantams, but I never met
+'mates.' Mates?"
+
+"That is because you have only been introduced to the Royal Navy; but
+there is another navy not so ornamental, but quite as useful, called
+the East India Company's."
+
+"I am ashamed to say I never heard of it."
+
+"I dare say not. Well, in this navy there are only two kinds of
+superior officers--the mates and the captain. There are five or six
+mates. Young Dodd has been first mate some time, so I suppose he will
+soon be a captain."
+
+"Uncle!"
+
+"Well."
+
+"Will this--mate--swear?"
+
+"Clearly."
+
+"There, now. I do not like swearing on a Sunday. That wicked old
+admiral used to make me shudder."
+
+"Oh," said Mr. Fountain, playing upon innocence, "he swore by the
+Supreme Being, 'I bet sixpence.'"
+
+"Yes," said Lucy, in a low, soft voice of angelic regret.
+
+"Ah! he was in the Royal Navy. But this is a merchantman; you don't
+think he will presume to break into the monopoly of the superior
+branch. He will only swear by the wind and weather. Thunder and
+squalls! Donner and blitzen! Handspikes and halyards! these are the
+innocent execrations of the merchant service--he! he! ho!"
+
+"Uncle, can you be serious?" asked Lucy, somewhat coldly; "if so, be
+so good as to tell me, is this gentleman--a--gentleman?"
+
+"Well," replied the other, coolly, "he is what I call a nondescript;
+like an attorney, or a surgeon, or a civil engineer, or a banker, or a
+stock-broker, and all that sort of people. He can be a gentleman if he
+is thoroughly bent on it; you would in his place, and so should I; but
+these skippers don't turn their mind that way. Old families don't go
+into the merchant service. Indeed, it would not answer. There they
+rise by--by--mere maritime considerations."
+
+"Then, uncle," began Lucy, with dignified severity, "permit me to say
+that, in inviting a nondescript, you showed--less consideration for me
+than--you--are in the habit--of doing, dearest."
+
+"Well, have a headache, and can't come down."
+
+"So I certainly should; but, most unfortunately, I have an objection
+to tell fibs on a Sunday."
+
+"You are quite right; we should rest from our usual employments one
+day-ha! ha! and so go at it fresher to-morrow--haw! ho! Come, Lucy,
+don't you be so exclusive. Eve Dodd is a merry girl. She comes and
+amuses me when you are not here, and David, by all accounts, is a fine
+young fellow, and as modest as a girl of fifteen; they will make me
+laugh, especially Eve, and it would be hard at my age, I think, if I
+might not ask whom I like--to tea."
+
+"So it would," put in Lucy, hastily; she added, coaxing, "it shall
+have its own way--it shall have what makes it laugh."
+
+
+Long before eight o'clock the Fountains had forgotten that they had
+invited the Dodds.
+
+Not so Eve. She was all in a flutter, and hesitated between two
+dresses, and by some blessed inspiration decided for the plainest; but
+her principal anxiety was, not about herself, but about David's
+deportment before the Queen of Fashion, for such report proclaimed
+Miss Fountain. "And those fine ladies are so satirical," said Eve to
+herself; "but I will lecture him going along."
+
+Dinner time, and, by consequence, tea time, came earlier in those
+days; so, about eight o'clock, a tall, square-shouldered young fellow
+was walking in the moonlight toward Font Abbey, Eve holding his hand,
+and tripping by his side, and lecturing him on deportment very gravely
+while dancing around him and pulling him all manner of ways, like your
+solid tune with your gamboling accompaniment, a combination now in
+vogue. All of a sudden, without with your leave or by your leave, the
+said David caught this light fantastic object up in his arms, and
+carried it on one shoulder.
+
+On this she gave a little squeak; then, without a moment's interval,
+continued her lecture as if nothing had happened. She looked down from
+her perch like a hen from a ladder, and laid down the law to David
+with seriousness and asperity.
+
+"And just please to remember that they are people a long way above
+us--at least above what we are now, since father fell into trouble; so
+don't you make too free; and Miss Fountain is the finest of all the
+fine ladies in the county."
+
+"Then I am sorry we are going."
+
+"No, you are not; she is a beautiful girl."
+
+"That alters the case."
+
+"No, it does not. Don't chatter so, David, interrupting forever, but
+listen and mind what I say, or I'll never take you anywhere again."
+
+"Are you sure you are taking me now?" asked David, dryly.
+
+"Why not, Mr. David?" retorted Eve, from his shoulder. "Didn't I hear
+you tell how you took the _Combermere_ out of harbor, and how you
+brought her into port; she didn't take you out and bring you home,
+eh?"
+
+"Had me there, though."
+
+"Yes; and, what is more, you are not skipper of the _Combermere_
+yet, and never will be; but I am skipper of you."
+
+"Ashore--not a doubt of it," said David, with cool indifference. He
+despised terrestrial distinction, courting only such as was marine.
+
+"Then I command you to let me down this instant. Do you hear, crew!"
+
+"No," objected David; "if I put you overboard you can't command the
+vessel, and ten to one if the craft does not founder for want of
+seawomanship on the quarterdeck. However," added he, in a relenting
+tone, "wait till we get to that puddle shining on ahead, and then I'll
+disembark you."
+
+"No, David, do let me down, that's a good soul. I am tired," added
+she, peevishly.
+
+"Tired! of what?"
+
+"Of doing nothing, stupid; there, let me down, dear; won't you,
+darling! then take that, love" (a box of the ear).
+
+"Well, I've got it," said David, dryly.
+
+"Keep it, then, till the next. No, he won't let me down. He has got
+both my hands in one of his paws, and he will carry me every foot of
+the way now--I know the obstinate pig."
+
+"We all have our little characters, Eve. Well, I have got your wrists,
+but you have got your tongue, and that is the stronger weapon of the
+two, you know; and you are on the poop, so give your orders, and the
+ship shall be worked accordingly; likewise, I will enter all your
+remarks on good-breeding into my log."
+
+Here, unluckily, David tapped his forehead to signify that the log in
+question was a metaphorical one, the log of memory. Eve had him again
+directly. She freed a claw. "So this is your log, is it?" cried she,
+tapping it as hard as she could; "well, it does sound like wood of
+some sort. Well, then, David, dear--you wretch, I mean--promise me not
+to laugh loud."
+
+"Well, I will not; it is odds if I laugh at all. I wish we were to
+moor alongside mother, instead of running into this strange port."
+
+"Stuff! think of Miss Fountain's figure-head--nor tell too many
+stories--and, above all, for heaven's sake, do keep the poor dear old
+sea out of sight for once."
+
+"Ay, ay, that stands to reason."
+
+By this time they were at Font Abbey, and David deposited his fair
+burden gently on the stone steps of the door. She opened it without
+ceremony, and bustled into the dining-room, crying, "I have brought
+David, sir; and here he is;" and she accompanied David's bow with a
+corresponding movement of her hand, the knuckles downward.
+
+The old gentleman awoke with a start, rubbed his eyes, shook hands
+with the pair, and proposed to go up to Lucy in the drawing-room.
+
+Now, it happened unluckily that Miss Fountain had been to the library
+and taken down one or two of those men and women who, according to her
+uncle, exist only on paper, and certain it is she was in charming
+company when she heard her visitors' steps and voices coming up the
+stairs. Had those visitors seen the vexed expression of her face as
+she laid down the book they would have instantly 'bout ship and home
+again; but that sour look dissolved away as they came through the open
+door.
+
+On coming in they saw a young lady seated on a sofa.
+
+Apparently she did not see them enter. Her face _happened_ to be
+averted; but, ere they had taken three steps, she turned her face, saw
+them, rose, and took two steps to meet them, all beaming with
+courtesy, kindness and quiet satisfaction at their arrival.
+
+She gave her hand to Eve.
+
+"This is my brother, Miss Fountain."
+
+Miss Fountain instantly swept David a courtesy with such a grace and
+flow, coupled with an engaging smile, that the sailor was fascinated,
+and gazed instead of bowing.
+
+Eve had her finger ready to poke him, when he recovered himself and
+bowed low.
+
+Eve played the accompaniment with her hand, knuckles down.
+
+They sat down. Cups of tea, etc., were brought round to each by John.
+It was bad tea, made out of the room. Catch a human being making good
+tea in which it is not to share.
+
+Mr. Fountain was only half awake.
+
+Eve was more or less awed by Lucy. David, tutored by Eve, held his
+tongue altogether, or gave short answers.
+
+"This must be what the novels call a sea-cub!" thought Miss Fountain.
+
+The friends, Propriety and Restraint, presided over the innocent
+banquet, and a dismal evening set in.
+
+The first infraction of this polite tranquillity came, I blush to say,
+from the descendant of John de Fonte. He exploded in a yawn of
+magnitude; to cover this, the young lady began hastily to play her old
+game of setting people astride their topic, and she selected David
+Dodd for the experiment. She put on a warm curiosity about the sea,
+and ships, and the countries men visit in them. Then occurred a droll
+phenomenon: David flashed with animation, and began full and
+intelligent answers; then, catching his sister's eye, came to
+unnatural full stops; and so warmly and skillfully was he pressed that
+it cost him a gigantic effort to avoid giving much amusement and
+instruction. The courtier saw this hesitation, and the vivid flashes
+of intelligence, and would not lose her prey. She drew him with all a
+woman's tact, and with a warmth so well feigned that it set him on
+real fire. His instinct of politeness would not let him go on all
+night giving short answers to inquiring beauty. He turned his eye,
+which glowed now like a live coal, toward that enticing voice, and
+presently, like a ship that has been hanging over the water ever so
+long on the last rollers, with one gallant glide he took the sea, and
+towed them all like little cockle-boats in his wake. From sea to sea,
+from port to port, from tribe to tribe, from peril to peril, from feat
+to feat, David whirled his wonderstruck hearers, and held them panting
+by the quadruple magic of a tuneful voice, a changing eye, an ardent
+soul, and truth at first-hand.
+
+They sat thrilled and surprised, most of all Miss Fountain. To her,
+things great and real had up to that moment been mere vague outlines
+seen through a mist. Moreover, her habitual courtesy had hitherto
+drawn out pumps; but now, when least expected, all in a moment, as a
+spark fires powder, it let off a man.
+
+A sailor is a live book of travels. Check your own vanity (if you
+possibly can) and set him talking, you shall find him full of curious
+and profitable matter.
+
+The Fountains did not know this, and, even if they had, Dodd would
+have taken them by surprise; for, besides being a sailor and a
+sea-enthusiast, he was a fellow of great capacity and mental vigor.
+
+He had not skimmed so many books as we have, but I fear he had sucked
+more. However, his main strength did not lie there. He was not a paper
+man, and this--oh! men of paper and oh! C. R. in particular--gave him
+a tremendous advantage over you that Sunday evening.
+
+The man whose knowledge all comes from reading accumulates a great
+number of what?--facts? No, of the shadows of facts; shadows often so
+thin, indistinct and featureless, that, when one of the facts
+themselves runs against him in real life, he does not know his old
+friend, round about which he has written a smart leader in a journal
+and a ponderous trifle in the Polysyllabic Review.
+
+But this sailor had stowed into his mental hold not fact-shadows, but
+the glowing facts all alive, O. For thirteen years, man and boy, he
+had beat about the globe, with real eyes, real ears, and real brains
+ever at work. He had drunk living knowledge like a fish, and at
+fountainheads.
+
+Yet, to utter intellectual wealth nobly, two things more are
+indispensable the gift of language and a tunable voice, which last
+does not always come by talking with tempests.
+
+Well, David Dodd had sucked in a good deal of language from books and
+tongues; not, indeed, the Norman-French and demi-Latin and jargon of
+the schools, printed for English in impotent old trimestrials for the
+further fogification of cliques, but he had laid by a fair store of
+the best--of the monosyllables--the Saxon--the soul and vestal fire of
+the great English tongue.
+
+So he was never at a loss for words, simple, clear, strong, like
+blasts of a horn.
+
+His voice at this period was mellow and flexible. He was a mimic, too;
+the brighter things he had seen, whether glories of nature or acts of
+man, had turned to pictures in this man's mind. He flashed these
+pictures one after another upon the trio; he peopled the soft and
+cushioned drawing-room with twenty different tribes and varieties of
+man, barbarous, semi-barbarous, and civilized; their curious customs,
+their songs and chants, and dances, and struts, and actual postures.
+
+The aspect of famous shores from the sea, glittering coasts, dark
+straits, volcanic rocks defying sea and sky, and warm, delicious
+islands clothed with green, that burst on the mariner's sight after
+rugged places and scowling skies.
+
+The adventures of one unlucky ship, the _Connemara,_ on a single
+whaling cruise on the coast of Peru. The first slight signs of a gale,
+seen only by the careful skipper. The hasty preparations for it: all
+hands to shorten sail; then the moaning of the wind high up in the
+sky. All hands to reef sail now--the whirl and whoo of the gale as it
+came down on them. The ship careening as it caught her, the
+speaking-trumpet--the captain howling his orders through it amid the
+tumult.
+
+The floating icebergs--the ship among them, picking her way in and out
+a hundred deaths. Baffled by the unyielding wind off Cape Horn,
+sailing six weeks on opposite tacks, and ending just where they began,
+weather-bound in sight of the gloomy Horn. Then the terrors of a
+land-locked bay, and a lee shore; the ship tacking, writhing,
+twisting, to weather one jutting promontory; the sea and safety is on
+the other side of it; land and destruction on this--the attempt, the
+hope, the failure; then the stout-hearted, skillful captain would try
+one rare maneuver to save the ship, cargo, and crew. He would
+club-haul her, "and if that fails, my lads, there is nothing but up
+mainsail, up helm, run her slap ashore, and lay her bones on the
+softest bit of rock we can pick."
+
+Long ere this the poor ship had become a live thing to all these four,
+and they hung breathless on her fate.
+
+Then he showed how a ship is club-hauled, and told how nobly
+the old _Connemara_ behaved (ships are apt to when well
+handled--double-barreled guns ditto), and how the wind blew fiercer,
+and the rocks seemed to open their mouths for her, and how she hung
+and vibrated between safety and destruction, and at last how she
+writhed and slipped between Death's lips, yet escaped his teeth, and
+tossed and tumbled in triumph on the great but fair fighting sea; and
+how they got at last to the whaling ground, and could not find a whale
+for many a weary day, and the novices said: "They were all killed
+before we sailed;" and how, as uncommon ill luck is apt to be balanced
+by uncommon good luck, one fine evening they fell in with a whole
+shoal of whales at play, jumping clean into the air sixty feet long,
+and coming down each with a splash like thunder; even the captain had
+never seen such a game; and how the crew were for lowering the boats
+and going at them, but the captain would not let them; a hundred
+playful mountains of fish, the smallest weighing thirty ton, flopping
+down happy-go-lucky, he did not like the looks of it.
+
+"The boat will be at the mercy of chance among all those tails, and we
+are not lucky enough to throw at random. No; since the beggars have
+taken to dancing, for a change, let them dance all night; to-morrow
+they shall pay the piper." How, at peep of day, the man at the
+mast-head saw ten whales about two leagues off on the weather-bow; how
+the ship tacked and stood toward them; how she weathered on one of
+monstrous size, and how he and the other youngsters were mad to lower
+the boat and go after it, and how the captain said: "Ye lubbers, can't
+ye see that is a right whale, and not worth a button? Look here away
+over the quarter at this whale. See how low she spouts. She is a sperm
+whale, and worth seven hundred pounds if she was only dead and towed
+alongside."
+
+"'That she shall be in about a minute,' cried one; and, indeed, we
+were all in a flame; the boat was lowered, and didn't I worship the
+skipper when he told me off to be one of her crew!
+
+"I was that eager to be in at that whale's death, I didn't recollect
+there might be smaller brutes in danger.
+
+"Just before the oars fell into the water, the skipper looked down
+over the bulwarks, and says he to one of us that had charge of the
+rope that is fast to the boat at one end and to the harpoon at the
+other, 'Now, Jack you are a new hand; mind all I told you last night,
+or your mother will see me come ashore without you, and that will vex
+her; and, my lads, remember, if there is a single lubberly hitch in
+that line, you will none of you come up the ship's side again.'
+
+"'All right, captain,' says Jack, and we pulled off singing,
+
+     "'And spring to your oars, and, make your boat fly,
+       And when you come near her beware of her eye,'
+
+till the coxswain bade us hold our lubberly tongues, and not frighten
+the whales; however, we soon found we wanted all our breath for our
+work, and more too." Then David painted the furious race after the
+whale, and how the boat gradually gained, and how at last, as he was
+grinding his teeth and pulling like mad, he heard a sound ahead like a
+hundred elephants wallowing; and now he hoped to see the harpooner
+leave his oar, and rise and fling his weapon; "but that instant, up
+flukes, a tower of fish was seen a moment in the air, with a tail-fin
+at the top of it just about the size of this room we are sitting in,
+ladies, and down the whale sounded; then it was pull on again in her
+wake, according as she headed in sounding; pull for the dear life; and
+after a while the oarsmen saw the steerman's eyes, prying over the
+sea, turn like hot coals. The men caught fire at this, and put their
+very backbones into each stroke, and the boat skimmed and flew.
+Suddenly the steersman cried out fiercely, 'Stand up, harpoon! Up rose
+the harpooner, _his_ eye like a hot coal now. The men saw
+nothing; they must pull fiercer than ever. The harpooner balanced his
+iron, swayed his body lightly, and the harpoon hissed from him. A soft
+thud--then a heaving of the water all round, a slap that sounded like
+a church tower falling flat upon an acre of boards, and drenched, and
+blinded, and half smothered us all in spray, and at the same moment
+away whirled the boat, dancing and kicking in the whale's foaming,
+bubbling wake, and we holding on like grim death by the thwarts, not
+to be spun out into the sea."
+
+"Delightful!" cried Miss Fountain; "the waves bounded beneath you like
+a steed that knows its rider. Pray continue."
+
+"Yes, Miss Fountain. Now of course you can see that, if the line ran
+out too easy, the whale would leave us astern altogether, and if it
+jammed or ran too hard, she would tow us under water."
+
+"Of course we see," said Eve, ironically; "we understand everything by
+instinct. Hang explanations when I'm excited; go ahead, do!"
+
+"Then I won't explain how it is or why it is, but I'll just let you
+know that two or three hundred fathom of line are passed round the
+boat from stem to stern and back, and carried in and out between the
+oarsmen as they sit. Well, it was all new to me then; but when the
+boat began jumping and rocking, and the line began whizzing in and
+out, and screaming and smoking like--there now, fancy a machine, a
+complicated one, made of poisonous serpents, the steam on, and you
+sitting in the middle of the works, with not an inch to spare, on the
+crankest, rockingest, jumpingest, bumpingest, rollingest cradle that
+ever--"
+
+"David!" said Eve, solemnly.
+
+"Hallo!" sang out David.
+
+"Don't!"
+
+"Oh, yes, do!" cried Lucy, slightly clasping her hands.
+
+"If this little black ugly line was to catch you, it would spin you
+out of the boat like a shuttlecock; if it held you, it would cut you
+in two, or hang you to death, or drown you all at one time; and if it
+got jammed against anything alive or dead that could stand the strain,
+it would take the boat and crew down to the coral before you could
+wink twice."
+
+"Oh, dear!" said Lucy; "then I don't think I like it now; it is too
+terrible. Pray go on, Mr.--Mr.--"
+
+"Well, Miss Fountain, when a novice like me saw this black serpent
+twisting and twirling, and smoking and hissing in and out among us, I
+remembered the skipper's words, and I hailed Jack--it was he had laid
+the line--he was in the bow.
+
+"'Jack,' said I.
+
+"'Hallo!" said he.
+
+"'For God's sake, are there any hitches in the line?' said I.
+
+"'Not as I _knows_ on,' says he, much cooler than you sit there;
+and that is a sailor all over. Well, she towed us about a mile, and
+then she was blown, and we hauled up on the line, and came up with
+her, and drove lances into her, till she spouted blood instead of salt
+water, and went into her flurry, and rolled suddenly over our way
+dead, and was within a foot of smashing us to atoms; but if she had it
+would only have been an accident, for she was past malice, poor thing.
+Then we took possession, planted our flagstaff in her spouting-hole,
+you know, and pulled back to the ship, and she came down and anchored
+to the whale, and then, for the first time, I saw the blubber stripped
+off a whale and hoisted by tackles into the ship's hold, which is as
+curious as any part of the business, but a dirtyish job, and not fit
+for the present company, and I dare say that is enough about whales."
+
+"No! no! no!"
+
+"Well, then, shall I tell you how one old whale knocked our boat clean
+into the air, bottom uppermost, and how we swam round her and managed
+to right her?"
+
+"And went back to the ship and had your tea in bed and your clothes
+dried?"
+
+"No, Eve," replied David, with the utmost simplicity; "we got in and
+to work again, and killed the whale in less than half an hour, and
+planted our flag on her, and away after another."
+
+Then he told them how they harpooned one right whale, and by good luck
+were able to make her fast to the stern of the ship. "And, if you
+will believe me, Miss Fountain, though there was just a breath on and
+off right aft, and the foresail, jib and mizzen all set to catch it,
+she towed the ship astern a good cable's length, and the last thing
+was she broke the harpoon shaft just below the line, and away she swam
+right in the wind's eye."
+
+"And there was an end of her and your nasty, cruel, harpoon, and--oh,
+I'm so pleased!"
+
+"No, there wasn't, Eve; we heard of both fish and harpoon again, but
+not for a good many years."
+
+"Mr. Dodd!"
+
+"Yes, Miss Fountain. It is curious, like many things that fall out at
+sea, but not so wonderful as her towing a ship of four hundred tons,
+with the foresail, mizzen, and jib all aback. Well, sir, did you ever
+hear of Nantucket? It is a port in the United States; and our
+harpooner happened to be there full four years after we lost this
+whale. Some Yankee whalers were treating him to the best of grog, and
+it was brag Briton, brag Yankee, according to custom whenever these
+two met. Well, our man had no more invention than a stone; so he was
+getting the worst of it till he bethought him of this whale; so he up
+and told how he had struck a right whale in the Pacific, and she had
+towed the ship with her sails aback, at least her foresail, mizzen,
+and jib, only he didn't tell it short like me, but as long as the Red
+Sea, with the day and the hour, the latitude (within four or five
+degrees, I take it), and what we had done a week before, and what we
+had not done, all by way of prologue, and for fear of weathering the
+horn--tic, tic--the point of the story too soon. When he had done
+there was a general howl of laughter, and they began to cap lies with
+him, and so they bantered him most cruelly, by all accounts; but at
+last a long silent chap, weather-beaten to the color of rosewood, put
+in his word.
+
+"'What was the ship's name, mate?'
+
+"'The _Connemara_,' says he.
+
+"'And what is your name?' So he told him, 'Jem Green.'
+
+"The other brings a great mutton fist down on the table, and makes all
+the glasses dance. 'You stay at your moorings till I come back,' says
+he. 'I have got something belonging to you, Jem Green,' and he sheered
+off. The others lay to and passed the grog. Presently the long
+one comes back with a harpoon steel in his hand; there was
+_Connemara_ stamped on it, and also 'James Green' graved with a
+knife. 'Is that yours?' 'Is my hand mine?' says Jem; 'but wasn't there
+a broken shaft to it!"
+
+"'There was,' says the Yankee harpooner; 'I cut it out.'
+
+"'Well!' says Jem, 'that is the harpoon we were fast by to this very
+whale. Where did you kill her?'
+
+"'In the Greenland seas.' And he whips out his private log. 'Here you
+are,' says he; 'March 25, 1820, latitude so and so, killed a right
+whale; lost half the blubber, owing to the carcass sinking; cut an
+English harpoon out of her.'
+
+"'Avast there, mate!' cried Jem, and he whips, out _his_ log;
+'overhaul that.' The other harpooner overhauled it. 'Mates, look,
+here,' says he; 'I reckon we hain't fathomed the critters yet. The
+Britisher struck her in the Pacific on the 5th of March, and we killed
+her off Greenland on the 25th, five thousand miles of water by the
+lowest reckoning.' By this time there were a dozen heads jammed
+together, like bees swarming, over the two logs. 'She got a wound in
+the Pacific! "Hallo!" says she; "this is no sea for a lady to live
+in;" so she up helm, and right away across the pole into the Atlantic,
+and met her death.'"
+
+"Your story has an interest you little suspect, young gentleman. If
+this is true, the northwest passage is proved."
+
+"That has been proved a hundred times, sir, and in a hundred ways; the
+only riddle is to find it. The man that tells you there is not a
+northwest passage is no sailor, and the fish that can't find it is not
+a whale; for there is not a young suckling no bigger than this room
+that does not know that passage as well as a mid on his first voyage
+knows the way to the mizzen-top through lubber's hole. How tired you
+must be of whales, ladies?"
+
+"Oh no."
+
+"Kill us one more, David. I love bloodshed--to hear of."
+
+"Well, now, I don't think that can be Miss Fountain's taste, to look
+at her."
+
+Then David told them how he had fallen in with a sperm whale, dead of
+disease, floating as high as a frigate; how, with a very light breeze,
+the skipper had crept down toward her; how, at half a mile distance
+the stench of her was severe, but, as they neared her, awful; then so
+intolerable that the skipper gave the crew leave to go below and close
+the lee ports. So there were but two men left on the brig's deck, and
+a ship's company that a hurricane would not have driven from their
+duty skulked before a foul smell; but such a smell! a smell that
+struck a chill and a loathing to the heart, and soul, and marrow-bone;
+a smell like the gases in a foul mine; "it would have suffocated us in
+a few moments if we had been shut up along with it." Then he told how
+the skipper and he stuffed their noses and ears with cotton steeped in
+aromatic vinegar, and their mouths with pig-tail (by which, as it
+subsequently appeared, Lucy understood pork or bacon in some form
+unknown to her narrow experience), and lighted short pipes, and
+breached the brig upon the putrescent monster, and grappled to it, and
+then the skipper jumped on it, a basket slung to his back, and a rope
+fast under his shoulders in case of accident, and drove his spade in
+behind the whale's side-fin."
+
+"His spade, Mr. Dodd?"
+
+"His whale-spade; it is as sharp as a razor;" and how the skipper dug
+a hole in the whale as big as a well and four feet deep, and, after a
+long search, gave a shout of triumph, and picked out some stuff that
+looked like Gloucester cheese; and, when he had nearly filled his
+basket with this stuff, he slacked the grappling-iron, and David
+hauled him on board, and the carcass dropped astern, and the captain
+sang out for rum, and drank a small tumbler neat, and would have
+fainted away, spite of his precautions, but for the rum, and how a
+heavenly perfume was now on deck fighting with that horrid odor; and
+how the crew smelled it, and crept timidly up one by one, and how "the
+Glo'ster cheese was a great favorite of yours, ladies. It was the king
+of perfumes--amber-gas; there is some of it in all your richest
+scents; and the knowing skipper had made a hundred guineas in the turn
+of the hand. So knowledge is wealth, you see, and the sweet can be got
+out of the sour by such as study nature."
+
+"Don't preach, David, especially after just telling a fib. A hundred
+guineas!"
+
+"I am wrong,"' said David.
+
+"Very wrong, indeed."
+
+"There were eight pounds; and he sold it at a guinea the ounce to a
+wholesale chemist, so that looks to me like 128 pounds."
+
+Then David left the whales, and encouraged by bright eyes and winning
+smiles, and warm questions, sang higher strains.
+
+Ships in dire distress at sea, yet saved by God's mercy, and the cool,
+invincible courage of captain and crew--great ships run ashore--the
+waves breaking them up--the rigging black with the despairing crew,
+eying the watery death that tumbled and gaped and roared for them
+below; and then little shore boats, manned by daring hearts, launched
+into the surf, and going out to the great ship and her peril, risking
+more life for the chance of saving life. And he did not present the
+bare skeletons of daring acts; those grand morgues, the journals, do
+that. There lie the dry bones of giant epics waiting Genius's hand to
+make them live. He gave them not only the broad outward facts--the
+bones; but those smaller touches that are the body and soul of a
+story, true or false, wanting which the deeds of heroes sound an
+almanac; above all, he gave them glimpses, not only of what men acted,
+but what they felt: what passed in the hearts of men perishing at sea,
+in sight of land, houses, fires on the hearth, and outstretched hands,
+and in the hearts of the heroes that ran their boats into the surf and
+Death's maw to save them, and of the lookers on, admiring, fearing,
+shivering, glowing, and of the women that sobbed and prayed ashore
+with their backs to the sea, just able to risk lover, husband, and son
+for the honor of manhood and the love of Christ, but not able to look
+on at their own flesh and blood diving so deep, and lost so long in
+cockle-shells between the hills of waves.
+
+Such great acts, great feelings, great perils, and the gushes that
+crowned all of holy triumph when the boats came in with the dripping
+and saved, and man for a moment looked greater than the sea and the
+wind and death, this seaman poured hot from his own manly heart into
+quick and womanly bosoms, that heaved visibly, and glowed with
+admiring sympathy, and fluttered with gentle fear.
+
+And after a while, though not at first, David's yarns began to contain
+a double interest to one of the party--Miss Fountain. Those who live
+to please get to read character at sight, and David, though in these
+more noble histories he scarcely named himself, was laying a
+full-length picture of his own mind bare to these keen feminine eyes.
+As for old Fountain, he was charmed, and saw nothing more than David
+showed him outright. But the women sat flashing secret intelligence
+backward and forward from eye to eye after the manner of their sex.
+
+"Do you see?" said one lady's eyes.
+
+"Yes," replied the other. "He was concerned in this feat, though he
+does not say so."
+
+"Oh, you agree with me? Then we are right," replied the first pair of
+speakers.
+
+"There again: look; this sailor, whom he describes as a fellow that
+happened to be ashore at that foreign port with nothing better to do,
+and who went out with the English smugglers to save the brig when the
+natives durst not launch a boat?"
+
+"Himself! not a doubt of it."
+
+And so the blue and hazel lightning went dancing to and fro; ay, even
+when the tale took a sorrowful turn, and dimmed these bright orbs of
+intelligence, the lightning struggled through the dew, and David was
+read and discussed by gleams, and glances, and flashes, without a word
+spoken. And he, all unconscious that he sat between a pair of
+telegraphs, and heating more and more under his great recollections
+and his hearers' sympathy, inthralled them with his tuneful voice, his
+glowing face, his lion eye, and his breathing, burning histories.
+Heart to dare and do, yet heart to feel, and brain and tongue to tell
+a deed well, are rare allies, yet here they met.
+
+He mastered his hearers, and played on their breasts as David played
+the harp, and perhaps Achilles; Bochsa never, nor any of his tribe. He
+made the old man forget his genealogies, his small ambition, his gout,
+his years, and be a boy again an hour or two in thought, and blood,
+and early fire. He made the women's bosoms pant and swell, and seem to
+aspire to be the nests and cradles of heroes, and their eyes flash and
+glisten, and their cheeks flush and grow pale by turns; and the four
+little papered walls that confined them seemed to fall without noise,
+and they were away in thought out of a carpeted temple of wax, small
+talk, nonentity, and nonentities, away to sea-breezes that they almost
+felt in their hair and round their temples as their hearts rose and
+fell upon a broad swell of passion, perils, waves, male men,
+realities. The spell was at its height, when the sea-wizard's eye fell
+on the mantel-piece. Died in a moment his noble ardor: "Why, it is
+eight bells," said he, servilely; then, doggedly, "time to turn in."
+
+"Hang that clock!" shouted Mr. Fountain; "I'll have it turned out of
+the room."
+
+Said Lucy, with gentle enthusiasm, "It must be beautiful to be a
+sailor, and to have seen the real world, and, above all, to be brave
+and strong like Mr. ----,. must it not, uncle?" and she looked askant
+at David's square shoulders and lion eye, and for the first time in
+her life there crossed her an undefined instinct that this gentleman
+must be the male of her species.
+
+"As for his courage," said Eve, "that we have only his own word for."
+
+David grinned.
+
+"Not even that," replied Lucy, "for I observed he spoke but little of
+himself."
+
+"I did not notice that," said Eve, pertly; "but as for his strength,
+he certainly is as strong as a great bear, and as rude. What do you
+think? my lord carried me all the way from the top of the green lane
+to your house, and I am no feather."
+
+"No, a skein of silk," put in David.
+
+"I asked the gentleman politely to put me down, and he wouldn't, so
+then I boxed his ears."
+
+"Oh, how could you?"
+
+"Oh, bless you, he never hits me again; he is too great a coward. And
+the great mule carried me all the more--carried me to your very door."
+
+"I almost think--I believe I could guess why he carried you, if you
+will not be offended at my assuming the interpreter," said Lucy,
+looking at Eve and speaking at David. "You have thin shoes on, Miss
+Dodd; now I remember the gravel ends at green lane, and the grass
+begins; so, from what we know of Mr. Dodd, perhaps he carried you that
+you might not have damp feet."
+
+"Nothing of the kind--yes, it was, though, by his coloring up. La!
+David, dear boy!"
+
+"What is a man alongside for but to keep a girl out of mischief?" said
+David, bruskly.
+
+"Pray convert all your sex to that view," laughed Lucy.
+
+So now they were going. Then Mr. Fountain thanked David for the
+pleasant evening he had given them; then David blushed and stammered.
+He had a veneration for old age--another of his superstitions.
+
+Her uncle's lead gave Lucy an opportunity she instantly seized. "Mr.
+Dodd, you have taken us into a new world of knowledge; we never were
+so interested in our lives." At this pointblank praise David blushed,
+and was anything but comfortable, and began to back out of it all with
+a curt bow. Then, as the ladies can advance when a man of merit
+retreats, Lucy went the length of putting out her hand with a sweet,
+grateful smile; so he took it, and, in the ardor of encouraging so
+much spirit and modesty, she unconsciously pressed it. On this
+delicious pressure, light as it was, he raised his full brown eye, and
+gave her such a straightforward look of manly admiration and pleasure
+that she blushed faintly and drew back a little in her turn.
+
+
+"Well, Davy, dear, how do you like the Fountains?"
+
+"Eve, she is a clipper!"
+
+"And the old gentleman?"
+
+"He was very friendly. What do _you_ think of her?"
+
+"She is an out-and-out woman of the world, and very agreeable, as
+insincere people generally are. I like her because she was so polite
+to you."
+
+"Oh, that is your reading of her, is it?"
+
+The rest of the walk passed almost in silence.
+
+
+"Uncle, I am not sleepy to-night."
+
+"Who is? that young rascal has set me on fire with his yarns. Who
+would have thought that awkward cub had so much in him?"
+
+"Awkward, but not a cub; say rather a black swan; and you know, uncle,
+a swan is an awkward thing on land, but when it takes the water it is
+glorious, and that man was glorious; but--Da--vid Do--dd."
+
+"I don't know whether he was glorious, but I know he amused me, and
+I'll have him to tea three times a week while he lasts."
+
+"Uncle, do you believe such an unfortunate combination of sounds is
+his real name?" asked Lucy, gravely.
+
+"Why, who would be mad enough to feign such a name?"
+
+"That is true; but now tell me--if he should ever, think of marrying
+with such a name?"
+
+"Then there will be two David Dodd's in the world, Mr. and Mrs."
+
+"I don't think so; he will be merciful, and take her name instead of
+she his; he is so good-natured."
+
+"Ordinary sponsors would have been content with Samuel or Nathan; but
+no, this one's must, call in 'apt alliteration's artful aid,' and have
+the two 'd's.'"
+
+Lucy assented with a smile, and so, being no longer under the spell of
+the enthusiast and the male, the genealogist and the fine lady took
+the rise out of what Miss Fountain was pleased to call his impossible
+title,
+
+Da--vid Dodd.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+LUCY was not called on to write any more formal invitations to Mr.
+Talboys. Her uncle used merely to say to her: "Talboys dines with us
+to-day." She made no remark; she respected her uncle's preference;
+besides--the pony! Of these trios Mr. Fountain was the true soul. He
+had to blow the coals of conversation right and left. It is very good
+of me not to compare him to the Tropic between two frigid zones. At
+first he took his nap as usual; for he said to himself: "Now I have
+started them they can go on." Besides, he had seen pictures in the
+shop windows of an old fellow dozing and then the young ones
+"popping."
+
+Dozing off with this idea uppermost, he used to wake with his eyes
+shut and his ears wide open; but it was to hear drowsy monosyllables
+dropping out at intervals like minute-guns, or to find Lucy gone and
+Talboys reading the coals. Then the schemer sighed, and took to strong
+coffee soon after dinner, and gave up his nap, and its loss impaired
+his temper the rest of the evening.
+
+He indemnified himself for these sleepless dinners by asking David
+Dodd and his sister to tea thrice a week on the off-nights; this
+joyous pair amused the old gentleman, and he was not the man to deny
+himself a pleasure without a powerful motive.
+
+"What, again so soon?" hazarded Lucy, one day that he bade her invite
+them. "I hardly know how to word my invitation; I have exhausted the
+forms."
+
+"If you say another word, I'll make them come every night. Am I to
+have no amusement?" he added, in a deep tone of reproach; "they make
+me laugh."
+
+"Ah! I forgot; forgive me."
+
+"Little hypocrite; don't they you too, pray? Why, you are as dull as
+ditchwater the other evenings."
+
+"Me, dear, dull with you?"
+
+"Yes, Miss Crocodile, dull with a pattern uncle and his friend--and
+your admirer." He watched her to see how she would take this last
+word. Catch her taking it at all. "I am never dull with you, dear
+uncle," said she; "but a third person, however estimable, is a certain
+restraint, and when that person is not very lively--" Here the
+explanation came quietly to an untimely end, like those old tunes that
+finish in the middle or thereabouts.
+
+"But that is the very thing; what do I ask them for to-night but to
+thaw Talboys?"
+
+"To thaw Talboys? he! he!"
+
+Lucy seemed so tickled by this expression that the old gentleman was
+sorry he had used it.
+
+"I mean, they will make him laugh." Then, to turn it off, he said
+hastily, "And don't forget the fiddle, Lucy."
+
+"Oh, yes, dear, please let me forget that, and then perhaps they may
+forget to bring it."
+
+"Why, you pressed him to bring it; I heard you."
+
+"Did I?" said Lucy, ruefully.
+
+"I am sure I thought you were mad after a fiddle, you seconded Eve so
+warmly; so that was only your extravagant politeness after all. I am
+glad you are caught. I like a fiddle, so there is no harm done."
+
+Yes, reader, you have hit it. Eve, who openly quizzed her brother, but
+secretly adored him, and loved to display all his accomplishments, had
+egged on Mr. Fountain to ask David to bring his violin next time. Lucy
+had shivered internally. "Now, of all the screeching, whining things
+that I dislike, a violin!"--and thus thinking, gushed out, "Oh, pray
+do, Mr. Dodd," with a gentle warmth that settled the matter and
+imposed on all around.
+
+This evening, then, the Dodds came to tea.
+
+They found Lucy alone in the drawing-room, and Eve engaged her
+directly in sprightly conversation, into which they soon drew David,
+and, interchanging a secret signal, plied him with a few artful
+questions, and--launched him. But the one sketch I gave of his manner
+and matter must serve again and again. Were I to retail to the reader
+all the droll, the spirited, the exciting things he told his hearers,
+there would be no room for my own little story; and we are all so
+egotistical! Suffice it to say, the living book of travels was
+inexhaustible; his observation and memory were really marvelous, and
+his enthusiasm, coupled with his accuracy of detail, had still the
+power to inthrall his hearers.
+
+"Mr. Dodd," said Lucy, "now I see why Eastern kings have a
+story-teller always about them--a live story-teller. Would not you
+have one, Miss Dodd, if you were Queen of Persia?"
+
+"Me? I'd have a couple--one to make me laugh; one miserable."
+
+"One would be enough if his resources were equal to your brother's.
+Pray go on, Mr. Dodd. It was madness to interrupt you with small
+talk."
+
+David hung his head for a moment, then lifted it with a smile, and
+sailed in the spirit into the China seas, and there told them how the
+Chinamen used to slip on board his ship and steal with supernatural
+dexterity, and the sailors catch them by the tails, which they
+observing, came ever with their tails soaped like pigs at a village
+feast; and how some foolhardy sailors would venture into the town at
+the risk of their lives; and how one day they had to run for it, and
+when they got to the shore their boat was stolen, and they had to
+'bout ship and fight it out, and one fellow who knew the natives
+had loaded the sailors' guns with currant jelly. Make
+ready--present--fire! In a moment the troops of the Celestial Empire
+smarted, and were spattered with seeming gore, and fled yelling.
+
+Then he told how a poor comrade of his was nabbed and clapped in
+prison, and his hands and feet were to be cut off at sunrise; himself
+at noon. It was midnight, and strict orders from the quarterdeck had
+been issued that no man should leave the ship: what was to be done? It
+was a moonlight night. They met, silent as death, between
+decks--daren't speak above a whisper, for fear the officers should
+hear them. His messmate was crying like a child. One proposed one
+thing, one another; but it was all nonsense, and we knew it was, and
+at sunrise poor Tom must die.
+
+At last up jumps one fellow, and cries, "Messmates, I've got it; Tom
+isn't dead yet."
+
+This was the moment Mr. Fountain and Mr. Talboys chose for coming into
+the drawing-room, of course. Mr. Fountain, with a shade of hesitation
+and awkwardness, introduced the Dodds to Mr. Talboys: he bowed a
+little stiffly, and there was a pause. Eve could not repress a little
+movement of nervous impatience. "David is telling us one of his
+nonsensical stories, sir," said she to Mr. Fountain, "and it is so
+interesting; go on, David."
+
+"Well, but," said David, modestly, "it isn't everybody that likes
+these sea-yarns as you do, Eve. No, I'll belay, and let my betters get
+a word in now."
+
+"You are more merciful than most story-tellers, sir," said Talboys.
+
+Eve tossed her head and looked at Lucy, who with a word could have the
+story go on again. That young lady's face expressed general
+complacency, politeness, and _tout m'est egal._ Eve could have
+beat her for not taking David's part. "Doubleface!" thought she. She
+then devoted herself with the sly determination of her sex to trotting
+David out and making him the principal figure in spite of the
+new-corner.
+
+But, as fast as she heated him, Talboys cooled him. We are all great
+at something or other, small or great. Talboys was a first-rate
+freezer. He was one of those men who cannot shine, but can eclipse.
+They darken all but a vain man by casting a dark shadow of trite
+sentences on each luminary. The vain man insults them directly, and so
+gets rid of them.
+
+Talboys kept coming across honest enthusiastic David with little
+remarks, each skillfully discordant with the rising sentiment. Was he
+droll, Talboys did a bit of polite gravity on him; was he warm in
+praise of some gallant action, chill irony trickled on him from T.
+
+His flashes of romance were extinguished by neat little dicta,
+embodying sordid and false, but current views of life. The gauze wings
+of eloquence, unsteeled by vanity, will not bear this repeated dabbing
+with prose glue, so David collapsed and Talboys conquered--"spell"
+benumbed "charm." The sea-wizard yielded to the petrifier, and "could
+no more," as the poets say. Talboys smiled superior. But, as his art
+was a purely destructive one, it ended with its victim; not having an
+idea of his own in his skull, the commentator, in silencing his text,
+silenced himself and brought the society to a standstill. Eve sat with
+flashing eyes; Lucy's twinkled with sly fun: this made Eve angrier.
+She tried another tack.
+
+"You asked David to bring his fiddle," said she, sharply, "but I
+suppose now--"
+
+"Has he brought it?" asked Mr. Fountain, eagerly.
+
+"Yes, he has; I made him" (with a glance of defiance at Talboys).
+
+Mr. Fountain rang the bell directly and sent for the fiddle. It came.
+David took it and tuned it, and made it discourse. Lucy leaned a
+little back in her chair, wore her "_tout m'est egal_ face," and
+Eve watched her like a cat. First her eyes opened with a mild
+astonishment, then her lips parted in a smile; after a while a faint
+color came and went, and her eyes deepened and deepened in color, and
+glistened with the dewy light of sensibility.
+
+A fiddle wrought this, or rather genius, in whose hand a jews-harp is
+the lyre of Orpheus, a fiddle the harp of David, a chisel a hewer of
+heroic forms, a brush or a pen the scepter of souls, and, alas! a nail
+a picklock.
+
+Inside every fiddle is a soul, but a coy one. The nine hundred and
+ninety-nine never win it. They play rapid tunes, but the soul of
+beautiful gayety is not there; slow tunes, very slow ones, wherein the
+spirit of whining is mighty, but the sweet soul of pathos is absent;
+doleful, not nice and tearful. Then comes the Heaven-born fiddler,*
+who can make himself cry with his own fiddle. David had a touch of
+this witchcraft. Though a sound musician and reasonably master of his
+instrument, he could not fly in a second up and down it, tickling the
+fingerboard and scratching the strings without an atom of tone, as the
+mechanical monkeys do that boobies call fine players.
+
+     * This is a definition of the Heaven-born fiddler by Pate
+     Bailey, a gypsy tinker and celestial violinist. Being asked
+     for a test of proficiency on that instrument, he replied
+     that no man is a fiddler "till he can gar himsel greet wi a
+     feddle."
+
+     "Great Orpheus played so well he moved Old Nick,
+      But these move nothing but their fiddlestick."*
+
+     * See how unjust satire is! Don't they move their finger-
+     nails?
+
+But he could make you laugh and crow with his fiddle, and could make
+you jump up, aetat. 60, and snap your fingers at old age and
+propriety, and propose a jig to two bishops and one master of the
+rolls, and, they declining, pity them without a shade of anger, and
+substitute three chairs; then sit unabashed and smiling at the past;
+and the next minute he could make you cry, or near it. In a word he
+could evoke the soul of that wonderful wooden shell, and bid it
+discourse with the souls and hearts of his hearers.
+
+Meantime Lucy Fountain's face would have interested a subtle student
+of her sex.
+
+Her sensibility to music was great, and the feeling strains stole into
+her nature, and stirred the treasures of the deep to the surface. Eve,
+a keen if not a profound observer, was struck by the rising beauty of
+this countenance, over which so many moods chased one another. She
+said to herself: "Well, David is right, after all; she is a lovely
+girl. Her features are nothing out of the way. Her nose is neither one
+thing nor the other, but her expression is beautiful. None of your
+wooden faces for me. And, dear heart, how her neck rises! La! how her
+color comes and goes! Well, I do love the fiddle myself dearly; and
+now, if her eyes are not brimming; I could kiss her! La! David," cried
+she, bursting the bounds of silence, "that is enough of the tune the
+old cow died of; take and play something to keep our hearts up--do."
+
+Eve's good-humor and mirth were restored by David's success, and now
+nothing would serve her turn but a duet, pianoforte and violin. Miss
+Fountain objected, "Why spoil the violin?" David objected too, "I had
+hoped to hear the piano-forte, and how can I with a fiddle sounding
+under my chin?" Eve overruled both peremptorily.
+
+"Well, Miss Dodd, what shall we select? But it does not matter; I feel
+sure Mr. Dodd can play _a livre ouvert."_
+
+"Not he," said Eve, hypocritically, being secretly convinced he could.
+"Can you play 'a leevre ouvert,' David?"
+
+"Who is it by, Miss Fountain?" Lucy never moved a muscle.
+
+After a rummage a duet was found that looked promising, and the
+performance began. In the middle David stopped.
+
+"Ha! ha! David's broke down," shrieked Eve, concealing her uneasiness
+under fictitious gayety. "I thought he would."
+
+"I beg your pardon," explained David to Miss Fountain, "but you are
+out of time."
+
+"Am I?" said Lucy, composedly.
+
+"And have been, more or less, all through."
+
+"David, you forget yourself."
+
+"No, no; set me right, by all means, Mr. Dodd. I am not a hardened
+offender."
+
+"Is it not just possible the violin may be the instrument that is out
+of time?" suggested Talboys, insidiously.
+
+"No," said David, simply, "I was right enough."
+
+"Let us try again, Mr. Dodd. Play me a few bars first in exact time.
+Thank you. Now."
+
+"All went merry as a marriage bell" for a page and a half; then David,
+fiddling away, cried out, "You are getting too fast; 'ri tum tiddy,
+iddy ri tum ti;" then, by stamping and accenting very strongly, he
+kept the piano from overflowing its bounds. The piece ended. Eve
+rubbed her hands. "Now you'll catch it, Mr. David!"
+
+"I am afraid I gave you a great deal of trouble, Mr. Dodd."
+
+_"En revanche,_ you gave us a great deal of pleasure," put in Mr.
+Talboys.
+
+Lucy turned her head and smiled graciously. "But piano-forte players
+play so much by themselves, they really forget the awful importance of
+time."
+
+"I profit by your confession that they do sometimes play by
+themselves," said Mr. Talboys. "Be merciful, and let us hear you by
+yourself."' Eve turned as red as fire.
+
+David backed the request sincerely.
+
+Lucy played a piece composed expressly for the piano by a pianist of
+the day. David sat on her left hand and watched intently how she did
+it.
+
+When it was over, Talboys did a bit of rapture; Eve another.
+
+"That is playing."
+
+"I would not have believed it if I had not seen it done," said David.
+"Eve, you should have seen her beautiful fingers thread in and out
+among the keys; it was like white fire dancing; and as for her hand,
+it is not troubled with joints like ours, I should say."
+
+"The music, Mr. Dodd," said Lucy, severely.
+
+"Oh, the music! Well, I could hardly take on me to say. You see I
+heard it by the eye, and that was all in its favor; but I should say
+the music wasn't worth a button."
+
+"David!"
+
+"How you run off with one's words, Eve! I mean, played by anybody but
+her. Why, what was it, when you come to think? Up and down the gamut,
+and then down and up. No more sense in it than _a b c_--a
+scramble to the main-masthead for nothing, and back to no good. I'd as
+lief see you play on the table, Miss Fountain."
+
+"Poor Moscheles!" said Lucy, dryly.
+
+"Revenge is in your power," said Talboys; "play no more; punish us all
+for this one heretic."
+
+Lucy reflected a moment; she then took from the canterbury a thick old
+book. "This was my mother's. Her taste was pure in music, as in
+everything. I shall be sorry if you do not _all_ like this,"
+added she, softly.
+
+It was an old mass; full, magnificent chords in long succession,
+strung together on a clear but delicate melody. She played it to
+perfection: her lovely hands seemed to grasp the chords. No fumbling
+in the base; no gelatinizing in the treble. Her touch, firm and
+masterly, yet feminine, evoked the soul of her instrument, as David
+had of his, and she thought of her mother as she played. These were
+those golden strains from which all mortal dross seems purged. Hearing
+them so played, you could not realize that he who writ them had ever
+eaten, drunk, smoked, snuffed, and hated the composer next door. She
+who played them felt their majesty and purity. She lifted her beaming
+eye to heaven as she played, and the color receded from her cheek; and
+when her enchantment ended she was silent, and all were silent, and
+their ears ached for the departed charm.
+
+Then she looked round a mute inquiry.
+
+Talboys applauded loudly.
+
+But the tear stood in David's eye, and he said nothing.
+
+"Well, David," said Eve, reproachfully, "I'm sure if that does not
+please you--"
+
+"Please me," cried David, a little fretfully; "more shame for me if it
+does not. Please is not the word. It is angel music, I call it--ah!"
+
+"Well, you need not break your heart for that: he is going to cry--ha!
+ha!"
+
+"I'm no such thing," cried David, indignantly, and blew his
+nose--promptly, with a vague air of explanation and defiance.
+
+But why the male of my species blows its nose to hide its sensibility
+a deeper than I must decide.
+
+Mr. Talboys for some time had not been at his ease. He had been
+playing too, and an instrument he hated--second fiddle. He rose and
+joined Mr. Fountain, who was sitting half awake on a distant sofa.
+
+"Aha!" thought Eve, exulting, "we have driven him away."
+
+Judge her mortification when Lucy, after shutting the piano, joined
+her uncle and Mr. Talboys. Eve whispered David: "Gone to smooth him
+down: the high and mighty gentleman wasn't made enough of."
+
+"Every one in their turn," said David, calmly; "that is manners. Look!
+it is the old gentleman she is being kind to. She could not be unkind
+to anyone, however."
+
+Eve put her lips to David's ear: "She will be unkind to you if you are
+ever mad enough to let her see what I see," said she, in a cutting
+whisper.
+
+"What do you see? More than there is to see, I'll wager," said David,
+looking down.
+
+"Ah! that is the way with young men, the moment they take a fancy;
+their sister is nothing to them, their best friend loses their
+confidence."
+
+"Don't ye say that, Eve--now don't say that!"
+
+"No, no, David, never mind me. I am cross. And if you saw a sore heart
+in store for anyone you had a regard for, wouldn't you be cross? Young
+men are so stupid, they can't read a girl no more than Hebrew. If she
+is civil and affable to them, oh, they are the man directly, when,
+instead of that, if it was so, she would more likely be shy and half
+afraid to come near them. David, you are in a fool's paradise. In
+company, and even in flirtation, all sorts meet and part again; but it
+isn't so with marriage. There 'it is beasts of a kind that in one are
+joined, and birds of a feather that came together.' Like to like,
+David. She is a fine lady and she will marry a fine gentleman, and
+nothing else, with a large income. If she knew what has been in your
+head this month past, she would open her eyes and ask if the man was
+mad."
+
+"She has a right to look down on me, I know," murmured David, humbly;
+"but" (his eye glowing with sudden rapture) "she doesn't--she
+doesn't."
+
+"Look down on you! You are better company than she is, or anyone she
+can get in this-out-of-the-way place; it is her interest to be civil
+to you. I am too hard upon her. She is a lady--a perfect lady--and
+that is why she is above giving herself airs. No, David, she is not
+the one to treat us with disrespect, if we don't forget ourselves. But
+if ever you let her see that you are in love with her, you will get an
+affront that will make your cheek burn and my heart smart--so I tell
+you."
+
+"Hush! I never told you I was in love with her."
+
+"Never told me? Never told me? Who asked you to tell me? I have eyes,
+if you have none."
+
+"Eve," said David imploringly, "I don't hear of any lover that she
+has. Do you?"
+
+"No," said Eve carelessly. "But who knows? She passes half the year a
+hundred miles from this, and there are young men everywhere. If she
+was a milkmaid, they'd turn to look at her with such a face and figure
+as that, much more a young lady with every grace and every charm. She
+has more than one after her that we never see, take my word."
+
+Eve had no sooner said this than she regretted it, for David's face
+quivered, and he sighed like one trying to recover his breath after a
+terrible blow.
+
+What made this and the succeeding conversation the more trying and
+peculiar was, that the presence of other persons in the room, though
+at a considerable distance, compelled both brother and sister, though
+anything but calm, to speak _sotto voce._ But in the history of
+mankind more strange and incongruous matter has been dealt with in an
+undertone, and with artificial and forced calmness.
+
+"My poor David!" said Eve sorrowfully; "you who used to be so proud,
+so high-spirited, be a man! Don't throw away such a treasure as your
+affection. For my sake, dear David, your sister's sake, who does love
+you so very, very dearly!"
+
+"And I love you, Eve. Thank you. It was hard lines. Ah! But it is
+wholesome, no doubt, like most bitters. Yes. Thank you, Eve. I do
+admire her v-very much," and his voice faltered a little. "But I am a
+man for all that, and I'll stand to my own words. I'll never be any
+woman's slave."
+
+"That is right, David."
+
+"I will not give hot for cold, nor my heart for a smile
+or two. I can't help admiring her, and I do hope she will
+be--happy--ah!--whoever she fancies. But, if I am never to command
+her, I won't carry a willow at my mast-head, and drift away from
+reason and manhood, and my duty to you, and mother, and myself."
+
+"Ah! David, if you could see how noble you look now. Is it a promise,
+David? for I know you will keep your word if once you pass it."
+
+"There is my hand on it, Eve."
+
+The brother and sister grasped hands, and when David was about to
+withdraw his, Eve's soft but vigorous little hand closed tighter and
+kept it firmer, and so they sat in silence.
+
+"Eve."
+
+"My dear!"
+
+"Now don't you be cross."
+
+"No, dear. Eve is sad, not cross; what is it?
+
+"Well, Eve--dear Eve."
+
+"Don't be afraid to speak your mind to me--why should you?"
+
+"Well, then, Eve, now, if she had not some little kindness for me,
+would she be so pleased with these thundering yarns I keep spinning
+her, as old as Adam, and as stale as bilge-water? You that are so
+keen, how comes it you don't notice her eyes at these times? I feel
+them shine on me like a couple of suns. They would make a statue pay
+the yarn out. Who ever fancied my chat as she does?"
+
+"David," said Eve, quietly, "I have thought of all this; but I am
+convinced now there is nothing in it. You see, David, mother and I are
+used to your yarns, and so we take them as a matter of course; but the
+real fact is, they are very interesting and very enticing, and you
+tell them like a book. You came all fresh to this lady, and, as she is
+very quick, she had the wit to see the merit of your descriptions
+directly. I can see it myself _now._ All young women like to be
+amused, David, and, above all, _excited;_ and your stories are
+very exciting; that is the charm; that is what makes her eyes fire;
+but if that puppy there, or that book-shelf yonder, could tell her
+your stories, she would look at either the puppy or the book-stand
+with just the same eyes she looks on you with, my poor David."
+
+"Don't say so, Eve. Let me think there is some little feeling for me
+inside those sweet eyes, that look so kind on me--"
+
+"And on me, and on everybody. It is her manner. I tell you she is so
+to all the world. She isn't the first I've met. Trust me to read a
+woman, David; what can you know?"
+
+"I know nothing; but they tell me you can fathom one another better
+than any man ever could," said David, sorrowfully.
+
+"'David, just now you were telling as interesting a story as ever was.
+You had just got to the thrilling part."
+
+"Oh, had I? What was I saying?"
+
+"I can't tell you to the very word; I am not your sweetheart any more
+than she is; but one of the sailors was in danger of his life, and so
+on. You never told me the story before; I was not worth it. Well, just
+then does not that affected puppy choose his time to come meandering
+in?"
+
+"Puppy! I call him a fine gentleman."
+
+"Well, there isn't so much odds. In he comes; your story is broken off
+directly. Does she care? No, she has got one of her own set; he is not
+a very bright one; he is next door to a fool. No matter; before he
+came, to judge by her crocodile eyes, she was hot after your story;
+the moment he did come, she didn't care a pin for you _nor_ your
+story. I gave her more than one opening to bring it on again; not she.
+I tell you, you are nothing but a _pass_ time;* you suit her turn
+so long as none of her own set are to be had. If she would leave you
+for such a jackanapes as that, what would she do for a real gentleman?
+such a man as she is a woman, for instance, and as if there weren't
+plenty such in her own set--oh, you goose!"
+
+     * I write this word as the lady thought proper to pronounce
+     it.
+
+David interrupted her. "I have been a vain fool, and it is lucky no
+one has seen it but you," and he hid his face in his hands a moment;
+then, suddenly remembering where he was, and that this was an attitude
+to attract attention, he tried to laugh--a piteous effort; then he
+ground his teeth and said: "Let us go home. All I want now is to get
+out of the house. It would have been better for me if I had never set
+foot in it."
+
+"Hush! be calm, David, for Heaven's sake. I am only waiting to catch
+her eye, and then we'll bid them good-evening."
+
+"Very well, I'll wait"; and David fixed his eyes sadly and doggedly on
+the ground. "I won't look at her if I can help it," said he,
+resolutely, but very sadly, and turned his head away.
+
+"Now, David," whispered Eve.
+
+David rose mechanically and moved with his sister toward the other
+group. Miss Fountain turned at their approach. Somewhat to David's
+surprise, Eve retreated as quickly as she had advanced.
+
+"We are to stay."
+
+"What for?"
+
+"She made me a signal."
+
+"Not that I saw," said David, incredulously.
+
+"What! didn't you see her give me a look?"
+
+"Yes, I did. But what has that to do with it?"
+
+"That look was as much as to say, Please stay a little longer; I have
+something to say to you."
+
+"Good Heavens!"
+
+"I think it is about a bonnet, David. I asked her to put me in the way
+of getting one made like hers. She does wear heavenly bonnets."
+
+"Ay. I did well to listen to you, Eve; you see I can't even read her
+face, much less her heart. I saw her look up, but that was all. How is
+a poor fellow to make out such craft as these, that can signal one
+another a whole page with a flash of the eye? Ah!"
+
+"There, David, he is going. Was I right?"
+
+Mr. Talboys was, in fact, taking leave of Miss Fountain. The old
+gentleman convoyed his friend. As the door closed on them Miss
+Fountain's face seemed to catch fire. Her sweet complacency gave way
+to a half-joyous, half-irritated small energy. She came gliding
+swiftly, though not hurriedly, up to Eve. "Thank you for seeing." Then
+she settled softly and gradually on an ottoman, saying, "Now, Mr.
+Dodd."
+
+David looked puzzled. "What is it?" and he turned to his interpreter,
+Eve.
+
+But it was Lucy who replied: "'His messmate was crying like a child.
+At sunrise poor Tom must die. Then up rose one fellow' (we have not
+any idea who one fellow means in these narratives--have we, Miss
+Dodd?) 'and cried, "I have it, messmates. Tom isn't dead yet."' Now,
+Mr. Dodd, between that sentence and the one that is to follow all that
+has happened in this room was a hideous dream. On that understanding
+we have put up with it. It is now happily dispersed, and we--go ahead
+again."
+
+"I see, Eve, she thinks she would like some more of that China yarn."
+
+"Her sentiments are not so tame. She longs for it, thirsts for it, and
+must and will have it--if you will be so very obliging, Mr. Dodd." The
+contrast between all this singular vivacity of Miss Fountain and the
+sudden return to her native character and manner in the last sentence
+struck the sister as very droll--seemed to the brother so winning,
+that, scarcely master of himself, he burst out: "You shan't ask me
+twice for that, or anything I can give you;" and it was with burning
+cheeks and happy eyes he resumed his tale of bold adventure and skill
+on one side, of numbers, danger and difficulty on the other. He told
+it now like one inspired, and both the young ladies hung panting and
+glowing on his words.
+
+David and Eve went home together.
+
+David was in a triumphant state, but waited for Eve to congratulate
+him. Eve was silent.
+
+At last David could refrain no longer. "Why, you say nothing."
+
+"No. Common sense is too good to be wasted; don't go so fast."
+
+"No. There--I heave to for convoy to close up. Would it be wasted on
+me? ha! ha!"
+
+"To-night. There you go pelting on again."
+
+"Eve, I can't help it. I feel all canvas, with a cargo of angels'
+feathers and sunshine for ballast."
+
+"Moonshine."
+
+"Sun, moon, and stars, and all that is bright by night or day. I'll
+tell you what to do; you keep your head free, and come on under easy
+sail; I'll stand across your bows with every rag set and drawing, so
+then I shall be always within hail."
+
+This sober-minded maneuver was actually carried out. The little
+corvette sailed steadily down the middle of the lane; the great
+merchantman went pitching and rolling across her bows; thus they kept
+together, though their rates of sailing were so different.
+
+Merry Eve never laughed once, but she smiled, and then sighed.
+
+David did not heed her. All of a moment his heart vented itself in a
+sea-ditty so loud, and clear, and mellow, that windows opened, and out
+came nightcapped heads to hear him carol the lusty stave, making night
+jolly.
+
+Meantime, the weather being balmy, Mr. Fountain had walked slowly with
+Mr. Talboys in another direction. Mr. Talboys inquired, "Who were
+these people?"
+
+"Oh, only two humble neighbors," was the reply.
+
+"I never met them anywhere. They are received in the neighborhood?"
+
+"Not in society, of course."
+
+"I don't understand you. Have not I just met them here?"
+
+"That is not the way to put it," said the old gentleman, a little
+confused. "You did not meet them; you did me and my niece the honor to
+dine with us, and the Dodds dropped in to tea--quite another matter."
+
+"Oh, is it?"
+
+"Is it not? I see you have been so long out of England you have
+forgotten these little distinctions; society would go to the deuce
+without them. We ask our friends, and persons of our own class, to
+dinner, but we ask who we like to tea in this county. Don't you like
+her? She is the prettiest girl in the village."
+
+"Pretty and pert."
+
+"Ha! ha! that is true. She is saucy enough, and amusing in
+proportion."
+
+"It is the man I alluded to."
+
+"What, David? ay, a very worthy lad. He is a downright modest,
+well-informed young man."
+
+"I don't doubt his general merits, but let me ask you a serious
+question: his evident admiration of Miss Fountain?"
+
+"His ad-mi-ration of Miss Fountain?"
+
+"Is it agreeable to you?"
+
+"It is a matter of consummate indifference to me."
+
+"But not, I think, to her. She showed a submission to the cub's
+impertinence, and a desire to please instead of putting him down, that
+made me suspect. Do you often ask Mr. Dodd--what a name!--to tea?"
+
+"My dear friend, I see that, with all your accomplishments, you have
+something to learn. You want insight into female character. Now I, who
+must go to school to you on most points, can be of use to you here."
+Then, seeing that Talboys was mortified at being told thus gently
+there was a department of learning he had not fathomed, he added: "At
+all events, I can interpret my own niece to you. I have known her much
+longer than you have."
+
+Mr. Talboys requested the interpreter to explain the pleasure his
+niece took in Mr. Dodd's fiddle.
+
+"Part politeness, part sham. Why, she wanted not to ask them this
+evening, the fiddle especially. I'll give you the clue to Lucy; she is
+a female Chesterfield, and the droll thing is she is polite at heart
+as well. Takes it from her mother: she was something between an angel
+and a duchess."
+
+"Politeness does not account for the sort of partiality she showed for
+these Dodds while I was in the room."
+
+"Pure imagination, my dear friend. I was there; and had so monstrous a
+phenomenon occurred I must have seen it. If you think she could really
+prefer their society to yours, you are as unjust to her as yourself.
+She may have concealed her real preference out of _finesse,_ or
+perhaps she has observed that our inferiors are touchy, and ready to
+fancy we slight them for those of our own rank."
+
+Talboys shrugged his shoulders; he was but half convinced. "Her
+enthusiasm when the cub scraped the fiddle went beyond mere
+politeness."
+
+"Beyond other people's, you mean. Nothing on earth ever went beyond
+hers--ha! ha! ha! To-morrow night, if you like, we will have my
+gardener, Jack Absolom, in to tea."
+
+"No, I thank you. I have no wish to go beyond Mr. and Miss Dodd."
+
+"Oh, only for an experiment. The first minute Jack will be wretched,
+and want to sink through the floor; but in five minutes you will fancy
+Lucy will have made Jack Absolom at home in my drawing-room. He will
+be laying down the law about Jonquilles, and she all sweetness,
+curiosity, and enthusiasm outside--_ennui_ in."
+
+"Can her eyes glisten out of politeness?" inquired Talboys, with a
+subdued sneer.
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"They could shed tears, perhaps, for the same motive?" said Talboys,
+with crushing irony.
+
+"Well! Hum! I'd back them at four to seven."
+
+Mr. Talboys was silent, and his manner showed that he was a little
+mortified at a subject turning to joke which he had commenced
+seriously. He must stop this annoyance. He said severely, "It is time
+to come to an understanding with you."
+
+At these words, and, above all, at their solemn tone, the senior
+pricked his ears and prepared his social diplomacy.
+
+"I have visited very frequently at your house, Mr. Fountain."
+
+"Never without being welcome, my dear sir."
+
+"You have, I think, divined one reason of my very frequent visits
+here."
+
+"I have not been vain enough to attribute them entirely to my own
+attractions."
+
+"You approve the homage I render to that other attraction?"
+
+"Unfeignedly."
+
+"Am I so fortunate as to have her suffrage, too?"
+
+"I have no better means of knowing than you have."
+
+"Indeed! I was in hopes you might have sounded her inclinations."
+
+"I have scrupulously avoided it," replied the veteran. "I had no right
+to compromise you upon mere conjecture, however reasonable. I awaited
+your authority to take any move in so delicate a matter. Can you blame
+me? On one side my friend's dignity, on the other a young lady's peace
+of mind, and that young lady my brother's daughter."
+
+"You were right, my dear sir; I see and appreciate your reserve, your
+delicacy, though I am about to remove its cause. I declare myself to
+you your niece's admirer; have I your permission to address her?"
+
+"You have, and my warmest wishes for your success."
+
+"Thank you. I think I may hope to succeed, provided I have a fair
+chance afforded me."
+
+"I will take care you shall have that."
+
+"I should prefer not to have others buzzing about the lady whose
+affection I am just beginning to gain."
+
+"You pay this poor sailor an amazing compliment," said Mr. Fountain, a
+little testily; "if he admires Lucy it can only be as a puppy is
+struck with the moon above. The moon does not respond to all this
+wonder by descending into the whelp's jaws--no more will my niece. But
+that is neither here nor there; you are now her declared suitor, and
+you have a right to stipulate; in short, you have only to say the
+word, and 'exeunt Dodds,' as the play-books say."
+
+"Dodds? I have no objection to the lady. Would it not be possible to
+invite her to tea alone?"
+
+"Quite possible, but useless. She would not stir out without her
+brother."
+
+"She seems a little person likely to give herself airs. Well, then, in
+that case, though as you say I am no doubt raising Mr. Dodd to a false
+importance, still--"
+
+"Say no more; we should indulge the whims of our friends, not attack
+them with reasons. You will see the Dodds no more in my house."
+
+"Oh, as to that, just as you please. Perhaps they would be as well out
+of it," said Talboys, with a sudden affectation of carelessness. "I
+must not take you too far. Good-night."
+
+"Go-o-d night!"
+
+Poor David. He was to learn how little real hold upon society has the
+man who can only instruct and delight it.
+
+Mr. Fountain bustled home, rubbing his hands with delight. "Aha!"
+thought he; "jealous! actually jealous! absurdly jealous! That is a
+good sign. Who would have thought so proud a man could be jealous of a
+sailor? I have found out your vulnerable point, my friend. I'll tell
+Lucy; how she will laugh. David Dodd! Now we know how to manage him,
+Lucy and I. If he freezes back again, we have but to send for David
+Dodd and his fiddle." He bustled home, and up into the drawing-room to
+tell Lucy Mr. Talboys had at last declared himself. His heart felt
+warm. He would settle six thousand pounds on Mrs. Talboys during his
+life and his whole fortune after his death.
+
+He found the drawing-room empty. He rang the bell. "Where is Miss
+Fountain?" John didn't know, but supposed she had gone to her room.
+
+"You don't know? You never know anything. Send her maid to me."
+
+The maid came and courtesied demurely at the door.
+
+"Tell your mistress I want to speak to her directly--before she
+undresses."
+
+The maid went out, and soon returned to say that her mistress had
+retired to rest; but that, if he pleased, she would rise, and just
+make a demi-toilet, and come to him. This smooth and fair-sounding
+proposal was not, I grieve to say, so graciously received as offered.
+"Much obliged," snapped old Fountain. "Her _demi-toilette_ will
+keep me another hour out of my bed, and I get no sleep after dinner
+now _among you._ Tell her to-morrow at breakfast time will do."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+DAVID DODD was so radiant and happy for a day or two that Eve had not
+the heart to throw cold water on him again.
+
+Three days elapsed, and no invitation to Font Abbey; on this his
+happiness cooled of itself. But when day after day rolled by, and no
+Font Abbey, he was dashed, uneasy, and, above all, perplexed. What
+could be the reason? Had he, with his rough ways, offended her? Had
+she been too dignified to resent it at the time? Was he never to go to
+Font Abbey again? Eve's first feeling was unmixed satisfaction. We
+have seen already that she expected no good from this rash attachment.
+For a single moment her influence and reasons had seemed to wean David
+from it; but his violent agitation and joy at two words of kindly
+curiosity from Miss Fountain, and the instant unreasonable revival of
+love and hope, showed the strange power she had acquired over him. It
+made Eve tremble.
+
+But now the Fountains were aiding her to cure this folly. She had read
+them right, had described them to David aright. A wind of caprice had
+carried him and her into Font Abbey; another such wind was carrying
+them out. No event had happened. Mr. and Miss Fountain had been seen
+more than once in the village of late. "They have dropped us, and
+thank Heaven!" said Eve, in her idiomatic way.
+
+She pitied David deeply, and was kinder and kinder to him now, to show
+him she felt for him; but she never mentioned the Font Abbey people to
+him either to praise or blame them, though it was all she could do to
+suppress her satisfaction at the turn their insolent caprice had
+taken.
+
+That satisfaction was soon clouded. This time, instead of rousing
+himself and his pride, David sank into a moody despondency; varied by
+occasional fretfulness. His appetite went, and his bright color, and
+his elastic step. This silent sadness was so new in him, such a
+contrast to his natural temperature, large, genial, and ever cheerful,
+that Eve could not bear it. "I must shake him out of this, at all
+hazards," thought she: yet she put off the experiment, and put it off,
+partly in hopes that David would speak first, partly because she saw
+the wound she would probe was deep, and she winced beforehand for her
+patient.
+
+Meantime, prolonged doubt and suspense now goaded with their
+intolerable stings the active spirit that chill misgivings had at
+first benumbed. Spurred into action by these torments, David had
+already watched several days in the neighborhood of Font Abbey,
+determined to speak to Miss Fountain, and find out whether he had
+given her offense; for this was still his uppermost idea. Having
+failed in this attempt at an interview with her, he was now meditating
+a more resolute course, and he paced the little gravel-walk at home
+debating in himself the pros and cons. Raising his head suddenly, he
+saw his sister walking slowly at the other end of the path. She was
+coming toward him, but her eyes were bent thoughtfully on the ground.
+David slipped behind some bushes, not to have his unhappiness and his
+meditations interrupted. The lover and the lunatic have points in
+common.
+
+He had been there some time when a grave little voice spoke quietly to
+him from the lawn. "David, I want to speak to you." David came out.
+
+"Here am I."
+
+"Oh, I knew where you were. Don't do that again, sir, please, or
+you'll catch it."
+
+"Oh, I didn't think you saw me," said David, somewhat confusedly.
+
+"What has that to do with it, stupid? David," continued she, assuming
+a benevolent, cheerful, and somewhat magnificent nonchalance, "I
+sometimes wonder you don't come to me with your troubles. I might
+advise you as well as here and there one. But perhaps you think now,
+because I am naturally gay, I am not sensible. You mustn't go by that
+altogether. Manner is very deceiving. The most foolishly conducted men
+and women ever I met were as grave as judges, and as demure as cats
+after cream. Bless you, there is folly in every heart. Your slow ones
+bottle it up for use against the day wisdom shall be most needed. My
+sort let it fizz out at their mouths in their daily talk, and keep
+their good sense for great occasions, like the present."
+
+"Have we drifted among the proverbs of Solomon?" inquired David,
+dryly. "No need to make so many tacks, Eve. Haven't I seen your sense
+and profited by it--I and one or two more? Who but you has steered the
+house this ten years, and commanded the lubberly crew?"*
+
+     * The reader must not be misled by the familiar phraseology
+     of these two speakers to suppose that anything the least
+     droll or humorous was intended by either of them at any part
+     of this singular dialogue. Their hearts were sad and their
+     faces grave.
+
+"And then again, David, where the heart is concerned, young women are
+naturally in advance of young men."
+
+"God knows. He made them both. I don't."
+
+"Why, all the world knows it. And then, besides, I am five years older
+than you.
+
+"So mother says; but I don't know how to believe it. No one would say
+so to look at you."
+
+"I'll tell you, David. Folk that have small features look a deal
+younger than their years; and you know poor father used to say my face
+was the pattern of a flat-iron. So nobody gives me my age; but I am
+five good years older than you, only you needn't go and tell the town
+crier."
+
+"Well, Eve?"
+
+"Well, then, put all these together, and now, why not come to me for
+friendly advice and the voice of reason?"
+
+"Reason! reason! there are other lights besides reason."
+
+"Jack-o'-lantern, eh? and Will-o'-the-wisp."
+
+"Eve, nobody can advise me that can't feel for me. Nobody can feel for
+me that doesn't know my pain; and you don't know that, because you
+were never in love."
+
+"Oh, then, if I had ever been in love, you would listen."
+
+"As I would to an angel from Heaven."
+
+"And be advised by me."
+
+"Why not? for then you'd be competent to advise; but now you haven't
+an idea what you are talking about."
+
+"What a pity! Don't you think it would be as well if you were not to
+speak to me so sulky?"
+
+"I ask your pardon; Eve. I did not mean to offend you."
+
+"Davy, dear--for God's sake what is this chill that has come between
+you and me? You are a man. Speak out like a man."
+
+David turned his great calm, sorrowful eye full upon her.
+
+"Well, then, Eve, if the truth must be told, I am disappointed in
+you."
+
+"Oh, David."
+
+"A little. You are not the girl I took you for. You know which way my
+fancy lies, yet you keep steering me in the teeth of it; then you see
+how down-hearted I am this while, but not a word of comfort or hope
+comes from you, and me almost dried up for want of one."
+
+"Make one word of it, David--I am not a sister to you."
+
+"I don't say that, but you might be kinder; you are against me just
+when I want you with me the most."
+
+"Now this is what I like," said Eve, cheerfully; "this is plain
+speaking. So now it is my turn, my lad. Do you remember Balaam and his
+ass?"
+
+"Sure," said David; but, used as he was to Eve's transitions, he
+couldn't help staring a little at being carried eastward ho so
+suddenly.
+
+"Then what did the ass say when she broke silence at last?"
+
+"Well, you know, Eve; I take shame to say I don't remember her very
+words, but the tune of them I do. Why, she sang out, 'Avast there! it
+is first fault, so you needn't be so hasty with your thundering rope's
+end."'
+
+"There! You'd make a nice commentator. You haven't taken it up one
+bit; you are as much in the dark as our parson. He preached on her the
+very Sunday you came home, and it was all I could do to help whipping
+up into the pulpit, and snatching away his book, and letting daylight
+in on them."
+
+David was scandalized at the very idea of such a breach of discipline.
+"That is ridiculous," said he; "one can't have two skippers in a
+church any more than in a ship, brig, or bark. But you can let
+daylight in on me."
+
+"I mean. To begin: the ass was in the right and Balaam in the wrong;
+so what becomes of your 'first fault?' She was frugal of her words,
+but every syllable was a needle; the worst is, some skins are so thick
+our needles won't enter 'em. Says she, 'This seven years you have
+known me; always true to the bridle and true to you. Did ever I
+disobey you before? Then why go and fancy I do it without some great
+cause that you can't see?' Then the man's eyes were open, and he saw
+it was destruction his old friend had run back from, and galled his
+foot to save his life; so of course he thanked her, and blessed her
+then. Not he. He was too much of a man."
+
+"Ay, ay, I see; but what is the moral? for I have no heart to expound
+riddles."
+
+"Oh, I'll tell you the moral sooner than you'll like, perhaps. The ass
+is a type, David. In Holy Writ you know almost everything is a type.
+When a thing means one thing and stands for another, that's a type."
+
+"Ducks can swim--at least I've heard so. Now if you could tell me what
+she is a type of?"
+
+"What, the ass? Don't you know? Why, of women, to be sure--of us poor
+creatures of burden, underrated and misunderstood all the world over.
+And Balaam he stands for men, and for you at the head of them," cried
+she, turning round with flashing eyes on David; "you have known me and
+my true affection more than seven years, or seventeen. I carried you
+in my arms when you were a year old and I was six. You were my little
+curly-headed darling, and have been from that day to this. Did ever I
+cross you, or be cold or unkind to you, till the other day?"
+
+"No, Eve, no, no, no! Come sit beside me.
+
+"Then shouldn't you have said, 'Don't slobber _me;_ I won't have
+it; you and I are bad friends.' Oughtn't you to have said, 'Eve could
+never give herself the pain of crossing me' (no, there isn't a man in
+the world with gumption enough to say that--that is a woman's
+thought); but at least you might have said, 'She sees rocks ahead that
+I can't.' (Balaam couldn't see the drawn sword ahead, but there it
+was.) it was for you to say, 'My sister Eve would not change from gay
+to grave all at once, and from indulging me in everything to thwarting
+me and vexing me, unless she saw some great danger threatening your
+peace of mind, your career in life, your very reason, perhaps.'"
+
+"I have been to blame, Eve; but speak out and let me know the worst.
+You have heard something against her character? Speak plain out, for
+Heaven's sake!"
+
+"It is all very well of you to say speak plain out, but there are
+things girls don't like to speak about to any man. But after what you
+said, that you would listen to me if I--so it is my duty. You will see
+my face red enough in about a minute. Two years ago I couldn't have
+done this even for you. It is hard I must expose my own folly--my own
+crime."
+
+"Why, Eve, lass, how you tremble! Drop it now! drop it!"
+
+"Hold your tongue!" said Eve, sharply, but in considerable agitation.
+"It is too late now, after something you have said to me. If I didn't
+speak out now, I should be like that bad man you told us of, who let
+out the beacon light when the wind was blowing hard on shore. Listen,
+David, and take my words to heart. The road you are on now I have been
+upon, only I went much farther on it than you shall go." She resumed
+after a short pause: "You remember Henry Dyke?"
+
+"What, the young clergyman, who used to be always alongside you at our
+last anchorage?"
+
+"Yes. He was just such a man as Miss Fountain is a woman. He was but a
+dish of skim-milk, yet he could poison my life."
+
+Then Eve told the story of her heart. She described her lover as he
+appeared to her in the early days of courtship, young, handsome, good,
+noble in sentiment, and warm and tender in manner. Halcyon days--not a
+speck to be seen on love's horizon.
+
+Then she delineated the fine gradations by which the illusion faded,
+too slowly and too late for her to withdraw the love she had conceived
+for his person at that time when person and mind seemed alike
+superior. She painted with the delicate touch of her sex the portrait
+of a man and a scholar born to please all the world, and incapable of
+condensing his affections; a pious flirt, no longer stimulated to
+genuine ardor by doubts of success, but too kind-hearted to pain her
+beyond measure when a little factitious warmth from time to time would
+give her hours of happiness, keep her, on the whole, content, and,
+above all, retain her his. Then she shifted the mirror to herself, the
+fiery and faithful one, and showed David what centuries of torture a
+good little creature like this Dyke, with its charming exterior, could
+make a quick, and ardent, and devoted nature suffer in a year or two.
+Came out in her narrative, link by link, the gentle delicious
+complacency of the first period, the chill airs that soon ruffled it,
+the glowing hopes, the misgivings that dashed them; then the
+diminution of confidence, more complexing and exasperating than its
+utter loss; the alternations of joy and doubt, the fever and the ague
+of the wounded spirit; then the gusts of hatred followed by deeper
+love; later still, the periodical irritation at hopes long deferred,
+and still gleams of bliss between the paroxysms, so that now, as the
+vulgar say in their tremendous Saxon, she "spent her time between
+heaven and hell"; last of all, the sickness and recklessness of the
+wornout and wearied heart over which melancholy or fury impended.
+
+It was at this crisis when, as she could now see on a calm retrospect,
+her mind was distempered, a new and terrible passion stepped upon the
+scene--jealousy. A friend came and whispered her, "Mr. Dyke was
+courting another woman at the same time, and that other woman was
+rich."
+
+"David, at that word a flash of lightning seemed to go through me, and
+show me the man as he really was."
+
+"The mean scoundrel, to sell himself for money!!"
+
+"No, David, he would not have sold himself, with his eyes open, any
+more than perhaps your Miss Fountain would; but what little heart he
+had he could give to any girl that was not a fright. He was a
+self-deceiver and a general lover, and such characters and their
+affections sink by nature to where their interest lies. Iron is not
+conscious, yet it creeps toward the loadstone. Well, while she was
+with me I held up and managed to question her as coldly as I speak to
+you now, but as soon as she left me I went off in violent hysterics."
+
+"Poor Eve!"
+
+"She had not been gone an hour when doesn't the Devil put it into
+_his_ head to send me a long, affectionate letter, and in the
+postscript he invited himself to supper the same afternoon. Then I got
+up and dried my eyes, and I seemed to turn into stone with resolution.
+'Come!' I said, 'but don't think you shall ever go back to her. Your
+troubles and mine shall end to-night.'"
+
+"Why, Eve, you turn pale with thinking of it. I fear you have had
+worse thoughts pass through your mind than any man is worth."
+
+"David, your blood was in my veins, and mine is in yours.
+
+"If I didn't think so! The Lord deliver us from temptation! We don't
+know ourselves nor those we love."
+
+"He had driven me mad."
+
+"Mad, indeed. What! had you the heart to see the man bleed to
+death--the man you had loved--you, my little gentle Eve?"
+
+"Oh no, no; no blood!" said Eve, with a shudder. "Laudanum!"
+
+"Good God!"
+
+"Oh, I see your thought. No, I was not like the men in the newspapers,
+that kill the poor woman with a sure hand, and then give themselves a
+scratch. It was to be one spoonful for him, but two for me. I can't
+dwell on it" (and she hid her face in her hands); "it is too terrible
+to remember how far I was misled. Who, think you, saved us both?"
+David could not guess.
+
+"A little angel--my good angel, that came home from sea that very
+afternoon. When I saw your curly head, and your sweet, sunburned face
+come in at the door, guess if I thought of putting death in the pot
+after that? Ah! the love of our own flesh and blood, that is the
+love--God and good angels can smile on it."
+
+"Yes; but go on," said David, impatiently.
+
+"It is ended, David. They say a woman's heart is a riddle, and perhaps
+you will think so when I tell you that when he had brought me down to
+this, and hadn't died for it, I turned as cold as ice to him that
+minute, once and forever. I looked back at the precipice, and I hated
+him. Ay, from that evening he was like the black dog to my eye. I used
+to slip anywhere to hide out of his way--just as you did out of mine
+but now."
+
+"Can't you forget that? Well, to be sure. Well?"
+
+"So then (now you may learn what these skim-milk cheeses are made of),
+when he found he was my aversion, he fell in love with me again as hot
+as ever; tried all he could think of to win me back; wrote a letter
+every day; came to me every other day; and when he saw it was all over
+for good between us he cried and bellowed till my hate all went, and
+scorn came in its place. Next time we met he played quite another
+part--the calm, heart-broken Christian; gave me his blessing; went
+down on his knees, and prayed a beautiful prayer, that took me off my
+guard and made me almost respect him; then went away, and quietly
+married the girl with money; and six months after wrote to me he was
+miserable, dated from the vicarage her parents had got him."
+
+"Now, you know, if he wasn't a parson, d--n me if I'd turn in to-night
+till I'd rope's-ended that lubber!"
+
+"As if I'd let you dirty your hands with such rubbish! I sent the note
+back to him with just one line, 'Such a fool as you are has no right
+to be a villain.' There, David, there is your poor sister's life. Oh,
+what I went through for that man! Often I said, is Heaven just, to let
+a poor, faithful, loving girl, who has done no harm, be played with on
+the hook, and tortured hot and cold, day after day, month after month,
+year after year, as I was? But now I see why it was permitted; it was
+for your sake, that you might profit by my sharp experience, and not
+fling your heart away on frozen mud, as I did;" and, happy in this
+feminine theory of Divine justice, Eve rested on her brother a look
+that would have adorned a seraph, then took him gently round the neck
+and laid her little cheek flat to his.
+
+She felt as if she had just saved a beloved life.
+
+Who can estimate the value of a happiness so momentary, yet so holy?
+
+Presently looking up, she saw David's face illuminated. "What is it?"
+she asked joyously; "you look pleased."
+
+David was "pleased because now he was sure she could feel for him, and
+would side with him."
+
+"That I do; but, David, as it is all over between you and her--"
+
+"All over? Am I dead then?"
+
+Eve gasped with astonishment: "Why, what have I been telling you all
+this for?"
+
+"Who should you tell your trouble to but your own brother? Why,
+Eve--ha! ha!--you don't really see any likeness between your case and
+mine, do you? You are not so blind as to compare her with that
+thundering muff?"
+
+"They are brother and sister, as we are," was the reply. "Ever since I
+saw you looked her way, my eye has hardly been off her, and she is
+Henry Dyke in petticoats."
+
+"I don't thank you for saying that. Well, and if she is, what has that
+to do with it? I am not a woman. I am not forced to lie to waiting for
+a wind, as the girls are. I am a man. I can work for the wish of my
+heart, and, if it does not come to meet me, I can overhaul it." Eve
+was a little staggered by this thrust, but she was not one to show an
+antagonist any advantage he had obtained. "David," said she, coldly,
+"it must come to one of two things; either she will send you about
+your business in form, which is a needless affront for you and me
+both, or she will hold you in hand, and play with you and drive you
+_mad._ Take warning; remember what is in our blood. Father was as
+well as you are, but agitation and vexation robbed him of his reason
+for a while; and you and I are his children. Milk of roses creeps
+along in that young lady's veins, but fire gallops in ours. Give her
+up, David, as she has you. She has let you escape; don't fly back like
+a moth to the candle! You shan't, however; I won't let you."
+
+"Eve," said David, quietly, "you argue well, but you can't argue light
+into dark, nor night into day. She is the sun to me. I have seen her
+light; and now I can't live without it."
+
+He added, more calmly: "It is her or none. I never saw a girl but this
+that I wanted to see twice, and I never shall."
+
+"But it is that which frightens me for you, David. Often I have wished
+I could see you flirt a bit and harden your heart."
+
+"And break some poor girl's."
+
+"Oh, hang them! they always contrive to pass it on. What do I care for
+girls! they are not my brother. But no, David, I can't believe you
+will go against me and my judgment after the insult she has put on
+you. No more about it, but just you choose between my respect and this
+wild-goose chase."
+
+"I choose both," said David, quietly. "Both you shan't have"; and,
+with this, up bounced Eve, and stood before him bristling like a
+cat-o'mountain. David tried to soothe her--to coax her--in vain; her
+cheek was on fire, and her eyes like basilisks'. It was a picture to
+see the pretty little fury stand so erect and threatening, great David
+so humble and deprecating, yet so dogged. At last he took out his
+knife; it was not one of your stabbing-knives, but the sort of
+pruning-knife that no sailor went without in those days. "Now," said
+he, sadly, "take and cut my head off--cut me to pieces, if you will--I
+won't wince or complain; and then you will get your way; but while I
+do live I shall love her, and I can't afford to lose her by sitting
+twiddling my thumbs, waiting for luck. I'll try all I know to win her,
+and if I lose her I won't blame her, but myself for not finding out
+how to please her; and with that I'll live a bachelor all my days for
+her, or else die, just as God wills--I shan't much care which."
+
+"Oh, I know you, you obstinate toad," said Eve, clinching her teeth
+and her little hand. Then she burst out furiously: "Are you quite
+resolved?"
+
+"Quite, dear Eve," said David, sadly--but somehow it was like a rock
+speaking.
+
+"Then there is my hand," said Eve, with an instant transition to
+amiable cheerfulness that dazzled a body like a dark lantern flying
+open. Used as David was to her, it stupefied him; he stared at her,
+and was all abroad. "Well, what is the wonder now?" inquired Eve;
+"there are but two of us. We must be together somehow or another must
+we not? You won't be wise with me; well, then, I'll be a fool with
+you. I'll help you with this girl."
+
+"Oh, my dear Eve!"
+
+"You won't gain much. Without me you hadn't the shadow of a chance,
+and with me you haven't a chance, that is all the odds."
+
+"I have! I have! you have taken away my breath with joy;" and David
+was quite overcome with the turn Eve had taken in his favor.
+
+"Oh, you need not thank me," said Eve, tossing her head with a
+hypocrisy all her own. "It is not out of affection for you I do it,
+you may be very sure of that; but it looks so ridiculous to see my
+brother slipping out of my way behind a tree as soon as he sees me
+coming--oh! oh! oh! oh!" And a violent burst of sobs and tears
+revealed how that incident had rankled in this stoical little heart.
+
+David, with the tear in his own eye, clasped her in his arms, and
+kissed her and coaxed her and begged her again and again to forgive
+him. This she did internally at the first word; but externally no;
+pouted and sobbed till she had exacted her full tribute, then cleared
+up with sudden alacrity and inquired his plans.
+
+"I am going to call at Font Abbey, and find out whether I have
+offended her."
+
+Eve demurred, "That would never do. You would betray yourself and
+there would be an end of you. How good I am not to let you go. No,
+I'll call there. I shall quietly find out whether it is her doing that
+we have not been invited so long, or whose it is. You stay where you
+are. I won't be a minute."
+
+When the minute was thirty-five, David came under her window and
+called her. She popped her head out: "Well?"
+
+"What are you doing?"
+
+"Putting on my bonnet."
+
+"Why, you have been an hour."
+
+"You wouldn't have me go there a fright, would you?"
+
+At last she came down and started for Font Abbey, and David was left
+to count the minutes till her return. He paced the gravel sailor-wise,
+taking six steps and then turning, instead of going in each direction
+as far as he could. He longed and feared his sister's return. One
+hour--two hours elapsed; still he walked a supposed deck on the little
+lawn--six steps and then turn. At last he saw her coming in the
+distance; he ran to meet her; but when he came up with her he did not
+speak, but looked wistfully in her face, and tried hard to read it and
+his fate.
+
+"Now, David, don't make a fool of yourself, or I won't tell you."
+
+"No, no. I'll be calm, I will--be--calm."
+
+"Well, then, for one thing, she is to drink tea with us this evening."
+
+"She? Who? What? Where? Oh!"
+
+"Here."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+MR. FOUNTAIN sat at breakfast opposite his niece with a twinkle set in
+his eye like a cherry-clack in a tree, relishing beforehand her
+smiles, and blushes, and gratitude to him for having hooked and played
+his friend, so that now she had but to land him. "I'll just finish
+this delicious cup of coffee," thought he, "and then I'll tell you, my
+lady." While he was slowly sipping said cup, Lucy looked up and said
+graciously to him, "How silly Mr. Talboys was last night--was he not,
+dear?"
+
+"Talboys? silly? what? do you know? Why, what on earth do you mean?"
+
+"Silly is a harsh word--injudicious, then--praising me _a tort et a
+travers,_ and was downright ill-bred--was discourteous to another
+of our guests, Mr. Dodd."
+
+"Confound Mr. Dodd! I wish I had never invited him."
+
+"So do I. If you remember, I dissuaded you."
+
+"I do remember now. What! you don't like him, either?"
+
+"There you are mistaken, dear. I esteem Mr. Dodd highly, and Miss
+Dodd, too, in spite of her manifest defects; but in making up parties,
+however small, we should choose our guests with reference to each
+other, not merely to ourselves. Now, forgive me, it was clear
+beforehand that Mr. Talboys and the Dodds, especially Miss Dodd, would
+never coalesce; hence my objection in inviting them; but you overruled
+me--with a rod of iron, dear."
+
+"Yes; but why? Because you gave me such a bad reason; you never said a
+word about this incongruity."
+
+"But it was in my mind all the time."
+
+"Then why didn't it come out?"
+
+"Because--because something else would come out instead. As if one
+gave one's real reasons for things!! Now, uncle dear, you allow me
+great liberties, but would it have been quite the thing for me to
+lecture you upon the selection of your own _convives?"_
+
+"Why, you have ended by doing it."
+
+Lucy colored. "Not till the event proves--not till--"
+
+"Not till your advice is no longer any use."
+
+Lucy, driven into a corner, replied by an imploring look, which had
+just the opposite effect of argument. It instantly disarmed the old
+boy; he grinned superior, and spared his supple antagonist three
+sarcasms that were all on the tip of his tongue. He was rewarded for
+his clemency by a little piece of advice, delivered by his niece with
+a sort of hesitating and penitent air he did not understand one bit,
+eyes down upon the cloth all the time.
+
+It came to this. He was to listen to her suggestions with a prejudice
+in their favor if he could, and give them credit for being backed by
+good reasons; at all events, he was never to do them the injustice to
+suppose they rested on those puny considerations she might put forward
+in connection with them.
+
+"Silly" is a term carrying with it a certain promptness and decision;
+above all, it was a very remarkable word for Lucy to use. "The girl is
+a martinet in these things," thought he; "she can't forgive the least
+bit of impoliteness. I suppose he snubbed Jack Tar. What a crime! But
+I had better let this blow over before I go any farther." So he
+postponed his disclosure till to-morrow.
+
+But, before to-morrow came, he had thought it over again, and
+convinced himself it would be the wiser course not to interfere at all
+for the present, except by throwing the young people constantly
+together. He had lived long enough to see that, in nine cases out of
+ten, husband and wife might be defined "a man and a woman that were
+thrown a good deal together--generally in the country." A marries B,
+and C D; but, under similar circumstances, i.e., thrown
+together, A would have married D, and C B. This applies to puppy dogs,
+male and female, as well as to boys and girls.
+
+Perhaps a personal feeling had some little share, too, in bringing him
+to the above conclusion. He was a bit of a schemer--liked to play
+puppets. At present, his niece and friend were the largest and finest
+puppets he had on hand; the day he should bring them to a mutual,
+rational understanding, the puppet-strings would fall from his hands
+and the puppets turn independent agents. He represented to Talboys
+that Lucy was young and very innocent in some respects; that marriage
+did not seem to run in her head as in most girls'; that a precipitate
+avowal might startle her, and raise unnecessary difficulties by
+putting her on her guard too early in their acquaintance. "You have no
+rival," he concluded; "best win her quietly by degrees. Undermine the
+coy jade! she is worth it." Cool Talboys acquiesced. David had spurred
+him out of his pace one night; but David was put out of the way; the
+course was clear; and, as he could walk over it now, why gallop?
+
+Childish as his friend's jealousy of this poor sailor had seemed to
+Mr. Fountain, still, the idea once started, he could not help
+inspecting Lucy to see how she would take his sudden exclusion from
+these parties. Now Lucy missed the Dodds very much, and was surprised
+to see them invited no more. But it was not in her character to
+satisfy a curiosity of this sort by putting a point-blank question to
+the person who could tell her in two words. She was one of those
+thorough women whose instinct it is to find out little things, not to
+ask about them. When day after day passed by, and the Dodds were not
+invited, it flashed through her mind, first, that there must be some
+reason for this; secondly, that she had only to take no notice, and
+the reason, if any, would be sure to pop out. She half suspected
+Talboys, but gave him no sign of suspicion. With unruffled demeanor
+and tranquil patience, she watched demurely for disclosures from her
+uncle or from him like the prettiest little velvet panther conceivable
+lying flat in a blind path, deranging nobody, but waiting with amiable
+tranquillity for her friends to come her way.
+
+Thus, under the smooth surface of the little society at Font Abbey
+_finesse_ was cannily at work. But the surface of every society
+is like the skin of a man--hides a deal of secret machinery.
+
+Here were two undermining a "coy jade" (perhaps, on the whole, Uncle
+Fountain, it might be more prudent in you not to call her that name
+again; you see she is my heroine, and I am a man that could cut you
+out of this story, and nobody miss you), and the coy jade watching for
+the miners like a sweet little velvet panther, and, to fling away
+metaphor, an honest heart set aching sore, hard by, for having come
+among such a lot.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+A FABLE tells us a fowler one day saw sitting in tree a wood-pigeon.
+This is a very shy bird, so he had to creep and maneuver to get within
+gunshot unseen, unheard. He stole from tree to tree, and muffled his
+footsteps in the long grass so adroitly that, just as he was going to
+pull the trigger, he stepped light as a feather on a venomous snake.
+It bit; he died.
+
+This is instructive and pointed, but a trifle severe.
+
+What befell Uncle Fountain, busy enmeshing his cock and hen pheasant,
+netting a niece and a friend, went to the same tune, but in a lower
+key, as befitted a domestic tale.*
+
+     * "Domestic," you are aware, is Latin for "tame." Ex.,
+     "domestic fowl," "domestic drama," "story of domestic
+     intereet," "or chronicle of small beer,"
+
+Among his letters at breakfast-time came one which he had no sooner
+read than he flung on the table and went into a fury. Lucy sat aghast;
+then inquired in tender anxiety what was the matter.
+
+Angry explanations are apt to be dark ones. "It is a confounded
+shame--it is a trick, child--it is a do."
+
+"Ah! what is that, uncle? 'a do'?--'a do'?"
+
+"Yes, 'a do.' He knew I hated figures; can't bear the sight of them,
+and the cursed responsibility of adding them up right."
+
+"But who knew all this?"
+
+"He came over here bursting with health, and asked me to be one of his
+executors--mind, one. I consented on a distinct understanding I was
+never to be called upon to act. He was twenty years my junior, and
+like so much mahogany. It was just a form; I did it to soothe a man
+who called himself my friend, and set his mind at rest."
+
+"But, uncle dear, I don't understand even now. Can it be possible that
+a friend has abused your good nature?"
+
+"A little," with an angry sneer.
+
+"Has he betrayed your confidence?"
+
+"Hasn't he?"
+
+"Oh dear! What has he done?"
+
+"Died, that is all," snarled the victim.
+
+"Oh, uncle! Poor man!"
+
+"Poor man, no doubt. But how about poor me? Why, it turns out I am
+sole executor."
+
+"But, dear uncle, how could the poor soul help dying?"
+
+"That is not candid, Lucy," said Mr. Fountain, severely. "Did ever I
+say he could help dying? But he could help coming here under false
+colors, a mahogany face, and trapping his friend."
+
+"Uncle, what is the use--your trying to play the misanthrope with me,
+who know how good you are, in spite of your pretenses to the contrary?
+To hide your emotion from your poor niece, you go into a feigned fury,
+and all the time you know how sorry you are your poor friend is gone."
+
+"Of course I am. He has secured one mourner. He might have died to all
+eternity if he hadn't nailed me first. See how selfish men are, and
+bad-hearted into the bargain. I believe that young fellow had been to
+a doctor, and found out he was booked in spite of his mahogany cheeks;
+so then he rides out here and wheedles an unguarded friend--I'm
+wired--I'm trapped--I'm snared."
+
+Lucy set herself to soothe her injured relative. "You must say to
+yourself, _'C'est un petit matheur.'"_
+
+"Tell myself a falsehood? What shall I gain by that? Let me tell you,
+it is these minor troubles that send a man to Bedlam. One breeds
+another, till they swarm and buzz you distracted, and sting you dead.
+_'Petit maiheur!'_ it is a greater one than you have ever
+encountered since you have been under _my_ wing."
+
+"It is, dear, it is; but I hope to encounter much greater ones before
+I am your age."
+
+"The deuce you do!"
+
+"Or else I shall die without ever having lived--a vegetable, not a
+human being."
+
+"Bombast! a 'flower' your lovers will call you."
+
+"And men of sense a 'weed.' But don't let us discuss me. What I wish
+to know is the nature of your annoyance, dear." He explained to her
+with a groan that he should have to wind up all the affairs of an
+estate of 8,000 pounds a year, pay the annual and other encumbrances,
+etc., etc.
+
+"Well, but, dear, you will be quite at home in this, you have such a
+turn for business."
+
+"For my own," shrieked the old bachelor, angrily, "not for other
+people's. Why, Lucy, there will be half a dozen separate accounts, all
+of four figures. It is not as if executors were paid. And why are they
+not paid? There ought to be a law compelling the estates they
+administer to pay them, and handsomely. It never occurred to me
+before, but now I see the monstrous iniquity of amateur executors,
+amateur trustees, amateur guardians. They take business out of the
+hands of those who live by business. I sincerely regret my share in
+this injustice. If a snob works, he always expects to be paid! how
+much more a gentleman. He ought to be paid double--once for the work,
+and once for giving up his natural ease. Here am I, guardian gratis to
+a cub of sixteen--the worst age--done school, and not begun Oxford and
+governesses."
+
+"Tutors, you mean."
+
+"Do I? Is it the tutors the whelps fall in love with, little goose?
+Stop; I'll describe my 'interesting charge,' as the books call it. He
+has hair you could not tell from tow. He has no eyebrows--a little
+unfledged slippery horror. He used to come in to dessert, and turn all
+our stomachs except his silly father's."
+
+"Poor orphan!"
+
+"When you speak to him he never answers--blushes instead."
+
+"Poor child!"
+
+"He has read of eloquent blushes, and thinks there is no need to reply
+in words--blushing must be such an interesting and effective
+substitute."
+
+"Poor boy, he wants a little judicious kindness. We will have him
+here."
+
+"Here!" cried the old gentleman, with horror. "What! make Font Abbey a
+kennel!!! No, Lucy, no, this house is sacred; no nuisances admitted
+here. Here, on this single spot of earth, reigns comfort, and shall
+reign unruffled while I live. This is the temple of peace. If I must
+be worried, I must, but not beneath this hallowed roof."
+
+This eloquence, delivered as it was with a sudden solemnity, told upon
+the mind.
+
+"Dear Font Abbey," murmured Lucy, half closing her eyes, "how well you
+describe it! Societies of the cosey; the walls seem padded, the
+carpets velvet, and the whole structure care-proof; all is quiet
+gayety and sweet punctuality. Here comfort and good humor move by
+clock-work; that is Font Abbey. Yet you are right; if you were to be
+seen in it no more, it would lose the life of its charm, dear Uncle
+Fountain."
+
+"Thank you, my dear--thank you. I do like to see my friends about me
+comfortable, and, above all, to be comfortable myself. The place is
+well enough, and I am bitterly sorry I must leave it, and sorry to
+leave you, my dear."
+
+"Leave us? not immediately?"
+
+"This very day. Why, the funeral is to be this week--a grand
+funeral--and I have to order it all. Then there are relatives to be
+invited--thirty letters--others to be asked to the reading of the
+will. It will be one hurry-scurry till we get the house clear of the
+corpse and the vultures; then at it I must go, head-foremost, into
+fathomless addition--subtraction--multiplication, and vexation. 'Oh,
+now forever farewell, something or other--farewell content!' You talk
+of misanthropy. I shall end there. Lucy."
+
+"Yes, dear uncle."
+
+"I never--do--a good-natured thing--but--I--bitterly--repent it. By
+Jupiter! the coffee is cold; the first time that has befallen me since
+I turned off seven servants that battled that point of comfort with
+me."
+
+Lucy suggested that the coffee might have cooled a little while he was
+being so kind as to answer her question at unusual length. Then she
+came round to him bringing a fresh supply of fragrant slow poison, and
+sat beside him and soothed him till his ire went down, and came the
+calm depression of a man who, accustomed for many years to do just
+what he liked, found himself suddenly obliged to do something he did
+not like--a thing out of the groove of his habits too.
+
+Sure enough, he left Font Abbey the same day, with a promise, exacted
+by Lucy, that he should make her the partner of all his vexations by
+writing to her every day.
+
+"And, Lucy," said the old Parthian, as he stepped into his
+traveling-carriage, "my friend Talboys will miss me; pray be kind to
+him while I am away. He is a particular friend of mine. I may be
+wrong, but I do like men of known origin--of old family."
+
+"And you are right. I will be kind to him for your sake, dear."
+
+A slight cold confined Lucy to the house for three or four days after
+her uncle's departure (by the by, I think this must have been the
+reason of David's ill success in his endeavors to get an interview
+with her out of doors).
+
+Thus circumstanced, ladies rummage.
+
+Lucy found in a garret a chest containing a quantity of papers and
+parchments, and the beautifulest dust. No such dust is made in these
+degenerate days. Some of these MSS. bore recent dates, and were easily
+legible, though not so easily intelligible, being written as Gratiano
+spake.* The writers had omitted to put the idea'd words into red ink,
+so they had to be picked out with infinite difficulty from the
+multitude of unidea'd ones.
+
+     * "Gratiano speaks an infinite deal of nothing . . . . his
+     reasons are as three grains of wheat in two bushels of
+     chaff."
+
+Other of the MSS., more ancient, wore a double veil. They hid their
+sense in verbiage, and also in narrow Germanifled letters, farther
+deformed by contractions and ornamental flourishes, whose joint effect
+made a word look like a black daddy-long-legs, all sprawling fantastic
+limbs and the body a dot.
+
+The perusal of these pieces was slow and painful; it was like walking
+or slipping about among broken ruins overgrown with nettles. But then
+Uncle Fountain was so anxious to hook on to the Flunkeys--oh, Ciel!
+what am I saying?--the Funteyns, and his direct genealogical evidence
+had so completely broken down. She said to herself, "Oh dear! if I
+could find something among these old writings, and show it him on his
+return." She had them all dusted and brought down, and a table-cloth
+laid on a long table in the drawing-room, and spelled them with a
+good-humored patience that belonged partly to her character, partly to
+her sex. A female who undertakes this sort of work does not skip as we
+should; the habit of needle-work in all its branches reconciles that
+portion of mankind to invisible progress in other matters.
+
+Besides this, they are naturally careful, and, above all, born to
+endure, they carry patience into nearly all they do.*
+
+     * At about the third rehearsal of a new play our actresses
+     bring the author's words into their heads, our actors are
+     still all abroad, and at the first performance the breaks-
+     down are sure to be among the males; the female jumenta
+     carry their burden (be it of pig-lead) safe from wing to
+     wing.
+
+Lucy made her way manfully through all the well-written
+circumlocution, and in a very short time considering; but the antique
+[Greek] tried her eyes too much at night, so she gave nearly her whole
+day to it, for she was anxious to finish all before her uncle's
+return. It was a curious picture--Venus immersed in musty records.
+
+One day she had studied and spelled four mortal hours, when a visitor
+was suddenly announced--Miss Dodd. That young lady came briskly in at
+the heels of the servant and caught Lucy at her work. After the first
+greeting, her eye rested with such undisguised curiosity on the
+"mouldy records" that Lucy told her in general terms what she was
+trying to do for her uncle. "La!" said Eve, "you will ruin your
+eye-sight; why not send them over to us? I will make David read them."
+
+"And his eyesight?"
+
+"Oh, bless you, he has a knack at reading old writing. He has made a
+study of it."
+
+"If I thought I was not presuming too far on Mr. Dodd's good nature, I
+would send one or two of them."
+
+"Do; and I will make him draw up a paper of the contents; I have seen
+him at this sort of work before now. But there, la! I suppose you know
+it is all vanity."
+
+"I do it to please my poor uncle."
+
+"And very good you are. But what the better will the poor old
+gentleman be? We are here to act our own part well; we can't ride up
+to heaven on our great-grandfather."
+
+These maxims were somewhat coldly received, so Eve shifted her ground.
+"After all, I don't know why I should be the one to say that, for my
+own name is older than your uncle's a pretty deal."
+
+Lucy looked puzzled; then suddenly fancying she had caught Eve's
+meaning, she said: "That is true. Hail mother of mankind!!" and bowed
+her head with graceful reverence.
+
+Eve stared and colored, not knowing what on earth her companion meant.
+I am afraid it must be owned that Eve steadily eschewed books and
+always had. What little book-learning she had came to her filtered
+through David, and by this channel she accepted it willingly, even
+sought it at odd times, when there was no bread, pudding, dress,
+theology, scandal, or fun going on. She turned it off by a sudden
+inquiry where Mr. Fountain was; "they told me in the village he was
+away." Now several circumstances combined to make Lucy more
+communicative than usual. First, she had been studying hard; and,
+after long study, when a lively person comes to us, it is a great
+incitement to talk. Pitiful by nature, I spare you the "bent bow."
+Secondly, she was a little anxious lest her uncle's sudden neglect
+should have mortified Miss Dodd, and a neutral topic handled at length
+tends to replace friendly feeling without direct and unpleasant
+explanations. She therefore answered every question in full; told her
+that her uncle had lost a dear friend; that he was executor and
+guardian to the poor boy, now entirely an orphan. Her uncle, with his
+usual zeal on behalf of his friends; had gone off at once, and
+doubtless would not return till he had fulfilled in every respect the
+wishes of the deceased.
+
+To this general sketch she added many details, suppressing the
+misanthropy Mr. Fountain had exhibited or affected at the first
+receipt of the intelligence.
+
+In short, angelic gossip. Earthly gossip always backbites, you know.
+Eve missed something somehow, no doubt the human or backbiting
+element; still, it was gossip, sacred gossip, far dearer than
+Shakespeare to the female heart, and Eve's eyes glowed with pleasure
+and her tongue plied eager questions.
+
+With all this, such instinctive artists are these delicate creatures,
+both these ladies were secretly in ambush, Lucy to learn whether Eve
+and David were hurt or surprised at not being invited of late, and why
+she and he had not called since; Eve to find out what was the cause
+David and she had been so suddenly dropped: was it Lucy's doing or
+whose?
+
+Each lady being bent on receiving, not on making revelations, nothing
+transpired on either side. Seeing this, Eve became impatient and made
+a bold move.
+
+"Miss Fountain," said she, "you are all alone. I wish you would come
+over to us this evening and have tea."
+
+Lucy did not immediately reply. Eve saw her hesitation. "It is but a
+poor place," said she, "to ask you to."
+
+"I will come," said the lady, directly. "I will come with great
+pleasure."
+
+"Will seven be too early for you?"
+
+"Oh, no, I don't dine now my uncle is away. I call luncheon dinner."
+
+"Perhaps, six, then?"
+
+"Pray let me come at your usual hour. Why derange your family for one
+person?" Six o'clock was settled.
+
+"I must take some of this rubbish with me," said Eve; "come along, my
+dears"; and with an ample and mock enthusiastic gesture she caught up
+an armful of manuscripts.
+
+"The servant shall take them over for you."
+
+"Oh, bother the servant; I am my own servant--if you will lend me a
+pin or two."
+
+Lucy drew six pins out from different parts of her dress. Eve noticed
+this, but said nothing. She pinned up her apron so as to make an
+enormous pocket, and went gayly off with the "spoils of time."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+"Is that what you call being calm, David? Let me alone--don't slobber
+me. I am sure I wish she had said, 'No.' If I had thought she would
+come I would never have asked her."
+
+"You would, Eve; you would, for love of me."
+
+"Who knows? Perhaps I might. I am more indulgent than kind."
+
+"Eve, do tell me all. Is she well? does she come of her own good will?
+Dear Eve!"
+
+"Well, I'll tell you: first we had a bit of a talk for a blind like;
+and her uncle is away; so then I asked her plump to come to tea. Well,
+David, first she looked 'No'--only for a single moment, though; she
+soon altered her mind, and so then, the moment it was to be 'Yes,' she
+cleared up, and you would have thought she had been asked to the
+king's banquet. Ah! David, my lad, you have fallen into good
+hands--you have launched your heart on a deeper ocean than ever your
+ship sailed on."
+
+David took no notice. He was in a state of exaltation for one thing,
+and, besides, Eve's simile was sent to the wrong address; we
+terrestrials fear water in proportion to its depth, but these mariners
+dread their native element only when it is shallow.
+
+David now kept asking in an excited way what they could do for her.
+"What could they get to do her honor? Wouldn't she miss the luxuries
+of her fine place?"
+
+"Now you be quiet, David; we need not put ourselves about, for she
+will be the easiest girl to please you have ever seen here; or, if she
+isn't, she'll act it so that you'll be none the wiser. However, you
+can go and buy some flowers for me."
+
+"That I will; we have none good enough for her here."
+
+"And, David, tea under the catalpa, as we always do on fine nights."
+
+"You don't mean that."
+
+"Ah! but I do. These fine ladies are all for novelties. Now I'm much
+mistaken if this one has ever had her tea out of doors in all her born
+days. What! do you think our little stuffy room would be any treat to
+her, after the drawing-room at Font Abbey? Come, you be off till
+half-past five; you'll fidget yourself and fidget me else."
+
+David recognized her superiority, obeyed and vanished.
+
+Eve, having got rid of him, showed none of the insouciance she had
+recommended. She darted into the kitchen, bared her arms, and made
+wheaten cakes with unequaled rapidity, the servant looking on with
+demure admiration all the while. These put into the oven, she got her
+keys and put out the silver teapot, cream jug and sugar basin, things
+not used every day, I can tell you; item, the best old china tea
+service; item, some rare tea, of which David had brought home a small
+quantity from China. At six o'clock Miss Fountain came; a footman
+marched twenty yards behind her. She dismissed him at the door, and
+Eve invited her at once into the garden. There David joined them, his
+heart beating violently. She put out her hand kindly and calmly, and
+shook hands with him in the most unembarrassed way imaginable. At the
+touch of her soft hand every fiber in him thrilled and the color
+rushed into his face. At this a faint blush tinged her own, but no
+more than the warm welcome she was receiving might account for.
+
+They seated her in a comfortable chair under the catalpa. Presently
+out came a nice, clean maid, her white neck half hidden, half
+revealed, by plain, unfigured muslin worn where the frock ended. She
+put the tea things on the table, and courtesied to Lucy, who returned
+her salute by a benignant smile. Out came another stouter one with the
+kettle, hung it from a hoop between two stout sticks, and lighted a
+fire she had laid underneath, retiring with a parting look at the
+kettle as soon as it hissed. Then returned maid one with bread, and
+wheaten cakes, and fruit, butter nice and hard from the cellar, and
+yellow cream, and went off smiling.
+
+A gentle zeal seemed to animate these domestics, as if they, also, in
+relative proportions, gave the fete, or at least contributed good
+will. Lucy's quick eye caught this. It was new to her.
+
+The tea was soon made, and its Oriental fragrance mingled with the
+other odors that filled the balmy air. Gay golden broken lights
+flickered in patches on the table, the china cups, the ladies'
+dresses, and the grass, all but in one place, where the cool deep
+shadow lay undisturbed around the foot of the tree-stem. Looking up to
+see whence the flickering gold came that sprinkled her white hand,
+Lucy saw one of the loveliest and commonest things in nature. The sky
+was blue--the sun fiery--the air potable gold outside the tree, so
+that, as she looked up, the mellow green leaves of the catalpa, coming
+between her and the bright sky and glowing air, shone like transparent
+gold--staircase upon staircase of great exotic translucent leaves,
+with specks of lovely blue sky that seemed to come down and perch
+among the top branches. Charming as these sights were, contrast
+doubled their beauties; for all these dimples of bright blue and
+flakes of translucent gold were eyed from the cool and from the deep
+shade.
+
+The light, it is true, came down and danced on the turf here and
+there, but it left its heat behind through running the gauntlet of the
+myriad leaves. Over Lucy's head hung by a silk line from one of the
+branches a huge globe of humble but fragrant flowers; they were, in
+point of fact, fastened with marvelous skill all round a damp sponge,
+but she did not know that. Thus these simple hosts honored their
+lovely guest. And while these sights and smells stole into her deep
+eyes and her delicate nostrils, "Fiddle, David," said Eve, loftily,
+and straightway a simple mellow tune rang sweetly on the cheerful
+chords--a rustic, dulcet, and immortal ditty, in tune with summer and
+afternoon, with gold-checkered grass, and leaves that slumbered, yet
+vibrated, in the glowing air.
+
+A bright, dreamy hour; the soul and senses floated gently in color,
+fragrance, melody, and great calm. "Each sound seemed but an echo of
+tranquillity."
+
+Lucy looked up and absorbed the scene, then closed her eyes and
+listened; and presently her lips parted gradually in so ravishing a
+smile, her eyes remaining closed, that even Eve, who saw her in her
+true light, a terrible girl come there to burn and destroy David,
+remaining cool as a cucumber, could hardly forbear seizing and
+mumbling her.
+
+
+In certain companies you shall see a boisterous cordiality, which at
+bottom is as hollow as diplomacy; but there is a modest geniality
+which is to society what the bloom is to the plum.
+
+And this charm Lucy found in her hosts of the catalpa. For this very
+reason that they were her hosts, their manner to her changed a little,
+and becomingly; they made no secret that it was a downright pleasure
+to them to have her there. They petted her, and showed her so much
+simple kindness, that what with the scene, the music, and her
+companions' goodness, the coy bud opened--timidly at first--but in a
+way it never had expanded at Font Abbey.
+
+She even developed a feeble sense of fun, followed suit demurely when
+Eve came out sprightly, laughed like a brook gurgling to Eve's peal of
+bells, and lo and behold, when the two girls got together, and faced
+the man, strong in numbers, a favorite trick, backed her ally as
+cowards back the brave, and set her on to sauce David. They cast
+doubts upon his skill in navigation. They perplexed him with
+treacherous questions in geography, put with an innocent affectation
+of a humble desire for information. In short, they played upon him
+lightly as they touch the piano. And Eve carolled a song, and David
+accompanied her on the fiddle; and at the third verse Lucy chimed in
+spontaneously with a second, and the next verse David struck in with a
+base, and the tepid air rang with harmony, and poor David thrilled
+with happiness. His heart felt his voice mingle and blend with hers,
+and even this contact was delicious to his imagination. And they were
+happy. But all must end; the shades of evening came down, and the
+pleasant little party broke up, and, as John had not come, David asked
+leave to escort her home. Oh no, she could not think of giving him
+that trouble; so saying, she went home with him. When they were alone,
+his deep love made him timid and confused. He walked by her side, and
+did not speak to her. She waited with some surprise at this silence,
+and then, as he was shy, she talked to him, uttered many airy
+nothings, and then put questions to him. "Did he always drink tea out
+of doors?"
+
+"On fine nights in summer. Eve settled all such matters."
+
+"Have you not a voice?"
+
+"I have a voice, but no vote. She is skipper ashore."
+
+"Oh, is she? Who taught her how delicious it is to drink tea out of
+doors?"
+
+David did not know--fancied it was her own idea. "Did you really like
+it, Miss Fountain?"
+
+"Like it, Mr. Dodd! It was Elysium. I never passed a sweeter evening
+in my life."
+
+David colored all over. "I wish I could believe that."
+
+"Was it the tulip-tree, or the violin, or was it your conversation,
+Mr. Dodd, I wonder?" asked she demurely, looking mock-innocent in his
+face.
+
+"It was your goodness to be so easily pleased," said Dodd, with a gush
+that made her color. She smiled, however. "Well, that is one way of
+looking at things," said she. _"Entre nous,_ I think Miss Dodd
+was the enchantress."
+
+"Eve is capital company, for that matter."
+
+"Indeed she is; you must be very happy together. Your mutual affection
+is very charming, Mr. Dodd, but sometimes it almost makes me sad.
+Forgive me! I have no brother."
+
+"You will never want one to love you a thousand times better than a
+brother can love."
+
+"Oh, shan't I?" said the lady, and opened her eyes.
+
+"No; and there is more than one that worships the ground you tread on
+at this moment; but you know that."
+
+"Oh, do I?" She opened her eyes still wider.
+
+David longed to tell how he loved her, but dared not. He looked
+wistfully at her face. It was quite calm and had suddenly became a
+little reserved. He felt he was on new and dangerous ground; he sighed
+and was silent. He turned away his face. When this involuntary sigh
+broke from him she turned her head a little and looked at him. He felt
+her eye dwell on him, and his cheeks burned under it.
+
+The next moment they were at Font Hill, and Lucy seemed to David to
+hesitate whether to give him her hand at parting or not.
+
+She did give him her hand, though not so freely, David thought, as she
+had done on his own little lawn three hours before, and this dashed
+his spirits. It seemed to him a step lost, and he had hoped to gain a
+step somehow by walking home with her. He felt like one who has
+undertaken to catch some skittish timorous thing, that, if you stand
+still, will come within a certain small but safe distance, but you
+must not move a step toward it, or, whir, away it is. He went slowly
+home, his heart warm and cold by turns; warm when he remembered the
+sweet hours he had just spent, and her sweet looks and heavenly tones,
+every one of which he saw and heard again; cold when he thought of the
+social distance that separated them, and the hundred chances to one
+against his love. Then he said to himself: "Time was I thought I could
+never bring a yard down from the foretop to the deck, but I mastered
+that. Time was I thought I could never work out a logarithm without a
+formula, but I mastered that. Time was the fiddle beat me so I was
+ready to cry over it, but at last I learned to make it sing, and now I
+can make her smile with it (God bless her!) instead of stopping her
+ears. I can hardly mind the thing that didn't beat me dead for a long
+while, but I persevered and got the upper hand. Ay, but this is higher
+and harder than them all--a hundred times harder and higher.
+
+"I'll hold my course, let the wind blow high or low, and if I can't
+overhaul the wish of my heart, well, I'll carry her flag to the last.
+I'll die a bachelor for her sake, as sure as you are the moon, my
+lass, and you the polar star, and from this hour I'll never look at
+you, but I'll make believe it is her I am looking up at; for she is as
+high above me, and as bright as you are. God bless her! and to think I
+never even said good-night to her! I stood there like a mummy." And
+David reproached himself for his unkindness.
+
+
+Lucy, on entering the drawing-room, was surprised to find it blazing
+with candles, but she was more surprised at what she saw seated calmly
+in an armchair--Mrs. Bazalgette. Lucy stood transfixed; the audacious
+intruder laughed at her astonishment; the next moment they
+intertwined, and fell to kissing one another with tender violence.
+
+"Well, love, the fact is, I was passing here on my way home from
+Devonshire, and I wanted particularly to speak to you, so I thought I
+would venture just to pop in for a passing call, and lo! I find the
+old ogre is absent, and not expected back for ever so long, so I have
+installed myself at his Font Abbey, partly out of love for you, dear,
+partly, I confess it, out of hate to him. You will write and tell me
+his face when he comes home and hears I have been living and enjoying
+myself in his den. I ordered my imperial into his bedroom. I took it
+for granted that would be the only comfortable one in his house."
+
+"Aunt Bazalgette!" cried Lucy, turning pale; "oh, aunt, what will
+become of us?"
+
+"Don't be frightened; the gray-haired monster that dyes his whiskers,
+and gets him up to look only sixty, interposed and forbade the
+consecration."
+
+"I am glad of it. You shall sleep in mine, dear, and I will go into
+the east room. It is a sweet little room."
+
+"Is it? then why not put me there?" Lucy colored a little. "I think
+mine would suit you better, dear, because it is larger and airier,
+and--"
+
+"I see. As you please; you know I never make difficulties."
+
+"And how long have you been here, aunt?"
+
+"About three hours."
+
+"Three hours, and not send for me! I was only in the village. Did no
+one tell you?"
+
+"Yes; but you know it is not my way to make a fuss and put people out.
+How could I tell? You might be agreeably employed, and I was sure of
+you before bedtime."
+
+Mighty-fine! but the truth is, she came to Font Abbey to pry. She had
+heard a vague report about Lucy and a gentleman.
+
+She was very glad to find Lucy was out; it gave her an opportunity.
+She sent for Lucy's maid to help her unpack a dress or two--thirteen.
+This girl was paid out of Lucy's estate, but did not know that. Mrs.
+Bazalgette handed her her wages, and that gives an influence. The wily
+matron did not trust to that alone. In unpacking she gave the girl a
+dress and several smaller presents, and, this done, slowly and
+cautiously pumped her. Jane, to fulfill her share of a bargain, which,
+though never once alluded to, was perfectly understood between both
+the parties, told her all she knew and all she conjectured; told her,
+in particular, how constantly Mr. Talboys was in the house, and how,
+one night, the old gentleman had walked part of the way home with him,
+"which Mr. Thomas says he didn't think his master would do it for the
+king, mum!" and had come in all of a flurry, and sent up for miss, and
+swore* awful when she couldn't come because she was abed. "So you may
+depend, mum, it is so; leastways, the gentlemen they are willing. We
+talk it over mostly every day in the servants' hall, mum, and we are
+all of a mind so fur; but whether it will come to a wedding, that we
+haven't a settled yet. It's miss beats us; she is like no other young
+lady ever I came anigh. A man or woman--it is all the same to her--a
+kind word for everybody, and pass on. But I do really think she likes
+her own side of the house a trifle the best."
+
+     *The ladies of the bedchamber will embellish. After all, it
+     is their business.
+
+"And there you don't agree with her, Jane?"
+
+"Well, mum--being as we are alone--now is it natural? But Mr. Thomas
+he says, 'The cold ones take the first offer that comes when there is
+money ahind it. It isn't us they wants,' says he. I told him I should
+think not the likes of him--'but our house and land,' says he, 'and
+hopera box and cetera.' 'But I don't think that of our one,' says I;
+'bless you, she is too high-minded.' But what I think, mum, is, she
+wouldn't say 'no' to her uncle; her mouth don't seem made for saying
+no, especially to him; and he is bent on Talboys, mum, you take my
+word."
+
+To return to the drawing-room: Mrs. Bazalgette, after the above
+delicate discussion, sat there in ambush, knowing more of Lucy's
+affairs than Lucy knew. Her next point was to learn Lucy's sentiments,
+and to find whether she was deliberately playing false and breaking
+her promise, vide.
+
+"Well, Lucy, any lovers yet?"
+
+"No, aunt."
+
+"Take care, Lucy, a little bird whispers in my ear."
+
+"Then it is a humming-bird," and Lucy pouted. "Now, aunt, did you
+really come to Font Abbey to tease me about such nonsense
+as--as--gentlemen?" and Lucy looked hurt.
+
+"Here's an actress for you," thought Mrs. Bazalgette; but she calmly
+dropped the subject, and never recurred to it openly all the evening,
+but lay secretly in watch, and put many subtle but seeming innocent
+questions to her niece about her habits, her uncle's guest, whether
+her uncle kept a horse for her, whether he bought it for her, etc.,
+etc.
+
+The next morning Mrs. Bazalgette breakfasted in bed, during which
+process she rang her bell seven times. Lucy received at the
+breakfast-table a letter from her uncle.
+
+
+"MY DEAR NIECE--The funeral was yesterday, and, I flatter myself, well
+performed: there were five-and-twenty carriages. After that a
+luncheon, in the right style, and then to the reading of the will. And
+here I shall surprise you, but not more than I was myself: I am left
+5,000 pounds consols. My worthy friend, whose loss we are called on so
+suddenly to deplore, accompanied this bequest in his will with many
+friendly expressions of esteem, which I have always studied and shall
+study to deserve. He bequeathed to me also, during minority, the care
+of his boy, the heir to this fine property, which far exceeds the
+value I had imagined. There is a letter attached to the will; in
+compliance with it Arthur is to go to Cambridge, but not until he has
+been well prepared. He will therefore accompany me to Font Abbey
+to-morrow, and I must contrive somehow or other to find him a
+mathematical tutor in the neighborhood. There is a handsome allowance
+made out of the estate for his board, etc., etc.
+
+"He is an interesting boy, and has none of the rudeness and
+mischievousness they generally have--blue eyes, soft, silky, flaxen
+hair, and as modest as a girl. His orphaned state merits kindness, and
+his prospects entitle him to consideration. I mention this because I
+fancy, when we last discussed this matter, I saw a little disposition
+on your part to be satirical at the poor boy's expense. I am sure,
+however, that you will restrain this feeling at my request, and treat
+him like a younger brother. I only wish he was three or four years
+older--you understand me, miss.
+
+"To-morrow afternoon, then, we shall be at Font Abbey. Let him have
+the east room, and tell Brown to light a blazing fire in my bedroom.
+and warm and air every mortal thing, on pain of death.
+
+                              "Your affectionate uncle,
+
+                              "JOHN FOUNTAIN."
+
+
+On reading this letter Lucy formed an innocent scheme. It had long
+been matter of regret to her that Aunt Bazalgette could not see the
+good qualities of Uncle Fountain, and Uncle Fountain of Aunt
+Bazalgette. "It must be mere prejudice," said she, "or why do I love
+them both?" She had often wished she could bring them together, and
+make them know one another better; they would find out one another's
+good qualities then, and be friends. But how? As Shakespeare says,
+"Oxen and wain-ropes would not haul them, together."
+
+At last chance aided her--Mrs. Bazalgette was at Font Abbey actually.
+Lucy knew that if she announced Mr. Fountain's expected return the B
+would fly off that minute, so she suppressed the information, and,
+giving up to young Arthur as she had to Mrs. B., moved into a still
+smaller room than the east room.
+
+And now her heart quaked a little. "But, after all, Uncle Fountain is
+a gentleman," thought she, "and not capable of showing hostility to
+her under his own roof. Here she is safe, though nowhere else; only I
+must see him, and explain to him before he sees her." With this view
+Lucy declined demurely her aunt's proposal for a walk. No, she must be
+excused; she had work to do in the drawing-room that could not be
+postponed.
+
+"Work! that alters the case. Let me see it." She took for granted it
+was some useful work--something that could be worn when done. "What!
+is this it--these dirty parchments? Oh! I see; it is for that selfish
+old man; who but he would set a lady to parchments!"
+
+"A bad guess," cried Lucy, joyously. "I found them myself, and set
+myself to work on them."
+
+"Don't tell me! He is at the bottom of it. If it was for yourself you
+would give it up directly. How amusing for me to see you work at
+that!" Lucy rose and brought her the new novel. Mrs. Bazalgette took
+it and sat down to it, but she could not fix her attention long on it.
+Ladies whose hearts are in dress have no taste for books, however
+frivolous; can't sit them for above a second or two. Mrs. Bazalgette
+fidgeted and fidgeted, and at last rose and left the room, book in
+hand. "How unkind I am!" said Lucy to herself.
+
+She was sitting sentinel till the carriage should arrive; then she
+could run down and prepare her uncle for his innocent and accidental
+visitor. It would not be prudent to let him receive the information
+from a servant, or without the accompanying explanation. This it was
+that made her so unnaturally firm when the little idle B pressed her
+to waste in play the shining hours.
+
+Mrs. Bazalgette went book in hand to her bedroom, and had not been
+there long before she found employment. Many of Lucy's things were
+still in the wardrobes. Mrs. B. rummaged them, inspected them at the
+window, and ended by ringing for her maid and trying divers of her
+niece's dresses on. "They make her dresses better than they do mine;
+they take more pains." At last she found one that was new to her,
+though Lucy had worn it several times at Font Abbey.
+
+"Where did she get this, Jane?"
+
+"Present from the old gentleman, mum; he had it down from London for
+her all at one time with this shawl and twelve puragloves."
+
+Lucy looked two inches taller than Mrs. B., but somehow, I can't tell
+how, this dress of hers fitted the latter like a glove. It embraced
+her; it held her tenderly, but tight, as gowns and lovers should. The
+poor dear could not get out of it. "I _must_ wear it an hour or
+two," said she. "Besides, it will save my own, knocking about in these
+country lanes." Thus attired she went into the drawing-room to
+surprise Lucy. Now Lucy was determined not to move; so, not to be
+enticed, she did not even look up from her work; on this the other
+took a mild huff and whisked out.
+
+So keen are the feminine senses, that Lucy, on reflection, recognized
+something brusk, perhaps angry, in the rustle of that retiring dress,
+and soon after rang the bell and inquired where Mrs. Bazalgette was.
+John would make henquiries.
+
+"Your haunt is in the back garden, miss."
+
+"Walking, or what?"
+
+John would make henquiries.
+
+"She is reading, miss; and she is sitting on the seat master 'ad made
+for _you,_ miss.
+
+"Very well: thank you."
+
+"Any more commands, miss?"
+
+"Not at present." John retired with a regretful air, as one capable of
+executing important commissions, but lost for lack of opportunity. All
+the servants in this house liked to come into contact with Lucy. She
+treated them with a dignified kindness and reserved politeness that
+wins these good creatures more than either arrogance or familiarity.
+"Jeames is not such a fool as he looks."
+
+Lucy was glad. Her aunt had got her book. It is an interesting story;
+she will not miss me now, and the carriage will soon be here, and then
+I will make up for my unkindness. Curiously enough, at this very
+juncture, the fair student found something in her parchment which gave
+her some little hopes of a favorable result.
+
+She was following this clue eagerly, when all of a sudden she started.
+Her ear had caught the rattle of a carriage over the stones of the
+stable yard. She rang the bell, and inquired if that was not the
+carriage.
+
+"Yes, miss.
+
+"My uncle has sent it back, then? He is not coming to-day?"
+
+John would inquire of the coachman.
+
+"Oh yes, miss, master is come, but he got out at the foot of the hill,
+and walked up through the shrubbery with the young gentleman to show
+him the grounds." On this news Lucy rose hastily, snatched up a garden
+hat, and, without any other preparation, went out to intercept her
+uncle. As she stepped into the garden she heard a loud scream,
+followed by angry voices; she threw her hands up to heaven in dismay
+and ran toward the sounds. They came from the back garden. She went
+like lightning round the corner of the house, and came plump upon an
+agitated group, of whom she made one directly, spellbound. Here stood
+Aunt Bazalgette, her head turned haughtily, her cheeks scarlet. There
+stood Mr. Fountain on the other side of the rustic seat, red as fire,
+too, but wearing a hang-dog look, and behind him young Arthur, pale,
+with two eyes like saucers, gazing awestruck at the first row he had
+ever seen between a full-grown lady and gentleman.
+
+Our narrative must take a step to the rear, as an excellent writer,
+Private ----* phrases it, otherwise you might be misled to suppose
+that Uncle Fountain was quarreling with Mrs. B. for having set her
+foot in sacred Font Abbey.
+
+     *"I had an escape myself. As I opened the door of a house, a
+     black fellow was behind waiting for me, and made a chop. I
+     took a step to the rear, fired through the door, and cooked
+     his goose."--_Times._
+
+No, the pudding was richer than that. Mr. Fountain had young Arthur in
+charge, and, not being an ill-natured old gentleman, he pitied the
+boy, and did all he could to make him feel he was coming among
+friends. He sent the carriage on, and showed Arthur the grounds, and
+covertly praised the place and all about it, Lucy included, for was
+not she an appendage of his abbey. "You will see my niece--a charming
+young lady, who will be kind to you, and you must make friends with
+her. She is very accomplished--paints. She plays like an angel, too.
+Ah! there she is. She has got the gown on I gave her--a compliment to
+me--a very pretty attention, Arthur, the day of my return. What is she
+doing?"
+
+Arthur, with his young eyes, settled this question. "The lady is
+asleep. See, she has dropped her book." And; in fact, the whole
+attitude was lax and not ungraceful. Her right hand hung down, and the
+domestic story, its duty done, reposed beneath.
+
+"Now, Arthur," said the senior, making himself young to please the
+boy, and to show him that, if he looked old, he was not worn out,
+"would you like a bit of fun? We will startle her--we'll give her a
+kiss." Arthur hung back irresolute, and his cheeks were dyed with
+blushes.
+
+"Not you, you young rogue; you are not her uncle." The old gentleman
+then stole up at the back of the seat, followed with respectful
+curiosity by Arthur. She happened to move as the senior got near; so,
+for fear she was going to wake of herself and baffle the surprise, he
+made a rush and rubbed his beard a little roughly against Mrs.
+Bazalgette's cheek. Up starts that lady, who was not fast asleep, but
+only under the influence of the domestic tale, utters a scream, and,
+when she sees her ravisher, goes into a passion.
+
+"How dare you? What is the meaning of this insult?"
+
+"How came you here?" was the reply, in an equally angry tone.
+
+"Can't a lady come into your little misery of a garden without being
+outraged?"
+
+"It isn't the garden--it is only the back garden," cried the
+proprietor of Font Hill; _"(blesse)_ I'll swear that is my
+niece's gown; so you've invaded that, too."
+
+"Aunt Bazalgette--Uncle Fountain, it was my fault," sighed a piteous
+voice. This was Lucy, who had just come on the scene. "Dear uncle,
+forgive me; it was I who invited her."
+
+Lucy's pathetic tones, which were fast degenerating into sobs, were
+agreeably interrupted.
+
+At one and the same moment the man and woman of the world took a new
+view of the situation, looked at one another, and burst out laughing.
+Both these carried a safety-valve against choler--a trait that takes
+us into many follies, but keeps us out of others--a sense of humor.
+The next thing to relieve the situation was the senior's comprehensive
+vanity. He must recover young Arthur's reverence, which was doubtless
+dissolving all this time. "Now, Arthur," he whispered, "take a lesson
+from a gentleman of the old school. I hate this she-devil; but this is
+at my house, so--observe." He then strutted jauntily and feebly up to
+Mrs. Bazalgette: "Madam, my niece says you are her guest; but permit
+me to dispute her title to that honor." Mrs. Bazalgette smiled
+agreeably. She wanted to stay a day or two at Font Abbey. The senior
+flourished out his arm. "Let me show you what _we_ call the
+garden here." She took his arm graciously. "I shall be delighted, sir
+[pompous old fool!]."
+
+Mrs. Bazalgette steeled her mind to admire the garden, and would have
+done so with ease if it had been hideous. But, unfortunately, it was
+pretty--prettier than her own; had grassy slopes, a fountain, a
+grotto, variegated beds, and beds a blaze of one color (a fashion not
+common at that time); item, a brook with waterlilies on its bosom.
+"This brook is not mine, strictly speaking," said her host; "I
+borrowed it of my neighbor." The lady opened her eyes; so he grinned
+and revealed a characteristic transaction. A quarter of a century ago
+he had found the brook flowing through a meadow close to his garden
+hedge. He applied for a lease of the meadow, and was refused by the
+proprietor in the following terms: "What is to become of my cows?"
+
+He applied constantly for ten years, and met the same answer.
+Proprietor died, the cows turned to ox-beef, and were eaten in London
+along with flour and a little turmeric, and washed down with Spanish
+licorice-water, salt, gentian and a little burned malt. Widow
+inherited, made hay, and refused F. the meadow because her husband had
+always refused him. But in the tenth year of her siege she assented,
+for the following reasons: _primo,_ she had said "no" so often
+the word gave her a sense of fatigue; _secundo,_ she liked
+variety, and thought a change for the worse must be better than no
+change at all.
+
+Her tenant instantly cut a channel from the upper part of the stream
+into his garden, and brought the brook into the lawn, made it write an
+S upon his turf, then handed it but again upon the meadow "none the
+worse," his own comment. These things could be done in the
+country--_jadis._
+
+It cost Mrs. Bazalgette a struggle to admire the garden and borrowed
+stream--they were so pretty. She made the struggle and praised all.
+Lucy, walking behind the pair, watched them with innocent
+satisfaction. "How fast they are making friends," thought she,
+mistaking an armistice for an alliance.
+
+"Since the place is so fortunate as to please you, you will stay a
+week with me, madam, at least."
+
+"A week! No, Mr. Fountain; I really admire your courtesy too much to
+abuse it."
+
+"Not at all; you will oblige me."
+
+"I cannot bring myself to think so."
+
+"You may believe me. I have a selfish motive."
+
+"Oh, if you are in earnest."
+
+"I will explain. If you are my guest for a week, that will give me a
+claim to be yours in turn." And he bent a keen look upon the lady, as
+much as to say, "Now I shall see whether you dare let me spy on you as
+you are doing on me."
+
+"I propose an amendment," said Mrs. Bazalgette, with a merry air of
+defiance: "for every day I enjoy here you must spend two beneath my
+roof. On this condition, I will stay a week at Font Abbey."
+
+"I consent," said Mr. Fountain, a little sharply. He liked the
+bargain. "I must leave you to Lucy for a minute; I have some orders to
+give. I like _my_ guests to be comfortable." With this he retired
+to his study and pondered. "What is she here for? it is not affection
+for Lucy; that is all my eye, a selfish toad like her. (How agreeable
+she can make herself, though.) She heard I was out, and came here to
+spy directly. That was sharp practice. Better not give her a chance of
+seeing my game. I disarmed her suspicion by asking her to stay a week,
+aha! Well, during that week Talboys must not come, that is all; aha!
+my lady, I won't give those cunning eyes of yours a chance of looking
+over my hand." He then wrote a note to Talboys, telling him there was
+a guest at Font Abbey, a disagreeable woman, "who makes mischief
+whenever she can. She would be sure to divine our intentions, and use
+all her influence with Lucy to spite me. You had better stay away till
+she is gone." He sent this off by a servant, then pondered again.
+
+"She suspects something; then that is a sign she has her own designs
+on Lucy. Hum! no. If she had, she would not have invited me to her
+house. She invited me directly and cheerfully--!"
+
+
+Mrs. Bazalgette walked and sat with an arm round Lucy's waist, and
+told her seven times before dinner how happy she was at the prospect
+of a quiet week with her. In the evening she yawned eleven times. Next
+day she asked Lucy who was coming to dinner.
+
+"Nobody, dear."
+
+"Nobody at all?"
+
+"I thought you would perhaps not care to have our tete-a-tete
+interrupted yet."
+
+"Oh, but I should like to explore the natives too."
+
+"I will give uncle a hint, dear." The hint was given very delicately,
+but the malicious senior had a perverse construction ready
+immediately.
+
+"So this is her mighty affection for you. Can't get through two days
+without strangers."
+
+"Uncle," said Lucy, imploringly, "she is so used to society, and she
+has me all day; we ought to give her some little amusement at night."
+
+"Well, I can't make up parties now; my friends are all in London. She
+only wants something to flirt with. Send for David Dodd."
+
+"What, for her to flirt with?"
+
+"Yes; he is a handsome fellow; he will serve her turn."
+
+"For shame, uncle; what would Mr. Bazalgette say? Poor aunt, she is a
+coquette now."
+
+"And has been this twenty years."
+
+"Now I was thinking--Mr. Talboys?"
+
+"Talboys is not at home; she must be content with lower game. She
+shall bring down David."
+
+Lucy hesitated. "I don't think she will like Mr. Dodd, and I am sure
+he will not like her."
+
+"How can you know that?"
+
+"He is so honest. He will not understand a woman of the world and her
+little in--sin--No, I don't mean that."
+
+"Well, if he does not understand her he may like her."
+
+
+"Aunt, he has made me ask the Dodds to tea, and I am afraid you will
+not like them."
+
+"Well, if I don't we must try some more natives to-morrow. Who are
+they?" Lucy told her. "Pretty people to ask to meet me," said she,
+loftily. This scorn dissolved in course of the evening. Lucy, anxious
+her guests should be pleased with one another, drew the Dodds out,
+especially David--made him spin a yarn. With this and his good looks
+he so pleased Mrs. Bazalgette that it was the last yarn he ever span
+during her stay. She took a fancy to him, and set herself to captivate
+him with sprightly ardor.
+
+David received her advances politely, but a little coldly. The lady
+was very agreeable, but she kept him from Lucy; he hardly got three
+words with her all the evening. As they went home together, Eve
+sneered: "Well, you managed nicely; it was your business to make
+friends with that lady."
+
+"With all my heart."
+
+"Then why didn't you do what she bid you?"
+
+"She gave me no orders that I heard," said the literal first mate.
+
+"She gave you a plain hint, though."
+
+"To do what?"
+
+"To do what? stupid! Why, to make love to her, to be sure."
+
+"Why, she is a married woman?"
+
+"If she chooses to forget that, is it your business to remember it?"
+
+"And if she was single, and the loveliest in the world, how could I
+court her when my heart is full of an angel?"
+
+"If your heart is full, your head is empty. Why, you see nothing."
+
+"I can't see why I should belie my heart."
+
+"Can't you? Then I can. David, in less than a month Miss Fountain goes
+to this lady and stays a quarter of a year: she told me so herself.
+Oh, my ears are always open in your service ever since I did agree to
+be as great a fool as you are. Now don't you see that if you can't get
+Mrs. Bazalgette to invite you to her house, you must take leave of the
+other here forever?"
+
+"I see what you mean, Eve; how wise you are! It is wonderful. But what
+is to be done? I am bad at feigning. I can't make love to her."
+
+"But you can let her make love to you: is that an effort you feel
+equal to? and I must do the rest. Oh, we have a nice undertaking
+before us. But, if boys will cry for fruit that is out of their reach,
+and their silly sisters will indulge them--don't slobber _me."_
+
+"You are such a dear girl to fight for me so a little against your
+judgment."
+
+"A little, eh? Dead against it, you mean. Don't look so blank, David;
+you are all right as far as me. When my heart is on your side you can
+snap your fingers at my judgment."
+
+David was cheered by this gracious revelation.
+
+Eve was a tormenting little imp. She could not help reminding him
+every now and then that all her maneuvers and all his love were to end
+in disappointment. These discouraging comments had dashed poor David's
+spirits more than once; but he was beginning to discover that they
+were invariably accompanied or followed by an access of cheerful zeal
+in the desperate cause--a pleasing phenomenon, though somewhat
+unintelligible to this honest fellow, who had never microscoped the
+enigmatical sex.
+
+Mrs. Bazalgette reproached Lucy: "You never told me how handsome Mr.
+Dodd was."
+
+"Didn't I?
+
+"No. He is the handsomest man I ever saw."
+
+"I have not observed that, but I think he is one of the worthiest."
+
+"I should not wonder," said the other lady, carelessly. "It is clear
+you don't appreciate him here. You half apologized to me for inviting
+him."
+
+"That was because you are such a fashionable lady, and the Dodds have
+no such pretensions."
+
+"All the better; my taste is not for sophisticated people. I only put
+up with them because I am obliged. Why, Lucy, you ought to know how my
+heart yearns for nature and truth; I am sure I have told you so often
+enough. An hour spent with a simple, natural creature like Captain
+Dodd refreshes me as a cooling breeze after the heat and odors of a
+crowded room."
+
+"Miss Dodd is very natural too--is she not?"
+
+"Very. Pertness and vulgarity are natural enough--to some people."
+
+"My uncle likes her the best of the two."
+
+"Then your uncle is mad. But the fact is, men are no judges in such
+cases; they are always unjust to their own sex, and as blind to the
+faults of ours as beetles."
+
+"But surely, aunt, she is very arch and lively."
+
+"Pert and fussy, you mean."
+
+"Pretty, at all events? Rather?"
+
+"What, with that snub nose!!?"
+
+Lucy offered to invite other neighbors; Mrs. Bazalgette replied she
+didn't want to be bothered with rurality. "You can ask Captain Dodd,
+if you like; there is no need to invite the sister."
+
+"Oh yes, I must; my uncle likes her the best."
+
+"But _I_ don't; and I am only here for a day or two."
+
+"Miss Dodd would be hurt. It would be unkind--discourteous."
+
+"No, no. She watches him all the time like a little dragon."
+
+_"Apres?_ We have no sinister designs on Mr. Dodd, have we?" and
+something unusually keen flashed upon Aunt Bazalgette out of the tail
+of the quiet Lucy's eye.
+
+Mrs. Bazalgette looked cross. "Nonsense, Lucy; so tiresome! Can't we
+have an agreeable person without tacking on a disagreeable one?"
+
+"Aunt," said Lucy, pathetically, "ask me anything else in the world,
+but don't ask me to be rude, for _I can't."_
+
+"Well, then, you are bound to entertain her, since she is your choice,
+and leave me mine."
+
+Lucy acquiesced softly.
+
+David, tutored by his sister, now tried to seem interested in her who
+came between him and Lucy, and a miserable hand he made of this his
+first piece of acting. Luckily for him, Mrs. Bazalgette liked the
+sound of her own voice; and his good looks, too, went a long way with
+the mature woman. Lucy and Eve sat together at the tea-table; Mr.
+Fountain slumbered below; Arthur was in the study, nailed to a novel;
+Eve, under a careless exterior, watched intently to find out if Lucy,
+under a calm surface, cared for David at all or not, and also watched
+for a chance to serve him. She observed a certain languor about the
+young lady, but no attempt to take David from the coquette. At last,
+however, Lucy did say demurely, "Mr. Dodd seems to appreciate my
+aunt."
+
+"Don't you think it is rather the other way?"
+
+"That is an insidious question, Miss Dodd. I shall make no admissions;
+but I warn you she is a very fascinating woman."
+
+"My brother is greatly admired by the ladies, too."
+
+"Oh, since I praised my champion, you have a right to praise yours.
+But he will get the worst in that little encounter."
+
+"Why so?
+
+"Because my sprightly aunt forgets the very names of her conquests
+when once she has thoroughly made them."
+
+"She will never make this one; my brother carries an armor against
+coquettes."
+
+"Ay, indeed; and pray what may that be?" inquired Lucy, a little
+quizzingly.
+
+"A true and deep attachment."
+
+"Ah!"
+
+"And if you will look at him a little closer you will see that he
+would be glad to get away from that old flirt; but David is very
+polite to ladies."
+
+Lucy stole a look from under her silken lashes, and it so happened
+that at that very moment she encountered a sorrowful glance from David
+that said plainly enough, I am obliged to be here, but I long to be
+there. She received his glance full in her eyes, absorbed it blandly,
+then lowered her lashes a moment, then turned her head with a sweet
+smile toward Eve. "I think you said your brother was engaged."
+
+"No."
+
+"I misunderstood you, then."
+
+"Yes." Eve uttered this monosyllable so dryly that Lucy drew back, and
+immediately turned the conversation into chit-chat.
+
+It had not trickled above ten minutes when an exclamation from David
+interrupted it. The young ladies turned instinctively, and there was
+David flushing all over, and speaking to Mrs. Bazalgette with a
+tremulous warmth, that, addressed as it was to a pretty woman, sounded
+marvelously like love-making.
+
+Lucy turned her crest round a little haughtily, and shot such a glance
+on Eve. Eve read in it a compound of triumph and pique.
+
+
+David came to Eve one morning with parchments in his hand and a merry
+smile. "Eureka!"
+
+"You're another," said Eve, as quick as lightning, and upon
+speculation.
+
+"I have made Mr. Fountain's pedigree out," explained David.
+
+"You don't say so! won't he be pleased?"
+
+"Yes. Do you think _she_ will be pleased?"
+
+"Why not? She will look pleased, anyway. I say, don't you go and tell
+them the whole county was owned by the Dodds before Fountain, or
+Funteyn, or Font, was ever heard of."
+
+"Hardly. I have my own weaknesses, my lass; I've no need to adopt
+another man's."
+
+"Bless my soul, how wise you are got! So sudden, too! You shouldn't
+surprise a body like that. Lucky I'm not hysterical. Now let me think,
+David--Solomon, I mean--no, you shall keep this discovery back awhile;
+it may be wanted." She then reminded him that the Fountains were
+capricious; that they had dropped him for a week, and eight again; if
+so, this might be useful to unlock their street door to him at need.
+
+"Good heavens, Eve, what cunning!"
+
+"David, when I have a bad cause in hand, I do one of two things: I
+drop it, or I go into it heart and soul. If my zeal offends you, I can
+retire from the contest with great pleasure."
+
+"No! no! no! no! no! If you leave the helm I shall go ashore
+directly"--dismay of David; grim satisfaction of his imp.
+
+This matter settled, David asked Eve if she did not think Master
+Nelson (Mr. Fountain's new ward) was a very nice boy.
+
+"Yes; and I see he has taken a wonderful fancy to you."
+
+"And so have I to him; we have had one or two walks together. He is to
+come here at twelve o'clock to-day."
+
+"Now why couldn't you have asked me first, David? The painters are
+coming into the house to-day; and the paperers, and all, and we can't
+be bothered with mathematics. You must do them at Font Abbey." Eve was
+a little cross. David only laughed at her; but he hesitated about
+making a school-house of Font Abbey--it would look like intruding.
+
+"Pooh! nonsense," said Eve; "they will only be too glad to take
+advantage of your good-nature."
+
+"He is an orphan," said David, doggedly.
+
+However, the lesson was given at Font Abbey, and after it Master
+Nelson came bounding into the drawing-room to the ladies.
+
+"Oh, Lucy, Mr. Dodd is such a beautiful geometrician! He has been
+giving me a lesson; he is going to give me one every day. He knows a
+great deal more than my last tutor." On this Master Nelson was
+questioned, and revealed that a friendship existed between him and Mr.
+Dodd such as girls are incapable of (this was leveled at Lucy); being
+cross-examined as to the date of this friendship, he was obliged to
+confess that it had only existed four days, but was to last to death.
+
+"But, Arthur," said Lucy, "will not this take up too much of Mr.
+Dodd's time? I think you had better consult Uncle Fountain before you
+make a positive arrangement of the kind."
+
+"Oh, I have spoken to my guardian about it, and he was _so_
+pleased. He said that would save him a mathematical tutor."
+
+"Oh, then," said Mrs. Bazalgette, "Mr. Dodd is to teach mathematics
+gratis."
+
+"My friend is a gentleman," was the timid reply. (Juveniles have a
+pomposity all their own, and exquisitely delicious.*) "We read
+together because we like one another, and that is why we walk together
+and play together; if we were to offer him money he would throw it at
+our heads." Mr. Arthur then relaxed his severity, and, condescending
+once more to the familiar, added: "And he has made me a kite on
+mathematical principles--such a whacker--those in the shops are no
+use; and he has sent his mother's Bath chair on to the downs, and he
+is going to show me the kite draw him ten knots an hour in it--a knot
+means a mile, Lucy--so I can't stay wasting my time here; only, if you
+want to see some fun for once in your lives, come on the downs in
+about an hour--will you? Oh yes! do come!"
+
+     * Read the Oxford Essays.
+
+"Certainly not," said Mrs. Bazalgette, sharply.
+
+"Excuse us, dear," said Lucy in the same breath.
+
+"Well, Lucy," said Mrs. Bazalgette, "am I wrong about your uncle's
+selfishness! I have tried in vain ever since I came here to make you
+see it where _you_ were the only sufferer."
+
+"Not quite in vain, aunt," said Lucy sadly; "you have shown me defects
+in my poor uncle that I should never have discovered."
+
+Mrs. Bazalgette smiled grimly.
+
+"Only, as you hate him, and I love him, and always mean to love him,
+permit me to call his defects 'thought-lessness.' _You_ can apply
+the harsh term 'selfish-ness' to the most good-natured, kind,
+indulgent--oh!"
+
+"Ha! ha! Don't cry, you silly girl. Thoughtless? a calculating old
+goose, who is eternally aiming to be a fox--never says or does
+anything without meaning something a mile off. Luckily, his veil is so
+thin that everybody sees through it but you. What do you think of his
+_thought-less-ness_ in getting a tutor gratis? Poor Mr. Dodd!"
+
+"I will answer for it, it is a pleasure to Mr. Dodd to be of service
+to his little friend," said Lucy, warmly.
+
+"How do you know a bore is a pleasure to Mr. Dodd?"
+
+"Mr. Dodd is a new acquaintance of yours, aunt, but I have had
+opportunities of observing his character, and I assure you all this
+pity is wasted."
+
+"Why, Lucy, what did you say to Arthur just now. You are contradicting
+_yourself."_
+
+"What a love of opposition I must have. Are you not tired of in-doors?
+Shall we go into the village?"
+
+"No; I exhausted the village yesterday."
+
+"The garden?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Well, then, suppose we sketch the church together. There is a good
+light."
+
+"No. Let us go on the downs, Lucy."
+
+"Why, aunt, it--it is a long walk."
+
+"All the better."
+
+"But we said 'No.'"
+
+"What has that to do with it?"
+
+
+Arthur was right; the kites that are sold by shops of prey are not
+proportioned nor balanced; this is probably in some way connected with
+the circumstance that they are made to sell, not fly. The monster
+kite, constructed by the light of Euclid, rose steadily into the air
+like a balloon, and eventually, being attached to the chair, drew Mr.
+Arthur at a reasonable pace about half a mile over a narrow but level
+piece of turf that was on the top of the downs. Q.E.D. This done,
+these two patient creatures had to wind the struggling monster in, and
+go back again to the starting point. Before they had quite achieved
+this, two petticoats mounted the hill and moved toward them across the
+plateau. At sight of them David thrilled from head to foot, and Arthur
+cried, "Oh, bother!" an unjust ejaculation, since it was by his
+invitation they came. His alarms were verified. The ladies made
+themselves No. 1 directly, and the poor kite became a shield for
+flirtation. Arthur was so cross.
+
+At last the B's desire to occupy attention brought her to the verge of
+trouble. Seeing David saying a word to Lucy, she got into the chair,
+and went gayly off, drawn by the kite, which Arthur, with a mighty
+struggle, succeeded in hooking to the car for her. Now, the plateau
+was narrow, and the chair wanted guiding. It was easy to guide it, but
+Mrs. Bazalgette did not know how; so it sidled in a pertinacious and
+horrid way toward a long and steepish slope on the left side. She
+began to scream, Arthur to laugh--the young are cruel, and, I am
+afraid, though he stood perfectly neutral to all appearance, his heart
+within nourished black designs. But David came flying up at her
+screams--just in time. He caught the lady's shoulders as she glided
+over the brow of the slope, and lifted her by his great strength up
+out of the chair, which went the next moment bounding and jumping
+athwart the hill, and soon rolled over and groveled in rather an ugly
+way.
+
+Mrs. Bazalgette sobbed and cried so prettily on David's shoulder, and
+had to be petted and soothed by all hands. Inward composure soon
+returned, though not outward, and in due course histrionics commenced.
+First the sprain business. None of you do it better, ladies, whatever
+you may think. David had to carry her a bit. But she was too wise to
+be a bore. Next, the heroic business: _would_ be put down,
+_would_ walk, possible or not; _would_ not be a trouble to
+her kind friends. Then the martyr smiling through pain. David was very
+attentive to her; for while he was carrying her in his arms she had
+won his affection, all he could spare from Lucy. Which of you can tell
+all the consequences if you go and carry a pretty woman, with her
+little insinuating mouth close to your ears?
+
+Lucy and Arthur walked behind. Arthur sighed. Lucy was _reveuse._
+Arthur broke silence first. "Lucy!"
+
+"Yes, dear."
+
+"When is she going?"
+
+"Arthur, for shame! I won't tell you. To-morrow."
+
+"Lucy," said Arthur, with a depth of feeling, "she spoils
+everything!!!"
+
+
+Next morning ---- _come back?_ What for? _I will have the
+goodness to tell you what she said in his ear?_ Why, nothing.
+
+_You are a female reader?_ Oh! that alters the case. To attempt
+to deceive you would be cowardly, immoral; it would fail. She sighed,
+"My preserver!" at which David had much ado not to laugh in her face.
+Then she murmured still more softly, "You must come and see me at my
+home before you sail--will you not? I insist" (in the tone of a
+supplicant), "come, promise me."
+
+"That I will--with pleasure," said David, flushing.
+
+"Mind, it is a promise. Put me down. Lucy, come here and make him put
+me down. I _will not_ be a burden to my friends."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+THAT same evening, Mrs. Bazalgette, being alone with Lucy in the
+drawing-room, put her arm round that young lady's waist, and lovingly,
+not seriously, as a man might have been apt to do, reminded her of her
+honorable promise--not to be caught in the net of matrimony at Font
+Abbey. Lucy answered, without embarrassment, that she claimed no merit
+for keeping her word. No one had had the ill taste to invite her to
+break it.
+
+"You are either very sly or very blind," replied Mrs. Bazalgette,
+quietly.
+
+"Aunt!" said Lucy, piteously.
+
+Mrs. Bazalgette, who, by many a subtle question and observation during
+the last week, had satisfied herself of Lucy's innocence, now set to
+work and laid Uncle Fountain bare.
+
+"I do not speak in a hurry, Lucy; a hint came round to me a fortnight
+ago that you had an admirer here, and it turns out to be this Mr.
+Talboys."
+
+"Mr. Talboys?"
+
+"Yes. Does that surprise you? Do you think a young gentleman would
+come to Font Abbey three nights in a week without a motive?"
+
+Lucy reflected.
+
+"It is all over the place that you two are engaged."
+
+Lucy colored, and her eyes flashed with something very like anger, but
+she held her peace.
+
+"Ask Jane else."
+
+"What! take my servant into my confidence?"
+
+"Oh, there is a way of setting that sort of people chattering without
+seeming to take any notice. To tell the truth, I have done it for you.
+It is all over the village, and all over the house."
+
+"The proper person to ask must have been Uncle Fountain himself."
+
+"As if he would have told me the truth."
+
+"He is a gentleman, aunt, and would not have uttered a falsehood."
+
+"Doctrine of chivalry! He would have uttered half a dozen in one
+minute. Besides, why should I question a person I can read without.
+Your uncle, with his babyish cunning that everybody sees through, has
+given me the only proof I wanted. He has not had Mr. Talboys here once
+since I came."
+
+"Cunning little aunt! Mr. Talboys happens not to be at home; uncle
+told me so himself."
+
+"Simple little niece, uncle told you a fib; Mr. Talboys is at home.
+And observe! until I came to Font Abbey, he was here three times a
+week. You admit that. I come; your uncle knows I am not so unobservant
+as you, and Mr. Talboys is kept out of sight."
+
+"The proof that my uncle has deceived me," said Lucy, coldly, and with
+lofty incredulity.
+
+"Read that note from Miss Dodd!"
+
+"What! you in correspondence with Miss Dodd?"
+
+"That is to say, she has thrust herself into correspondence with
+me--just like her assurance."
+
+The letter ran thus:
+
+
+"DEAR MADAM--My brother requests me to say that, in compliance with
+your request, he called at the lodge of Talboys Park, and the people
+informed him Mr. Talboys had not left Talboys Park at all since
+Easter. I remain yours, etc."
+
+
+Lucy was dumfounded.
+
+"I suspected something, Lucy, so I asked Mr. Dodd to inquire."
+
+"It was a singular commission to send him on."
+
+"Oh, he takes long walks--cruises, he calls them--and he is so
+good-natured. Well, what do you think of your uncle's veracity now?"
+
+Lucy was troubled and distressed, but she mastered her countenance: "I
+think he has sacrificed it for once to his affection for me. I fear
+you are right; my eyes are opened to many circumstances. But do--oh,
+pray do!--see his goodness in all this."
+
+"The goodness of a story-teller."
+
+"He admires Mr. Talboys--he reveres him. No doubt he wished to secure
+his poor niece what he thinks a great match, and now you assign ill
+motives to him. Yes, I confess he has deviated from truth. Cruel!
+cruel! what can you give me in exchange if you rob me of my esteem for
+those I love!"
+
+This innocent distress, with its cause, were too deep for a lady whose
+bright little intelligence leaned toward cunning rather than wisdom.
+In spite of her niece's trouble, and the brimming eyes that implored
+forbearance, she drove the sting, merrily in again and again, till at
+last Lucy, who was not defending herself, but an absent friend, turned
+a little suddenly on her and said:
+
+"And do you think he says nothing against you?"
+
+"Oh, he is a backbiter, too, is he? I didn't know he had that vice.
+Ah! and, pray, what can he find to say against me?"
+
+"Oh, people that hate one another can always find something
+ill-natured to say," retorted Lucy, with a world of meaning.
+
+Mrs. Bazalgette turned red, and her little nose went up into the air
+at an angle of forty-five. She said, with majestic disdain: "I don't
+hate the man--I don't condescend to hate him."
+
+"Then don't condescend to backbite him, dear."
+
+This home-thrust, coming from such a quarter, took away my Lady
+Disdain's very breath. She sat transfixed; then, upon reflection, got
+up a tear, and had to be petted.
+
+This sweet lady departed, flinging down her firebrand on those
+hospitable boards.
+
+Lucy, though she had defended her uncle, was not a little vexed that
+he had managed matters so as to get her talked of with Mr. Talboys.
+Her natural modesty and reserve prevented her from remonstrating; nor
+was there any positive necessity. She was one of those young ladies
+who seem born mistresses of the art of self-defense. Deriving the art
+not from experience, but from instinct, they are as adroit at
+seventeen as they are at twenty-seven; so a last year's bird
+constructs her first nest as cunningly as can a veteran feathered
+architect.
+
+Therefore, without a grain of discourtesy or tangible ill-temper, she
+quietly froze, and a small family with her, they could not tell how or
+why, for they had never even suspected this girl's power. You would
+have seemed to them as one that mocketh had you told them they owed
+their gayety, their good-humor, their happiness, and their
+conversational powers to her.
+
+Of these Talboys suffered the most. She brought him to a stand-still
+by a very simple process. She no longer patted or spurred him. To vary
+the metaphor, a man that has no current must be stirred or stagnate;
+Lucy's light hand stirred Talboys no more; Talboys stagnated. Mr.
+Fountain suffered next in proportion. He began to find that something
+was the matter, but what he had no idea. He did not observe that,
+though Lucy answered him as kindly as ever, she did not draw him out
+as heretofore, far less that she was vexed with him, and on her guard
+against him and everybody, like a _maitresse d'armes._ No. "The
+days were drawing in. The air was heavy; no carbon in it. Wind in the
+east again!!!" etc. So subtle is the influence of these silly little
+creatures upon creation's lords.
+
+Mr. Talboys did not take delicate hints. He continued his visits three
+times a week, and the coast was kept clear for him. On this Miss
+Fountain proceeded to overt acts of war. She brought a champion on the
+scene--a terrible champion--a champion so irresistible that I set any
+woman down as a coward who lets him loose upon a sex already so
+unequal to the contest as ours. What that champion's real name is I
+have in vain endeavored to discover, but he is _called_
+"Headache." When this terrible ally mingled in the game--on the
+Talboys nights--dismay fell upon the wretched males that abode in and
+visited the once cheerful, cozy Font Abbey. Messrs. Fountain and
+Talboys put their heads together in grave, anxious consultations, and
+Arthur vented a yell of remonstrance. He found the lady one afternoon
+preparing indisposition. She was leaning languidly back, and the fire
+was dying out of her eye, and the color out of her cheek, and the
+blinds were drawn down. The poor boy burst in upon this prologue. "Oh,
+Lucy," he cried, in piteous, foreboding tones, "don't go and have a
+headache to-night. It was so jolly till you took to these
+_stupid_ headaches."
+
+"I am so sorry, Arthur," said Lucy, apologetically, but at bottom she
+was inexorable. The disease reached its climax just before dinner. All
+remedies failed, and there was nothing for it but to return to her own
+room, and read the last new tale of domestic interest--and
+principle--until sleep came to her relief.
+
+After dinner Arthur shot out with the retiring servants, and interred
+himself in the study, where he sought out with care such wild romances
+as give entirely false views of life, and found them, "and so shut up
+in measureless content."--Macbeth.
+
+The seniors consulted at their ease. They both appreciated the painful
+phenomenon, but they differed _toto coelo_ as to the cause. Mr.
+Fountain ascribed it to the somber influence of Mrs. Bazalgette, and
+miscalled her, till Jane's hair stood on end: she happened to be the
+one at the keyhole that night. Mr. Talboys laid all the blame on David
+Dodd. The discussion was vigorous, and occupied more than two hours,
+and each party brought forward good and plausible reasons; and, if
+neither made any progress toward converting the other, they gained
+this, at least, that each corroborated himself. Now Mrs. Bazalgette
+was gone no direct reprisals on her were possible. Registering a vow
+that one day or other he would be even with her, the senior consented,
+though not very willingly, to co-operate with his friend against an
+imaginary danger. In answer to his remark that the Dodds were never
+invited to tea now, Mr. Talboys had replied: "But I find from Mr.
+Arthur he visits the house every day on the pretense of teaching him
+mathematics--a barefaced pretense--a sailor teach mathematics!" Mr.
+Fountain had much ado to keep his temper at this pertinacity in a
+jealous dream. He gulped his ire down, however, and said, somewhat
+sullenly: "I really cannot consent to send my poor friend's son to the
+University a dunce, and there is no other mathematician near."
+
+"If I find you one," said Talboys, hastily, "will you relieve Mr. Dodd
+of his labors, and me of his presence?"
+
+"Certainly," said the other. Poor David!
+
+"Then there is my friend Bramby. He is a second wrangler. He shall
+take Arthur, and keep him till Miss Fountain leaves us. Bramby will
+refuse me nothing. I have a living in my gift, and the incumbent is
+eighty-eight."
+
+The senior consented with a pitying smile.
+
+"Bramby will take him next week," said Talboys, severely.
+
+Mr. Fountain nodded his head. It was all the assent he could effect:
+and at that moment there passed through him the sacrilegious thought
+that the Conqueror must have imported an ass or two among his other
+forces, and that one of these, intermarrying with Saxon blood, had
+produced a mule, and that mule was his friend.
+
+The same uneasy jealousy, which next week was to expel David from Font
+Abbey, impelled Mr. Talboys to call the very next day at one o'clock
+to see what was being done under cover of trigonometry. He found Mr.
+and Miss Fountain just sitting down to luncheon. David and Arthur were
+actually together somewhere, perhaps going through the farce of
+geometry. He was half vexed at finding no food for his suspicions.
+Presently, so spiteful is chance, the door opened, and in marched
+Arthur and David.
+
+"I have made him stay to luncheon for once," said Arthur; "he couldn't
+refuse me; we are to part so soon." Arthur got next to Lucy, and had
+David on his left. Mr. Talboys gave Mr. Fountain a look, and very soon
+began to play his battery upon David.
+
+"How do you naval officers find time to learn geometry?"
+
+"What? don't you know it is a part of our education, sir?"
+
+"I never heard that before."
+
+"That is odd; but perhaps you have spent all your life ashore" (this
+in commiserating accents). David then politely explained to Mr.
+Talboys that a man who looked one day to command a ship must not only
+practice seamanship, but learn navigation, and that navigation was a
+noble art founded on the exact sciences as well as on practical
+experiences; that there did still linger upon the ocean a few of the
+old captains, who, born at a period when a ship, in making a voyage,
+used to run down her longitude first, and then begin to make her
+latitude, could handle a ship well, and keep her off a lee shore _if
+they saw it in time,_ but were, in truth, hardly to be trusted to
+take her from port to port. "We get a word with these old salts now
+and then when we are becalmed alongside, and the questions they put
+make us quite feel for them. Then they trust entirely to their
+instruments. They can take an observation, but they can't verify one.
+They can tack her and wear her (I have seen them do one when they
+should have done the other), and they can read the sky and the water
+better than we young ones; and while she floats they stick to her, and
+the greater the danger the louder the oaths--but that is all." He then
+assured them with modest fervor that much more than that was expected
+of the modern commander, particularly in the two capital articles of
+exact science and gentlemanly behavior. He concluded with considerable
+grace by apologizing for his enthusiastic view of a profession
+that had been too often confounded with the faults of its
+professors--faults that were curable, and that they would all, he
+hoped, live long enough to see cured. Then, turning to Miss Fountain,
+he said: "And if I began by despising my business, and taking a small
+view of it, how should I ever hold sticks with my able competitors,
+who study it with zeal and admiration?"
+
+Lucy. "I don't quite understand all you have said, Mr. Dodd,
+but that last I think is unanswerable."
+
+Fountain. "I am sure of it. As the Duke of Wellington said the
+other day in the House of Lords, 'That is a position I defy any noble
+lord to assault with success'--haw! ho!"
+
+Mr. Talboys averted his attack. "Pray, sir," said he, with a sneer,
+"may I ask, have nautical commanders a particular taste for education
+as well as science?"
+
+"Not that I know of. If you mean me, I am hungry to learn, and I find
+few but what can teach me something, and what little I know I am
+willing to impart, sir; give and take."
+
+"It is the direction of your teaching that seems to me so singular.
+Mathematics are horrible enough, and greatly to be avoided."
+
+"That is news to me."
+
+"On _terra firma,_ I mean."
+
+At this opening of the case Talboys versus Newton, Arthur
+shrugged his shoulders to Lucy and David, and went swiftly out as from
+the presence of an idiot. It was abominably rude. But, besides being
+ill-natured and a little shallow, Mr. Talboys was drawling out his
+words, and Arthur was sixteen--candid epoch, at which affectation in
+man or woman is intolerable to us; we get a little hardened to it long
+before sixty. Mr. Talboys bit his lip at this boyish impertinence, but
+he was too proud a man to notice it otherwise than by quietly
+incorporating the offender into his satire. "But the enigma is why you
+read them with a stripling, of whose breeding we have just had a
+specimen--mathematics with a hob-ba-de-hoy? _Grand Dieu!_ Do pray
+tell us, Mr. Dodd, why you come to Font Abbey every day; is it really
+to teach Master Orson mathematics and manners?"
+
+David did not sink into the earth as he was intended to.
+
+"I come to teach him algebra and geometry, what little I know."
+
+"But your motive, Mr. Dodd?"
+
+David looked puzzled, Lucy uneasy at seeing her guest badgered.
+
+"Ask Miss Fountain why she thinks I do my best for Arthur," said
+David, lowering his eyes.
+
+Talboys colored and looked at Fountain.
+
+"I think it must be out of pure goodness," said Lucy, sweetly.
+
+Mr. Talboys ignored her calmly. "Pray enlighten us, Mr. Dodd. Now what
+is the real reason you walk a mile every day to do mathematics with
+that interesting and well-behaved juvenile?"
+
+"You are very curious, sir," said David, grimly, his ire rising
+unseen.
+
+"I am--on this point."
+
+"Well, since you must be told what most men could see without help, it
+is--because he is an orphan; and because an orphan finds a brother in
+every man that is worth the shoe-leather he stands in. Can ye read the
+riddle now, ye lubber?" and David started up haughtily, and, with
+contempt and wrath on his face, marched through the open window and
+joined his little friend on the lawn, leaving Fountain red with anger
+and Talboys white.
+
+The next thing was, Lucy rose and went quietly out of the room by the
+door.
+
+"It is the last time he shall set his foot within my door. Provoking
+cub!"
+
+"You are convinced at last that he is a dangerous rival?"
+
+"A rival? Nonsense and stuff!!"
+
+"Then why was she so agitated? She went out with tears in her eyes: I
+saw them."
+
+"The poor girl was frightened, no doubt. We don't have fracases at
+Font Abbey. On this one spot of earth comfort reigns, and balmy peace,
+and shall reign unruffled while I live. The passions are not admitted
+here, sir. Gracious Heaven forbid! I'd as soon see a bonfire in the
+middle of my dining-room as Jealousy & Co."
+
+"In that case you had better exclude the cause."
+
+"The cause is your imagination, my good friend; but I will give it no
+handle. I will exclude David Dodd until she has accepted you in form."
+
+With this understanding the friends parted.
+
+
+After dinner that same day Arthur sat in the drawing-room with Lucy.
+He was reading, she working placidly. She looked off her work demurely
+at him several times. He was absorbed in a flighty romance. "I have
+dropped my worsted, Arthur. It is by you."
+
+Arthur picked the ball up and brought it to her; then back to his
+romance, heart and soul. Another sidelong glance at him; then, after a
+long silence, "Your book seems very interesting."
+
+"I'll fling it against the wall if it does not mind," was the
+infuriated reply. "Here are two fools quarreling, page after page, and
+can't see, or won't see, what everybody else can see, that it is an
+absurd misunderstanding. One word of common sense would put it all
+right."
+
+"Then why not put the book down and talk to me?"
+
+"I can't. It won't let me. I must see how long the two fools will go
+on not seeing what everybody else sees."
+
+"Will not the number of volumes tell you that?"
+
+"Signorina, don't you try to be satirical!" said the sprightly youth;
+"you'll only make a mess of it. What is the use dropping one drop of
+vinegar into such a great big honey pot?"
+
+"You are a saucy boy," retorted Lucy, in tones of gentle approbation.
+
+A long silence.
+
+"Arthur, will you hold this skein for me?"
+
+Arthur groaned.
+
+"Never mind, dear. I will try and manage with a chair."
+
+"No you won't, now; there."
+
+The victim was caught by the hands. But with fatal instinctive
+perverseness he sat in silent amazement watching Lucy's supple white
+hand disentangling impossibilities instead of chattering as he was
+intended to. Lucy gave a little sigh. Here was a dreadful
+business--obliged to elicit the information she had resolved should be
+forced upon her.
+
+"By the by, Arthur," said she, carelessly, "did Mr. Dodd say anything
+to you on the lawn?"
+
+"What about?"
+
+"About what was said after you went out so ru--so suddenly."
+
+"No; why? what was said? Something about me? Tell me."
+
+"Oh, no, dear; as Mr. Dodd did not mention it, it is not worth while.
+You must not move your hands, please."
+
+"Now, Lucy, that is too bad. It is not fair to excite one's curiosity
+and then stop directly."
+
+"But it is nothing. Mr. Talboys teased Mr. Dodd a little, that is all,
+and Mr. Dodd was not so patient as I have seen him on like occasions.
+There, _you_ are disentangled at last."
+
+"Now, signorina, let us talk sense. Tell me, which do you like best of
+all the gentlemen that come here?"
+
+"You, dear; only keep your hands still."
+
+"None of your chaff, Lucy."
+
+"Chaff! what is that?"
+
+"Flattery, then. I hope it isn't that affected fool Talboys, for I
+hate hun."
+
+"I cannot undertake to share your prejudices, Mr. Arthur."
+
+"Then you actually like him."
+
+"I don't dislike him."
+
+"Then I pity your taste, that is all."
+
+"Mr. Talboys has many good qualities; and if he was what you describe
+him, Uncle Fountain would not prize him as he does."
+
+"There is something in that, Lucy; but I think my guardian and you are
+mad upon just that one point. Talboys is a fool and a snob."
+
+"Arthur," said Lucy, severely, "if you speak so of my uncle's friends,
+you and I shall quarrel."
+
+"You won't quarrel just now, if you can help it."
+
+"Won't I, though? Why not, pray?"
+
+"Because your skein is not wound yet."
+
+"Oh, you little black-hearted thing!"
+
+"I know human nature, miss," said the urchin, pompously; "I have read
+Miss Edgeworth!!!"
+
+He then made an appeal to her candor and good sense. "Now don't you
+see my friend Mr. Dodd is worth them all put together?"
+
+"I can't quite see that."
+
+"He is so noble, so kind, so clever."
+
+"You must own he is a trifle brusk."
+
+"Never. And, if he is, that is not like hurting people's feelings on
+purpose, and saying nasty, ill-natured things wrapped up in politeness
+that you daren't say out like a man, or you'd get kicked. He is a
+gentleman inside; that Talboys is only one outside; but you girls
+can't look below the surface."
+
+"We have not read Miss Edgeworth. His hands are not so white as Mr.
+Talboys'."
+
+"Nor his liver, either--oh, you goose! Which has the finest eyes? Why,
+you don't see such eyes as Mr. Dodd's every day. They are as large as
+yours, only his are dark."
+
+"Don't be angry, dear. You must admit his voice is very loud."
+
+"He can make it loud, but it is always low and gentle whenever he
+speaks to you. I have noticed that; so that is monstrous ungrateful of
+you."
+
+"There, the skein is wound. Arthur!"
+
+"Well?"
+
+"I have a great mind to tell you something your friend Mr. Dodd said
+while you were out of the room--but no, you shall finish your story
+first."
+
+"No, no; hang the story!"
+
+"Ah! you only say that out of politeness. I have taken you from it so
+long already."
+
+The impetuous boy jumped up, seized the volumes, dashed out, and
+presently came running back, crying: "There, I have thrown them behind
+the bookcase for ever and ever. Now will you tell me what he said?"
+
+Lucy smiled triumphantly. She could relish a bloodless victory over an
+inanimate rival. Then she said softly, "Arthur, what I am going to
+tell you is in confidence."
+
+"I will be torn in pieces before I betray it," said the young
+chevalier.
+
+Lucy smiled at his extravagance, then began again very gravely: "Mr.
+Talboys, who, with many good qualities, has--what shall I say?--narrow
+and artificial views compared with your friend--"
+
+"Ah! now you are talking sense."
+
+"Then why interrupt me, dear?--began teasing him, and wanting to know
+the real reason he comes here."
+
+"The real reason? What did the fool mean?"
+
+"How can I tell, Arthur, any more than you? Mr. Dodd evidently thought
+that some slur was meant on the purity of his friendship for you."
+
+"Shame! shame! oh!"
+
+"I saw his anger rising; for Mr. Dodd, though not irritable, is
+passionate--at least I think so. I tried to smooth matters. But no;
+Mr. Talboys persisted in putting this ungenerous question, when all of
+a sudden Mr. Dodd burst out, 'You wish to know why I love Arthur?
+Because he is an orphan; and because an orphan finds a brother in
+every man who is worth the shoe-leather he stands in. That is all the
+riddle, you lubber!!' It was terribly rude; but oh! Arthur, I must
+tell you your friend looked noble; he seemed to swell and rise to a
+giant as he spoke, and we all felt such little shrimps around him; and
+his lip trembled, and fire flashed from his eyes. How you would have
+admired him then; and he swept out of the room, and left us for his
+little friend, who is worthy of it all, since he stands up for him
+against us all. Arthur! why, he is crying! poor child! and do you
+think those words did not go to _my_ heart as well? I am an
+orphan, too. Arthur, don't cry, love! oh! oh! oh!"
+
+Oh, magic of a word from a great heart! Such a word, uncouth and
+simple, but hot from a manly bosom, pierced silk and broadcloth as if
+they had been calico and fustian, and made a fashionable young lady
+and a bold school-boy take hands and cry together. But such sweet
+tears dry quickly; they dry almost as they flow.
+
+"Hallo!" cried the mercurial prince; "a sudden thought strikes me. You
+kept running him down a minute ago."
+
+"Me?" said Lucy, with a look of amazement.
+
+"Why, you know you did. Now tell me what was that for."
+
+"To give you the pleasure of defending him."
+
+"Oh. Hum? Lucy, you are not quite so simple as the others think;
+sometimes I can't make you out myself."
+
+"Is it possible? Well, you know what to do, dear."
+
+"No, I don't."
+
+"Why, read Miss Edgeworth over again."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+ARTHUR was bundled off to a private tutor, and the Dodds invited to
+Font Abbey no more, and Talboys dined there three days a week. So far,
+David Dodd was in a poor and miserable position compared with Talboys,
+who visited Lucy at pleasure, and could close the very street door
+against a rival, real or imaginary. But the street door is not the
+door of the heart, and David had one little advantage over his
+powerful antagonist; it was a slender one, and he owed it to a subtle
+source--female tact. His sister had long been aware of Talboys. The
+gossip of the village had enlightened her as to his visits and
+supposed pretensions. She had deliberately withheld this information
+from her brother, for she said to herself: "Men always make
+_such_ fools of themselves when they are jealous. No. David
+shan't even know he has got a rival; if he did he would be wretched
+and live on thorns, and then he would get into passions, and either
+make a fool of himself in her eyes, or do something rash and be shown
+to the door."
+
+Thus far Eve, defending her brother. And with this piece of shrewdness
+she did a little more for him than she intended or was conscious of;
+for Talboys, either by feeble calculation or instinct of petty
+rivalry, constantly sneered at David before Lucy; David never
+mentioned Talboys' name to her. Now superior ignores, inferior
+detracts. Thus Talboys lowered himself and rather elevated David;
+moreover, he counteracted his own strongest weapon, the street door.
+After putting David out of sight, this judicious rival could not let
+him fade out of mind too; he found means to stimulate the lady's
+memory, and, as far as in him lay, made the absent present. May all my
+foes unweave their webs as cleverly! David knew nothing of this. He
+saw himself shut out from Paradise, and he was sad. He felt the loss
+of Arthur too. The orphan had been medicine to him. When a man is
+absorbed in a hopeless passion, to be employed every day in a good
+action has a magical soothing influence on the racked heart. Try this
+instead of suicide, despairing lover. It is a quack remedy; no M. D.
+prescribes it. Never you mind; in desperate ills a little cure is
+worth a deal of etiquette. Poor David had lost this innocent
+comfort--lost, too, the pleasure of going every day to the house she
+lived in. To be sure, when he used to go he seldom caught a glimpse of
+her, but he did now and then, and always enjoyed the hope.
+
+"I see how it is," said he to Eve one day; "I am not welcome to the
+master of the house. Well, he is the master; I shall not force my way
+where I am not welcome"; but after these spirited words he hung his
+head.
+
+"Oh, nonsense," said Eve. "It isn't him. There are mischief-makers
+behind."
+
+"Ay? just you tell me who they are. I'll teach them to come across my
+hawse"; and David's eyes flashed.
+
+"Don't you be silly," said Eve, and turned it off; "and don't be so
+downhearted. Why, you are not half a man."
+
+"No more I am, Eve. What has come to me?"
+
+"What, indeed? just when everything goes swimmingly."
+
+"Eve, how can you say so?"
+
+"Why, David, she leaves this in a few days for Mrs. Bazalgette's
+house. You tell me you have got a warm invitation there. Then make the
+play there, and, if you can't win her, say you don't deserve her,
+twiddle your thumb, and see a bolder lover carry her off. You foolish
+boy, she is only a woman; she is to be won. If you don't mind, some
+man will show you it was as easy as you think it is hard. Timid wooers
+make a mountain of a mole-hill."
+
+"Why, it is you who have kept me backing and filling all this time,
+Eve."
+
+"Of course. Prudence at first starting, but that isn't to say courage
+is never to come in. First creep within the fortification wall; but,
+once inside, if you don't storm the city that minute, woe be unto you.
+Come, cheer up! it is only for a few days, and then she goes where you
+will have her all to yourself; besides, you shall have one sweet
+delicious evening with her all alone before she goes. What! have you
+forgotten the pedigree? Wasn't I right to keep that back? and now
+march and take a good long walk."
+
+Her tongue was a spur. It made David's drooping manhood rear and
+prance--a trumpet, and pealed victory to come. David kissed her warmly
+and strode away radiant. She looked sadly after him.
+
+She had never spoken so hopefully, so encouragingly. The reason will
+startle such of my readers as have not taken the trouble to comprehend
+her. It was that she had never so thoroughly desponded. Such was Eve.
+When matters went smoothly, she itched to torment and take the gloss
+off David; but now the affair looked really desperate, so it would
+have been unkind not to sustain him with all her soul. The cause of
+her despondency and consequent cheerfulness shall now be briefly
+related. Scarce an hour ago she had met Miss Fountain in the village
+and accompanied her home. For David's sake she had diverted the
+conversation by easy degrees to the subject of marriage, in order to
+sound Miss Fountain. "You would never give your hand without your
+heart, I am sure."
+
+"Heaven forbid," was the reply.
+
+"Not even to a coronet?"
+
+"Not even to a crown."
+
+So far so good; but Miss Fountain went on to say that the heart was
+not the only thing to be consulted in a matter so important as
+marriage.
+
+"It is the only thing I would ever consult," said Eve. As Lucy did not
+reply, Eve asked her next what she would do if she loved a poor man.
+Lucy replied coldly that it was not her present intention to love
+anybody but her relations; that she should never love any gentleman
+until she had been married to him, or, correcting herself, at all
+events, been some time engaged to him, and she should certainly never
+engage herself to anyone who would not rather improve her position in
+society than deteriorate it. Eve met these pretty phrases with a look
+of contempt, as much as to say, "While you speak I am putting all that
+into plain vulgar English." The other did not seem to notice it. "To
+leave this interesting topic for a while," said she, languidly, "let
+me consult you, Miss Dodd. I have not, as you may have noticed, great
+abilities, but I have received an excellent education. To say nothing
+of those _soi-disant_ accomplishments with which we adorn and
+sometimes weary society, my dear mother had me well grounded in
+languages and history. Without being eloquent, I have a certain
+fluency, in which, they tell me, even members of Parliament are
+deficient, smoothly as their speeches read made into English by the
+newspapers. Like yourself, Miss Dodd, and all our sex, I am not
+destitute of tact, and tact, you know, is 'the talent of talents.' I
+feel," here she bit her lip, "myself fit for public life. I am
+ambitious."
+
+"Oh, you are, are you?"
+
+"Very; and perhaps you will kindly tell me how I had best direct that
+ambition. The army? No; marching against daisies, and dancing and
+flirting in garrison towns, is frivolous and monotonous too. It isn't
+as if war was raging, trumpets ringing, and squadrons charging. Your
+brother's profession? Not for the world; I am a coward" [consistent].
+"Shall I lower my pretensions to the learned professions?"
+
+"I don't doubt your cleverness, but the learned professions?"
+
+"A woman has a tongue, you know, and that is their grand requisite. I
+interrupted you, Miss Dodd; pray forgive me."
+
+"Well, then, let us go through them. To be a clergyman, what is
+required? To preach, and visit the sick, and feel for them, and
+understand what passes in the sorrowful hearts of the afflicted. Is
+that beyond our sex?"
+
+"That last is far more beyond a man at most times; and oh, the
+discourses one has to sit out in church!"
+
+"Portia made a very passable barrister, Miss Dodd."
+
+"Oh, did she?"
+
+"Why, you know she did; and as for medicine, the great successes there
+are achieved by honeyed words, with a long word thrown in here and
+there. I've heard my own mamma say so. Now which shall I be?"
+
+"I suppose you are making fun of me," said Eve; "but there is many a
+true word spoken in jest. You could be a better, parson, lawyer or
+doctor than nine out of ten, but they won't let us. They know we could
+beat them into fits at anything but brute strength and wickedness, so
+they have shut all those doors in us poor girls' faces."
+
+"There; you see," said Lucy archly, "but two lines are open to our
+honorable ambition, marriage and--water-colors. I think marriage the
+more honorable of the two; above all, it is the more fashionable. Can
+you blame me, then, if my ambition chooses the altar and not the
+easel?"
+
+"So that is what you have been bringing me to."
+
+"You came of your own accord," was the sly retort. "Let me offer you
+some luncheon."
+
+"No, thank you; I could not eat a morsel just now."
+
+Eve went away, her bright little face visibly cast down. It was not
+Miss Fountain's words only, and that new trait of hard satire, which
+she had so suddenly produced from her secret recesses. Her very tones
+were cynical and worldly to Eve's delicate sense of hearing.
+
+"Poor, poor David!" she thought, and when she got to the door of the
+room she sighed; and as she went home she said more than once to
+herself, "No more heart than a marble statue. Oh, how true our first
+thought is! I come back to mine--"
+
+Lucy (sola). _"Then_ what right had she to come here and
+try to turn me inside out?"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+As the hour of Lucy's departure drew near, Mr. Fountain became anxious
+to see her betrothed to his friend, for fear of accidents. "You had
+better propose to her in form, or authorize me to do so, before she
+goes to that Mrs. Bazalgette." This time it was Talboys that hung
+back. He objected that the time was not opportune. "I make no
+advance," said he; "on the contrary, I seem of late to have lost
+ground with your niece."
+
+"Oh, I've seen the sort of distance she has put on; all superficial,
+my dear sir. I read it in your favor. I know the sex; they can't elude
+me. Pique, sir--nothing on earth but female pique. She is bitter
+against us for shilly-shallying. These girls hate shilly-shally in a
+man. They are monopolists--severe monopolists; shilly-shally is one of
+their monopolies. Throw yourself at her feet, and press her with
+ardor; she will clear up directly." The proposed attitude did not
+tempt the stiff Talboys. His pride took the alarm.
+
+"Thank you. It is a position in which I should not care to place
+myself unless I was quite sure of not being refused. No, I will not
+risk my proposal while she is under the influence of this Dodd; he is,
+somehow or other, the cause of her coldness to me."
+
+"Good heavens! why, she has been hermetically sealed against him ever
+so long," cried Fountain, almost angrily.
+
+"I saw his sister come out of your gate only the other day. Sisters
+are emissaries--dangerous ones, too. Who knows? her very coldness may
+be vexation that this man is excluded. Perhaps she suspects me as the
+cause."
+
+"These are chimeras--wild chimeras. My niece cares nothing for such
+people as the Dodds."
+
+"I beg your pardon; these low attachments are the strongest. It is a
+notorious fact."
+
+"There is no attachment; there is nothing but civility, and the
+affability of a well-bred superior to an inferior. Attachment! why,
+there is not a girl in Europe less capable of marrying beneath her;
+and she is too cold to flirt---but with a view to matrimonial
+position. The worst of it is, that, while you fear an imaginary
+danger, you are running into a real one. If we are defeated it will
+not be by Dodd, but by that Mrs. Bazalgette. Why, now I think of it,
+whence does Lucy's coldness date? From that viper's visit to my house.
+Rely on it, if we are suffering from any rival influence, it is that
+woman's. She is a dangerous woman--she is a character I detest--she is
+a schemer."
+
+"Am I to understand that Mrs. Bazalgette has views of her own for Miss
+Fountain?" inquired Talboys, his jealousy half inclined to follow the
+new lead.
+
+"In all probability."
+
+"Oh, then it is mere surmise."
+
+"No, it is not mere surmise; it is the reasonable conjecture of a man
+who knows her sex, and human nature, and life. Since I have my views,
+what more likely than that she has hers, if only to spite me? Add to
+this her strange visit to Font Abbey, and the somber influence she has
+left behind. And to this woman Lucy is going unprotected by any
+positive pledge to you. Here is the true cause for anxiety. And if you
+do not share it with me, it must be that you do not care about our
+alliance."
+
+Mr. Talboys was hurt. "Not care for the alliance? It was dear to
+him--all the dearer for the difficulties. He was attached to Miss
+Fountain--warmly attached; would do anything for her except run the
+risk of an affront--a refusal." Then followed a long discussion, the
+result of which was that he would not propose in form now, but
+_would_ give proofs of his attachment such as no lady could
+mistake; _inter alia,_ he would be sure to spend the last evening
+with her, and would ride the first stage with her next day, squeeze
+her hand at parting, and look unutterable. And as for the formal
+proposal, that was only postponed a week or two. Mr. Fountain was to
+pay his visit to Mrs. Bazalgette, and secretly prepare Miss Fountain;
+then Talboys would suddenly pounce--and pop. The grandeur and boldness
+of this strategy staggered, rather than displeased, Mr. Fountain.
+
+"What! under her own roof?" and he could not help rubbing his hands
+with glee and spite--"under her own eye, and _malgre_ her
+personal influence? Why, you are Nap. I."
+
+"She will be quite out of the way of the Dodds there," said Talboys,
+slyly.
+
+The senior groaned. ("'Mule I.' I should have said.")
+
+
+And so they cut and dried it all.
+
+
+The last evening came, and with it, just before dinner, a line by
+special messenger from Mr. Talboys. "He could not come that evening.
+His brother had just arrived from India; they had not met for seven
+years. He could not set him to dine alone."
+
+After dinner, in the middle of her uncle's nap, in came Lucy, and,
+unheard-of occurrence--deed of dreadful note--woke him. She was
+radiant, and held a note from Eve. "Good news, uncle; those good, kind
+Dodds! they are coming to tea."
+
+"What?" and he wore a look of consternation. Recollecting, however,
+that Talboys was not to be there, he was indifferent again. But when
+he read the note he longed for his self-invited visitors. It ran thus:
+
+
+"DEAR MISS FOUNTAIN--David has found out the genealogy. He says there
+is no doubt you came from the Fountains of Melton, and he can prove
+it. He has proved it to me, and I am none the wiser. So, as David is
+obliged to go away to-morrow, I think the best way is for me to bring
+him over with the papers to-night. We will come at eight, unless you
+have company."
+
+
+"He is a worthy young man," shouted Mr. Fountain. "What o'clock is
+it?"
+
+"Very nearly eight. Oh, uncle, I am so glad. How pleased you will be!"
+
+The Dodds arrived soon after, and while tea was going on David spread
+his parchments on the table and submitted his proofs. He had eked out
+the other evidence by means of a series of leases. The three fields
+that went with Font Abbey had been let a great many times, and the
+landlord's name, Fountain in the latter leases, was Fontaine in those
+of remoter date. David even showed his host the exact date at which
+the change of orthography took place. "You are a shrewd young
+gentleman," cried Mr. Fountain, gleefully.
+
+David then asked him what were the names of his three meadows. The
+names of them? He didn't know they had any.
+
+"No names? Why, there isn't a field in England that hasn't its own
+name, sir. I noticed that before I went to sea." He then told Mr.
+Fountain the names of his three meadows, and curious names they were.
+Two of them were a good deal older than William the Conqueror. David
+wrote them on a slip of paper. He then produced a chart. "What is
+that, Mr. David?"
+
+"A map of the Melton estate, sir."
+
+"Why, how on earth did you get that?"
+
+"An old shipmate of mine lives in that quarter--got him to make it for
+me. Overhaul it, sir; you will find the Melton estate has got all your
+three names within a furlong of the mansion house."
+
+"From this you infer--"
+
+"That one of that house came here, and brought the E along with him
+that has got dropped somehow since, and, being so far from his
+birthplace, he thought he would have one or two of the old names about
+him. What will you bet me he hasn't shot more than one brace of
+partridges on those fields about Melton when he was a boy? So he
+christened your three fields afresh, and the new names took; likely he
+made a point of it with the people in the village. For all that, I
+have found one old fellow who stands out against them to this day. His
+name is Newel. He will persist in calling the field next to your house
+Snap Witcheloe. 'That is what my grandfather allus named it,' says he,
+'and that is the name it went by afore there was ever a Fountain in
+this ere parish.' I have looked in the Parish Register, and I see
+Newel's grandfather was born in 1690. Now, sir, all this is not
+mathematical proof; but, when you come to add it to your own direct
+proofs, that carry you within a cable's length of Port Fontaine, it is
+very convincing; and, not to pay out too much yarn, I'll bet--my
+head--to a China orange--"
+
+"David, don't be vulgar."
+
+"Never mind, Mr. Dodd--be yourself."
+
+"Well, then, to serve Eve out, I'll bet her head (and that is a better
+one than mine) to a China orange that Fontaine and Fountain are one,
+and that the first Fontaine came over here from Melton more than one
+hundred and thirty years ago, and less than one hundred and forty,
+when Newel's grandfather was a young man."
+
+_"Probatum est,"_ shouted old Fountain, his eyes sparkling, his
+voice trembling with emotion. "Miss Fontaine," said he, turning to
+Lucy, throwing a sort of pompous respect into his voice and manner,
+"you shall never marry any man that cannot give you as good a home as
+Melton, and quarter as good a coat of arms with you as your own, the
+Founteyns'." David's heart took a chill as if an ice-arrow had gone
+through it. "So join me to thank our young friend here."
+
+Mr. Fountain held out his hand. David gave his mechanically in return,
+scarcely knowing what he did. "You are a worthy and most intelligent
+young man, and you have made an old man as happy as a lord," said the
+old gentleman, shaking him warmly.
+
+"And there is my hand, too," said Lucy, putting out hers with a blush,
+"to show you I bear you no malice for being more unselfish and more
+sagacious than us all." Instantly David's cold chill fled
+unreasonably. His cheeks burned with blushes, his eyes glowed, his
+heart thumped, and the delicate white, supple, warm, velvet hand that
+nestled in his shot electric tremors through his whole frame, when
+glided, with well-bred noiselessness, through the open door, Mr.
+Talboys, and stood looking yellow at that ardent group, and the
+massive yet graceful bare arm stretched across the table, and the
+white hand melting into the brown one.
+
+
+While he stood staring, David looked up, and caught that strange, that
+yellow look. Instantly a light broke in on him. "So I should look,"
+felt David, "if I saw her hand in his." He held Lucy's hand tight (she
+was just beginning to withdraw it), and glared from his seat on the
+newcomer like a lion ready to spring. Eve read and turned pale; she
+knew what was in the man's blood.
+
+
+Lucy now quietly withdrew her hand, and turned with smiling composure
+toward the newcomer, and Mr. Fountain thrust a minor anxiety between
+the passions of the rivals. He rose hastily, and went to Talboys, and,
+under cover of a warm welcome, took care to let him know Miss Dodd had
+been kind enough to invite herself and David. He then explained with
+uneasy animation what David had done for him.
+
+Talboys received all this with marked coldness; but it gave him time
+to recover his self-possession. He shook hands with Lucy, all but
+ignored David and Eve, and quietly assumed the part of principal
+personage. He then spoke to Lucy in a voice tuned for the occasion, to
+give the impression that confidential communication was not unusual
+between him and her. He apologized, scarce above a whisper, for not
+having come to dinner on her last day.
+
+"But after dinner," said he, "my brother seemed fatigued. I
+treacherously recommended bed. You forgive me? The nabob instantly
+acted on my selfish hint. I mounted my horse, and _me voila."_ In
+short, in two minutes he had retaliated tenfold on David. As for Lucy,
+she was a good deal amused at this sudden public assumption of a
+tenderness the gentleman had never exhibited in private, but a little
+mortified at his parade of mysterious familiarity; still, for a
+certain female reason, she allowed neither to appear, but wore an air
+of calm cordiality, and gave Talboys his full swing.
+
+David, seated sore against his will at another table, whither Mr.
+Fountain removed him and parchments on pretense of inspecting the
+leases, listened with hearing preternaturally keen--listened and
+writhed.
+
+His back was toward them. At last he heard Talboys propose in
+murmuring accents to accompany her the first stage of her journey. She
+did not answer directly, and that second was an age of anguish to poor
+David.
+
+When she did answer, as if to compensate for her hesitation, she said,
+with alacrity: "I shall be delighted; it will vary the journey most
+agreeably; I will ride the pony you were so kind as to give me."
+
+The letters swam before David's eyes.
+
+Lucy came to the table, and, standing close behind David--so close
+that he felt her pure cool breath mingle with his hair, said to her
+uncle: "Mr. Talboys proposes to me to ride the first stage to-morrow;
+if I do, you must be of the party."
+
+"Oh, must I? Well, I'll roll after you in my phaeton."
+
+At this moment Eve could bear no longer the anguish on David's beloved
+face. It made her hysterical. She could hardly command herself. She
+rose hastily, and saying, "We must not keep you up the night before a
+journey," took leave with David. As he shook hands with Lucy, his
+imploring eye turned full on hers, and sought to dive into her heart.
+But that soft sapphire eye was unfathomable. It was like those dark
+blue southern waters that seem to reveal all, yet hide all, so deep
+they are, though clear.
+
+
+Eve. "Thank Heaven, we are safe out of the house."
+
+David. "I have got a rival."
+
+Eve. "A pretty rival; she doesn't care a button for him."
+
+David. "He rides the first stage with her."
+
+Eve. "Well, what of that?"
+
+David. "I have got a rival."
+
+
+David was none of your lie-a-beds. He rose at five in summer, six in
+winter, and studied hard till breakfast time; after that he was at
+every fool's service. This morning he did not appear at the breakfast
+table, and the servant had not seen him about. Eve ran upstairs full
+of anxiety. He was not in his room. The bed had not been slept in; the
+impress of his body outside showed, however, that he had flung himself
+down on it to snatch an uneasy slumber.
+
+Eve sent the girl into the village to see if she could find him or
+hear tidings of him. The girl ran out without her bonnet, partaking
+her mistress's anxiety, but did not return for nearly half an hour,
+that seemed an age to Eve. The girl had lost some time by going to
+Josh Grace for information. Grace's house stood in an orchard; so he
+was the unlikeliest man in the village to have seen David. She set
+against this trivial circumstance the weighty one that he was her
+sweetheart, and went to him first.
+
+"I hain't a-sin him, Sue; thee hadst better ask at the blacksmith's
+shop," said Joshua Grace.
+
+Susan profited by this hint, and learned at the blacksmith's shop that
+David had gone by up the road about six in the morning, walking very
+fast. She brought the news to Eve.
+
+"Toward Royston?"
+
+"Yes, miss; but, la! he won't ever think to go all the way to
+Royston--without his breakfast."
+
+"That will do, Susan. I think I know what he is gone for."
+
+On the servant retiring, her assumed firmness left her.
+
+"On the road _she_ is to travel! and his rival with her. What mad
+act is he going to do? Heaven have mercy on him, and me, and her!"
+
+Eve knew what was in the man's blood. She sat trembling at home till
+she could bear it no longer. She put on her bonnet, and sallied out on
+the road to Royston, determined to stop the carriage, profess to have
+business at Royston, and take a seat beside Mr. Fountain. She felt
+that the very sight of her might prevent David from committing any
+great rashness or folly. On reaching the high road, she observed a
+fresh track of narrow wheels, that her rustic experience told her
+could only be those of a four-wheeled carriage, and, making inquiries,
+she found she was too late; carriage and riders had gone on before.
+
+Her heart sank. Too late by a few minutes; but somehow she could not
+turn back. She walked as fast as she could after the gay cavalcade, a
+prey to one of those female anxieties we have all laughed at as
+extravagant, proved unreasonable, and sometimes found prophetic.
+
+Meantime Lucy and Mr. Talboys cantered gayly along; Mr. Fountain
+rolled after in a phaeton; the traveling carriage came last. Lucy was
+in spirits; motion enlivens us all, but especially such of us as are
+women. She had also another cause for cheerfulness, that may perhaps
+transpire. Her two companions and unconscious dependents were governed
+by her mood. She made them larks to-day, as she had owls for some
+weeks past, last night excepted. She would fall back every now and
+then, and let Uncle Fountain pass her; then come dashing up to him,
+and either pull up short with a piece of solemn information like an
+_aid-de-camp_ from headquarters, or pass him shooting a shaft of
+raillery back into his chariot, whereat he would rise with mock fury
+and yell a repartee after her. Fountain found himself good
+company--Talboys himself. It was not the lady; oh dear no! it never
+is.
+
+At last all seemed so bright, and Mr. Talboys found himself so
+agreeable, that he suddenly recalled his high resolve not to pop in a
+county desecrated by Dodds. "I'll risk it now," said he; and he rode
+back to Fountain and imparted his intention, and the senior nearly
+bounded off his seat. He sounded the charge in a stage whisper,
+because of the coachman, "At her at once!"
+
+"Secret conference? hum!" said Lucy, twisting her pony, and looking
+slyly back.
+
+Mr. Talboys rejoined her, and, after a while, began in strange,
+melodious accents, "You will leave a blank--"
+
+"Shall we canter?" said Lucy, gayly, and off went the pony. Talboys
+followed, and at the next hill resumed the sentimental cadence.
+
+"You will leave a sad blank here, Miss Fountain."
+
+"No greater than I found," replied the lady, innocently (?). "Oh,
+dear!" she cried, with sudden interest, "I am afraid I have dropped my
+comb." She felt under her hat. [No, viper, you have not dropped your
+comb, but you are feeling for a large black pin with a head to it.
+There, you have found it, and taken it out of your hair, and got it
+hid in your hand. What is that for?]
+
+"Ten times greater," moaned the honeyed Talboys; "for then we had not
+seen you. Ah! my dear Miss Fountain--The devil! wo-ho, Goliah!"
+
+For the pony spilled the treacle. He lashed out both heels with a
+squeak of amazement within an inch of Mr. Talboys' horse, which
+instantly began to rear, and plunge, and snort. While Talboys, an
+excellent horseman, was calming his steed, Lucy was condoling with
+hers. "Dear little naughty fellow!" said she, patting him ["I did it
+too hard"].
+
+"As I was saying, the blessing we have never enjoyed we do not miss;
+but, now that you have shone upon us, what can reconcile us to lose
+you, unless it be the hope that--Hallo!"
+
+Lucy. "Ah!"
+
+The pony was off with a bound like a buck. She had found out the right
+depth of pin this time. "Ah! where is my whip? I have dropped it; how
+careless!" Then they had to ride back for the whip, and by this means
+joined Mr. Fountain. Lucy rode by his side, and got the carriage
+between her and her beau. By this plan she not only evaded sentiment,
+but matured by a series of secret trials her skill with her weapon.
+Armed with this new science, she issued forth, and, whenever Mr.
+Talboys left off indifferent remarks and sounded her affections, she
+probed the pony, and he kicked or bolted as the case might require.
+
+"Confound that pony!" cried Talboys; "he used to be quiet enough."
+
+"Oh, don't scold him, dear, playful little love. He carries me like a
+wave."
+
+At this simple sentence Talboys' dormant jealousy contrived to revive.
+He turned sulky, and would not waste any more tenderness, and
+presently they rattled over the stones of Royston. Lucy commended her
+pony with peculiar earnestness to the ostler. "Pray groom him well,
+and feed him well, sir; he is a love." The ostler swore he would not
+wrong her ladyship's nag for the world.
+
+Lucy then expressed her desire to go forward without delay: "Aunt will
+expect me." She took her seat in the carriage, bade a kind farewell to
+both the gentlemen now that no tender answer was possible, and was
+whirled away.
+
+Thus the coy virgin eluded the pair.
+
+Now her manner in taking leave of Talboys was so kind, so smiling (in
+the sweet consciousness of having baffled him), that Fountain felt
+sure it all had gone smoothly. They were engaged.
+
+"Well?" he cried, with great animation.
+
+"No," was the despondent reply.
+
+"Refused?" screeched the other; "impossible!"
+
+"No, thank you," was the haughty reply.
+
+"What then? Did you change your mind? Didn't you propose after all?"
+
+"I _couldn't._ That d--d pony wouldn't keep still."
+
+Fountain groaned.
+
+
+Lucy, left to herself, gave a little sigh of relief. She had been
+playing a part for the last twenty-four hours. Her cordiality with Mr.
+Talboys naturally misled Eve and David, and perhaps a male reader or
+two. Shall I give the clue? It may be useful to you, young gentlemen.
+Well, then, her sex are compounders. Accustomed from childhood never
+to have anything entirely their own way, they are content to give and
+take; and, these terms once accepted, it is a point of honor and tact
+with them not to let a creature see the irksome part of the bargain is
+not as delicious as the other. One coat of their own varnish goes over
+the smooth and the rough, the bitter and the sweet.
+
+Now Lucy, besides being singularly polite and kind, was _femme
+jusqu' au bout des ongles._ If her instincts had been reasons, and
+her vague thoughts could have been represented by anything so definite
+as words, the result might have appeared thus:
+
+"A few hours, and you can bore me no more, Mr. Talboys. Now what must
+I do for you in return? _Seem not to be bored to-day? Mais c'est la
+moindre des choses. Seem to be pleased with your society?_ Why not?
+it is only for an hour or two, and my seeming to like it will not
+prolong it. My heart swells with happiness at the thought of escaping
+from you, good bore; you shall share my happiness, good bore. It is so
+kind of you not to bore me to all eternity."
+
+This was why the last night she sat like Patience on an ottoman
+smiling on Talboys and racking David's heart; and this was why she
+made the ride so pleasant to those she was at heart glad to leave,
+till they tried sentiment on, and then she was an eel directly, pony
+and all.
+
+Lucy (sola). "That is over. Poor Mr. Talboys! Does he fancy he
+has an attachment? No; I please and I am courted wherever I go, but I
+have never been loved. If a man loved me I should see it in his face,
+I should feel it without a word spoken. Once or twice I fancied I saw
+it in one man's eyes: they seemed like a lion's that turned to a
+dove's as they looked at me." Lucy closed her own eyes and recalled
+her impression: "It must have been fancy. Ought I to wish to inspire
+such a passion as others have inspired? No, for I could never return
+it. The very language of passion in romances seems so extravagant to
+me, yet so beautiful. It is hard I should not be loved, merely because
+I cannot love. Many such natures have been adored. I could not bear to
+die and not be loved as deeply as ever woman was loved. I must be
+loved, adored and worshiped: it would be so sweet--sweet!" She slowly
+closed her eyes, and the long lovely lashes drooped, and a celestial
+smile parted her lips as she fell into a vague, delicious reverie.
+Suddenly the carriage stopped at the foot of a hill. She opened her
+eyes, and there stood David Dodd at the carriage window.
+
+Lucy put her head out. "Why, it is Mr. Dodd! Oh, Mr. Dodd, is there
+anything the matter?"
+
+"No."
+
+"You look so pale."
+
+"Do I?" and he flushed faintly.
+
+"Which way are you going?"
+
+"I am going home again now," said David, sorrowfully.
+
+"You came all this way to bid me good-by," and she arched her eyebrows
+and laughed--a little uneasily.
+
+"It didn't seem a step. It will seem longer going back."
+
+"No, no, you shall ride back. My pony is at the White Horse; will you
+not ride my pony back for me? then I shall know he will be kindly
+used; a stranger would whip him."
+
+"I should think my arm would wither if I ill-used him."
+
+"You are very good. I suppose it is because you are so brave."
+
+"Me brave? I don't feel so. Am I to tell him to drive on?" and he
+looked at her with haggard and imploring eyes.
+
+Her eyes fell before his.
+
+"Good-by, then," said she.
+
+He cried with a choking voice to the postilion, "Go ahead."
+
+The carriage went on and left him standing in the road, his head upon
+his breast.
+
+
+At the steepest part of the hill a trace broke, and the driver drew
+the carriage across the hill and shouted to David. He came running up,
+and put a large stone behind each wheel.
+
+Lucy was alarmed. "Mr. Dodd! let me out."
+
+He handed her out. The postboy was at a _nonplus;_ but David
+whipped a piece of cord and a knife out of his pocket, and began, with
+great rapidity and dexterity, to splice the trace.
+
+"Ah! now you are pleased, Mr. Dodd; our misfortune will elicit your
+skill in emergencies."
+
+"Oh, no, it isn't that; it is--I never hoped to see you again so
+soon."
+
+Lucy colored, and her eyes sought the ground; the splice was soon
+made.
+
+"There!" said David; "I could have spent an hour over it; but you
+would have been vexed, and the bitter moment must have come at last."
+
+
+"God bless you, Miss Fountain--oh! mayn't I say Miss Lucy to-day?" he
+cried, imploringly.
+
+"Of course you may," said Lucy, the tears rising in her eyes at his
+sad face and beseeching look. "Oh, Mr. Dodd, parting with those we
+esteem is always sad enough; I got away from the door without
+crying--for once; don't _you_ make me cry."
+
+"Make you cry?" cried David, as it he had been suspected of
+sacrilege; "God forbid!" He muttered in a choking voice, "You give the
+word of command, for I can't."
+
+"You can go on," said her soft, clear voice; but first she gave David
+her hand with a gentle look--"Good-by."
+
+But David could not speak to her. He held her hand tight in both his
+powerful hands. They seemed iron to her--shaking, trembling, grasping
+iron. The carriage went slowly on, and drew her hand away. She shrank
+into a corner of the carriage; he frightened her.
+
+He followed the carriage to the brow of the hill, then sat down upon a
+heap of stones, and looked despairingly after it.
+
+
+Meantime Lucy put her head in her hands and blushed, though she was
+all alone. "How dare he forget the distance between us? Poor fellow!
+have not I at times forgotten it? I am worse than he. I lost my
+self-possession; I should have checked his folly; he knows nothing of
+_les convenances._ He has hurt my hand, he is so rough; I feel
+his clutch now; there, I thought so, it is all red--poor fellow!
+Nonsense! he is a sailor; he knows nothing of the world and its
+customs. Parting with a pleasant acquaintance forever made him a
+little sad.
+
+"He is all nature; he is like nobody else; he shows every feeling
+instead of concealing it, that is all. He has gone home, I hope." She
+glanced hastily back. He was sitting on the stones, his arms drooping,
+his head bowed, a picture of despondency. She put her face in her
+hands again and pondered, blushing higher and higher. Then the pale
+face that had always been ruddy before, the simple grief and
+agitation, the manly eye that did not know how to weep, but was so
+clouded and troubled, and wildly sad; the shaking hands, that had
+clutched hers like a drowning man's (she felt them still), the
+quivering features, choked voice, and trembling lip, all these
+recoiled with double force upon her mind: they touched her far more
+than sobs and tears would have done, her sex's ready signs of shallow
+grief.
+
+Two tears stole down her cheeks.
+
+"If he would but go home and forget me!" She glanced hastily back.
+David was climbing up a tree, active as a cat. "He is like nobody
+else--he! he! Stay! is that to see the last of me--the very last? Poor
+soul! Madman, how will this end? What can come of it but misery to
+him, remorse to me?
+
+"This is love." She half closed her eyes and smiled, repeating, "This
+is love.
+
+"Oh how I despise all the others and their feeble flatteries!"
+
+"Heaven forgive me my mad, my wicked wish!
+
+"I _am_ beloved.
+
+"I am adored.
+
+"I am miserable!"
+
+
+As soon as the carriage was out of sight, David came down and hurried
+from the place. He found the pony at the inn. The ostler had not even
+removed his saddle.
+
+           "Methought that ostler did protest too much."
+
+David kissed the saddle and the pommels, and the bridle her hand had
+held, and led the pony out. After walking a mile or two he mounted the
+pony, to sit in her seat, not for ease. Walking thirty miles was
+nothing to this athlete; sticking on and holding on with his chin on
+his knee was rather fatiguing.
+
+Meantime, Eve walked on till she was four miles from home. No David.
+She sat down and cried a little space, then on again. She had just
+reached an angle in the road, when--clatter, clatter--David came
+cantering around with his knee in his mouth. Eve gave a joyful scream,
+and up went both her hands with sudden delight. At the double shock to
+his senses the pony thought his end was come, and perhaps the world's.
+He shied slap into the hedge and stuck there--alone; for, his rider
+swaying violently the reverse way, the girths burst, the saddle peeled
+off the pony's back, and David sat griping the pommel of the saddle in
+the middle of the road at Eve's feet, looking up in her face with an
+uneasy grin, while dust rose around him in a little column. Eve
+screeched, and screeched, and screeched; then fell to, with a face as
+red as a turkey-cock's, and beat David furiously, and hurt--her little
+hands.
+
+David laughed. This incident did him good--shook him up a bit. The
+pony groveled out of the ditch and cantered home, squeaking at
+intervals and throwing his heels.
+
+David got up, hoisted the side saddle on to his square shoulders, and,
+keeping it there by holding the girths, walked with Eve toward Font
+Abbey. She was now a little ashamed of her apprehensions; and,
+besides, when she leathered David, she was, in her own mind, serving
+him out for both frights. At all events, she did not scold him, but
+kindly inquired his adventures, and he told her what he had done and
+said, and what Miss Fountain had said.
+
+The account disappointed Eve. "All this is just a pack of nothing,"
+said she. "It is two lovers parting, or it is two common friendly
+acquaintances; all depends on how it was done, and that you don't tell
+me." Then she put several subtle questions as to the looks, and tones
+and manner of the young lady. David could not answer them. On this she
+informed him he was a fool.
+
+"So I begin to think," said he.
+
+"There! be quiet," said she, "and let me think it over."
+
+"Ay! ay!" said he.
+
+While he was being quiet and letting her think a carriage came rapidly
+up behind them, with a horseman riding beside it; and, as the
+pedestrians drew aside, an ironical voice fell upon them, and the
+carriage and horseman stopped, and floured, them with dust.
+
+
+Messrs. Talboys and Fountain took a stroll to look at the new jail
+that was building in Royston, and, as they returned, Talboys, whose
+wounded pride had now fermented, told Mr. Fountain plainly that he saw
+nothing for it but to withdraw his pretensions to Miss Fountain.
+
+"My own feelings are not sufficiently engaged for me to play the
+up-hill game of overcoming her disinclination."
+
+"Disinclination? The mere shyness of a modest girl. If she was to be
+'won unsought,' she would not be worthy to be Mrs. Talboys."
+
+"Her worth is indisputable," said Mr. Talboys, "but that is no reason
+why I should force upon her my humble claims."
+
+The moment his friend's pride began to ape humility, Fountain saw the
+wound it had received was incurable. He sighed and was silent.
+Opposition would only have set fire to opposition.
+
+They went home together in silence. On the road Talboys caught sight
+of a tall gentleman carrying a side-saddle, and a little lady walking
+beside him. He recognized his _bete noir_ with a grim smile. Here
+at least was one he had defeated and banished from the fair. What on
+earth was the man doing? Oh, he had been giving his sister a ride on a
+donkey, and they had met with an accident. Mr. Talboys was in a humor
+for revenge, so he pulled up, and in a somewhat bantering voice
+inquired where was the steed.
+
+"Oh, he is in port by now," said David.
+
+"Do you usually ease the animal of that part of his burden, sir?"
+
+"No," said David, sullenly.
+
+Eve, who hated Mr. Talboys, and saw through his sneers, bit her lip
+and colored, but kept silence.
+
+But Mr. Talboys, unwarned by her flashing eye, proceeded with his
+ironical interrogatory, and then it was that Eve, reflecting that both
+these gentlemen had done their worst against David, and that
+henceforth the battlefield could never again be Font Abbey, decided
+for revenge. She stepped forward like an airy sylph, between David and
+his persecutor, and said, with a charming smile, "I will explain,
+sir."
+
+Mr. Talboys bowed and smiled.
+
+"The reason my brother carries this side-saddle is that it belongs to
+a charming young lady--you have some little acquaintance with
+her--Miss Fountain."
+
+"Miss Fountain!" cried Talboys, in a tone from which all the irony was
+driven out by Eve's coup.
+
+"She begged David to ride her pony home; she would not trust him to
+anybody else."
+
+"Oh!" said Talboys, stupefied.
+
+"Well, sir, owing to--to--an accident, the saddle came off, and the
+pony ran home; so then David had only her saddle to take care of for
+her."
+
+"Why, we escorted Miss Fountain to Royston, and we never saw Mr.
+Dodd."
+
+"Ay, but you did not go beyond Royston," said Eve, with a cunning air.
+
+"Beyond Royston? where? and what was he doing there? Did he go all
+that way to take her orders about her pony?" said Talboys, bitterly.
+
+"Oh, as to that you must excuse me, sir," cried Eve, with a scornful
+laugh; "that is being too inquisitive. Good-morning"; and she carried
+David off in triumph.
+
+The next moment Mr. Talboys spurred on, followed by the phaeton.
+Talboys' face was yellow.
+
+_"La langue d'une femme est son epee."_
+
+"Sheer off and repair damages, you lubber," said David, dryly, "and
+don't come under our guns again, or we shall blow you out of the
+water. Hum! Eve, wasn't your tongue a little too long for your teeth
+just now?"
+
+"Not an inch."
+
+"She might be vexed; it is not for me to boast of her kindness."
+
+"Temper won't let a body see everything. I'll tell you what I have
+done, too--I've declared war."
+
+"Have you? Then run the Jack up to the mizzen-top, and let us fight it
+out."
+
+"That is the way to look at it, David. Now don't you speak to me till
+we get home; let me think."
+
+At the gate of Font Abbey, they parted, and Eve went home. David came
+to the stable yard and hailed, "Stable ahoy!" Out ran a little
+bandy-legged groom. "The craft has gone adrift," cried David, "but
+I've got the gear safe. Stow it away"; and as he spoke he chucked the
+saddle a distance of some six yards on to the bandy-legged groom, who
+instantly staggered back and sank on a little dunghill, and there sat,
+saddled, with two eyes like saucers, looking stupefied surprise
+between the pommels.
+
+"It is you for capsizing in a calm," remarked David, with some
+surprise, and went his way.
+
+
+"Well, Eve, have you thought?"
+
+"Yes, David, I was a little hasty; that puppy would provoke a saint.
+After all there is no harm done; they can't hurt us much now. It is
+not here the game will be played out. Now tell me, when does your ship
+sail?"
+
+"It wants just five weeks to a day."
+
+"Does she take up her passengers at ---- as usual?"
+
+"Yes, Eve, yes."
+
+"And Mrs. Bazalgette lives within a mile or two of ----. You have a
+good excuse for accepting her invitation. Stay your last week in her
+house. There will be no Talboys to come between you. Do all a man can
+do to win her in that week."
+
+"I will."
+
+"And if she says 'No,' be man enough to tear her out of your heart."
+
+"I can't tear her out of my heart, but I will win her. I must win her.
+I can't live without her. A month to wait!"
+
+
+Mr. Talboys. "Well, sir, what do you say now?"
+
+Mr. Fountain (hypocritically). "I say that your sagacity was
+superior to mine; forgive me if I have brought you into a mortifying
+collision. To be defeated by a merchant sailor!" He paused to see the
+effect of his poisoned shaft.
+
+Talboys. "But I am not defeated. I will not be defeated. It is
+no longer a personal question. For your sake, for her sake, I must
+save her from a degrading connection. I will accompany you to Mrs.
+Bazalgette's. When shall we go?"
+
+"Well, not immediately; it would look so odd. The old one would smell
+a rat directly. Suppose we say in a month's time."
+
+"Very well; I shall have a clear stage."
+
+"Yes, and I shall then use all my influence with her. Hitherto I have
+used none."
+
+"Thank you. Mr. Dodd cannot penetrate there, I conclude."
+
+"Of course not."
+
+"Then she will be Mrs. Talboys."
+
+"Of course she will."
+
+
+Lucy sighed a little over David's ardent, despairing passion, and his
+pale and drawn face. Her woman's instinct enabled her to comprehend in
+part a passion she was at this period of her life incapable of
+feeling, and she pitied him. He was the first of her admirers she had
+ever pitied. She sighed a little, then fretted a little, then
+reproached herself vaguely. "I must have been guilty of some
+imprudence--given some encouragement. Have I failed in womanly
+reserve, or is it all his fault? He is a sailor. Sailors are like
+nobody else. He is so simple-minded. He sees, no doubt, that he is my
+superior in all sterling qualities, and that makes him forget the
+social distance between him and me. And yet why suspect him of
+audacity? Poor fellow, he had not the courage to _say_ anything
+to me, after all. No; he will go to sea, and forget his folly before
+he comes back." Then she had a gust of egotism. It was nice to be
+loved ardently and by a hero, even though that hero was not a
+gentleman of distinction, scarcely a gentleman at all. The next moment
+she blushed at her own vanity. Next she was seized with a sense of the
+great indelicacy and unpardonable impropriety of letting her mind run
+at all upon a person of the other sex; and shaking her lovely
+shoulders, as much as to say, "Away idle thoughts," she nestled and
+fitted with marvelous suppleness into a corner of the carriage, and
+sank into a sweet sleep, with a red cheek, two wet eyelashes, and a
+half-smile of the most heavenly character imaginable. And so she
+glided along till, at five in the afternoon, the carriage turned in at
+Mr. Bazalgette's gates. Lucy lifted her eyes, and there was quite a
+little group standing on the steps to receive her, and waving welcome
+to the universal pet. There was Mr. Bazalgette, Mrs. Bazalgette, and
+two servants, and a little in the rear a tall stranger of
+gentleman-like appearance.
+
+The two ladies embraced one another so rapidly yet so smoothly, and so
+dovetailed and blended, that they might be said to flow together, and
+make one in all but color, like the Saone and the Rhone. After half a
+dozen kisses given and returned with a spirit and rapidity from which,
+if we male spectators of these ardent encounters were wise, we might
+slyly learn a lesson, Aunt Bazalgette suddenly darted her mouth at
+Lucy's ear, and whispered a few words with an animation that struck
+everybody present. Lucy smiled in reply. After "the meeting of the
+muslins," Mr. Bazalgette shook hands warmly, and at last Lucy was
+introduced to his friend Mr. Hardie, who expressed in courteous terms
+his hopes that her journey had been a pleasant one.
+
+
+The animated words Mrs. Bazalgette whispered into Lucy's ear at that
+moment of burning affection were as follows:
+
+"You have had it washed!"
+
+
+Lucy (unpacking her things in her bedroom). "Who is Mr. Hardie,
+dear?"
+
+"What! don't you know? Mr. Hardie is the great banker."
+
+"Only a banker? I should have taken him for something far more
+distinguished. His manner is good. There is a suavity without
+feebleness or smallness."
+
+Mrs. Bazalgette's eye flashed, but she answered with apparent
+nonchalance: "I am glad you like him; you will take him off my hands
+now and then. He must not be neglected; Bazalgette would murder us.
+_Apropos,_ remind me to ask him to tell you Mr. Hardie's story,
+and how he comes to be looked up to like a prince in this part of the
+world, though he is only a banker, with only ten thousand a year."
+
+"You make me quite curious, aunt. Cannot you tell me?"
+
+"Me? Oh, dear, no! Paper currency, foreign loans, government
+securities, gold mines, ten per cents, Mr. Peel, and why _one_
+breaks and _another_ doesn't! all that is quite beyond me.
+Bazalgette is your man. I had no idea your mousseline-delame would
+have washed so well. Why, it looks just out of the shop; it--" Come
+away, reader, for Heaven's sake!
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+THE man whom Mr. Bazalgette introduced so smoothly and off-hand to
+Lucy Fountain exercised a terrible influence over her life, as you
+will see by and by. This alone would make it proper to lay his
+antecedents before the reader. But he has independent claims to this
+notice, for he is a principal figure in my work. The history of this
+remarkable man's fortune is a study. The progress of his mind is
+another, and its past as well as its future are the very corner-stone
+of that capacious story which I am now building brick by brick, after
+my fashion where the theme is large. I invite my reader, therefore, to
+resist the natural repugnance which delicate minds feel to the ring of
+the precious metals, and for the sake of the coming story to accompany
+me into AN OLD BANK.
+
+The Hardies were goldsmiths in the seventeenth century; and when that
+business split, and the deposit and bill-of-exchange business went one
+way, and the plate and jewels another, they became bankers from father
+to son. A peculiarity attended them; they never broke, nor even
+cracked. Jew James Hardie conducted for many years a smooth,
+unostentatious and lucrative business. It professed to be a bank of
+deposit only, and not of discount. This was not strictly true. There
+never was a bank in creation that did not discount under the rose,
+when the paper represented commercial effects, and the indorsers were
+customers and favorites. But Mr. Hardie's main business was in
+deposits bearing no interest. It was of that nature known as "the
+legitimate banking business," a title not, I think, invented by the
+customers, since it is a system destitute of that reciprocity which is
+the soul of all just and legitimate commercial relations.
+
+You shall lend me your money gratis, and I will lend it out at
+interest: such is legitimate banking--in the opinion of bankers.
+
+This system, whose decay we have seen, and whose death my young
+readers are like to see, flourished under old Hardie, green--as the
+public in whose pockets its roots were buried.
+
+Country gentlemen and noblemen, and tradesmen well-to-do, left
+floating balances varying from seven, five, three thousand pounds,
+down to a hundred or two, in his hands. His art consisted in keeping
+his countenance, receiving them with the air of a person conferring a
+favor, and investing the bulk of them in government securities, which
+in that day returned four and five per cent. As he did not pay one
+shilling for the use of the capital, he pocketed the whole interest. A
+small part of the aggregate balance was not invested, but remained in
+the bank coffers as a reserve to meet any accidental drain. It was a
+point of honor with the squires and rectors, who shared their incomes
+with him in a grateful spirit, never to draw their balances down too
+low; and more than once in this banker's career a gentleman has
+actually borrowed money for a month or two of the bank at four per
+cent, rather than exhaust his deposit, or, in other words, paid his
+debtor interest for the temporary use of his own everlasting property.
+Such capitalists are not to be found in our day; they may reappear at
+the Millennium.
+
+The banker had three clerks; one a youth and very subordinate, the
+other two steady old men, at good salaries, who knew the affairs of
+the bank, but did not chatter them out of doors, because they were
+allowed to talk about them to their employer; and this was a vent. The
+tongue must have a regular vent or random explosions--choose! Besides
+the above compliment paid to years of probity and experience, the
+ancient _regime_ bound these men to the interest and person of
+their chief by other simple customs now no more.
+
+At each of the four great festivals of the Church they dined with Mr.
+and Mrs. Hardie, and were feasted and cordially addressed as equals,
+though they could not be got to reply in quite the same tone. They
+were never scorned, but a peculiar warmth of esteem and friendship was
+shown them on these occasions. One reason was, the old-fangled banker
+himself aspired to no higher character than that of a man of business,
+and were not these clerks men of business good and true? his staff,
+not his menials?
+
+And since I sneered just now at a vital simplicity, let me hasten to
+own that here, at least, it was wise, as well as just and worthy.
+Where men are forever handling heaps of money, it is prudent to
+fortify them doubly against temptation--with self-respect, and a
+sufficient salary.
+
+It is one thing not to be led into temptation (accident on which half
+the virtue in the world depends), another to live in it and overcome
+it; and in a bank it is not the conscience only that is tempted, but
+the senses. Piles of glittering gold, amiable as Hesperian fruit;
+heaps of silver paper, that seem to whisper as they rustle, "Think how
+great we are, yet see how little; we are fifteen thousand pounds, yet
+we can go into your pocket; whip us up, and westward ho! If you have
+not the courage for that, at all events wet your finger; a dozen of us
+will stick to it. That pen in your hand has but to scratch that book
+there, and who will know? Besides, you can always put us back, you
+know."
+
+Hundreds and thousands of men take a share in the country's public
+morality, legislate, build churches, and live and die respectable, who
+would be jail-birds sooner or later if their sole income was the pay
+of a banker's clerk, and their eyes, and hands, and souls rubbed daily
+against hundred-pound notes as his do. I tell you it is a temptation
+of forty-devil power.
+
+Not without reason, then, did this ancient banker bestow some respect
+and friendship on those who, tempted daily, brought their hands pure,
+Christmas after Christmas, to their master's table. Not without reason
+did Mrs. Hardie pet them like princes at the great festivals, and
+always send them home in the carriage as persons their entertainers
+delighted to honor. Herein I suspect she looked also, woman-like, to
+their security; for they were always expected to be solemnly, not
+improperly, intoxicated by the end of supper; no wise fuddled, but
+muddled; for the graceful superstition of the day suspected severe
+sobriety at solemnities as churlish and ungracious.
+
+The bank itself was small and grave, and a trifle dingy, and bustle
+there was none in it; but if the stream of business looked sluggish
+and narrow, it was deep and quietly incessant, and tended all one
+way--to enrich the proprietor without a farthing risked.
+
+Old Hardie had sat there forty years with other people's money
+overflowing into his lap as it rolled deep and steady through that
+little counting-house, when there occurred, or rather recurred, a
+certain phenomenon, which comes, with some little change of features,
+in a certain cycle of commercial changes as regularly as the month of
+March in the year, or the neap-tides, or the harvest moon, but,
+strange to say, at each visit takes the country by surprise.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+THE nation had passed through the years of exhaustion and depression
+that follow a long war; its health had returned, and its elastic vigor
+was already reviving, when two remarkable harvests in succession, and
+an increased trade with the American continent, raised it to
+prosperity. One sign of vigor, the roll of capital, was wanting;
+speculation was fast asleep. The government of the day seems to have
+observed this with regret. A writer of authority on the subject says
+that, to stir stagnant enterprise, they directed "the Bank of England
+to issue about four millions in advances to the state and in enlarged
+discounts." I give you the man's words; they doubtless carry a
+signification to you, though they are jargon in a fog to me. Some
+months later the government took a step upon very different motives,
+which incidentally had a powerful effect in loosening capital and
+setting it in agitation. They reduced to four per cent the Navy Five
+per Cents, a favorite national investment, which represented a capital
+of two hundred millions. Now, when men have got used to five per cent
+from a certain quarter, they cannot be content with four, particularly
+the small holders; so this reduction of the Navy Five per Cents
+unsettled several thousand capitalists, and disposed them to search
+for an investment. A flattering one offered itself in the nick of
+time. Considerable attention had been drawn of late to the mineral
+wealth of South America, and one or two mining companies existed, but
+languished in the hands of professed speculators. The public now broke
+like a sudden flood into these hitherto sluggish channels of
+enterprise, and up went the shares to a high premium.
+
+Almost contemporaneously, numerous joint-stock companies were formed,
+and directed toward schemes of internal industry. The small
+capitalists that had sold out of the Navy Five per Cents threw
+themselves into them all, and being bona fide speculators, drew
+hundreds in their train. Adventure, however, was at first restrained
+in some degree by the state of the currency. It was low, and rested on
+a singularly sound basis. Mr. Peel's Currency Bill had been some
+months in operation; by its principal provision the Bank of England
+was compelled on and after a certain date to pay gold for its notes on
+demand. The bank, anticipating a consequent rush for gold, had
+collected vast quantities of sovereigns, the new coin; but the rush
+never came, for a mighty simple reason. Gold is convenient in small
+sums, but a burden and a nuisance in large ones. It betrays its
+presence and invites robbers; it is a bore to lug it about, and a
+fearful waste of golden time to count it. Men run upon gold only when
+they have reason to distrust paper. But Mr. Peel's Bill, instead of
+damaging Bank of England paper, solidified it, and gave the nation a
+just and novel confidence in it. Thus, then, the large hoard of gold,
+fourteen to twenty millions, that the caution of the bank directors
+had accumulated in their coffers, remained uncalled for. But so large
+an abstraction from the specie of the realm contracted the provincial
+circulation. The small business of the country moved in fetters, so
+low was the metal currency. The country bankers petitioned government
+for relief, and government, listening to representations that were no
+doubt supported by facts, and backed by other interests, tampered with
+the principle of Mr. Peel's Bill, and allowed the country bankers to
+issue 1 pound and 2 pound notes for eleven years to come.
+
+To this step there were but six dissentients in the House of Commons,
+so little was its importance seen or its consequences foreseen. This
+piece of inconsistent legislation removed one restraint, irksome but
+salutary, from commercial enterprise at a moment when capital was
+showing some signs of a feverish agitation. Its immediate consequences
+were very encouraging to the legislator; the country bankers sowed the
+land broadcast with their small paper, and this, for the cause above
+adverted to, took _pro tem._ the place of gold, and was seldom
+cashed at all except where silver was wanted. On this enlargement of
+the currency the arms of the nation seemed freed, enterprise shot
+ahead unshackled, and unwonted energy and activity thrilled in the
+veins of the kingdom. The rise in the prices of all commodities which
+followed, inevitable consequence of every increase in the currency,
+whether real or fictitious, was in itself adverse to the working
+classes; but the vast and numerous enterprises that were undertaken,
+some in the country itself, some in foreign parts, to which English
+workmen were conveyed, raised the price of labor higher still in
+proportion; so no class was out of the sun.
+
+Men's faces shone with excitement and hope. The dormant hordes of
+misers crept out of their napkins and sepulchral strong-boxes into the
+warm air of the golden time. The mason's chisel chirped all over the
+kingdom, and the shipbuilders'* hammers rang all round the coast; corn
+was plenty, money became a drug, labor wealth, and poverty and
+discontent vanished from the face of the land. Adventure seemed all
+wings, and no lumbering carcass to clog it. New joint-stock companies
+were started in crowds as larks rise and darken the air in winter;**
+hundreds came to nothing, but hundreds stood, and of these nearly all
+reached a premium, small in some cases, high in most, fabulous in
+some; and the ease with which the first calls for cash on the
+multitudinous shares were met argued the vast resources that had
+hitherto slumbered in the nation for want of promising investments
+suited to the variety of human likings and judgments. The mind can
+hardly conceive any species of earthly enterprise that was not fitted
+with a company, oftener with a dozen, and with fifty or sixty where
+the proposed road to metal was direct. Of these the mines of Mexico
+still kept the front rank, but not to the exclusion of European,
+Australian and African ore.
+
+     * Two hundred new vessels are said to have been laid on the
+     stocks in one year.
+
+     ** In two years 624 new companies were projected.
+
+That masterpiece of fiction, "the Prospectus,"* diffused its gorgeous
+light far and near, lit up the dark mine, and showed the minerals
+shining and the jewels peeping; shone broad over the smiling fields,
+soon to be plowed, reaped, and mowed by machinery; and even illumined
+the depths of the sea, whence the buried treasures of ancient and
+modern times were about to be recovered by the Diving-bell Company.
+
+     * There is a little unlicked anonymuncule going scribbling
+     about, whose creed seems to be that a little camel, to be
+     known, must be examined and compared with other quadrupeds,
+     but that the great arts can be judged out of the depths of a
+     penny-a-liner's inner consciousness, and to be rated and
+     ranked need not be compared _inter se._ Applying the
+     microscope to the method of the novelist, but diverting the
+     glass from the learned judge's method in Biography, the
+     learned historian's method in History, and the daily
+     chronicler's method in dressing _res gestoe_ for a journal,
+     this little addle-pate has jumped to a comparative estimate,
+     not based on comparison, so that all his blindfold
+     vituperation of a noble art is chimera, not reasoning; it
+     is, in fact, a retrograde step in science and logic. This is
+     to evade the Baconian method, humble and wise, and crawl
+     back to the lazy and self-confident system of the ancients,
+     that kept the world dark so many centuries. It is [Greek]
+     versus Induction. "[Greek]," ladies, is "divination by means
+     of an ass's skull." A pettifogger's skull, however, will
+     serve the turn, provided that pettifogger has been bitten
+     with an insane itch for scribbling about things so
+     infinitely above his capacity as the fine arts. Avoid this
+     sordid dreamer, and follow, in letters as in science, the
+     Baconian method! Then you will find that all uninspired
+     narratives are more or less inexact, and that one, and one
+     only, Fiction proper, has the honesty to antidote its errors
+     by professing inexactitude. You will find that the
+     Historian, Biographer, Novelist, and Chronicler are all
+     obliged _to paint upon their data_ with colors the
+     imagination alone can supply, and all do it--alive or dead.
+     You will find that Fiction, as distinguished from neat
+     mendacity, has not one form upon earth, but a dozen. You
+     will find the most habitually, willfully, and inexcusably
+     inaccurate, with the means of accuracy under its nose, that
+     form of fiction called "anonymous criticism," political and
+     literary; the most equivocating, perhaps, is the
+     "imaginavit," better known at Lincoln's Inn as the
+     "affidavit." In the article of exaggeration, the mildest and
+     tamest are perhaps History and the Novel, the boldest and
+     most sparkling is the Advertisement, but the grandest,
+     ablest, most gorgeous and plausibly exaggerating is surely
+     the grave commercial prospectus, drawn up and signed by
+     potent, grave and reverend seniors, who fear God, worship
+     Mammon, revere big wigs right or wrong, and never read
+     romances.
+
+One mine was announced with a "vein of ore as pure and solid as a tin
+flagon."
+
+In another the prospectus offered mixed advantages. The ore lay in so
+romantic a situation, and so thick, that the eye could be regaled with
+a heavenly landscape, while the foot struck against neglected lumps of
+gold weighing from two pounds to fifty.
+
+This put the Bolanos mine on its mettle, and it announced, "not mines,
+but mountains of silver." Here, then, men might chip metal instead of
+painfully digging it. With this, up went the shares till they reached
+500 premium.
+
+
+     Tialpuxahua was done at 199 premium.
+     Anglo Mexican  10 pounds paid, went to 158 pounds premium.
+     United Mexican 10   "      " ,     "   155 pounds   "
+     Columbian      10   "      " ,     "    82 pounds   "
+
+
+But the Real del Monte, a mine of longer standing, on which 70 pounds
+was paid up, went to 550 premium, and at a later period, for I am not
+following the actual sequence of events, reached the enormous height
+of 1350 premium.
+
+The Prospectus of the Equitable Loan Company lamented in paragraph one
+the imposition practiced on the poor, and denounced the pawnbrokers'
+15 per cent. In paragraph four it promised 40 per cent to its
+shareholders.
+
+Philanthropy smiled in the heading, and Avarice stung in the tail. No
+wonder a royal duke and other good names figured in this concern.
+Another eloquent sheet appealed to the national dignity. Should a
+nation that was just now being intersected by forty canal companies,
+and lighted by thirty gas companies, and every life in it worth a
+button insured by a score of insurance companies, dwell in hovels?
+Here was a country that, after long ruling the sea, was now mining the
+earth, and employing her spoils nobly, lending money to every nation
+and tribe that would fight for constitutional liberty. Should the
+principal city of so sovereign a nation be a collection of dingy
+dwellings made with burned clay? No; let these perishable and ignoble,
+materials give way, and London be granite, or at least wear a granite
+front--with which up went the Red Granite Company.
+
+A railway was projected from Dover to Calais, but the shares never
+came into the market.
+
+The Rhine Navigation shares were snapped up directly. The original
+holders, having no faith in their own paper, sold large quantities
+directly for the account. But they had underrated the ardor of the
+public. At settling day the shares were at 28 premium, and the sellers
+found they had made a most original hedge; for "the hedge" is not a
+daring operation that grasps at large gains; it is a timid and
+cautious maneuver, whose humble aim is to lower the figures of
+possible loss or gain. To be ruined by a stroke of caution so shocked
+the directors' sense of justice that they forged new coupons in
+imitation of the old, and tried to pass them off. The fraud was
+discovered; a committee sat on it. Respectables quaked. Finally, a
+scapegoat was put forward and expelled the Stock Exchange, and with
+that the inquiry was hushed. It would have let too much daylight in on
+a host of "good names" in the City and on 'Change.
+
+At the same time, the country threw itself with ardor into
+Transatlantic loans. This, however, was an existing speculation vastly
+dilated at the period we are treating, but created about five years
+earlier. Its antecedent history can be dispatched in a few words.
+
+England is said to be governed by a limited monarchy; but in case of a
+struggle between the two, her heart goes more with unlimited republic
+than with genuine monarchy. The Spanish colonies in South America
+found this out, and in their long battle for independence came to us
+for sympathy and cash. They often obtained both, and in one case
+something more; we lent Chili a million at six per cent, but we lent
+her ships, bayonets, and Cochrane gratis. This last, a gallant and
+amphibious dragoon, went to work in a style the slow Spaniard was
+unprepared for; blockaded the coast, overawed the Royalist party, and
+wrenched the state from the mother country, and settled it a republic.
+One of the first public acts of this Chilian republic was to borrow a
+million of us to go on with. Peru took only half a million at this
+period. Colombia, during the protracted struggle her independence cost
+her, obtained a sort of _carte blanche_ loan from us at ten per
+cent. We were to deliver the stock in munitions of war, as called for,
+which, you will 'observe, was selling our loan; for at the bottom of
+all our romance lies business, business, business. Her freedom
+secured, the new state accommodated us by taking two millions of 5 per
+cent stock at 84. In all, about ten millions nominal capital, eight
+millions cash, crossed the Atlantic while we were cool; but now that
+we were heated by three hundred joint-stock companies, and the fire
+fanned by seven hundred prospectuses, fresh loans were effected with a
+wider range of territory and on a more important scale.
+
+     Brazil now got . . . 3,200,000 l. in two loans;
+     Colombia . . . . . . 4,750,000 l.;
+     Peru . . . . . . . . 1,366,000 l. in two loans;
+     Mexico . . . . . . . 6,400,000 l. in two loans;
+     Buenos Ayres . . . . 1,000,000 l.;
+
+and Guatemala, a state we never heard of till she wanted money, took a
+million and a half. Besides these there were smaller loans, lent, not
+to nations, but to tribes. So hot was our money in our pockets that we
+tried 200,000 pounds on Patagonia. But the savages could not be got to
+nail us, which was the more to be regretted, as we might have done a
+good stroke with them; could have sent the stock out in fisherman's
+boots, cocked hats, beads, Bibles, and army misfits.
+
+Europe found out there existed an island overflowing with faith and
+overburdened with money; she ran at us for a slice of the latter. We
+lent Naples two millions and a half at 5 per cent stock 92 1/2.
+Portugal a million and a half at 87. Austria three millions and a half
+at 82 1/2. Denmark three millions and a half at 3 per cent stock 75
+1/2. Then came a _bonne bouche._ The subtle Greek had gathered
+from his western visitors a notion of the contents of Thucydides, and
+he came to us for sympathy and money to help him shake off the
+barbarians and their yoke, and save the wreck of the ancient temples.
+The appeal was shrewdly planned. England reads Thucydides, and skims
+Demosthenes, though Greece, it is presumed, does not. The impressions
+of our boyhood fasten upon our hearts, and our mature reason judges
+them like a father, not like a judge. To sweep the Tartar out of the
+Peloponnese, and put in his place a free press that should recall from
+the tomb that soul of freedom, and revive by degrees that tongue of
+music--who can play Solomon when such a proposal comes up for
+judgment?
+
+"Give yourself no further concern about the matter," said the lofty
+Burdett, with a gentlemanlike wave of the hand; "your country shall be
+saved."
+
+"In a few weeks," said another statesman, "Cochrane will be at
+Constantinople, and burn the port and its vessels. Having thus
+disarmed invasion, he will land in the Morea and clear it of
+the Turks."
+
+Greece borrowed in two loans 2,800,000 pounds at 5 per cent. Russia
+(droll juxtaposition!) drew up the rear. She borrowed three millions
+and a half, but upon far more favorable terms than, with all our
+romance, we accorded to "Graeculus esuriens." The Greek stock ruled *
+from 56 1/2 to 59.
+
+     * A corruption from the French verb "rouler."
+
+Into these loans, and the multitudinous mines and miscellaneous
+enterprises, gas, railroad, canal, steam, dock, provision, insurance,
+milk, water, building, washing, money-lending, fishing, lottery,
+annuities, herring-curing, poppy-oil, cattle, weaving, bog draining,
+street-cleaning, house-roofing, old clothes exporting, steel-making,
+starch, silk-worm, etc., etc., etc., companies, all classes of the
+community threw themselves, either for investment or temporary
+speculation, on the fluctuations of the share-market. One venture was
+ennobled by a prince of the blood figuring as a director; another was
+sanctified by an archbishop; hundreds were solidified by the best
+mercantile names in the cities of London, Liverpool, and Manchester.
+Princes, dukes, duchesses, stags, footmen, poets, philosophers,
+divines, lawyers, physicians, maids, wives, widows, tore into the
+market, and choked the Exchange up so tight that the brokers could not
+get in nor out, and a bare passage had to be cleared by force and
+fines through a mass of velvet, fustian, plush, silk, rags, lace, and
+broadcloth, that jostled and squeezed each other in the struggle for
+gain. The shop-keeper flung down his scales and off to the
+share-market; the merchant embarked his funds and his credit; the
+clerk risked his place and his humble respectability. High and low,
+rich and poor, all hurried round the Exchange, like midges round a
+flaring gas-light, and all were to be rich in a day.
+
+And, strange to say, all seemed to win and none to lose; for nothing
+was at a discount except toil and self-denial, and the patient
+industry that makes men rich, but not in a day.
+
+One cold misgiving fell. The vast quantities of gold and silver that
+Mexico, mined by English capital and machinery, was about to pour into
+our ports, would so lower the price of those metals that a heavy loss
+must fall on all who held them on a considerable scale at their
+present values in relation to corn, land, labor and other properties
+and commodities.
+
+"We must convert our gold," was the cry. Others more rash said: "This
+is premature caution--timidity. There is no gold come over yet; wait
+till you learn the actual bulk of the first metallic imports." "No,
+thank you," replied the prudent ones, "it will be too late then; when
+once they have touched our shores, the fall will be rapid." So they
+turned their gold, whose value was so precarious, into that
+unfluctuating material, paper. This solitary fear was soon swallowed
+up in the general confidence. The king congratulated Parliament, and
+Parliament the king. Both houses rang with trumpet notes of triumph, a
+few of which still linger in the memories of living men.
+
+1. "The cotton trade and iron trade were never so flourishing."
+
+2. "The exports surpassed by millions the highest figure recorded in'
+history."
+
+3. "The hum of industry was heard throughout the fields."
+
+4. "Joy beamed in every face."
+
+5. "The country now reaped in honor and repose all it had sown in
+courage, constancy and wisdom."
+
+6. "Our prosperity extended to all ranks of men, enhanced by those
+arts which minister to human comfort, and those inventions by which
+man seems to have obtained a mastery over Nature through the
+application of her own powers."
+
+But one honorable gentleman informed the Commons that "distress had
+vanished from the land,"* and in addressing the throne acknowledged a
+novel embarrassment: "Such," said he, "is the general prosperity of
+the country, that I feel at a loss how to proceed; whether to give
+precedence to our agriculture, which is the main support of the
+country, to our manufactures, which have increased to an unexampled
+extent, or to our commerce, which distributes them to the ends of the
+earth, finds daily new outlets for their distribution, and new sources
+of national wealth and prosperity."
+
+     * "The poor ye shall have always with you."--Chimerical
+     Evangelist.
+
+Our old bank did not profit by the golden shower. Mr. Hardie was old,
+too, and the cautious and steady habits of forty years were not to be
+shaken readily. He declined shares, refused innumerable discounts, and
+loans upon scrip and invoices, and, in short, was behind the time. His
+bank came to be denounced as a clog on commerce. Two new banks were
+set up in the town to oil the wheels of adventure, on which he was a
+drag, and Hardie fell out of the game.
+
+He was not so old or cold as to be beyond the reach of mortification,
+and these things stung him. One day he said fretfully to old Skinner,
+"It is hardly worth our while to take down the shutters now, for
+anything we do."
+
+One afternoon two of his best customers, who were now up to their
+chins in shares, came and solicited a heavy loan on their joint
+personal security. Hardie declined. The gentlemen went out. Young
+Skinner watched them, and told his father they went into the new bank,
+stayed there a considerable time, and came out looking joyous. Old
+Skinner told Mr. Hardie. The old gentleman began at last to doubt
+himself and his system.
+
+"The bank would last my time," said he, "but I must think of my son. I
+have seen many a good business die out because the merchant could not
+keep up with the times; and here they are inviting me to be director
+in two of their companies--good mercantile names below me. It is very
+flattering. I'll write to Dick. It is just he should have a voice;
+but, dear heart! at his age we know beforehand he will be for
+galloping faster than the rest. Well, his old father is alive to curb
+him."
+
+It was always the ambition of Mr. Richard Hardie to be an accomplished
+financier. For some years past he had studied money at home and
+abroad--scientifically. His father's connection had gained him a
+footing in several large establishments abroad, and there he sat and
+worked _en amateur_ as hard as a clerk. This zeal and diligence
+in a young man of independent means soon established him in the
+confidence of the chiefs, who told him many a secret. He was now in a
+great London bank, pursuing similar studies, practical and
+theoretical.
+
+He received his father's letters sketching the rapid decline of the
+bank, and finally a short missive inviting him down to consider an
+enlarged plan of business. During the four days that preceded the
+young man's visit, more than one application came to Hardie senior for
+advances on scrip, cargoes coming from Mexico, and joint personal
+securities of good merchants that were in the current ventures. Old
+Hardie now, instead of refusing, detained the proposals for
+consideration. Meantime, he ordered five journals daily instead of
+one, sought information from every quarter, and looked into passing
+events with a favorable eye. The result was that he blamed himself,
+and called his past caution timidity. Mr. Richard Hardie arrived and
+was ushered into the bank parlor. After the first affectionate
+greetings old Skinner was called in, and, in a little pompous,
+good-hearted speech, invited to make one in a solemn conference. The
+compliment brought the tears into the old man's eyes. Mr. Hardie
+senior opened, showed by the books the rapid decline of business,
+pointed to the rise of two new banks owing to the tight hand he had
+held unseasonably, then invited the other two to say whether an
+enlarged system was not necessary to meet the times, and submitted the
+last, proposals for loans and discounts. "Now, sir, let me have your
+judgment."
+
+"After my betters, sir," was old Skinner's reply.
+
+"Well, Dick, have you formed any opinion on this matter?"
+
+"I have, sir."
+
+"I am extremely glad of it," said the old gentleman, very sincerely,
+but with a shade of surprise; "out with it, Dick."
+
+The young man thus addressed by his father would not have conveyed to
+us the idea of "Dick." His hair was brown; there were no wrinkles
+under his eyes or lines in his cheek, but in his manner there was no
+youth whatever. He was tall, commanding, grave, quiet, cold, and even
+at that age almost majestic. His first sentence, slow and firm,
+removed the paternal notion that a cipher or a juvenile had come to
+the council-table.
+
+"First, sir, let me return to you my filial thanks for that caution
+which you seem to think has been excessive. There I beg respectfully
+to differ with you."
+
+"I am glad of it, Dick; but now you see it is time to relax, eh?"
+
+"No, sir."
+
+The two old men stared at one another. The senile youth proceeded:
+"That some day or other our system will have to be relaxed is
+probable, but just now all it wants is--tightening."
+
+"Why, Dick? Skinner, the boy is mad. You can't have watched the signs
+of the times."
+
+"I have, sir; and looked below the varnish."
+
+"To the point, then, Dick. There is a general proposal 'to relax our
+system.' The boy uses good words, Skinner, don't he? and here are six
+particulars over which you can cast your eye. Hand them to him,
+Skinner."
+
+"I will take things in that order," said Richard, quietly running his
+eye over the papers. There was a moment's silence. "It is proposed to
+connect the bank with the speculations of the day."
+
+"That is not fairly stated, Dick; it is too broad. We shall make a
+selection; we won't go in the stream above ankle deep."
+
+"That is a resolution, sir, that has been often made but never
+kept--for this reason: you can't sit on dry land and calculate the
+force of the stream. It carries those who paddle in it off their feet,
+and then they must swim with it or--sink."
+
+"Dick, for Heaven's sake, no poetry here."
+
+"Nay, sir," said old Skinner, "remember, 'twas you brought the stream
+in."
+
+"More fool I. 'Flow on, thou shining Dick'; only the more figures of
+arithmetic, and the fewer figures of speech, you can give old Skinner
+and me, the more weight you will carry with us."
+
+The young man colored a moment, but never lost his ponderous calmness.
+
+"I will give you figures in their turn, But we were to begin with the
+general view. Half-measures, then, are no measures; they imply a
+vacillating judgment; they are a vain attempt to make a pound of
+rashness and a pound of timidity into two pounds of prudence. You
+permit me that figure, sir; it comes from the summing-book. The able
+man of business fidgets. He keeps quiet, or carries something out."
+
+Old Skinner rubbed his hands. "These are wise words, sir."
+
+"No, only clever ones. This is book-learning. It is the sort of wisdom
+you and I have outgrown these forty years. Why, at his age I was
+choke-full of maxims. They are good things to read; but act proverbs,
+and into the Gazette you go. My faith in any general position has
+melted away with the snow of my seventy winters."
+
+"What, then, if it was established that all adders bite, would you
+refuse to believe his adder would bite you, sir?"
+
+"Dick, if a single adder bit me, it would go farther to convince me
+that the next adder would bite me too than if fifty young Buffons told
+me all adders bite."
+
+The senile youth was disconcerted for a single moment. He hesitated.
+The keys that the old man had himself said would unlock his judgment
+lay beside him on the table. He could not help glancing slyly at them,
+but he would not use them before their turn. His mind was methodical.
+His will was strong in all things. He put his hand in his side-pocket,
+and drew out a quantity of papers neatly arranged, tied, and indorsed.
+
+The old men instantly bestowed a more watchful sort of attention on
+him.
+
+"This, gentlemen, is a list of the joint-stock companies created last
+year. What do you suppose is their number?"
+
+"Fifty, I'll be bound, Mr. Richard."
+
+"More than that, Skinner. Say eighty."
+
+ "Two hundred and forty-three, gentlemen. Of these some were
+stillborn, but the majority hold the market. The capital proposed to
+be subscribed on the sum total is two hundred and forty-eight
+millions."
+
+"Pheugh! Skinner!"
+
+"The amount actually paid at present (chiefly in bank-notes) is stated
+at 43,062,608 pounds, and the balance due at the end of the year on
+this set of ventures will be 204,937,392 pounds or thereabouts. The
+projects of _this year_ have not been collected, but they are on
+a similar scale. Full a third of the general sum total is destined to
+foreign countries, either in loans or to work mines, etc., the return
+for which is uncertain and future. All these must come to nothing, and
+ruin the shareholders that way, or else must sooner or later be paid
+in specie, since no foreign nation can use our paper, but must sell it
+to the Bank of England. We stand, then, pledged to burst like a
+bladder, or to _export_ in a few months thrice as much specie as
+we possess. To sum up, if the country could be sold to-morrow, with
+every brick that stands upon it, the proceeds would not meet the
+engagements into which these joint-stock companies have inveigled her
+in the course of twenty months. Viewed then, in gross, under the test,
+not of poetry and prospectus, but of arithmetic, the whole thing is a
+bubble."
+
+"A bubble?" uttered both the seniors in one breath, and almost in a
+scream.
+
+"But I am ready to test it in detail. Let us take three main
+features--the share-market, the foreign loans, and the inflated
+circulation caused by the provincial banks. Why do the public run
+after shares? Is it in the exercise of a healthy judgment? No; a
+cunning bait has been laid for human weakness. Transferable shares
+valued at 100 pounds can be secured and paid for by small instalments
+of 5 pounds or less. If, then, his 100 pound shares rise to 130 pounds
+each, the adventurer can sell at a nominal profit of 30 per cent, but
+a real profit of 600 per cent on his actual investment. This
+intoxicates rich and poor alike. It enables the small capitalist to
+operate on the scale that belongs, in healthy times, to the large
+capitalist; a beggar can now gamble like a prince; his farthings are
+accepted as counters for sovereigns; but this is a distinct feature of
+all the more gigantic bubbles recorded. Here, too, you see, is
+illusory credit on a vast scale, with its sure consequence, inflated
+and fictitious values; another bit of soap that goes to every bubble
+in history. Now for the Transatlantic loans. I submit them to a simple
+test. Judge nations like individuals. If you knew nothing of a man but
+that he had set up a new shop, would you lend him money? Then why lend
+money to new republics of whom you know nothing but that, born
+yesterday, they may die to-morrow, and that they are exhausted by
+recent wars, and that, where responsibility is divided, conscience is
+always subdivided?"
+
+"Well said, Richard, well said."
+
+"If a stranger offered you thirty per cent, would you lend him your
+money?"
+
+"No; for I should know he didn't mean to pay."
+
+"Well, these foreign negotiators offer nominally five per cent, but,
+looking at the price of the stock, thirty, forty, and even fifty per
+cent. Yet they are not so liberal as they appear; they could afford
+ninety per cent. You understand me, gentlemen. Would you lend to a man
+that came to you under an alias like a Newgate thief? Cast your eye
+over this prospectus. It is the Poyais loan. There is no such place as
+Poyais."
+
+"Good heavens!"
+
+"It is a loan to an anonymous swamp by the Mosquito River. But
+Mosquito suggests a bite. So the vagabonds that brought the proposal
+over put their heads together as they crossed the Atlantic, and
+christened the place Poyais; and now fools that are not fools enough
+to lend sixpence to Zahara, are going to lend 200,000 pounds to rushes
+and reeds."
+
+"Why, Richard, what are you talking about? 'The air is soft and balmy;
+the climate fructifying; the soil is spontaneous'--what does that
+mean? mum! mum! 'The water runs over sands of gold.' Why, it is a
+description of Paradise. And, now I think of it, is not all this taken
+from John Milton?"
+
+"Very likely. It is written by thieves."
+
+"It seems there are tortoise-shell, diamonds, pearls--"
+
+"In the prospectus, but not in the morass. It is a good,
+straightforward morass, with no pretensions but to great damp. But
+don't be alarmed, gentlemen, our countrymen's money will not be
+swamped there. It will all be sponged up in Threadneedle Street by the
+poetic swindlers whose names, or aliases, you hold in your hand. The
+Greek, Mexican, and Brazilian loans may be translated from Prospectish
+into English thus: At a date when every sovereign will be worth five
+to us in sustaining shriveling paper and collapsing credit, we are
+going to chuck a million sovereigns into the Hellespont, five million
+sovereigns into the Gulf of Mexico, and two millions into the Pacific
+Ocean. Against the loans to the old monarchies there is only this
+objection, that they are unreasonable; will drain out gold when gold
+will be life-blood; which brings me, by connection, to my third
+item--the provincial circulation. Pray, gentlemen, do you remember the
+year 1793?"
+
+For some minutes past a dead silence and a deep, absorbed attention
+had received the young man's words; but that quiet question was like a
+great stone descending suddenly on a silent stream. Such a noise,
+agitation, and flutter. The old banker and his clerk both began to
+speak at once.
+
+"Don't we?"
+
+"Oh, Lord, Mr. Richard, don't talk of 1793."
+
+"What do you know about 1793? You weren't born."
+
+"Oh, Mr. Richard, such a to-do, sir! 1800 firms in the Gazette.
+Seventy banks stopped."
+
+"Nearer a hundred, Mr. Skinner. Seventy-one stopped in the provinces,
+and a score in London."
+
+"Why, sir, Mr. Richard knows everything, whether he was born or not."
+
+"No, he doesn't, you old goose; he doesn't know how you and I sat
+looking at one another, and pretending to fumble, and counting out
+slowly, waiting sick at heart for the sack of guineas that was to come
+down by coach. If it had not come we should not have broken, but we
+should have suspended payment for twenty-four hours, and I was young
+enough then to have cut my throat in the interval."
+
+"But it came, sir--it came, and you cried, 'Keep the bank open till
+midnight!' and when the blackguards heard that, and saw the sackful of
+gold, they crept away; they were afraid of offending us. Nobody came
+anigh us next day. Banks smashed all round us like glass bottles, but
+Hardie & Co. stood, and shall stand for ever and ever. Amen."
+
+"Who showed the white feather, Mr. Skinner? Who came creeping and
+sniveling, and took my hand under the counter, and pressed it to give
+me courage, and then was absurd enough to make apologies, as if
+sympathy was as common as dirt? Give me your hand directly, you
+old--Hallo!"
+
+"God bless you, sir! God bless you! It is all right, sir. The bank is
+safe for another fifty years. We have got Master Richard, and he has
+got a head. O Gemini, what a head he has got, and the other day
+playing marbles!"
+
+"Yes, and we are interrupting him with our nonsense. Go on, Richard."
+
+Richard had secretly but fully appreciated the folly of the
+interruption. His was a great mind, and moved in a sort of pecuniary
+ether high above the little weaknesses my reader has observed in
+Hardie senior and old Skinner. Being, however, equally above the other
+little infirmities of fretfulness and fussiness, he waited calmly and
+proceeded coolly.
+
+"What was the cause of the distress in 1793?"
+
+"Ah! that was the puzzle--wasn't it, Skinner? We were never so
+prosperous as that year. The distress came over us like a
+thunder-storm all in a moment. Nobody knows the exact cause."
+
+"I beg your pardon, sir, it is as well known as any point of history
+whatever. Some years of prosperity had created a spawn of country
+banks, most of them resting on no basis; these had inflated the
+circulation with their paper. A panic and a collapse of this
+fictitious currency was as inevitable as the fall of a stone forced
+against nature into the air."
+
+"There _were_ a great many petty banks, Richard, and, of course,
+plenty of bad paper. I believe you are right. The causes of things
+were not studied in those days as they are now."
+
+"All that we know now, sir, is to be found in books written long
+before 1793."
+
+"Books! books!"
+
+"Yes, sir; a book is not dead paper except to sleepy minds. A book is
+a man giving you his best thoughts in his very best words. It is only
+the shallow reader that can't learn life from genuine books. I'll back
+him who studies them against the man who skims his fellow-creatures,
+and vice versa. A single page of Adam Smith, studied, understood, and
+acted on by the statesmen of your day, would have averted the panic of
+1793. I have the paragraph in my note-book. He was a great man, sir;
+oblige me, Mr. Skinner."
+
+"Certainly, sir, certainly. 'Should the circulation of paper exceed
+the value of the gold and silver of which it supplies the place, many
+people would immediately perceive they had more of this paper than was
+necessary for transacting their business at home; and, as they could
+not send it abroad, bank paper only passing current where it is
+issued, there would be a run upon the banks to the extent of this
+superfluous paper.'"
+
+Richard Hardie resumed. "We were never so overrun with rotten banks as
+now. Shoemakers, cheesemongers, grocers, write up 'Bank' over one of
+their windows, and deal their rotten paper by the foolscap ream. The
+issue of their larger notes is colossal, and renders a panic
+inevitable soon or late; but, to make it doubly sure, they have been
+allowed to utter 1 pound and 2 pound notes. They have done it, and on
+a frightful scale. Then, to make it trebly sure, the just balance
+between paper and specie is disturbed in the other scale as well as by
+foreign loans to be paid in gold. In 1793 the candle was left
+unsnufled, but we have lighted it at both ends and put it down to
+roast. Before the year ends, every sovereign in the banks of this
+country may be called on to cash 30 pounds of paper--bank-paper,
+share-paper, foolscap-paper, waste-paper. In 1793, a small excess of
+paper over specie had the power to cause a panic and break some ninety
+banks; but our excess of paper is far larger, and with that fatal
+error we have combined foreign loans and three hundred bubble
+companies. Here, then, meet three bubbles, each of which, unaided,
+secures a panic. Events revolve, gentlemen, and reappear at intervals.
+The great French bubble of 1719 is here to-day with the addition of
+two English tom-fooleries, foreign loans and 1 pound notes. Mr. Law
+was a great financier. Mr. Law was the first banker and the greatest.
+All mortal bankers are his pupils, though they don't know it. Mr. Law
+was not a fool; his critics are. Mr. Law did not commit one error out
+of six that are attributed to him by those who judge him without
+reading, far less studying, his written works. He was too sound and
+sober a banker to admit small notes. They were excluded from his
+system. He found France on the eve of bankruptcy; in fact, the state
+had committed acts of virtual bankruptcy. He saved her with his bank.
+
+"Then came his two errors, one remedial, the other fatal. No. 1, he
+created a paper company and blew it up to a bubble. When the shares
+had reached the skies, they began to come down, like stones, by an
+inevitable law. No. 2, to save them from their coming fate, he propped
+them with his bank. Overrating the power of governments, and
+underrating Nature's, he married the Mississippi shares (at forty
+times their value) to his banknotes by edict. What was the
+consequence? The bank paper, sound in itself, became rotten by
+marriage. Nothing could save the share-paper. The bank paper, making
+common cause with it, shared its fate. Had John Law let his two tubs
+each stand on its own bottom, the shares would have gone back to what
+they came from--nothing; the bank, based as it was on specie, backed
+stoutly by the government, and respected by the people for great
+national services, would have weathered the storm and lasted to this
+day. But he tied his rickety child to his healthy child, and flung
+them into a stormy sea, and told them to swim together: they sank
+together. Now observe, sir, the fatal error that ruined the great
+financier in 1720 is this day proposed to us. We are to connect our
+bank with bubble companies by the double tie of loans and liability.
+John Law was sore tempted. The Mississippi Company was his own child
+as well as the bank. Love of that popularity he had drunk so deeply,
+egotism, and parental partiality, combined to obscure that great man's
+judgment. But, with us, folly stands naked on one side, bubbles in
+hand--common sense and printed experience on the other. These six
+specimen bubbles here are not _our_ children. Let me see whose
+they are, aliases excepted."
+
+"Very good, young gentleman, very good. Now it is my turn. I have got
+a word or two to say on the other side. The journals, which are so
+seldom agreed, are all of one mind about these glorious times. Account
+for that!"
+
+"How can you know their minds, sir?"
+
+"By their leading columns."
+
+"Those are no clue."
+
+"What! Do they think one thing and print another? Why should the
+independent press do that? Nonsense."
+
+"Why, sir? Because they are bribed to print it, but they are not
+bribed to think it."
+
+"Bribed? The English press bribed?"
+
+"Oh, not directly, like the English freeman. Oblige me with a journal
+or two, no matter which; they are all tarred with the same stick in
+time of bubble. Here, sir, are 50 pounds worth of bubble
+advertisements, yielding a profit of say 25 pounds on this single
+issue. In this one are nearer 100 pounds worth of such advertisements.
+Now is it in nature that a newspaper, which is a trade speculation,
+should say the word that would blight its own harvest? This is the
+oblique road by which the English press is bribed. These leaders are
+mere echoes of to-day's advertisement sheet, and bidders for
+to-morrow's."
+
+"The world gets worse every day, Skinner."
+
+"It gets no better," replied Richard, philosophically.
+
+"But, Richard, here is our county member, and ----, staid, sober men
+both, and both have pledged their honor on the floor of the House of
+Commons to the sound character of some of these companies."
+
+"They have, sir; but they will never redeem the said honor, for they
+are known to be bribed, and not obliquely, by those very companies."
+(The price current of M. P. honor, in time of bubble, ought to be
+added to the works of arithmetic.) "Those two Brutuses get 500
+pounds apiece per annum for touting those companies down at
+Stephen's. ---- goes cheaper and more oblique. He touts, in the same
+place, for a gas company, and his house in the square flares from cellar
+to garret, gratis."
+
+"Good gracious! and he talked of the light of conscience in his very
+last speech. But this cannot apply to all. There is the archbishop; he
+can't have sold his name to that company."
+
+"Who knows? He is over head and ears in debt."
+
+"But the duke, _he_ can't have."
+
+"Why not? He is over head and ears in debt. Princes deep in debt by
+misconduct, and bishops deep in ditto by ditto, are half-honest, needy
+men; and half-honest, needy men are all to be bought and sold like
+hogs in Smithfield, especially in time of bubble."
+
+"What is the world come to!"
+
+"What it was a hundred years ago."
+
+"I have got one pill left for him, Skinner. Here is the Chancellor of
+the Exchequer, a man whose name stands for caution, has pronounced a
+panegyric on our situation. Here are his words quoted in this leader;
+now listen: 'We may safely venture to contemplate with instructive
+admiration the harmony of its proportions and the solidity of its
+basis.' What do you say to that?"
+
+"I say it is one man's opinion versus the experience of a century.
+Besides, that is a quotation, and may be a fraudulent one."
+
+"No, no. The speech was only delivered last Wednesday: we will refer
+to it. Mum! mum! Ah, here it is. 'The Chancellor of the Exchequer rose
+and--' mum! mum! ah--'I am of--o-pinion that--if, upon a fair review
+of our situation, there shall appear to be nothing hollow in its
+foundation, artificial in its superstructure, or flimsy in its general
+results, we may safely venture to contemplate with instructive
+admiration the harmony of its proportions and the solidity of its
+basis.'"
+
+"Ha! ha! ha! I quite agree with cautious Bobby. If it is not hollow,
+it may be solid; if it is not a gigantic paper balloon, it may be a
+very fine globe, and vice versa, which vice versa he in
+his heart suspects to be the truth. You see, sir, the mangled
+quotation was a swindle, like the flimsy superstructures it was
+intended to prop. The genuine paragraph is a fair sample of Robinson,
+and of the art of withholding opinion by means of expression. But as
+quoted, by a fraudulent suppression of one half, the unbalanced half
+is palmed off as a whole, and an indecision perverted into a decision.
+I might just as fairly cite him as describing our situation to be
+'hollow in its basis, artificial in its superstructure, flimsy in its
+general result.' Since you value names, I will cite you one man that
+has commented on the situation; not, like Mr. Robinson, by misty
+sentences, each neutralizing the other, but by consistent acts: a man,
+gentlemen, whose operations have always been numerous and courageous in
+less _prosperous_ times, yet now he is _out of everything_ but a single
+insurance company."
+
+"Who is the gentleman?"
+
+"It is not a gentleman; it is a blackguard," said the exact youth.
+
+"You excite my curiosity. Who is the capitalist, then, that stands
+aloof?"
+
+"Nathan Meyer Rothschild."
+
+"The devil."
+
+Old Skinner started sitting. "Rothschild hanging back. Oh, master, for
+Heavens sake don't let us try to be wiser than those devils of Jews.
+Mr. Richard, I bore up pretty well against your book-learning, but now
+you've hit me with a thunderbolt. Let us get in gold, and keep as snug
+as mice, and not lend one of them a farthing to save them from the
+gallows. Those Jews smell farther than a Christian can see. Don't
+let's have any more 1793's, sir, for Heaven's sake. Listen to Mr.
+Richard; he has been abroad, and come back with a head."
+
+"Be quiet, Skinner. You seem to possess private information, Richard."
+
+"I employ three myrmidons to hunt it; it will be useful by and by."
+
+"It may be now. Remark on these proposals."
+
+"Well, sir, two of them are based on gold mines, shares at a fabulous
+premium. Now no gold mine can be worked to a profit by a company.
+_Primo:_ Gold is not found in veins like other metals. It is an
+abundant metal made scarce to man by distribution over a wide surface.
+The very phrase gold mine is delusive. _Secundo:_ Gold is a metal
+that cannot be worked to a profit by a company for this reason:
+workmen will hunt it for others so long as the daily wages average
+higher than the amount of metal they find per diem; but, that Rubicon
+once passed, away they run to find gold for themselves in some spot
+with similar signs; if they stay, it is to murder your overseers and
+seize your mine. Gold digging is essentially an individual
+speculation. These shares sell at 700 pounds apiece; a dozen of them
+are not worth one Dutch tulip-root. Ah! here is a company of another
+class, in which you have been invited to be director; they would have
+given you shares and made you liable." Mr. Richard consulted his
+note-book. "This company, which 'commands the wealth of both
+Indies'--in perspective--dissolved yesterday afternoon for want of
+eight guineas. They had rented offices at eight guineas a week, and
+could not pay the first week. 'Turn out or pay,' said the landlord, a
+brute absorbed in the present, and with no faith in the glorious
+future. They offered him 1,500 pounds worth of shares instead of his
+paltry eight guineas cash. On this he swept his premises of them. What
+a godsend you would have been to these Jeremy Diddlers, you and the
+ten thousand they would have bled you of."
+
+The old banker turned pale.
+
+"Oh, that is nothing new, sir. _'To-morrow_ the first lord of the
+treasury calls at my house, and brings me 11,261 pounds 14s. 11 3/4d.,
+which is due to me from the nation at twelve of the clock on that day;
+you couldn't lend me a shilling till then, could ye?' Now for the
+loans. Baynes upon Haggart want 2,000 pounds at 5 per cent."
+
+"Good names, Richard, surely," said old Hardie, faintly.
+
+"They were; but there are no good names in time of bubble. The
+operations are so enormous that in a few weeks a man is hollowed out
+and his frame left standing. In such times capitalists are like
+filberts; they look all nut, but half of them are dust inside the
+shell, and only known by breaking. Baynes upon Haggart, and Haggart
+upon Baynes, the city is full of their paper. I have brought some down
+to show it to you. A discounter, who is a friend of mine, did it for
+them on a considerable scale at thirty per cent discount (cast your
+eye over these bills, Haggart on Baynes). But he has burned his
+fingers even at that, and knows it. So I am authorized to offer all
+these to you at fifty per cent discount."
+
+"Good heavens! Richard!"
+
+"If, therefore, you think of doing rotten apple upon rotten pear,
+otherwise Haggart upon Baynes, why do it at five per cent when it is
+to be had by the quire at fifty?"
+
+"Take them out of my sight," said old Hardie, starting up--"take them
+all out of my sight. Thank God I sent for you. No more discussion, no
+more doubt. Give me your hand, my son; you have saved the bank!"
+
+The conference broke up with these eager words, and young Skinner
+retired swiftly from the keyhole.
+
+The next day Mr. Hardie senior came to a resolution which saddened
+poor old Skinner. He called the clerks in and introduced them to Mr.
+Richard as his managing partner.
+
+"Every dog has his day," said the old gentleman. "Mine has been a long
+one. Richard has saved the bank from a fatal error; Richard shall
+conduct it as Hardie & Son. Don't be disconsolate, Skinner; I'll look
+in on you now and then."
+
+Hardie junior sent back all the proposals with a polite negative. He
+then proceeded on a two-headed plan. Not to lose a shilling when the
+panic he expected should come, and to make 20,000 pounds upon its
+subsiding. Hardie & Son held Exchequer bills on rather a large scale.
+They were at half a crown premium. He sold every one and put gold in
+his coffers. He converted in the same way all his other securities
+except consols. These were low, and he calculated they would rise in
+any general depreciation of more pretentious investments. He drew out
+his balance, a large one, from his London correspondent, and put his
+gold in his coffers. He drew a large deposit from the Bank of England.
+Whenever his own notes came into the bank, he withdrew them from
+circulation. "They may hop upon Hardie & Son," said he, "but they
+shan't run upon us, for I'll cut off their legs and keep them in my
+safe."
+
+One day he invited several large tradesmen in the town to dine with
+him at the bank. They came full of curiosity. He gave them a luxurious
+dinner, which pleased them. After dinner he exposed the real state of
+the nation, as he understood it. They listened politely, and sneered
+silently, but visibly. He then produced six large packets of his
+banknotes; each packet contained 3,000 pounds. Skinner, then present,
+enveloped these packets in cartridge-paper, and the guests were
+requested to seal them up. This was soon done. In those days a bunch
+of gigantic seals dangled and danced on the pit of every man's
+stomach. The sealed packets went back into the safe.
+
+"Show us a sparkle o' gold, Mr. Richard," said Meredith, linen-draper
+and wag.
+
+"Mr. Skinner, oblige me by showing Mr. Meredith a little of your
+specie--a few anti-bubble pills, eh! Mr. Meredith."
+
+Omnes. "Ha! ha! ha!"
+
+Presently a shout from Meredith: "Boys, he has got it here by the
+bushel. All new sovereigns. Don't any of ye be a linen-draper, if you
+have got a chance to be a banker. How much is there here, Mr.
+Richard?"
+
+"We must consult the books to ascertain that, sir."
+
+"Must you? Then just turn your head away, Mr. Richard, and I'll put in
+a claw."
+
+Omnes. "Haw! haw! ho!"
+
+Richard Hardie resumed. "My precautions seem extravagant to you now,
+but in a few months you will remember this conversation, and it will
+lead to business." The rest of the evening he talked of anything,
+everything, except banking. He was not the man to dilute an
+impression.
+
+Hardie junior was so confident in his reading and his reasonings that
+he looked every day into the journals for the signs of a general
+collapse of paper and credit; instead of which, public confidence
+seemed to increase, not diminish, and the paper balloon, as he called
+it, dilated, not shrank; and this went on for months. His gold lay a
+dead and useless stock, while paper was breeding paper on every side
+of him. He suffered his share of those mortifications which every man
+must look to endure who takes a course of his own, and stems a human
+current. He sat somber and perplexed in his bank parlor, doing
+nothing; his clerks mended pens in the office. The national calamity
+so confidently predicted, and now so eagerly sighed for, came not.
+
+In other words, Richard Hardie was a sagacious calculator, but not a
+prophet; no man is till afterward, and then nine out of ten are. At
+last he despaired of the national calamity ever coming at all. So
+then, one dark November day, an event happened that proved him a
+shrewd calculator of probabilities in the gross, and showed that the
+records, of the past, "studied" instead of "skimmed," may in some
+degree counterbalance youth and its narrow experience. Owing to the
+foreign loans, there were a great many bills out against this country.
+Some heavy ones were presented, and seven millions in gold taken out
+of the Bank of England and sent abroad. This would have trickled back
+by degrees; but the suddenness and magnitude of the drain alarmed the
+bank directors for the safety of the bank, subject as it was by Mr.
+Peel's bill to a vast demand for gold.
+
+Up to this period, though they had amassed specie themselves, they had
+rather fed the paper fever in the country at large, but now they began
+to take a wide and serious view of the grave contingencies around
+them. They contracted their money operations, refused in two cases to
+discount corn, and, in a word, put the screw on as judiciously as they
+could. But time was up. Public confidence had reached its culminating
+point. The sudden caution of the bank could not be hidden; it awoke
+prudence, and prudence after imprudence drew terror at its heels.
+There was a tremendous run upon the country banks. The smaller ones
+"smashed all around like glass bottles," as in 1793; the larger ones
+made gigantic and prolonged efforts to stand, and generally fell at
+last.
+
+Many, whose books showed assets 40s. in the pound, suspended
+payment; for in a violent panic the bank creditors can all draw their
+balances in a few hours or days, but the poor bank cannot put a
+similar screw on its debtors. Thus no establishment was safe. Honor
+and solvency bent before the storm, and were ranked with rottenness;
+and, as at the same time the market price of securities sank with
+frightful rapidity, scarcely any amount of invested capital was safe
+in the unequal conflict.
+
+Exchequer bills went down to 60s. discount, and the funds rose
+and fell like waves in a storm.
+
+London bankers were called out of church to answer dispatches from
+their country correspondents.
+
+The Mint worked day and night, and coined a hundred and fifty thousand
+sovereigns per diem for the Bank of England; but this large supply
+went but a little way, since that firm had in reality to cash nearly
+all the country notes that were cashed.
+
+Post-chaises and four stood like hackney-coaches in Lombard Street,
+and every now and then went rattling off at a gallop into the country
+with their golden freight. In London, at the end of a single week, not
+an old sovereign was to be seen, so fiercely was the old coinage swept
+into the provinces, so active were the Mint and the smashers; these
+last drove a roaring trade; for paper now was all suspected, and
+anything that looked like gold was taken recklessly in exchange.
+
+Soon the storm burst on the London banks. A firm known to possess half
+a million in undeniable securities could not cash them fast enough to
+meet the checks drawn on their counter, and fell. Next day, a house
+whose very name was a rock suspended for four days. An hour or two
+later two more went hopelessly to destruction. The panic rose to
+madness. Confidence had no longer a clue, nor names a distinction. A
+man's enemies collected three or four vagabonds round his door, and in
+another hour there was a run upon him, that never ceased till he was
+emptied or broken. At last, as, in the ancient battles, armies rested
+on their arms to watch a duel in which both sides were represented,
+the whole town watched a run upon the great house of Pole, Thornton &
+Co. The Bank of England, from public motives, spiced of course with
+private interest, had determined to support Pole, Thornton & Co., and
+so perhaps stem the general fury, for all things have their
+turning-point. Three hundred thousand pounds were advanced to Pole &
+Co., who with this aid and their own resources battled through the
+week, but on Saturday night were drained so low that their fate once
+more depended on the Bank of England. Another large sum was advanced
+them. They went on; but, ere the next week ended, they succumbed, and
+universal panic gained the day.
+
+Climax of all, the Bank of England notes lost the confidence of the
+public, and a frightful run was made on it. The struggle had been
+prepared for, and was gigantic on both sides. Here the great hall of
+the bank, full of panic-stricken citizens jostling one another to get
+gold for the notes of the bank; there, foreign nations sending over
+ingots and coin to the bank, and the Mint working night and day,
+Sunday and week-day, to turn them into sovereigns to meet the run.
+Sovereigns or else half-sovereigns were promptly delivered on demand.
+No hesitation or sign of weakness peeped out; but under this bold and
+prudent surface, dismay, sickness of heart, and the dread of a great
+humiliation. At last, one dismal evening, this establishment, which at
+the beginning of the panic had twenty millions specie, left off with
+about five hundred thousand pounds in coin, and a similar amount in
+bullion. A large freight of gold was on the seas, coming to their aid,
+and due, but not arrived; the wind was high; and in a few hours the
+people would be howling round their doors again. They sent a hasty
+message to the government, and implored them to suspend, by order in
+council, the operation of Mr. Peel's bill for a few days. A plump
+negative from Mr. Canning.
+
+Then, being driven to expedients, they bethought them of a chest of 1
+pound notes that they had luckily omitted to burn.
+
+Another message to the government, "May we use these?"
+
+"As a temporary expedient, yes."
+
+The one-pound notes were whirling all over the country before
+daybreak, and, marvelous anomaly, which took Richard Hardie by
+surprise, they oiled the waves, the panic abated from that hour. The
+holders of country notes took the 1 pound B. E. notes as cash with
+avidity. The very sight of them piled on a counter stopped a run in
+more than one city.
+
+The demand for gold at the Bank of England continued, but less
+fiercely; and as the ingots still came tumbling in, and the Mint
+hailed sovereigns on them, their stock of specie rose as the demand
+declined, and they came out of their fiercest battle with honor. But,
+ere the tide turned, things in general came to a pass scarcely known
+in the history of civilized nations. Ladies and gentlemen took
+heirlooms to the pawnbrokers', and swept their tills of the last coin.
+Not only was wild speculation, hitherto so universal and ardent,
+snuffed out like a candle, but investment ceased and commerce came to
+a stand-still. Bank stock, East India stock, and, some days, consols
+themselves, did not go down; they went out, were blotted from the book
+of business. No man would give them gratis; no man would take them on
+any other terms. The brokers closed their books; there were no buyers
+nor sellers. Trade was coming to the same pass, except the retail
+business in eatables; and an observant statesman and economist, that
+watched the phenomenon, pronounced that in forty-eight hours more all
+dealings would have ceased between man and man, or returned to the
+rude and primitive form of barter, or direct exchange of men's several
+commodities, labor included.
+
+Finally, things crept into their places; shades of distinction were
+drawn between good securities and bad. Shares were forfeited,
+companies dissolved, bladders punctured, balloons flattened, bubbles
+burst, and thousands of families ruined--thousands of people
+beggared--and the nation itself, its paper fever reduced by a severe
+bleeding, lay sick, panting, exhausted, and discouraged for a year or
+two to await the eternal cycle--torpor, prudence, health, plethora,
+blood-letting; torpor, prudence, health, plethora, bloodletting, etc.,
+etc., etc., etc., _in secula seculorum._
+
+
+The journals pitched into "speculation."
+
+Three banks lay in the dust in the town of ----, and Hardie & Son
+stood looking calmly down upon the ruins.
+
+Richard Hardie had carried out his double-headed plan.
+
+There was no run upon him--could not be one in the course of nature,
+his balances were so low, and his notes were all at home. He created
+artificially a run of a very different kind. He dined the same party
+of tradesmen--all but one, who could not come, being at supper after
+Polonius his fashion. After dinner he showed the packets still sealed,
+and six more unsealed. "Here, gentlemen, is our whole issue." There
+was a huge wood fire in the old-fashioned room. He threw a packet of
+notes into it. A most respectable grocer yelled and lost color: victim
+of his senses, he thought sacred money was here destroyed, and his
+host a well-bred, and oh! how plausible, maniac. The others derided
+him, and packet after packet fed the flames. When two only were left,
+containing about five thousand pounds between them, Hardie junior made
+a proposal that they should advertise in their shop windows to receive
+Hardie's five-pound notes as five guineas in payment for their goods.
+Observing a natural hesitation, he explained that they would by this
+means, crush their competitors, and could easily clap a price on their
+goods to cover the odd shillings. The bargain was soon struck. Mr.
+Richard was a great man. All his guests felt in their secret souls and
+pockets--excuse the tautology--that some day or other they should want
+to borrow money of him. Besides, "crush their competitors!"
+
+Next day Mr. Richard loosed his hand and let a flock of his own
+bank-notes fly (they were asked for earnestly every day). Some soon
+found their way to the shops in question. The next day still more took
+wing and buzzed about the shops. Presently other tradesmen, finding
+people rushed to the shops in question, began to bid against them for
+Hardie's notes, a result the long-headed youth had expected; and said
+notes went up to ten shillings premium. Too calm and cold to be
+betrayed into deserting his principles, he confined the issue within
+the bounds he had prescribed, and when they were all out seldom saw
+one of them again. By this means he actually lowered the Bank of
+England notes in public estimation, and set his own high above them in
+the town of ----. Deposits came in. Confidence unparalleled took the
+place of fear so far as he was concerned, and he was left free to work
+the other part of his plan.
+
+To the amazement and mystification of old Skinner, he laid out ten
+thousand pounds in Exchequer bills, and followed this up by other
+large purchases of paper, paper, nothing but paper.
+
+Hardie senior was nervous.
+
+"Are you true to your own theory, Richard?"
+
+The youth explained to him that blind confidence always ends in blind
+distrust, and then all paper becomes depreciated alike, but good paper
+is sure to recover. "Sixty-two shillings discount, sir, is a
+ridiculous decline of Exchequer bills. We are at peace, and elastic,
+and the government is strong. My other purchases all rest upon certain
+information, carefully and laboriously amassed while the world was so
+busy blowing bubbles. I am now buying paper that is unjustly
+depreciated in Panic, i.e., in the second act of that mania of
+which Bubble is the first act." He added: "When the herd buy, the
+price rises; when they sell, it falls. To buy with them and sell with
+them is therefore to buy dear and sell cheap. My game--and it is a
+game that reduces speculation to a certainty--is threefold:
+
+"First, never, at any price or under any temptation, buy anything that
+is not as good as gold.
+
+"Secondly, buy that sound article when the herd sells it.
+
+"Thirdly, sell it when the herd buys it."
+
+"Richard," said the old man, "I see what it is--you are a genius."
+
+"No."
+
+"It is no use your denying it, Richard."
+
+"Common sense, sir, common sense."
+
+"Yes, but common sense carried to such a height as you do is genius."
+
+"Well, sir, then I own to the genius of common sense."
+
+"I admire you, Richard--I am proud of you; but the bank has stood one
+hundred and forty years, and never a genius in it;" the old man
+sighed.
+
+Hardie senior, having relieved his mind of this vague misgiving, never
+returned to it--probably never felt it again. It was one of those
+strange flashes that cross a mind as a meteor the sky.
+
+The old gentleman, having little to do, talked more than heretofore,
+and, like fathers, talked about his son, and, unlike sons, cried him
+up at his own expense. The world is not very incredulous; above all,
+it never disbelieves a man who calls himself a fool. Having then
+gained the public ear by the artifice of self-depreciation, he poured
+into it the praises of Hardie junior. He went about telling how he, an
+old man, was all but bubbled till this young Daniel came down and
+foretold all. Thus paternal garrulity combined for once with a man's
+own ability to place Richard Hardie on the pinnacle of provincial
+grandeur.
+
+A few years more and Hardie senior died. (His old clerk, Skinner,
+followed him a month later.)
+
+Richard Hardie, now sole partner and proprietor, assumed a mode of
+living unknown to his predecessors. He built a large, commodious
+house, and entertained in the first style. The best families in the
+neighborhood visited a man whose manner was quiet and stately, his
+income larger than their own, and his house and table luxurious
+without vulgar pretensions, and the red-hot gilding and glare with
+which the injudicious parvenu brands himself and furniture.
+
+The bank itself put on a new face. Twice as much glass fronted the
+street, and a skylight was let into the ceiling: there were five
+clerks instead of three; the new ones at much smaller salaries than
+the pair that had come down from antiquity.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+SUCH was Mr. Hardie at twenty-five, and his townspeople said: "If he
+is so wise now he is a boy, what in Heaven's name will he be at
+forty?" To sixty the provincial imagination did not attempt to follow
+his wisdom. He was now past thirty, and behind the scenes of his bank
+was still the able financier I have sketched. But in society he seemed
+another man. There his characteristics were quiet courtesy,
+imperturbability, a suave but impressive manner, vast information on
+current events, and no flavor whatever of the shop.
+
+He had learned the happy art, which might be called "the barrister's
+art," _hoc agendi,_ of throwing the whole man into a thing at one
+time, and out of it at another. In the bank and in his own study he
+was a devout worshiper of Mammon; in society, a courteous, polished,
+intelligent gentleman, always ready to sift and discuss any worthy
+topic you could start except finance. There was some affectation in
+the cold and immovable determination with which he declined to say
+three words about money. But these great men act habitually on a
+preconceived system: this gives them their force.
+
+If Lucy Fountain had been one of those empty girls that were so rife
+at the time, the sterling value of his conversation would have
+disgusted her, and his calm silence where there was nothing to be said
+(sure proof of intelligence) would have passed for stupidity with her.
+But she was intelligent, well used to bungling, straightforward
+flattery, and to smile with arch contempt at it, and very capable of
+appreciating the more subtle but less satirical compliment a man pays
+a pretty girl by talking sense to her; and, as it happened, her foible
+favored him no less than did her strong points. She attached too solid
+a value to manner; and Mr. Hardie's manner was, to her fancy, male
+perfection. It added to him in her estimation as much as David Dodd's
+defects in that kind detracted from the value of his mind and heart.
+
+To this favorable opinion Mr. Hardie responded in full.
+
+He had never seen so graceful a creature, nor so young a woman so
+courteous and high-bred.
+
+He observed at once, what less keen persons failed to discover, that
+she was seldom spontaneous or off her guard. He admired her the more.
+He had no sympathy with the infantine in man or woman. "She thinks
+before she speaks," said he, with a note of admiration. On the other
+hand, he missed a trait or two the young lady possessed, for they
+happened to be virtues he had no eye for; but the sum total was most
+favorable; in short, it was esteem at first sight.
+
+
+As a cobweb to a cabbage-net, so fine was Mrs. Bazalgette's
+reticulation compared with Uncle Fountain's. She invited Mr. Hardie to
+stay a fortnight with her, commencing just one day before Lucy's
+return. She arranged a round of gayety to celebrate the double event.
+What could be more simple? Yet there was policy below. The whirl of
+pleasure was to make Lucy forget everybody at Font Abbey; to empty her
+heart, and pave Mrs. B.'s candidate's way to the vacancy. Then, she
+never threw Mr. Hardie at Lucy's head, contenting herself with
+speaking of him with veneration when Lucy herself or others introduced
+his name. She was always contriving to throw the pair together, but no
+mortal could see her hand at work in it. _Bref,_ a she-spider.
+The first day or two she watched her niece on the sly, just to see
+whether she regretted Font Abbey, or, in other words, Mr. Talboys.
+Well acquainted with all the subtle signs by which women read one
+another, she observed with some uneasiness that Lucy appeared somewhat
+listless and pensive at times, when left quite to herself. Once she
+found her with her cheek in her hand, and, by the way the young lady
+averted her head and slid suddenly into distinct cheerfulness,
+suspected there must have been tears in her eyes, but could not be
+positive. Next, she noticed with satisfaction that the round of
+gayety, including, as it did, morning rides as well as evening dances,
+dissipated these little reveries and languors. She inferred that
+either there was nothing in them but a sort of sediment of
+_ennui,_ the natural remains of a visit to Font Abbey, or that,
+if there was anything more, it had yielded to the active pleasures she
+had provided, and to the lady's easy temper, and love of society, "the
+only thing she loves, or ever will," said Mrs. B., assuming prophecy.
+
+"Aunt, how superior Mr. Hardie's conversation is. He interests one in
+topics that are unbearable generally; politics now. I thought I
+abhorred them, but I find it was only those little paltry Whig and
+Tory squabbles that wearied me. Mr. Hardie's views are neither Whig
+nor Tory; they are patriotic, and sober, and large-minded. He thinks
+of the country. I can take some interest in what he calls politics."
+
+"And, pray, what is that?"
+
+"Well, aunt, the liberation of commerce from its fetters for one
+thing. I can contrive to be interested in that, because I know England
+can be great only by commerce. Then the education of all classes,
+because without that England cannot be enlightened or good."
+
+"He never says a word to me about such things," said Mrs. Bazalgette;
+"I suppose he thinks they are above poor me." She delivered this with
+so admirable an imitation of pique, that the courtier was deceived,
+and applied butter to "a fox's wound."
+
+"Oh no, aunt. Consider; if that was it, he would not waste them on me,
+who am so inferior to you in sagacity. More likely he says, 'This
+young lady has not yet completed her education; I will sprinkle a
+little good sense among her frivolous accomplishments.' Whatever the
+motive, I am very much obliged to Mr. Hardie. A man of sense is so
+refreshing after--(full stop). What do you think of his voice?"
+
+"His voice? I don't remember anything about it."
+
+"Yes, you do--you must; it is a very remarkable one; so mellow, so
+quiet, yet so modulated."
+
+"Well, I do remember now; it is rather a pleasant voice--for a man."
+
+"Rather a pleasant voice!" repeated Lucy, opening her eyes; "why, it
+is a voice to charm serpents."
+
+"Ha! ha! It has not charmed him one yet, you see."
+
+This speech was not in itself pellucid; but these sweet ladies among
+themselves have so few topics compared with men, and consequently beat
+their little manor so often, that they seize a familiar idea, under
+any disguise, with the rapidity of lightning.
+
+"Oh, charmers are charm-proof," replied Lucy; "that is the only reason
+why. I am sure of that." Then she reflected awhile. "It is his
+natural voice, is it not? Did you ever hear him speak in any other?
+Think."
+
+"Never."
+
+"Then he must be a good man. Apropos, is Mr. Hardie a good man, aunt?"
+
+"Why, of course he is."
+
+"How do you know?"
+
+"I never heard of any scandal against him."
+
+"Oh, I don't mean your negative goodness. You never heard anything
+against _me_ out of doors."
+
+"Well, and are you not a good girl?"
+
+"Me, aunt? Why, you know I am not."
+
+"Bless me, what have you done?"
+
+"I have done nothing, aunt," exclaimed Lucy, "and the good are never
+nullities. Then I am not open, which is a great fault in a character.
+But I can't help it! I can't! I can't!"
+
+"Well, you need not break your heart for that. You will get over it
+before you have been married a year. Look at me; I was as shy as any
+of you at first going off, but now I can speak my mind; and a good
+thing too, or what would become of me among the selfish set?"
+
+"Meaning me, dear?"
+
+"No. Divide it among you. Come, this is idle talk. Men's voices, and
+whether they are good, bad, or indifferent, as if that mattered a pin,
+provided their incomes are good and their manners endurable. I want a
+little serious conversation with you."
+
+"Do you?" and Lucy colored faintly; "with all my heart."
+
+"We go to the Hunts' ball the day after to-morrow, Lucy; I suppose you
+know that? Now what on earth am I to wear? that is the question. There
+is no time to get a new dress made, and I have not got one--"
+
+"That you have not worn at least once."
+
+"Some of them twice and three times;" and the B looked aghast at the
+state of nudity to which she was reduced. Lucy sidled toward the door.
+
+"Since you consult me, dear, I advise you to wear what I mean to wear
+myself."
+
+"Ah! what a capital idea! then we shall pass for sisters. I dare say I
+have got some old thing or other that will match yours; but you had
+better tell me at once what you do mean to wear."
+
+"A gown, a pair of gloves, and a smirk"; and with this heartless
+expression of nonchalance Lucy glided away and escaped the impending
+shower.
+
+"Oh, the selfishness of these girls!" cried the deserted one. "I have
+got her a husband to her taste, so now she runs away from me to think
+of him."
+
+The next moment she looked at the enormity from another point of view,
+and then with this burst of injured virtue gave way to a steady
+complacency.
+
+"She is caught at last. She notices his very voice. She fancies she
+cares for politics--ha! ha! She is gone to meditate on him--could not
+bear any other topic--would not even talk about dress, a thing her
+whole soul was wrapped up in till now. I have known her to go on for
+hours at a stretch about it."
+
+There are people with memories so constructed that what they said, and
+another did not contradict or even answer, seems to them, upon
+retrospect, to have been delivered by that other person, and received
+in dead silence by themselves.
+
+Meantime Lucy was in her own room and the door bolted.
+
+So she was the next day; and uneasy Mrs. Bazalgette came hunting her,
+and tapped at the door after first trying the handle, which in Lucy's
+creed was not a discreet and polished act.
+
+"Nobody admitted here till three o'clock."
+
+"It is me, Lucy."
+
+"So I conclude," said Lucy gayly. "'Me' must call again at three,
+whoever it is."
+
+"Not I," said Aunt Bazalgette, and flounced off in a pet.
+
+At three Dignity dissolved in curiosity, and Mrs. Bazalgette entered
+her niece's room in an ill-temper; it vanished like smoke at the sight
+of two new dresses, peach-colored and _glacees,_ just finished,
+lying on the bed. An eager fire of questions. "Where did you get them?
+which is mine? who made them?"
+
+"A new dressmaker."
+
+"Ah! what a godsend to poor us! Who is she?"
+
+"Let me see how you like her work before I tell you. Try this one on."
+
+Mrs. Bazalgette tried on her dress, and was charmed with it. Lucy
+would not try on hers. She said she had done so, and it fitted well
+enough for her.
+
+"Everything fits you, you witch," replied the B. "I must have this
+woman's address; she is an angel."
+
+Lucy looked pleased. "She is only a beginner, but desirous to please
+you; and 'zeal goes farther than talent,' says Mr. Dodd."
+
+"Mr. Dodd! Ah! by-the-by, that reminds me--I am so glad you mentioned
+his name. Where does the woman live?"
+
+"The woman, or, as some consider her, the girl, lives at present with
+a charming person called by the world Mrs. Bazalgette, but by the
+dressmaker her sweet little aunt--" (kiss) (kiss) (kiss); and Lucy,
+whose natural affection for this lady was by a certain law of nature
+heated higher by working day and night for her in secret, felt a need
+of expansion, and curled, round her like a serpent with a dove's
+heart.
+
+
+Mrs. Bazalgette did what you and I, manly reader, should have been apt
+to omit. She extricated herself, not roughly, yet a little
+hastily--like a water-snake gliding out of the other sweet serpent's
+folds.* Sacred dress being present, she deemed caresses frivolous--and
+ill-timed. "There, there, let me alone, child, and tell me all about
+it directly. 'What put it into your head? Who taught you? Is this your
+first attempt? Have you paid for the silk, or am I to? Do tell me
+quick; don't keep me on thorns!"
+
+     * Here flashes on the cultivated mind the sprightly couplet,
+
+      "Oh, that I had my mistress at this bay,
+       To kiss and clip me--till I run away."
+
+                SHAKESPEARE.--Venus and Adonis.
+
+Lucy answered this fusillade in detail. "You know, aunt, dressmakers
+bring us their failures, and we, by our hints, get them made into
+successes."
+
+"So we do."
+
+"So I said to myself, 'Now why not bring a little intelligence to bear
+at the beginning, and make these things right at once?' Well, I bought
+several books, and studied them, and practiced cutting out, in large
+sheets of brown paper first; next I ventured a small flight--I made
+Jane a gown."
+
+"What! your servant?"
+
+"Yes. I had a double motive; first attempts are seldom brilliant, and
+it was better to fail in merino, and on Jane, than on you, madam, and
+in silk. In the next place, Jane had been giving herself airs, and
+objecting to do some work of that kind for me, so I thought it a good
+opportunity to teach her that dignity does not consist in being
+disobliging. The poor girl is so ashamed now: she comes to me in her
+merino frock, and pesters me all day to let her do things for me. I am
+at my wit's end sometimes to invent unreal distresses, like the
+writers of fiction, you know; and, aunty, dear, you will not have to
+pay for the stuff: to tell you the real truth, I overheard Mr.
+Bazalgette say something about the length of your last dressmaker's
+bill, and, as I have been very economical at Font Abbey, I found I had
+eighteen pounds to spare, so I said nothing, but I thought we will
+have a dress apiece that _nobody_ shall have to pay for."
+
+"Eighteen pounds? These two lovely dresses, lace, trimmings, and all,
+for eighteen pounds!"
+
+"Yes, aunt. So you see those good souls that make our dresses have
+imposed upon us without ceremony: they would have been twenty-five
+pounds apiece; now would they not?"
+
+"At least. Well, you are a clever girl. I might as well try on yours,
+as you won't."
+
+"Do, dear."
+
+She tried on Lucy's gown, and, as before, got two looking-glasses into
+a line, twisted and twirled, and inspected herself north, south, east
+and west, and in an hour and a half resigned herself to take the dress
+off. Lucy observed with a sly smile that her gayety declined, and she
+became silent and pensive.
+
+
+"In the dead of the night, when with labor oppressed, All mortals
+enjoy the sweet blessing of rest," a phantom stood at Lucy's bedside
+and fingered her. She awoke with a violent scream, the first note of
+which pierced the night's dull ear, but the second sounded like a wail
+from a well, being uttered a long way under the bedclothes. "Hush!
+don't be a fool," cried the affectionate phantom; and kneaded the
+uncertain form through the bedclothes; "fancy screeching so at sight
+of me!" Then gradually a single eye peeped timidly between two white
+hands that held the sheets ready for defense like a shield.
+
+"B--b--but you are all in white," gulped Lucy, trembling all over; for
+her delicate fibers were set quivering, and could not be stilled by a
+word, fingered at midnight all in a moment by a shape.
+
+"Why, what color should I be--in my nightgown?" snapped the specter.
+"What color is yours?" and she gave Lucy a little angry pull--"and
+everybody else's?"
+
+"But at the dead of night, aunt, and without any warning--it's
+terrible. Oh dear!" (another little gulp in the throat, exceeding
+pretty).
+
+"Lucy, be yourself," said the specter, severely; "you used not to be
+so selfish as to turn hysterical when your aunt came to you for
+advice."
+
+Lucy had to do a little. "Forgive, blessed shade!" She apologized,
+crushed down her obtrusive, egotistical tremors, and vibrated to
+herself.
+
+Placable Aunt Bazalgette accepted her excuses, and opened the business
+that brought her there.
+
+"I didn't leave my bed at this hour for nothing, you may be sure."
+
+"N--no, aunt."
+
+"Lucy," continued Mrs. Bazalgette, deepening, "there is a weight on my
+mind."
+
+Up sat Lucy in the bed, and two sapphire eyes opened wide and made
+terror lovely.
+
+"Oh, aunt, what have you been doing? It is remorse, then, that will
+not let you sleep. Ah! I see! your flirtations--your flirtations--this
+is the end of them."
+
+"My flirtations!" cried the other, in great surprise. "I never flirt.
+I only amuse myself with them."*
+
+     *In strict grammar this "them" ought to refer to
+     "flirtations;" but Lucy's aunt did not talk strict grammar.
+     Does yours?
+
+"You--never--flirt? Oh! oh! oh! Mr. Christopher, Mr. Horne, Sir George
+Healey, Mr. M'Donnell, Mr. Wolfenton, Mr. Vaughan--there! oh, and Mr.
+Dodd!"
+
+"Well, at all events, it's not for any of those fools I get out of my
+bed at this time of night. I have a weight on my mind; so do be
+serious, if you can. Lucy, I tried all yesterday to hide it from
+myself, but I cannot succeed."
+
+"What, dear aunt?"
+
+"That your gown fits me ever so much better than my own." She sighed
+deeply.
+
+Lucy smiled slyly; but she replied, "Is not that fancy?"
+
+"No, Lucy, no," was the solemn reply; "I have tried to shut my eyes to
+it, but I can't."
+
+"So it seems. Ha! ha!"
+
+"Now do be serious; it is no laughing matter. How unfortunate I am!"
+
+"Not at all. Take my gown; I can easily alter yours to fit me, if
+necessary."
+
+"Oh, you good girl, how clever you are! I should never have thought of
+that." N. B--She had been thinking of nothing else these six hours.
+
+"Go to bed, dear, and sleep in peace," said Lucy, soothingly. "Leave
+all to me."
+
+"No, I can't leave all to you. Now I am to have yours, I must try it
+on." It was hers now, so her confidence in its fitting was shaken.
+
+Mrs. Bazalgette then lighted all the candles in the sconces, and
+opened Lucy's drawers, and took out linen, and put on the dress with
+Lucy's aid, and showed Lucy how it fitted, and was charmed, like a
+child with a new toy.
+
+Presently Lucy interrupted her raptures by an exclamation. Mrs.
+Bazalgette looked round, and there was her niece inspecting the
+ghostly robe which had caused her such a fright.
+
+"Here are oceans of yards of lace on her very nightgrown!" cried Lucy.
+
+"Well, does not every lady wear lace on her nightgown?" was the
+tranquil reply. "What is that on yours, pray?"
+
+"A little misery of Valenciennes an inch broad; but this is
+Mechlin--superb! delicious! Well, aunt, you are a sincere votary of
+the graces; you put on fine things because they are fine things, not
+with the hollow motive of dazzling society; you wear Mechlin, not for
+_eclat,_ but for Mechlin. Alas! how few, like you, pursue quite
+the same course in the dark that they do in the world's eye."
+
+"Don't moralize, dear; unhook me!"
+
+
+After breakfast Mrs. Bazalgette asked Lucy how long she could give her
+to choose which of the two gowns to take, after all.
+
+"Till eight o'clock."
+
+Mrs. Bazalgette breathed again. She had thought herself committed to
+No. 2, and No. 1 was beginning to look lovely in consequence. At
+eight, the choice being offered her with impenetrable nonchalance by
+Lucy, she took Lucy's without a moment's hesitation, and sailed off
+gayly to her own room to put it on, in which progress the ample
+peach-colored silk held out in both hands showed like Cleopatra's
+foresail, and seemed to draw the dame along.
+
+Lucy, too, was happy--demurely; for in all this business the female
+novice, "la ruse sans le savoir," had outwitted the veteran. Lucy had
+measured her whole aunt. So she made dress A for her, but told her she
+was to have dress B. This at once gave her desires a perverse bent
+toward her own property, the last direction they could have been
+warped into by any other means; and so she was deluded to her good,
+and fitted to a hair, soul and body.
+
+Going to the ball, one cloud darkened for an instant the matron's
+mind.
+
+"I am so afraid they will see it only cost nine pounds."
+
+"Enfant!" replied Lucy, "aetat. 20." At the ball Mr. Hardie and Lucy
+danced together, and were the most admired couple.
+
+The next day Mr. Hardie announced that he was obliged to curtail his
+visit and go up to London. Mrs. Bazalgette remonstrated. Mr. Hardie
+apologized, and asked permission to make out the rest of his visit on
+his return. Mrs. B. accorded joyfully, but Lucy objected: "Aunt, don't
+you be deluded into any such arrangement; Mr. Hardie is liable to
+another fortnight. We have nothing to do with his mismanagement. He
+comes to spend a fortnight with us: he tries, but fails. I am sorry
+for Mr. Hardie, but the engagement remains in full force. I appeal to
+you, Mr. Bazalgette, you are so exact."
+
+"I don't see myself how he can get out of it with credit," said
+Bazalgette, solemnly.
+
+"I am happy to find that my duty is on the side of my inclination,"
+said Mr. Hardie. He smiled, well pleased, and looked handsomer than
+ever.
+
+They all missed him more or less, but nobody more than Lucy. His
+conversation had a peculiar charm for her. His knowledge of current
+events was unparalleled; then there was a quiet potency in him she
+thought very becoming in a man; and then his manner. He was the first
+of our unfortunate sex who had reached beau ideal. One was harsh,
+another finicking; a third loud; a fourth enthusiastic; a fifth timid;
+and all failed in tact except Mr. Hardie. Then, other male voices were
+imperfect; they were too insignificant or too startling, too bass or
+too treble, too something or too other. Mr. Hardie's was a mellow
+tenor, always modulated to the exact tone of good society. Like
+herself, too, he never laughed loud, seldom out; and even his smiles,
+like her own, did not come in unmeaning profusion, so they told when
+they did come.
+
+The Bazalgettes led a very quiet life for the next fortnight, for Mrs.
+Bazalgette was husbanding invitations for Mr. Hardie's return.
+
+Mrs. Bazalgette yawned many times during this barren period, but with
+considerate benevolence she shielded Lucy from _ennui._ Lucy was
+a dressmaker, gifted, but inexperienced; well, then, she would supply
+the latter deficiency by giving her an infinite variety of alterations
+to make in a multitude of garments. There are egotists who charge for
+tuition, but she would teach her dear niece gratis. A mountain of
+dresses rose in the drawing-room, a dozen metamorphoses were put in
+hand, and a score more projected.
+
+"She pulled down, she built up, she rounded the angular, and squared
+the round." And here Mr. Bazalgette took perverse views and
+misbehaved. He was a very honest man, but not a refined courtier. He
+seldom interfered with these ladies, one way or other, except to
+provide funds, which interference was never snubbed; for was he not
+master of the house in that sense? But, having observed what was going
+on day after day in the drawing-room or workshop, he walked in and
+behaved himself like a brute.
+
+"How much a week does she give you, Lucy?" said he, looking a little
+red.
+
+Lucy opened her eyes in utter astonishment, and said nothing; her very
+needle and breath were suspended.
+
+Mrs. Bazalgette shrugged her shoulders to Lucy, but disdained words.
+Mr. Bazalgette turned to his wife.
+
+"I have often recommended economy to you, Jane, I need not say with
+what success; but this sort of economy is not for your credit or mine.
+If you want to add a dressmaker to your staff--with all my heart. Send
+for one when you like, and keep her to all eternity. But this young
+lady is our ward, and I will not have her made a servant of for your
+convenience."
+
+"Put your work down, dear," said Mrs. Bazalgette resignedly. "He does
+not understand our affection, nor anything else except pounds,
+shillings and pence."
+
+"Oh, yes I do. I can see through varnished selfishness for one thing."
+
+"You certainly ought to be a judge of the unvarnished article,"
+retorted the lady.
+
+"Having had it constantly under my eyes these twenty years," rejoined
+the gentleman.
+
+"Oh, aunt! Oh, Mr. Bazalgette!" cried Lucy, rising and clasping her
+hands; if you really love me, never let me be the cause of a
+misunderstanding, or an angry word between those I esteem; it would
+make me too miserable; and, dear Mr. Bazalgette, you must let people
+be happy in their own way, or you will be sure to make them unhappy.
+My aunt and I understand one another better than you do."
+
+"She understands you, my poor girl."
+
+"Not so well as I do her. But she knows I hate to be idle, and love to
+do these bagatelles for her. It is my doing from the first, not hers;
+she did not even know I could do it till I produced two dresses for
+the Hunts' ball. So, you see--"
+
+"That is another matter; all ladies play at work. But you are in for
+_three months' hard labor._ Look at that heap of vanity. She is
+making a lady's-maid of you. It is unjust. It is selfish. It is
+improper. It is not for my credit, of which I am more jealous than
+coquettes are of theirs; besides, Lucy, you must not think, because I
+don't make a parade as she does, that I am not fond of you. I have a
+great deal more real affection for you than she has, and so you will
+find if we are ever put to the test."
+
+At this last absurdity Mrs. Bazalgette burst out laughing. But "la
+rusee sans le savoir" turned toward the speaker, and saw that he spoke
+with a certain emotion which was not ordinary in him. She instantly
+went to him with both hands gracefully extended. "I do think you have
+an affection for me. If you really have, show it me _some other
+way,_ and not by making me unhappy."
+
+"Well, then, I will, Lucy. Look here; if Solomon was such a fool as to
+argue with one of you young geese you would shut his mouth in a
+minute. There, I am going; but you will always be the slave of one
+selfish person or other; you were born for it."
+
+Thus impotently growling, the merchant prince retired from the field,
+escorted with amenity by the courtier. In the passage she suddenly
+dropped forward like a cypress-tree, and gave him her forehead to
+kiss. He kissed it with some little warmth, and confided to her, in
+friendly accents, that she was a fool, and off he went, grumbling
+inarticulately, to his foreign loans and things.
+
+The courtier returned to smooth her aunt in turn, but that lady
+stopped her with a lofty gesture.
+
+"My plan is to look on these monstrosities as horrid dreams, and go on
+as if nothing had happened."
+
+Happy philosophy.
+
+Lucy acquiesced with a smile, and in an instant both immortal souls
+plunged and disappeared in silk, satin, feathers and point lace.
+
+The afternoon post brought letters that furnished some excitement. Mr.
+Hardie announced his return, and Captain Kenealy accepted an
+invitation that had been sent to him two days before. But this was not
+all. Mrs. Bazalgette, with something between a laugh and a crow,
+handed Lucy a letter from Mr. Fountain, in which that diplomatic
+gentleman availed himself of her kind invitation, and with elephantine
+playfulness proposed, as he could not stay a month with her, to be
+permitted to bring a friend with him for a fortnight. This friend had
+unfortunately missed her through absence from his country-house at the
+period of her visit to Font Abbey, and had so constantly regretted his
+ill fortune that he (Fountain) had been induced to make this attempt
+to repair the calamity. His friend's name was Talboys; he was a
+gentleman of lineage, and in his numerous travels had made a
+collection of foreign costumes which were really worth inspecting,
+and, if agreeable to Mrs. Bazalgette, he should send them on before by
+wagon, for no carriage would hold them.
+
+Lucy colored on reading this letter, for it repeated a falsehood that
+had already made her blush. The next moment, remembering how very
+keenly her aunt must be eying her, and reading her, she looked
+straight before her, and said coldly, "Uncle Fountain ought to be
+welcome here for his courtesy to you at Font Abbey, but I think he
+takes rather a liberty in proposing a stranger to you."
+
+"Rather a liberty? Say a very great liberty."
+
+"Well, then, aunt, why not write back that any friend of his would be
+welcome, but that the house is full? You have only room for Uncle
+Fountain."
+
+"But that is not true, Lucy," said Mrs. Bazalgette, with sudden
+dignity.
+
+Lucy was staggered and abashed at this novel objection; recovering,
+she whined humbly, "but it is very nearly true."
+
+It was plain Lucy did not want Mr. Talboys to visit them. This decided
+Mrs. Bazalgette to let his dresses and him come. He would only be a
+foil to Mr. Hardie, and perhaps bring him on faster. Her decision once
+made on the above grounds, she conveyed it in characteristic colors.
+"No, my love; where I give my affection, there I give my confidence. I
+have your word not to encourage this gentleman's addresses, so why
+hurt your uncle's feelings by closing my door to his friend? It would
+be an ill compliment to you as well as to Mr. Fountain; he shall
+come."
+
+Her postscript to Mr. Fountain ran thus:
+
+"Your friend would have been welcome independently of the foreign
+costumes; but as I am a very candid little woman, I may as well tell
+you that, now you _have_ excited my curiosity, he will be a great
+deal more welcome with them than without them."
+
+And here I own that I, the simpleminded, should never have known all
+that was signified in these words but for the comment of John
+Fountain, Esq.
+
+"It is all right, Talboys," said he. "My bait has taken. You must pack
+up these gimcracks at once and send them off, or she'll smile like a
+marble Satan in your face, and stick you full of pins and needles."
+
+The next day Mr. Bazalgette walked into the room, haughtily overlooked
+the pyramid of dresses, and asked Lucy to come downstairs and see
+something. She put her work aside, and went down with him, and lo! two
+ponies--a cream-colored and a bay. "Oh, you loves!" cried the virgin,
+passionately, and blushed with pleasure. Her heart was very
+accessible--to quadrupeds.
+
+"Now you are to choose which of these you will have."
+
+"Oh, Mr. Bazalgette!"
+
+"Have you forgotten what you told me? 'Try and make me happy some
+other way,' says you. Now I remembered hearing you say what a nice
+pony you had at Font Abbey; so I sent a capable person to collect
+ponies for you. These have both a reputation. Which will you have?"
+
+"Dear, good, kind Uncle Bazalgette; they are ducks!"
+
+"Let us hope not; a duck's paces won't suit you, if you are as fond of
+galloping as other young ladies. Come, jump up, and see which is the
+best brute of the two."
+
+"What, without my habit?"
+
+"Well, get your habit on, then. Let us see how quick you can be."
+
+Off ran Lucy, and soon returned fully equipped. She mounted the ponies
+in turn, and rode them each a mile or two in short distances. Finally
+she dismounted, and stood beaming on the steps of the hall. The groom
+held the ponies for final judgment.
+
+"The bay is rather the best goer, dear," said she, timidly.
+
+"Miss Fountain chooses the bay, Tom."
+
+"No, uncle, I was going to ask you if I might have the cream-colored
+one. He is so pretty."
+
+"Ha! ha! ha! here's a little goose. Why, they are to ride, not to
+wear. Come, I see you are in a difficulty. Take them both to the
+stable, Tom."
+
+"No, no, no," cried Lucy. "Oh, Mr. Bazalgette, don't tempt me to be so
+wicked." Then she put both her fingers in her ears and screamed, "Take
+the bay darling out of my sight, and leave the cream-colored love."
+And as she persisted in this order, with her fingers in her ears, and
+an inclination to stamp with her little feet, the bay disappeared and
+color won the day.
+
+Then she dropped suddenly like a cypress toward Mr. Bazalgette, which
+meant "you can kiss me." This time it was her cheek she proffered, all
+glowing with exercise and innocent excitement.
+
+
+Captain Kenealy was the first arrival: a well-appointed soldier; eyes
+equally bright under calm and excitement, mustache always clean and
+glossy; power of assent prodigious. He looked so warlike, and was so
+inoffensive, that he was in great request for miles and miles round
+the garrison town of ----. The girls, at first introduction to him,
+admired him, and waited palpitating to be torn from their mammas, and
+carried half by persuasion, half by force, to their conqueror's tent;
+but after a bit they always found him out, and talked before, and at,
+and across this ornament as if it had been a bronze Mars, or a
+mustache-tipped shadow. This the men viewing from a little distance
+envied the gallant captain, and they might just as well have been
+jealous of a hair-dresser's dummy.
+
+One eventful afternoon, Mrs. Bazalgette and Miss Fountain walked out,
+taking the gallant captain between them as escort. Reginald hovered on
+the rear. Kenealy was charmingly equipped, and lent the party a
+luster. If he did not contribute much to the conversation, he did not
+interrupt it, for the ladies talked through him as if he had been a
+column of red air. Sing, muse, how often Kenealy said "yaas" that
+afternoon; on second thoughts, don't. I can weary my readers without
+celestial aid: Toot! toot! toot! went a cheerful horn, and the
+mail-coach came into sight round a corner, and rolled rapidly toward
+them. Lucy looked anxiously round, and warned Master Reginald of the
+danger now impending over infants. The terrible child went instantly
+(on the "vitantes stulti vitia" principle) clean off the road
+altogether into the ditch, and clayed (not pipe) his trousers to the
+knee. As the coach passed, a gentleman on the box took off his hat to
+the ladies and made other signs. It was Mr. Hardie.
+
+Mrs. Bazalgette proposed to return home to receive him. They were
+about a mile from the house. They had not gone far before the
+rear-guard intermitted blackberrying for an instant, and uttered an
+eldrich screech; then proclaimed, "Another coach! another coach!" It
+was a light break coming gently along, with two showy horses in it,
+and a pony trotting behind.
+
+At one and the same moment Lucy recognized a four-footed darling, and
+the servant recognized her. He drew up, touched his hat, and inquired
+respectfully whether he was going right for Mr. Bazalgette's. Mrs.
+Bazalgette gave him directions while Lucy was patting the pony, and
+showering on him those ardent terms of endearment some ladies bestow
+on their lovers, but this one consecrated to her trustees and
+quadrupeds. In the break were saddles, and a side-saddle, and other
+caparisons, and a giant box; the ladies looked first at it, and then
+through Kenealy at one another, and so settled what was inside that
+box.
+
+They had not walked a furlong before a traveling-carriage and four
+horses came dashing along, and heads were put out of the window, and
+the postboys ordered to stop. Mr. Talboys and Mr. Fountain got out,
+and the carriage was sent on. Introductions took place. Mrs.
+Bazalgette felt her spirits rise like a veteran's when line of battle
+is being formed. She was one of those ladies who are agreeable or
+disagreeable at will. She decided to charm, and she threw her
+enchantment over Messrs. Fountain and Talboys. Coming with hostile
+views, and therefore guilty consciences, they had expected a cold
+welcome. They received a warm, gay, and airy one. After a while she
+maneuvered so as to get between Mr. Fountain and Captain Kenealy, and
+leave Lucy to Mr. Talboys. She gave her such a sly look as she did it.
+It implied, "You will have to tell me all he says to you while we are
+dressing."
+
+Mr. Talboys inquired who was Captain Kenealy. He learned by her answer
+that that officer had arrived to-day, and she had no previous
+acquaintance with him.
+
+Whatever little embarrassment Lucy might feel, remembering her
+equestrian performance with Mr. Talboys and its cause, she showed
+none. She began about the pony, and how kind of him it was to bring
+it. "And yet," said she, "if I had known, I would not have allowed you
+to take the trouble, for I have a pony here."
+
+Mr. Talboys was sorry for that, but he hoped she would ride his now
+and then, all the same.
+
+"Oh, of course. My pony here is very pretty. But a new friend is not
+like an old friend."
+
+Mr. Talboys was gratified on more accounts than one by this speech. It
+gave him a sense of security. She had no friend about her now she had
+known as long as she had him, and those three months of constant
+intimacy placed him above competition. His mind was at ease, and he
+felt he could pop with a certainty of success, and pop he would, too,
+without any unnecessary delay.
+
+The party arrived in great content and delectation at the gates that
+led to the house. "Stay!" said Mrs. Bazalgette; "you must come across
+the way, all of you. Here is a view that all our guests are expected
+to admire. Those, that cry out 'Charming! beautiful! Oh, I never!' we
+take them in and make them comfortable. Those that won't or can't
+ejaculate--"
+
+"You put them in damp beds," said Mr. Fountain, only half in jest.
+
+"Worse than that, sir--we flirt with them, and disturb the placid
+current of their hearts forever and ever. Don't we, Lucy?"
+
+"You know best, aunt," said Lucy, half malice, half pout. The others
+followed the gay lady, and, when the view burst, ejaculated to order.
+
+But Mr. Fountain stood ostentatiously in the middle of the road, with
+his legs apart, like him of Rhodes. "I choose the alternative," cried
+he. "Sooner than pretend I admire sixteen plowed fields and a hill as
+much as I do a lawn and flower-beds, I elect to be flirted, and my
+what do ye call 'em?--my stagnant current--turned into a whirlpool."
+Ere the laugh had well subsided, caused by this imitation of Hercules
+and his choice, he struck up again, "Good news for you, young
+gentleman; I smell a ball; here is a fiddle-case making for this
+hospitable mansion."
+
+"No," said Mrs. Bazalgette, "I never ordered any musician to come
+here."
+
+A tall but active figure came walking light as a feather, with a large
+carpet-bag on his back, a boy behind carrying a violin-case.
+
+Lucy colored and lowered her eyes, but never said a word.
+
+The young man came up to the gate, and then Mr. Talboys recognized
+him.
+
+He hesitated a single moment, then turned and came to the group and
+took off his hat to the ladies. It was David Dodd!
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+THE new guest's manner of presenting himself with his stick over his
+shoulder, and his carpet-bag on his back, subjected him to a battery
+of stares from Kenealy, Talboys, Fountain, and abashed him sore.
+
+This lasted but a moment. He had one friend in the group who was too
+true to her flirtations while they endured, and too strong-willed, to
+let her flirtee be discouraged by mortal.
+
+"Why, it is Mr. Dodd," cried she, with enthusiasm, and she put forth
+both hands to him, the palms downward, with a smiling grace. "Surely
+you know Mr. Dodd," said she, turning round quickly to the gentlemen,
+with a smile on her lip, but a dangerous devil in her eye.
+
+The mistress of the house is all-powerful on these occasions. Messrs.
+Talboys and Fountain were forced to do the amiable, raging within;
+Lucy anticipated them; but her welcome was a cold one. Says Mrs.
+Bazalgette, tenderly, "And why do you carry that heavy bag, when you
+have that great stout lad with you? I think it is his business to
+carry it, not yours"; and her eyes scathed the boy, fiddle and all.
+
+All the time she was saying this David was winking to her, and making
+faces to her not to go on that tack. His conduct now explained his
+pantomime. "Here, youngster," said he, "you take these things
+in-doors, and here is your half-crown."
+
+Lucy averted her head, and smiled unobserved.
+
+As soon as the lad was out of hearing, David continued: "It was not
+worth while to mortify him. The fact is, I hired him to carry it; but,
+bless you, the first mile he began to go down by the head, and would
+have foundered; so we shifted our cargoes." This amused Kenealy, who
+laughed good-humoredly. On this, David laughed for company.
+
+"There," cried his inamorata, with rapture, "that is Mr. Dodd all
+over; thinks of everybody, high or low, before himself." There was a
+grunt somewhere behind her; her quick ear caught it; she turned round
+like a thing on a pivot, and slapped the nearest face. It happened to
+be Fountain's; so she continued with such a treacle smile, "Don't you
+remember, sir, how he used to teach your cub mathematics gratis?" The
+sweet smile and the keen contemporaneous scratch confounded Mr.
+Fountain for a second. As soon as he revived he said stiffly, "We can
+all appreciate Mr. Dodd."
+
+Having thus established her Adonis on a satisfactory footing, she
+broke out all over graciousness again, and, smiling and chatting, led
+her guests beneath the hospitable roof.
+
+But one of these guests did not respond to her cheerful strain. The
+Norman knight was full of bitterness. Mr. Talboys drew his friend
+aside and proposed to him to go back again. The senior was aghast.
+"Don't be so precipitate," was all that he could urge this time.
+"Confound the fellow! Yes, if that is the man she prefers to you, I
+will go home with you to-morrow, and the vile hussy shall never enter
+my doors again."
+
+In this mind the pair went devious to their dressing-rooms.
+
+
+One day a witty woman said of a man that "he played the politician
+about turnips and cabbages." That might be retorted (by a snob and
+brute) on her own sex in general, and upon Mrs. Bazalgette in
+particular. This sweet lady maneuvered on a carpet like Marlborough on
+the south of France. She was brimful of resources, and they all tended
+toward one sacred object, getting her own way. She could be imperious
+at a pinch and knock down opposition; but she liked far better to
+undermine it, dissolve it, or evade it. She was too much of a woman to
+run straight to her _je-le-veux,_ so long as she could wind
+thitherward serpentinely and by detour. She could have said to Mr.
+Hardie, "You will take down Lucy to dinner," and to Mr. Dodd, "You
+will sit next me"; but no, she must mold her males--as per sample.
+
+To Mr. Fountain she said, "Your friend, I hear, is of old family."
+
+"Came in with the Conqueror, madam."
+
+"Then he shall take me down: that will be the first step toward
+conquering me--ha! ha!" Fountain bowed, well pleased.
+
+To Mr. Hardie she said, "Will you take down Lucy to-day? I see she
+enjoys your conversation. Observe how disinterested I am."
+
+Hardie consented with twinkling composure.
+
+Before dinner she caught Kenealy, drew him aside, and put on a long
+face. "I am afraid I must lose you to-day at dinner. Mr. Dodd is quite
+a stranger, and they all tell me I must put him at his ease.
+
+"Yaas."
+
+"Well, then, you had better get next Lucy, as you can't have me."
+
+"Yaas."
+
+"And, Captain Kenealy, you are my aid-de-camp. It is a delightful
+post, you know, and rather a troublesome one."
+
+"Yaas."
+
+"You must help me be kind to this sailor."
+
+"Yaas. He is a good fellaa. Carried the baeg for the little caed."
+
+"Oh, did he?"
+
+"And didn't maind been laughed at."
+
+"Now, that shows how intelligent you must be," said the wily one; "the
+others could not comprehend the trait. Well, you and I must patronize
+him. Merit is always so dreadfully modest."
+
+"Yaas."
+
+This arrangement was admirable, but human; consequently, not without a
+flaw. Uncle Fountain was left to chance, like the flying atoms of
+Epicurus, and chance put him at Bazalgette's right hand save one. From
+this point his inquisitive eye commanded David Dodd and Mrs.
+Bazalgette, and raked Lucy and her neighbors, who were on the opposite
+side of the table. People who look, bent on seeing everything,
+generally see something; item, it is not always what they would like
+to see.
+
+As they retired to rest for the night, Mr. Fountain invited his friend
+to his room.
+
+"We shall not have to go home. I have got the key to our antagonist.
+Young Dodd is _her_ lover." Talboys shook his head with cool
+contempt. "What I mean is that she has invited him for her own
+amusement, not her niece's. I never saw a woman throw herself at any
+man's head as she did at that sailor's all dinner. Her very husband
+saw it. He is a cool hand, that Bazalgette; he only grinned, and took
+wine with the sailor. He has seen a good many go the same
+road--soldiers, sailors, tinkers, tai--"
+
+Talboys interrupted him. "I really must call you to order. You are
+prejudiced against poor Mrs. Bazalgette, and prejudice blinds
+everybody. Politeness required that she should show some attention to
+her neighbor, but her principal attention was certainly not bestowed
+on Mr. Dodd."
+
+Fountain was surprised. "On whom, then?"
+
+"Well, to tell the truth, on your humble servant."
+
+Fountain stared. "I observed she did not neglect you; but when she
+turned to Dodd her face puckered itself into smiles like a bag."
+
+"I did not see it, and I was nearer her than you," said Talboys
+coldly.
+
+"But I was in front of her."
+
+"Yes, a mile off." There being no jurisconsult present to explain to
+these two magistrates that if fifty people don't see a woman pucker
+her face like a bag, and one does see her p. h. f. l. a. b., the
+affirmative evidence preponderates, they were very near coming to a
+quarrel on this grave point. It was Fountain who made peace. He
+suddenly remembered that his friend had never been known to change an
+opinion. "Well," said he, "let us leave that; we shall have other
+opportunities of watching Dodd and her; meantime I am sorry I cannot
+convince you of my good news, for I have some bad to balance it. You
+have a rival, and he did not sit next Mrs. Bazalgette."
+
+"Pray may I ask whom he did sit next?" sneered Talboys.
+
+"He sat--like a man who meant to win--by the girl herself."
+
+"Oh, then it is that sing-song captain you fear, sir?" drawled
+Talboys.
+
+"No, sir, no more than I dread the _epergne._ Try the other
+side."
+
+"What, Mr. Hardie? Why, he is a banker."
+
+"And a rich one."
+
+"She would never marry a banker."
+
+"Perhaps not, if she were uninfluenced; but we are not at Talboys
+Court or Font Abbey now. We have fallen into a den of _parvenues._ That
+Hardie is a great catch, according to their views, and all Mrs.
+Bazalgette's influence with Lucy will be used in his favor.
+
+"I think not. She spoke quite slightingly of him to me."
+
+"Did she? Then that puts the matter quite beyond doubt. Why should she
+speak slightingly of him? Bazalgette spoke to me of him with grave
+veneration. He is handsome, well behaved, and the girl talked to him
+nineteen to the dozen. Mrs. Bazalgette could not be sincere in
+underrating him. She undervalued him to throw dust in your eyes."
+
+"It is not so easy to throw dust in my eyes."
+
+"I don't say it is; but this woman will do it; she is as artful as a
+fox. She hoodwinked even me for a moment. I really did not see through
+her feigned politeness in letting you take her down to dinner."
+
+"You mistake her character entirely. She is coquettish, and not so
+well-bred as her niece, but artful she is not. In fact, there is
+almost a childish frankness about her."
+
+At this stroke of observation Fountain burst out laughing bitterly.
+
+Talboys turned pale with suppressed ire, and went on doggedly: "You
+are mistaken in every particular. Mrs. Bazalgette has no fixed views
+for her niece, and I by no means despair of winning her to my side.
+She is anything but discouraging."
+
+Fountain groaned.
+
+"Mr. Hardie is a new acquaintance, and Miss Fountain told me herself
+she preferred old friends to new. She looked quite conscious as she
+said it. In a word, Mr. Dodd is the only rival I have to
+fear--good-night;" and he went out with a stately wave of the hand,
+like royalty declining farther conference. Mr. Fountain sank into an
+armchair, and muttered feebly, "Good-night." There he sat collapsed
+till his friend's retiring steps were heard no more; then, springing
+wildly to his feet, he relieved his swelling mind with a long, loud,
+articulated roar of Anglo-Saxon, "Fool! dolt! coxcomb! noodle! puppy!
+ass!!!!"
+
+Did ye ever read "Tully 'de Amicitia'?"
+
+
+David Dodd was saved from misery by want of vanity. His reception at
+the gate by Miss Fountain was cool and constrained, but it did not
+wound him. For the last month life had been a blank to him. She was
+his sun. He saw her once more, and the bare sight filled him with life
+and joy. His was naturally a sanguine, contented mind. Some lovers
+equally ardent would have seen more to repine at than to enjoy in the
+whole situation; not so David. She sat between Kenealy and Hardie, but
+her presence filled the whole room, and he who loved her better than
+any other had the best right to be happy in the place that held her.
+He had only to turn his eyes, and he could see her. What a blessing,
+after a month of vacancy and darkness. This simple idolatry made him
+so happy that his heart overflowed on all within reach. He gave Mrs.
+Bazalgette answers full of kindness and arch gayety combined. He
+charmed an old married lady on his right. His was the gay, the merry
+end of the table, and others wished themselves up at it.
+
+After the ladies had retired, his narrative powers, _bonhomie_
+and manly frankness soon told upon the men, and peals of genuine
+laughter echoed up to the very drawing-room, bringing a deputation
+from the kitchen to the keyhole, and irritating the ladies overhead,
+who sat trickling faint monosyllables about their three little topics.
+
+Lucy took it philosophically. "Now those are the good creatures that
+are said to be so unhappy without us. It was a weight off their minds
+when the door closed on our retiring forms--ha! ha!"
+
+"It was a restraint taken off them, my dear," said Mrs. Mordan, a
+starched dowager, stiffening to the naked eye as she spoke. "When they
+laugh like that, they are always saying something improper."
+
+"Oh, the wicked things," replied Lucy, mighty calmly.
+
+"I wish I knew what they are saying," said eagerly another young lady;
+then added, "Oh!" and blushed, observing her error mirrored in all
+eyes.
+
+Lucy the Clement instructed her out of the depths of her own
+experience in impropriety. "They swear. That is what Mrs. Mordan
+means," and so to the piano with dignity.
+
+Presently in came Messrs. Fountain and Talboys. Mrs. Bazalgette asked
+the former a little crossly how he could make up his mind to leave the
+gay party downstairs.
+
+"Oh, it was only that fellow Dodd. The dog is certainly very amusing,
+but 'there's metal more attractive here.'"
+
+Coffee and tea were fired down at the other gentlemen by way of hints;
+but Dodd prevailed over all, and it was nearly bedtime when they
+joined the ladies.
+
+Mr. Talboys had an hour with Lucy, and no rival by to ruffle him.
+
+Next day a riding-party was organized. Mr. Talboys decided in his mind
+that Kenealy was even less dangerous than Hardie, so lent him the
+quieter of his two nags, and rode a hot, rampageous brute, whose very
+name was Lucifer, so that will give you an idea. The grooms had driven
+him with a kicking-strap and two pair of reins, and even so were
+reluctant to drive him at all, but his steady companion had balanced
+him a bit. Lucy was to ride her old pony, and Mrs. Bazalgette the new.
+The horses came to the door; one of the grooms offered to put Lucy up.
+Talboys waved him loftily back, and then, strange as it may appear,
+David, for the first time in his life, saw a gentleman lift a lady
+into the saddle.
+
+Lucy laid her right hand on the pommel and resigned her left foot; Mr.
+Talboys put his hand under that foot and heaved her smoothly into the
+saddle. "That is clever," thought simple David; "that chap has got
+more pith in his arm than one would think." They cantered away, and
+left him looking sadly after them. It seemed so hard that another man
+should have her sweet foot in his hand, should lift her whole glorious
+person, and smooth her sacred dress, and he stand by helpless; and
+then the indifference with which that man had done it all. To him it
+had been no sacred pleasure, no great privilege. A sense of loneliness
+struck chill on David as the clatter of her pony's hoofs died away. He
+was in the house; but in that house was a sort of inner circle, of
+which she was the center, and he was to be outside it altogether.
+
+Liable to great wrath upon great occasions, he had little of that
+small irritability that goes with an egotistical mind and feminine
+fiber, so he merely hung his head, blamed nobody, and was sad in a
+manly way. While he leaned against the portico in this dejected mood,
+a little hand pulled his coat-tail. It was Master Reginald, who looked
+up in his face, and said timidly, "Will you play with me?" The fact
+is, Mr. Reginald's natural audacity had received a momentary check. He
+had just put this same question to Mr. Hardie in the library, and had
+been rejected with ignominy, and recommended to go out of doors for
+his own health and the comfort of such as desired peaceable study of
+British and foreign intelligence.
+
+"That I will, my little gentleman," said David, "if I know the game."
+
+"Oh, I don't care what it is, so that it is fun. What is your name?"
+
+"David Dodd."
+
+"Oh."
+
+"And what is yours?"
+
+"What, don't--you--know??? Why, Reginald George Bazalgette. I am
+seven. I am the eldest. I am to have more money than the others when
+papa dies, Jane says. I wonder when he will die."
+
+"When he does you will lose his love, and that is worth more than his
+money; so you take my advice and love him dearly while you have got
+him."
+
+"Oh, I like papa very well. He is good-natured all day long. Mamma is
+so ill-tempered till dinner, and then they won't let me dine with her;
+and then, as soon as mamma has begun to be good-tempered upstairs in
+the drawing-room, my bedtime comes directly; it's abominable!!" The
+last word rose into a squeak under his sense of wrong.
+
+David smiled kindly: "So it seems we all have our troubles," said he.
+
+"What! have you any troubles?" and Reginald opened his eyes in wonder.
+He thought size was an armor against care.
+
+"Not so many as most folk, thank God, but I have some," and David
+sighed.
+
+"Why, if I was as big as you, I'd have no troubles. I'd beat everybody
+that troubled me, and I would marry Lucy directly"; and at that
+beloved name my lord falls into a reverie ten seconds long.
+
+David gave a start, and an ejaculation rose to his lips. He looked
+down with comical horror upon the little chubby imp who had divined
+his thought.
+
+Mr. Reginald soon undeceived him. "She is to be my wife, you know.
+Don't you think she will make a capital one?" Before David could
+decide this point for him, the kaleidoscopic mind of the terrible
+infant had taken another turn. "Come into the stable-yard; I'll show
+you Tom," cried young master, enthusiastically. Finally, David had to
+make the boy a kite. When made it took two hours for the paste to dry;
+and as every ten minutes spent in waiting seemed an hour to one of Mr.
+Reginald's kidney, as the English classics phrase it, he was almost in
+a state of frenzy at last, and flew his new kite with yells. But after
+a bit he missed a familiar incident; "It doesn't tumble down; my other
+kites all tumble down."
+
+"More shame for them," said David, with a dash of contempt, and
+explained to him that tumbling down is a flaw in a kite, just as
+foundering at sea is a vile habit in a ship, and that each of these
+descents, however picturesque to childhood's eye, implies a
+construction originally derective, or some little subsequent
+mismanagement. It appeared by Reginald's retort that when his kite
+tumbled he had the tumultuous joy of flying it again, but, by its
+keeping the air like this, monotony reigned; so he now proposed that
+his new friend should fasten the string to the pump-handle, and play
+at ball with him beneath the kite. The good-natured sailor consented,
+and thus the little voluptuary secured a terrestrial and ever-varying
+excitement, while occasional glances upward soothed him with the mild
+consciousness that there was his property still hovering in the
+empyrean; amid all which, poor love-sick David was seized with a
+desire to hear the name of her he loved, and her praise, even from
+these small lips. "So you are very fond of Miss Lucy?" said he.
+
+"Yes," replied Reginald, dryly, and said no more; for it is a
+characteristic of the awfu' bairn to be mute where fluency is
+required, voluble where silence.
+
+"I wonder why you love her so much," said David, cunningly. Reginald's
+face, instead of brightening with the spirit of explanation, became
+instantly lack-luster and dough-like; for, be it known, to the
+everlasting discredit of human nature, that his affection and
+matrimonial intentions, as they were no secret, so they were the butt
+of satire from grown-up persons of both sexes in the house, and of
+various social grades; down to the very gardener, all had had a fling
+at him. But soon his natural cordiality gained the better of that
+momentary reserve. "Well, I'll tell you," said he, "because you have
+behaved well all day."
+
+David was all expectation.
+
+"I like her because she has got red cheeks, and does whatever one asks
+her."
+
+
+Oh, breadth of statement! Why was not David one of your repeaters? He
+would have gone and told Lucy. I should have liked her to know in what
+grand primitive colors peach-bloom and queenly courtesy strike what
+Mr. Tennyson is pleased to call "the deep mind of dauntless infancy."
+But David Dodd was not a reporter, and so I don't get my way; and how
+few of us do! not even Mr. Reginald, whose joyous companionship with
+David was now blighted by a footman. At sight of the coming plush,
+"There, now!" cried Reginald. He anticipated evil, for messages from
+the ruling powers were nearly always adverse to his joys. The footman
+came to say that his master would feel obliged if Mr. Dodd would step
+into his study a minute.
+
+David went immediately.
+
+"There, now!" squeaked Reginald, rising an octave. "I'm never happy
+for two hours together." This was true. He omitted to add, "Nor
+unhappy for one." The dear child sought comfort in retaliation. He
+took stones and pelted the footman's retiring calves. His admirers, if
+any, will be glad to learn that this act of intelligent retribution
+soothed his deep mind a little.
+
+Mr. Bazalgette had been much interested by David's conversation the
+last night, and, hearing he was not with the riding-party, had a mind
+to chat with him. David found him in a magnificent study, lined with
+books, and hung with beautiful maps that lurked in mahogany cylinders
+attached to the wall; and you pulled them out by inserting a
+brass-hooked stick into their rings, and hauling. Mr. Bazalgette began
+by putting him a question about a distant port to which he had just
+sent out some goods. David gave him full information. Began,
+seaman-like, with the entrance to the harbor, and told him what danger
+his captain should look out for in running in, and how to avoid it;
+and from that went to the character of the natives, their tricks upon
+the sailors, their habits, tastes, and fancies, and, entering with
+intelligence into his companion's business, gave him some very shrewd
+hints as to the sort of cargo that would tempt them to sell the very
+rings out of their ears. Succeeding so well in this, Mr. Bazalgette
+plied him on other points, and found him full of valuable matter, and,
+by a rare union of qualities, very modest and very frank. "Now I like
+this," said Mr. Bazalgette, cheerfully. "This is a return to old
+customs. A century or two ago, you know, the merchant and the captain
+felt themselves parts of the same stick, and they used to sit and
+smoke together before a voyage, and sup together after one, and be
+always putting their heads together; but of late the stick has got so
+much longer, and so many knots between the handle and the point, that
+we have quite lost sight of one another. Here we merchants sit at home
+at ease, and send you fine fellows out among storms and waves, and
+think more of a bale of cotton spoiled than of a captain drowned."
+
+David. "And we eat your bread, sir, as if it dropped from the
+clouds, and quite forget whose money and spirit of enterprise causes
+the ship to be laid on the stocks, and then built, and then rigged,
+and then launched, and then manned, and then sailed from port to
+port."
+
+"Well, well, if you eat our bread, we eat your labor, your skill, your
+courage, and sometimes your lives, I am sorry to say. Merchants and
+captains ought really to be better acquainted."
+
+"Well, sir," said David, "now you mention it, you are the first
+merchant of any consequence I ever had the advantage of talking with."
+
+"The advantage is mutual, sir; you have given me one or two hints I
+could not have got from fifty merchants. I mean to coin you, Captain
+Dodd."
+
+David laughed and blushed. "I doubt it will be but copper coin if you
+do. But I am not a captain; I am only first mate."
+
+"You don't say so! Why, how comes that?"
+
+"Well, sir, I went to sea very young, but I wasted a year or two in
+private ventures. When I say wasted, I picked up a heap of knowledge
+that I could not have gained on the China voyage, but it has lost me a
+little in length of standing; but, on the other hand, I have been very
+lucky; it is not every one that gets to be first mate at my age; and
+after next voyage, if I can only make a little bit of interest, I
+think I shall be a captain. No, sir, I wish I was a captain; I never
+wished it as now;" and David sighed deeply.
+
+"Humph!" said Mr. Bazalgette, and took a note.
+
+He then showed David his maps. David inspected them with almost boyish
+delight, and showed the merchant the courses of ships on Eastern and
+Western voyages, and explained the winds and currents that compelled
+them to go one road and return another, and in both cases to go so
+wonderfully out of what seems the track as they do. _Bref,_ the
+two ends of the mercantile stick came nearer.
+
+"My study is always open to you, Mr. Dodd, and I hope you will not let
+a day pass without obliging me by looking in upon me."
+
+David thanked him, and went out innocently unconscious that he had
+performed an unparalleled feat. In the hall he met Captain Kenealy,
+who, having received orders to amuse him, invited him to play at
+billiards. David consented, out of good-nature, to please Kenealy.
+Thus the whole day passed, and _les facheux_ would not let him
+get a word with Lucy.
+
+At dinner he was separated from her, and so hotly and skillfully
+engaged by Mrs. Bazalgette that he had scarcely time to look at his
+idol. After dinner he had to contest her with Mr. Talboys and Mr.
+Hardie, the latter of whom he found a very able and sturdy antagonist.
+Mr. Hardie had also many advantages over him. First, the young lady
+was not the least shy of Mr. Hardie, but the parting scene beyond
+Royston had put her on her guard against David, and her instinct of
+defense made her reserved with him. Secondly, Mrs. Bazalgette was
+perpetually making diversions, whose double object was to get David to
+herself and leave Lucy to Mr. Hardie.
+
+With all this David found, to his sorrow, that, though he now lived
+under the same roof with her, he was not so near her as at Font Abbey.
+There was a wall of etiquette and of rivals, and, as he now began to
+fear, of her own dislike between them. To read through that mighty
+transparent jewel, a female heart, Nauta had recourse--to what, do you
+think? To arithmetic. He set to work to count how many times she spoke
+to each of the party in the drawing-room, and he found that Mr. Hardie
+was at the head of the list, and he was at the bottom. That might be
+an accident; perhaps this was his black evening; so he counted her
+speeches the next evening. The result was the same. Droll statistics,
+but sad and convincing to the simple David. His spirits failed him;
+his aching heart turned cold. He withdrew from the gay circle, and sat
+sadly with a book of prints before him, and turned the leaves
+listlessly. In a pause of the conversation a sigh was heard in the
+corner. They all looked round, and saw David all by himself, turning
+over the leaves, but evidently not inspecting them.
+
+A sort of flash of satirical curiosity went from eye to eye.
+
+But tact abounded at one end of the room, if there was a dearth of it
+at the other.
+
+_La rusee sans le savoir_ made a sign to them all to take no
+notice; at the same time she whispered: "Going to sea in a few days
+for two years; the thought will return now and then." Having said this
+with a look at her aunt, that, Heaven knows how, gave the others the
+notion that it was to Mrs. Bazalgette she owed the solution of David's
+fit of sadness, she glided easily into indifferent topics. So then the
+others had a momentary feeling of pity for David. Miss Lucy noticed
+this out of the tail of her eye.
+
+That night David went to bed thoroughly wretched. He could not sleep,
+so he got up and paced the deck of his room with a heavy heart. At
+last, in his despair, he said, "I'll fire signals of distress." So he
+sat down and took a sheet of paper, and fired: "Nothing has turned as
+I expected. She treats me like a stranger. I seem to drop astern
+instead of making any way. Here are three of us, I do believe, and all
+seem preferred to your poor brother; and, indeed, the only thing that
+gives me any hope is that she seems too kind to be in earnest, for it
+is not in her angelic nature to be really unkind; and what have I
+done? Eve, dear, such a change from what she was at Font Abbey, and
+that happy evening when she came and drank tea with us, and lighted
+our little garden up, and won your heart, that was always a little set
+against her. Now it is so different that I sit and ask myself whether
+all that is not a dream. Can anyone change so in one short month? I
+could not. But who knows? perhaps I do her wrong. You know I never
+could read her at home without your help, and, dear Eve, I miss you
+now from my side most sadly. Without you I seem to be adrift, without
+rudder or compass."
+
+Then, as he could not sleep, he dressed himself, and went out at four
+o'clock in the morning. He roamed about with a heavy heart; at last he
+bethought him of his fiddle. Since Lucy's departure from Font Abbey
+this had been a great solace to him. It was at once a depository and
+vent to him; he poured out his heart to it and by it; sometimes he
+would fancy, while he played, that he was describing the beauties of
+her mind and person; at others, regretting the sad fate that separated
+him from her; or, hope reviving, would see her near him, and be
+telling her how he loved her; and, so great an inspirer is love, he
+had invented more than one clear melody during the last month, he who
+up to that time had been content to render the thoughts of others,
+like most fiddlers and composers.
+
+So he said to himself, "I had better not play in the house, or I shall
+wake them out of their first sleep."
+
+He brought out his violin, got among some trees near the stable-yard,
+and tried to soothe his sorrowful heart. He played sadly, sweetly and
+dreamingly. He bade the wooden shell tell all the world how lonely he
+was, only the magic shell told it so tenderly and tunefully that he
+soon ceased to be alone. The first arrival was on four legs: Pepper, a
+terrier with a taste for sounds. Pepper arrived cautiously, though in
+a state of profound curiosity, and, being too wise to trust at once to
+his ears, avenue of sense by which we are all so much oftener deceived
+than by any other, he first smelled the musician carefully and
+minutely all round. What he learned by this he and his Creator alone
+know, but apparently something reassuring; for, as soon as he had
+thoroughly snuffed his Orpheus, he took up a position exactly opposite
+him, sat up high on his tail, cocked his nose well into the air, and
+accompanied the violin with such vocal powers as Nature had bestowed
+on him. Nor did the sentiment lose anything, in intensity at all
+events, by the vocalist. If David's strains were plaintive, Pepper's
+were lugubrious; and what may seem extraordinary, so long as David
+played softly the Cerberus of the stableyard whined musically, and
+tolerably in tune; but when he played loud or fast poor Pepper got
+excited, and in his wild endeavors to equal the violin vented dismal
+and discordant howls at unpleasantly short intervals. All this
+attracted David's attention, and he soon found he could play upon
+Pepper as well as the fiddle, raising him and subduing him by turns;
+only, like the ocean, Pepper was not to be lulled back to his musical
+ripple quite so quickly as he could be lashed into howling frenzy.
+
+While David was thus playing, and Pepper showing a fearful broadside
+of ivory teeth, and flinging up his nose and sympathizing loudly and
+with a long face, though not perhaps so deeply as he looked, suddenly
+rang behind David a chorus of human chuckles. David wheeled, and there
+were six young women's faces set in the foliage and laughing merrily.
+Though perfectly aware that David would look round, they seemed taken
+quite by surprise when he did look, and with military precision became
+instantly two files, for the four impudent ones ran behind the two
+modest ones, and there, by an innocent instinct, tied their
+cap-strings, which were previously floating loose, their custom ever
+in the early morning.
+
+"Play us up something merry, sir," hazarded one of the mock-modest
+ones in the rear.
+
+"Shan't I be taking you from your work?" objected David dryly.
+
+"Oh, all work and no play is bad for the body," replied the minx,
+keeping ostentatiously out of sight.
+
+Good-natured David played a merry tune in spite of his heart; and even
+at that disadvantage it was so spirit-stirring compared with anything
+the servants had heard, it made them all frisky, of which disposition
+Tom, the stable boy, who just then came into the yard, took advantage,
+and, leading out one of the housemaids by the polite process of
+hauling at her with both hands, proceeded to country dancing, in which
+the others soon demurely joined.
+
+Now all this was wormwood to poor David; for to play merriment when
+the heart is too heavy to be cheered by it makes that heart bitter as
+well as sad. But the good-natured fellow said to himself: "Poor
+things, I dare say they work from morning till night, and seldom see
+pleasure but at a distance; why not put on a good face, and give them
+one merry hour." So he played horn-pipes and reels till all their
+hearts were on fire, and faces red, and eyes glittering, and legs
+aching, and he himself felt ready to burst out crying, and then he
+left off. As for _il penseroso_ Pepper, he took this intrusion of
+merry music upon his sympathies very ill. He left singing, and barked
+furiously and incessantly at these ancient English melodies and at the
+dancers, and kept running from and running at the women's whirling
+gowns alternately, and lost his mental balance, and at last, having by
+a happier snap than usual torn off two feet of the under-housemaid's
+frock, shook and worried the fragment with insane snarls and gleaming
+eyes, and so zealously that his existence seemed to depend on its
+annihilation.
+
+David gave those he had brightened a sad smile, and went hastily
+in-doors. He put his violin into its case, and sealed and directed his
+letter to Eve. He could not rest in-doors, so he roamed out again, but
+this time he took care to go on the lawn. Nobody would come there, he
+thought, to interrupt his melancholy. He was doomed to be disappointed
+in that respect. As he sat in the little summer-house with his head on
+the table, he suddenly heard an elastic step on the dry gravel. He
+started peevishly up and saw a lady walking briskly toward him: it was
+Miss Fountain.
+
+She saw him at the same instant. She hesitated a single half-moment;
+then, as escape was impossible, resumed her course. David went
+bashfully to meet her.
+
+"Good-morning, Mr. Dodd," said she, in the most easy, unembarrassed
+way imaginable.
+
+He stammered a "good-morning," and flushed with pleasure and
+confusion.
+
+He walked by her side in silence. She stole a look at him, and saw
+that, after the first blush at meeting her, he was pale and haggard.
+On this she dashed into singularly easy and cheerful conversation with
+him; told him that this morning walk was her custom--"My substitute
+for rouge, you know. I am always the first up in this languid house;
+but I must not boast before you, who, I dare say, turn out--is not
+that the word?--at daybreak. But, now I think of it, no! you would
+have crossed my hawse before, Mr. Dodd," using naval phrases to
+flatter him.
+
+"It was my ill-luck; I always cruised a mile off. I had no idea this
+bit of gravel was your quarter-deck."
+
+"It is, though, because it is always dry. You would not like a
+quarter-deck with that character, would you?"
+
+"Oh yes, I should. I'd have my bowsprit always wet, and my
+quarter-deck always dry. But it is no use wishing for what we cannot
+have."
+
+"That is very true," said Lucy, quietly.
+
+David reflected on his own words, and sighed deeply.
+
+This did not suit Lucy. She plied him with airy nothings, that no man
+can arrest and impress on paper; but the tone and smile made them
+pleasing, and then she asked his opinion of the other guests in such a
+way as implied she took some interest in his opinion of them, but
+mighty little in the people themselves. In short, she chatted with him
+like an old friend, and nothing more; but David was not subtle enough
+in general, nor just now calm enough, to see on what footing all this
+cordiality was offered him. His color came back, his eye brightened,
+happiness beamed on his face, and the lady saw it from under her
+lashes.
+
+"How fortunate I fell in with you here! You are yourself again--on
+your quarter-deck. I scarce knew you the last few days. I was afraid I
+had offended you. You seemed to avoid me."
+
+"Nonsense, Mr. Dodd; what is there about you to avoid?"
+
+"Plenty, Miss Fountain; I am so inferior to your other friends."
+
+"I was not aware of it, Mr. Dodd."
+
+"And I have heard your sex has gusts of caprice, and I thought the
+cold wind was blowing upon me; and that did seem very sad, just when I
+am going out, and perhaps shall never see your sweet face or hear your
+lovely voice again."
+
+"Don't say that, Mr. Dodd, or you will make me sad in earnest. Your
+prudence and courage, and a kind Providence, will carry you safe
+through this voyage, as they have through so many, and on your return
+the acquaintance you do me the honor to value so highly will await
+you--if it depends on me."
+
+All this was said kindly and beautifully, and almost tenderly, but
+still with a certain majesty that forbade love-making--rendered it
+scarce possible, except to a fool. But David was not captious. He
+could not, like the philosopher, sift sunshine. For some days he had
+been almost separated from her. Now she was by his side. He adored her
+so that he could no longer _realize_ sorrow or disappointment to
+come. They were uncertain--future. The light of her eyes, and voice,
+and face, and noble presence were here; he basked in them.
+
+He told her not to mind a word he had said. "It was all nonsense. I am
+happier now--happier than ever."
+
+At this Lucy looked grave and became silent.
+
+David, to amuse her, told her there was "a singing dog aboard," and
+would she like to hear him?
+
+This was a happy diversion for Lucy. She assented gayly. David ran for
+his fiddle, and then for Pepper. Pepper wagged his tail, but, strong
+as his musical taste was, would not follow the fiddle. But at this
+juncture Master Reginald dawned on the stable-yard with a huge slice
+of bread and butter. Pepper followed him. So the party came on the
+lawn and joined Lucy. Then David played on the violin, and Pepper
+performed exactly as hereinbefore related. Lucy laughed merrily, and
+Reginald shrieked with delight, for the vocal terrier was mortal
+droll.
+
+
+"But, setting Pepper aside, that is a very sweet air you are playing
+now, Mr. Dodd. It is full of soul and feeling."
+
+"Is it?" said David, looking wonderstruck; "you know best."
+
+"Who is the composer?"
+
+David looked confused and said, "No one of any note."
+
+Lucy shot a glance at him, keen as lightning. What with David's
+simplicity and her own remarkable talent for reading faces, his
+countenance was a book to her, wide open, Bible print. "The composer's
+name is Mr. Dodd," said she, quietly.
+
+"I little thought you would be satisfied with it," replied David,
+obliquely.
+
+"Then you doubted my judgment as well as your own talent."
+
+"My talent! I should never have composed an air that would bear
+playing but for one thing."
+
+"And what was that?" said Lucy, affecting vast curiosity. She felt
+herself on safe ground now--the fine arts.
+
+"You remember when you went away from Font Abbey, and left us all so
+heavy-hearted?"
+
+"I remember leaving Font Abbey," replied Lucy, with saucy emphasis,
+and an air of lofty disbelief in the other incident.
+
+"Well, I used to get my fiddle, and think of you so far away, and
+sweet sad airs came to my heart, and from my heart they passed into
+the fiddle. Now and then one seemed more worthy of you than the rest
+were, and then I kept that one."
+
+"You mean you took the notes down," said Lucy coldly.
+
+"Oh no, there was no need; I wrote it in my head and in my heart. May
+I play you another of your tunes? I call them your tunes."
+
+Lucy blushed faintly, and fixed her eyes on the ground. She gave a
+slight signal of assent, and David played a melody.
+
+"It is very beautiful," said she in a low voice. "Play it again. Can
+you play it as we walk?"
+
+"Oh yes." He played it again. They drew near the hall door. She looked
+up a moment, and then demurely down again.
+
+"Now will you be so good as to play the first one twice?" She listened
+with her eyelashes drooping. "Tweedle dee! tweedle dum! tweedle dee."
+"And _now_ we will go into breakfast," cried Lucy, with sudden
+airy cheerfulness, and, almost with the word, she darted up the steps,
+and entered the house without even looking to see whether David
+followed or what became of him.
+
+He stood gazing through the open door at her as she glided across the
+hall, swift and elastic, yet serpentine, and graceful and stately as
+Juno at nineteen.
+
+           "Et vera iucessu patuit lady."
+
+These Junones, severe in youthful beauty, fill us Davids with
+irrational awe; but, the next moment, they are treated like small
+children by the very first matron they meet; they resign their
+judgment at once to hers, and bow their wills to her lightest word
+with a slavish meanness.
+
+Creation's unmarried lords, realize your true position--girls govern
+you, and wives govern girls.
+
+Mrs. Bazalgette, on Lucy's entrance, ran a critical eye over her, and
+scolded her like a six-year-old for walking in thin shoes.
+
+"Only on the gravel, aunt," said the divine slave, submissively.
+
+"No matter; it rained last night. I heard it patter. You want to be
+laid up, I suppose."
+
+"I will put on thicker ones in future, dear aunt," murmured the
+celestial serf.
+
+Now Mrs. Bazalgette did not really care a button whether the servile
+angel wore thick soles or thin. She was cross about something a mile
+off that. As soon as she had vented her ill humor on a sham cause, she
+could come to its real cause good-temperedly. "And, Lucy, love, do
+manage better about Mr. Dodd."
+
+Lucy turned scarlet. Luckily, Mrs. Bazalgette was evading her niece's
+eye, so did not see her telltale cheek.
+
+"He was quite thrown out last night; and really, as he does not ride
+with us, it is too bad to neglect him in-doors."
+
+"Oh, excuse me, aunt, Mr. Dodd is your protege. You did not even tell
+me you were going to invite him."
+
+"I beg your pardon, that I certainly did. Poor fellow, he was out of
+spirits last night."
+
+"Well, but, aunt, surely you can put an admirer in good spirits when
+you think proper," said Lucy slyly.
+
+"Humph! I don't want to attract too much attention. I see Bazalgette
+watching me, and I don't wish to be misinterpreted myself, or give my
+husband pain."
+
+She said this with such dignity that Lucy, who knew her regard for her
+husband, had much ado not to titter. But courtesy prevailed, and she
+said gravely: "I will do whatever you wish me, only give me a hint at
+the time; a look will do, you know."
+
+The ladies separated; they met again at the breakfast-room door.
+Laughter rang merrily inside, and among the gayest voices was Mr.
+Dodd's. Lucy gave Mrs. Bazalgette an arch look. "Your patient seems
+better;" and they entered the room, where, sure enough, they found Mr.
+Dodd the life and soul of the assembled party.
+
+"A letter from Mrs. Wilson, aunt."
+
+"And, pray, who is Mrs. Wilson?"
+
+"My nurse. She tells me 'it is five years since she has seen me, and
+she is wearying to see me.' What a droll expression, 'wearying.'"
+
+"Ah!" said David Dodd.
+
+"You have heard the word before, Mr. Dodd?"
+
+"No, I can't say I have; but I know what it must mean."
+
+"Lying becalmed at the equator, eh! Dodd?" said Bazalgette,
+misunderstanding him.
+
+"Mrs. Wilson tells me she has taken a farm a few miles from this."
+
+"Interesting intelligence," said Mrs. Bazalgette.
+
+"And she says she is coming over to see me one of these days, aunt,"
+said Lucy, with a droll expression, half arch, half rueful. She added
+timidly, "There is no objection to that, is there?"
+
+"None whatever, if she does not make a practice of it; only mind,
+these old servants are the greatest pests on earth."
+
+"I remember now," said Lucy thoughtfully, "Mrs. Wilson was always very
+fond of me. I cannot think why, though."
+
+"No more can I," said Mr. Hardie, dryly; "she must be a thoroughly
+unreasonable woman."
+
+Mr. Hardie said this with a good deal of grace and humor, and a laugh
+went round the table.
+
+"I mean she only saw me at intervals of several years."
+
+"Why, Lucy, what an antiquity you are making yourself," said Fountain.
+
+But Lucy was occupied with her puzzle. "She calls me her nursling,"
+said Lucy, _sotto voce,_ to her aunt, but, of course, quite
+audibly to the rest of the company; "her dear nursling;" and says,
+"she would walk fifty miles to see me. Nursling? hum! there is another
+word I never heard, and I do not exactly know--Then she says--"
+
+_"Taisez-vous, petite sotte!"_ said Mrs. Bazalgette, in a sharp
+whisper, so admirably projected that it was intelligible only to the
+ear it was meant for.
+
+Lucy caught it and stopped short, and sat looking by main force calm
+and dignified, but scarlet, and in secret agony. "I have said
+something amiss," thought Lucy, and was truly wretched.
+
+"We don't believe in Mrs. Wilson's affection on this side the table,"
+said Mr. Hardie; "but her revelations interest us, for they prove that
+Miss Fountain had a beginning. Now we had thought she rose from the
+foam like Venus, or sprung from Jove's brow like Minerva, or descended
+from some ancient pedestal, flawless as the Parian itself."
+
+"What, sir," cried Bazalgette, furiously, "did you think our niece was
+built in a day? So fair a structure, so accomplished a--"
+
+"Will you be quiet, good people?" said Mrs. Bazalgette. "She was born,
+she was bred, she was brought up, in which I had a share, and she is a
+very good girl, if you gentlemen will be so good as not to spoil her
+for me with your flattery."
+
+"There!" said Lucy, courageously, enforcing her aunt's thunderbolt;
+and she leaned toward Mrs. Bazalgette, and shot back a glance of
+defiance, with arching neck, at Mr. Bazalgette.
+
+
+After breakfast she ran to Mrs. Bazalgette. "What was it?"
+
+"Oh, nothing; only the gentlemen were beginning to grin."
+
+"Oh, dear! did I say anything--ridiculous?"
+
+"No, because I stopped you in time. Mind, Lucy, it is never safe to
+read letters out from people in that class of life; they talk about
+everything, and use words that are quite out of date. I stopped you
+because I know you are a simpleton, and so I could not tell what might
+pop out next."
+
+"Oh, thank you, aunt--thank you," cried Lucy, warmly. "Then I did not
+expose myself, after all."
+
+"No, no; you said nothing that might not be proclaimed at St. Paul's
+Cross--ha! ha!"
+
+"Am I a simpleton, aunt?" inquired Lucy, in the tone of an indifferent
+person seeking knowledge.
+
+"Not you," replied this oblivious lady. "You know a great deal more
+than most girls of your age. To be sure, girls that have been at a
+fashionable school generally manage to learn one or two things you
+have no idea of."
+
+"Naturally."
+
+"As you say--he! he! But you make up for it, my dear, in other
+respects. If the gentlemen take you for a pane of glass, why, all the
+better; meantime, shall I tell you your real character? I have only
+just discovered it myself."
+
+"Oh, yes, aunt, tell me my character. I should so like to hear it from
+you."
+
+"Should you?" said the other, a little satirically; "well, then, you
+are an INNOCENT FOX."
+
+"Aunt!"
+
+"An in-no-cent fox; so run and get your work-box. I want you to run up
+a tear in my flounce."
+
+Lucy went thoughtfully for her workbox, murmuring ruefully, "I am an
+innocent fox--I am an in-nocent fox."
+
+She did not like her new character at all; it mortified her, and
+seemed self-contradictory as well as derogatory.
+
+On her return she could not help remonstrating: "How can that be my
+character? A fox is cunning, and I despise cunning; and _I am
+sure_ I am not _innocent,"_ added she, putting up both hands
+and looking penitent. With all this, a shade of vexation was painted
+on her lovely cheeks as she appealed against her epigram.
+
+Mrs. Bazalgette (with the calm, inexorable superiority of
+matron despotism). "You are an in-nocent fox!! Is your needle
+threaded? Here is the tear; no, not there. I caught against the
+flowerpot frame, and I'll swear I heard my gown go. Look lower down,
+dear. Don't give it up."
+
+All which may perhaps remind the learned and sneering reader of
+another fox--the one that "had a wound, and he could not tell where."
+
+
+They rode out to-day as usual, and David had the equivocal pleasure of
+seeing them go from the door.
+
+Lucy was one of the first down, and put her hand on the saddle, and
+looked carelessly round for somebody to put her up. David stepped
+hastily forward, his heart beating, seized her foot, never waited for
+her to spring, but went to work at once, and with a powerful and
+sustained effort raised her slowly and carefully like a dead weight,
+and settled her in the saddle. His gripe hurt her foot. She bore it
+like a Spartan sooner than lose the amusement of his simplicity and
+enormous strength, so drolly and unnecessarily exerted. It cost her a
+little struggle not to laugh right out, but she turned her head away
+from him a moment and was quit for a spasm. Then she came round with a
+face all candor.
+
+"Thank you, Mr. Dodd," said she, demurely; and her eyes danced in her
+head. Her foot felt encircled with an iron band, but she bore him not
+a grain of malice for that, and away she cantered, followed by his
+longing eyes.
+
+David bore the separation well. "To-morrow morning I shall have her
+all to myself," said he. He played with Kenealy and Reginald, and
+chatted with Bazalgette. In the evening she was surrounded as usual,
+and he obtained only a small share of her attention. But the thought
+of the morrow consoled him. He alone knew that she walked before
+breakfast.
+
+The next morning he rose early, and sauntered about till eight
+o'clock, and then he came on the lawn and waited for her. She did not
+come. He waited, and waited, and waited. She never came. His heart
+died within him. "She avoids me," said he; "it is not accident. I have
+driven her out of her very garden; she always walked here before
+breakfast (she said so) till I came and spoiled her walk; Heaven
+forgive me."
+
+David could not flatter himself that this interruption of her
+acknowledged habit was accidental. On the other hand, how kind and
+cheerful she had been with him on the same spot yesterday morning. To
+judge by her manner, his company on her quarter-deck was not unwelcome
+to her yet she kept her room to-day, from the window of which she
+could probably see him walking to and fro, longing for her. The bitter
+disappointment was bad enough, but here tormenting perplexity as to
+its cause was added, and between the two the pining heart was racked.
+
+This is the cruelest separation; mere distance is the mildest. Where
+land and sea alone lie between two loving hearts, they pine, but are
+at rest. A piece of paper, and a few lines traced by the hand that
+reads like a face, and the two sad hearts exult and embrace one
+another afresh, in spite of a hemisphere of dirt and salt water, that
+parts bodies but not minds. But to be close, yet kept aloof by red-hot
+iron and chilling ice, by rivals, by etiquette and cold
+indifference--to be near, yet far--this is to be apart--this, this is
+separation.
+
+A gush of rage and bitterness foreign to his natural temper came over
+Mr. Dodd. "Since I can't have the girl I love, I will have nobody but
+my own thoughts. I cannot bear the others and their chat to-day. I
+will go and think of her, since that is all she will let me do"; and
+directly after breakfast David walked out on the downs and made by
+instinct for the sea. The wounded deer shunned the lively herd.
+
+The ladies, as they sat in the drawing-room, received visits of a less
+flattering character than usual. Reginald kept popping in, inquiring,
+"Where was Mr. Dodd?" and would not believe they had not hid him
+somewhere. He was followed by Kenealy, who came in and put them but
+one question, "Where is Dawd?"
+
+"We don't know," said Mrs. Bazalgette sharply; "we have not been
+intrusted with the care of Mr. Dodd."
+
+Kenealy sauntered forth disconsolate. Finally Mr. Bazalgette put his
+head in, and surveyed the room keenly but in silence; so then his wife
+looked up, and asked him satirically if he did not want Mr. Dodd.
+
+"Of course I do," was the gracious reply; "what else should I come
+here for?"
+
+"Well, he is lost; you had better put him in the 'Hue and Cry.'"
+
+La Bazalgette was getting jealous of her own flirtee: he attracted too
+much of that attention she loved so dear.
+
+At last Reginald, despairing of Dodd, went in search of another
+playmate--Master Christmas, a young gentleman a year older than
+himself, who lived within half a mile. Before he went he inquired what
+there was for his dinner, and, being informed "roast mutton," was not
+enraptured; he then asked with greater solicitude what was the
+pudding, and, being told "rice," betrayed disgust and anger, as was
+remembered when too late.
+
+At two o'clock, the day being fine, the ladies went for a long ride,
+accompanied by Talboys only. Kenealy excused himself: "He must see if
+he could not find Dawd."
+
+Mrs. Bazalgette started in a pet; but, after the first canter, she set
+herself to bewitch Mr. Talboys, just to keep her hand in; she
+flattered him up hill and down dale. Lucy was silent and
+_distraite._
+
+"From that hill you look right down upon the sea," said Mrs.
+Bazalgette; "what do you say? It is only two miles farther."
+
+On they cantered, and, leaving the high road, dived into a green lane
+which led them, by a gradual ascent, to Mariner's Folly on the summit
+of the cliff. Mariner's Folly looked at a distance like an enormous
+bush in the shape of a lion; but, when you came nearer, you saw it was
+three remarkably large blackthorn-trees planted together. As they
+approached it at a walk, Mrs. Bazalgette told Mr. Talboys its legend.
+
+"These trees were planted a hundred and fifty years ago by a retired
+buccaneer."
+
+"Aunt, now, it was only a lieutenant."
+
+"Be quiet, Lucy, and don't spoil me; I _call_ him a buccaneer.
+Some say it is named his "Folly," because, you must know, his ghost
+comes and sits here at times, and that is an absurd practice,
+shivering in the cold. Others more learned say it comes from a Latin
+word 'folio,' or some such thing, that means a leaf; the mariner's
+leafy screen." She then added with reckless levity, "I wonder whether
+we shall find Buckey on the other side, looking at the ships through a
+ghostly telescope--ha! ha!--ah! ah! help! mercy! forgive me! Oh, dear,
+it is only Mr. Dodd in his jacket--you frightened me so. Oh! oh!
+There--I am ill. Catch me, somebody;" and she dropped her whip, and,
+seeing David's eye was on her, subsided backward with considerable
+courage and trustfulness, and for the second time contrived to be in
+her flirtee's arms.
+
+I wish my friend Aristotle had been there; I think he would have been
+pleased at her [Greek] (presence of mind) in turning even her terror
+of the supernatural so quickly to account, and making it subservient
+to flirtation.
+
+
+David sat heart-stricken and hopeless, gazing at the sea. The hours
+passed by his heavy heart unheeded. The leafy screen deadened the
+light sound of the horses' feet on the turf, and, moreover, his senses
+were all turned inward. They were upon him, and he did not move, but
+still held his head in his hands and gazed upon the sea. At Mrs.
+Bazalgette's cries he started up, and looked confusedly at them all;
+but, when she did the feinting business, he thought she was going to
+faint, and caught her in his arms; and, holding her in them a moment
+as if she had been a child, he deposited her very gently in a sitting
+posture at the foot of one of the trees, and, taking her hand, slapped
+it to bring her to.
+
+"Oh, don't! you hurt me," cried the lady in her natural voice.
+
+Lucy, barbarous girl, never came to her aunt's assistance. At the
+first fright she seemed slightly agitated, but she now sat impassive
+on her pony, and even wore a satirical smile.
+
+"Now, dear aunt, when you have done, Mr. Dodd will put you on your
+horse again."
+
+On this hint David lifted her like a child, _malgre_ a little
+squeak she thought it well to utter, and put her in the saddle again.
+She thanked him in a low, murmuring voice. She then plied David with a
+host of questions. "How came he so far from home?" "Why had he
+deserted them all day?" David hung his head, and did not answer. Lucy
+came to his relief: "It would be as well if you would make him promise
+to be at home in time for dinner; and, by the way, I have a favor to
+ask of you, Mr. Dodd."
+
+"A favor to ask of me?!"
+
+"Oh, you know we all make demands upon your good-nature in turn."
+
+"That is true," said La Bazalgette, tenderly. "I don't know what will
+become of us all when he goes."
+
+Lucy then explained "that the masked ball suggested by Mr. Talboys'
+beautiful dresses was to be very soon, and she wanted Mr. Dodd to
+practice quadrilles and waltzes with her; it will be so much better
+with the violin and piano than with a piano alone, and you are such an
+excellent timist--will you, Mr. Dodd?"
+
+"That I will," said David, his eyes sparkling with delight; "thank
+you."
+
+"Then, as I shall practice before the gentlemen join us, and it is
+four o'clock now, had you not better turn your back on the sea, and
+make the best of your way home?"
+
+"I will be there almost as soon as you."
+
+"Indeed! what, on foot, and we on horseback?"
+
+"Ay; but I can steer in the wind's eye."
+
+"Aunt, Mr. Dodd proposes a race home."
+
+"With all my heart. How much start are we to give him?"
+
+"None at all," said David; "are you ready? Then give way," and he
+started down the hill at a killing pace.
+
+The equestrians were obliged to walk down the hill, and when they
+reached the bottom David was going as the crow flies across some
+meadows half a mile ahead. A good canter soon brought them on a line
+with him, but every now and then the turns of the road and the hills
+gave him an advantage. Lucy, naturally kind-hearted, would have
+relaxed her pace to make the race more equal, but Talboys urged her
+on; and as a horse is, after all, a faster animal than a sailor, they
+rode in at the front gate while David was still two fields off.
+
+"Come," said Mrs. Bazalgette, regretfully, "we have beat him, poor
+fellow, but we won't go in till we see what has become of him."
+
+As they loitered on the lawn, Henry the footman came out with a
+salver, and on it reposed a soiled note. Henry presented it with
+demure obsequiousness, then retired grinning furtively.
+
+"What is this--a begging-letter? What a vile hand! Look, Lucy; did you
+ever? Why, it must be some pauper."
+
+"Have a little mercy, aunt," said Lucy, piteously; "that hand has been
+formed under my care and daily superintendence: it is Reginald's."
+
+"Oh, that alters the case. What can the dear child have to say to me!
+Ah! the little wretch! Send the servants after him in every direction.
+Oh, who would be a mother!"
+
+The letter was written in lines with two pernicious defects. 1st. They
+were like the wooden part of a bow instead of its string. 2d. They
+yielded to gravity--kept tending down, down, to the righthand corner
+more and more. In the use of capitals the writer had taken the
+copyhead as his model. The style, however, was pithy, and in writing
+that is the first Christian grace--no, I forgot, it is the second;
+pellucidity is the first.
+
+     "Dear mama, me and johnny
+     Cristmas are gone to the north
+     Pole his unkle went twise we
+     Shall be back in siks munths
+     Please give my love to lucy and
+     Papa and ask lucy to be kind to
+     My ginnipigs i shall want them
+     Wen i come back. too much
+     Cabiges is not good for ginnipigs.
+     Wen i come back i hope there
+     Will be no rise left. it is very
+     Unjust to give me those nasty
+     Messy pudens i am not a child
+     There filthy there abbommanabel.
+     Johny says it is funy at the north
+     Pole and there are bares
+     and they
+     Are wite.
+     I remain
+
+                 "Your duteful son
+
+                 "Reginald George Bazalgette."
+
+
+This innocent missive set house and premises in an uproar. Henry was
+sent east through the dirt, _multa reluctantem,_ in white
+stockings. Tom galloped north. Mrs. Bazalgette sat in the hall, and
+did well-bred hysterics for Kenealy and Talboys. Lucy pinned up her
+habit, and ran to the boundary hedge on the bare chance of seeing the
+figures of the truants somewhere short of the horizon. Lo, and behold,
+there was David Dodd crossing the very nearest field and coming toward
+her, an urchin in each hand.
+
+Lucy ran to meet them. "Oh, you dear naughty children, what a fright
+you have given us! Oh, Mr. Dodd, how good of you! Where _did_ you
+find them?"
+
+"Under that hedge, eating apples. They tell me they sailed for the
+North Pole this morning, but fell in with a pirate close under the
+land, so 'bout ship and came ashore again."
+
+"A pirate, Mr. Dodd? Oh, I see, a beggar--a tramp."
+
+"A deal worse than that, Miss Lucy. Now, youngster, why don't you spin
+your own yarn?"
+
+"Yes, tell me, Reggy."
+
+"Well, dear, when I had written to mamma, and Johnny had folded
+it--because I can write but I can't fold it, and he can fold it but he
+can't write it--we went to the North Pole, and we got a mile; and then
+we saw that nasty Newfoundland dog sitting in the road waiting to
+torment us. It is Farmer Johnson's, and it plays with us, and knocks
+us down, and licks us, and frightens us, and we hate it; so we came
+home."
+
+"Ha! ha! good, prudent children. Oh, dear, you have had no dinner."
+
+"Oh, yes we had, Lucy, such a nice one: we bought such a lot of apples
+of a woman. I never had a dinner all apples before; they always spoil
+them with mutton and things, and that nasty, nasty rice"
+
+"Hear to that!" shouted David Dodd. "They have been dining upon
+varjese" (verjuice), "and them growing children. I shall take them
+into the kitchen, and put some cold beef into their little holds this
+minute, poor little lambs."
+
+"Oh yes, do; and I will run and tell the good news." She ran across
+the lawn, and came into the hall red with innocent happiness and
+agitation. "They are found, aunt, they are found; don't cry. Mr. Dodd
+found them close by, They have had no dinner, so that good, kind Mr.
+Dodd is taking them into the kitchen. I will send Master Christmas
+home with a servant. Shall I bring you Reggy to kiss?"
+
+"No, no; wicked little wretch, to frighten his poor mother! Whip him,
+somebody, and put him to bed."
+
+
+In the evening, soon after the ladies had left the dining-room, the
+pianoforte was heard playing quadrilles in the drawing-room. David
+fidgeted on his seat a little, and presently rose and went for his
+violin, and joined Lucy in the drawing-room alone. Mrs. B. was trying
+on a dress. Between the tunes Lucy chatted with him as freely and
+kindly as ever. David was in heaven. When the gentlemen came up from
+the dining-room, his joy was interrupted, but not for long. The two
+musicians played with so much spirit, and the fiddle, in particular,
+was so hearty, that Mrs. Bazalgette proposed a little quiet dance on
+the carpet: and this drew the other men away from the piano, and left
+David and Lucy to themselves.
+
+She stole a look more than once at his bright eyes and rich ruddy
+color, and asked herself, "Is that really the same face we found
+looking wan and haggard on the sea? I think I have put an end to that,
+at all events." The consciousness of this sort of power is secretly
+agreeable to all men and all women, whether they mean to abuse it or
+no. She smiled demurely at her mastery over this great heart, and said
+to herself, "One would think I was a witch." Later in the evening she
+eyed him again, and thought to herself, "If my company and a few
+friendly words can make him so happy, it does seem very hard I should
+select him to shun for the few days he has to pass in England now; but
+then, if I let him think--I don't know what to do with him. Poor Mr.
+Dodd."
+
+Miss Fountain did not torment her bolder aspirants with alternate
+distance and familiarity. She rode out every fine day with Mr.
+Talboys, and was all affability. She sat next Mr. Hardie at dinner,
+and was all affability.
+
+Narrative has its limits and, to relate in some sequence the honest
+sailor's tortures in love with a tactician, I have necessarily omitted
+concurrent incidents of a still tamer character; but the reader may,
+by the help of his own intelligence, gather their general results from
+the following dialogues, which took place on the afternoon and evening
+of the terrible infant's escapade.
+
+Mrs. Bazalgette. "'Well, my dear friend, and how does this
+naughty girl of mine use you?"
+
+Mr. Hardie. "As well as I could expect, and better than I
+deserve."
+
+Mrs. B. "Then she must be cleverer than any girl that ever
+breathed. However, she does appreciate your conversation; she makes no
+secret of it."
+
+Mr. H. "I have so little reason to complain of my reception
+that I will make my proposal to her this evening if you think proper."
+
+Mrs. Bazalgette started, and glanced admiration on a man of eight
+thousand a year, who came to the point of points without being either
+cajoled or spurred thither; but she shook her head. "Prudence, my dear
+Mr. Hardie, prudence. Not just yet. You are making advances every day;
+and Lucy is an odd girl; with all her apparent tenderness, she is
+unimpressionable."
+
+"That is only virgin modesty," said Hardie, dogmatically.
+
+"Fiddlestick," replied Mrs. B., good-humoredly. "The greatest flirts I
+ever met with were virgins, as you call them. I tell you she is not
+disposed toward marriage as all other girls are until they have tasted
+its bitters."
+
+Mr. H. "If I know anything of character, she will make a very
+loving wife."
+
+Mrs. B. (sharply). "That means a nice little negro. Well, I
+think she might, when once caught; but she is not caught, and she is
+slippery, and, if you are in too great a hurry, she may fly off; but,
+above all, we have a dangerous rival in the house just now."
+
+Mr. H. "What, that Mr. Talboys? I don't fear him. He is next
+door to a fool."
+
+Mrs. B. "What of that? Fools are dangerous rivals for a lady's
+favor. We don't object to fools. It depends on the employment. There
+is one office we are apt to select them for."
+
+Mr. H. "A husband, eh?" The lady nodded.
+
+Mrs. B. "I meant to marry a fool in Bazalgette, but I found my
+mistake. The wretch had only feigned absurdity. He came out in his
+true colors directly."
+
+Mr. H. "A man of sense, eh? The sinister hypocrite! He only
+wore the caps and bells to allure unguarded beauty, and doffed them
+when he donned the wedding-suit."
+
+Mrs. B. "Yes. But these are reminiscences so sweet that I shall
+be glad to return from them to your little affair. Seriously, then,
+Mr. Talboys is not to be overlooked, for this reason: he is well
+backed."
+
+"By whom?"
+
+"By some one who has influence with Lucy--her nearest relation, Mr.
+Fountain."
+
+"What! is he nearer to her than you are?"
+
+"Certainly; and she is fond of him to infatuation. One day I did but
+hint that selfishness entered into his character (he is eaten up with
+it), and that he told fibs; Mr. Hardie, she turned round on me like a
+tigress--Oh, how she made me cry!"
+
+The keen hand, Hardie, smiled satirically, and after a pause answered
+with consummate coolness: "I believe thus much, that she loves her
+uncle, and that his influence, exerted unscrupulously--"
+
+"Which it will be. He may be strong enough to spoil us, even though
+he should not be able to carry his own point; now trust me, my dear
+friend, Lucy's preference is clearly for you, but I know the weakness
+of my own sex, and, above all, I know Lucy Fountain. A mouse can help
+a lion in a matter of small threads, too small for his nobler and
+grander wisdom to see. Let me be your mouse for once." The little
+woman caught the great man with the everlasting hook, and the
+discussion ended in "claw me and I will claw thee," and in the mutual
+self-complacency that follows that arrangement. _Vide_ "Blackwood,"
+_passim._
+
+Mr. H. "I really think she would accept me if I offered to-day;
+but I have so high an opinion of your sagacity and friendship for me,
+madam, that I will defer my judgment to yours. I must, however, make
+one condition, that you will not displace my plan without suggesting a
+distinct course of action for me to adopt in its place."
+
+This smooth proposal, made quietly but with twinkling eye, would have
+shut the mouth of nine advisers in ten, but it found the Bazalgette
+prepared.
+
+"Oh, the pleasure of having a man of ability to deal with!" cried she,
+with enthusiasm. "This is my advice, then: stay Mr. Fountain out. He
+must go in a day or two. His time is up, and I will drop a hint of
+fresh visitors expected. When he is gone, warm by degrees, and offer
+yourself either in person, or through Bazalgette, or me."
+
+"In person, then, certainly. Of all foibles, employing another pair of
+eyes, another tongue, another person to make love for one is surely
+the silliest."
+
+"I am quite of your opinion," cried the lady, with a hearty laugh.
+
+
+Mr. Fountain. "So you are satisfied with the state of things?"
+
+Mr. Talboys. "Yes, I think I have beaten the sailor out of the
+field."
+
+"Well, but--this Hardie?"
+
+"Hardie! a shopkeeper. I don't fear him."
+
+"In that case, why not propose? I have been doing the
+preliminaries--sounding your praises."
+
+Mr. Talboys (tyrannically). "I propose next Saturday."
+
+Mr. Fountain. "Very well."
+
+Talboys. "In the boat."
+
+"In the boat? What boat? There's no boat."
+
+"I have asked her to sail with me from ---- in a boat; there is a very
+nice little lugger-rigged one. I am having the seats padded and
+stuffed and lined, and an awning put up, and the boat painted white
+and gold."
+
+"Bravo! Cleopatra's galley."
+
+"I assure you she looks forward to it with pleasure; she guesses why I
+want to get her into that boat. She hesitated at first, but at last
+consented with a look--a conscious look; I can hardly describe it."
+
+"There is no need," cried Fountain. "I know it; the jade turned all
+eyelashes."
+
+"That is rather exaggerated, but still--"
+
+"But still I have described it--to a hair. Ha! ha!"
+
+Talboys (gravely). "Well, yes."
+
+Mr. Talboys, I am bound to own, was accurate. During the last day or
+two Lucy had taken a turn; she had been bewitching; she had flattered
+him with tact, but deliciously; had consulted him as to which of his
+beautiful dresses she should wear at the masked ball, and, when
+pressed to have a sail in the boat he was fitting for her, she ended
+by giving a demure assent.
+
+Chorus of male readers, _"Oh, les femmes, les femmes!"_
+
+
+David Dodd had by nature a healthy as well as a high mind; but the
+fever and ague of an absorbing passion were telling on it. Like many a
+great heart before his day, his heart was tossed like a ship, and went
+up to heaven, and down again to despair, as a girl's humor shifted, or
+seemed to shift, for he forgot that there is such a thing as accident,
+and that her sex are even more under its dominion than ours. No;
+whatever she did must be spontaneous, voluntary, premeditated even,
+and her lightest word worth weighing, her lightest action worth
+anxious scrutiny as to its cause.
+
+Still he had this about him that the peevish and puny lover has not.
+Her bare presence was joy to him. Even when she was surrounded by
+other figures, he saw and felt but the one; the rest were nothings.
+But when she went out of his sight, some bright illusion seemed to
+fade into cold and dark reality. Then it fell on him like a weighty,
+icy hammer, that in three days he must go to sea for two years, and
+that he was no nearer her heart now than he was at Font Abbey. Was he
+even as near?
+
+So the next afternoon he thrust in before Talboys, and put Lucy on her
+horse by brute force, and griped her stout little boot, which she had
+slyly substituted for a shoe, and touched her glossy habit, and felt a
+thrill of bliss unspeakable at his momentary contact with her; but she
+was no sooner out of sight than a hollow ache seized the poor fellow,
+and he hung his head and sighed.
+
+"I say, capting," said a voice in his ear. He looked up, and there
+stood Tom, the stable-boy, with both hands in his pockets. Tom was not
+there by his own proper movement, but was agent of Betsy, the
+under-housemaid.
+
+Female servants scan the male guests pretty closely too,
+without seeming to do it, and judge them upon lamentably broad
+principles--youth, health, size, beauty, and good temper. Oh, the
+coarse-minded critics! Hence it befell that in their eyes, especially
+after the fiddle business, David was a king compared with his rivals.
+
+"If I look at him too long, I shall eat him," said the cook-maid.
+
+"He is a darling," said the upper housemaid.
+
+Betsy aforesaid often opened a window to have a sly look at him, and
+on one of these occasions she inspected him from an upper story at her
+leisure. His manner drew her attention. She saw him mount Lucy, and
+eye her departing form sadly and wistfully. Betsy glowered and
+glowered, and hit the nail on the head, as people will do who are so
+absurd as to look with their own eyes, and draw their own conclusions
+instead of other people's. After this she took an opportunity, and
+said to Tom, with a satirical air, "How are you off for nags, your
+way?"
+
+"Oh, we have got enough for our corn," replied Tom, on the defensive.
+
+"It seems you can't find one for the captain among you."
+
+"Will you give a kiss if I make you out a liar?"
+
+"Sooner than break my arm. Come, you might, Tom. Now is it reasonable,
+him never to get a ride with her, and that useless lot prancing about
+with her all day long?"
+
+
+"Why don't you ride with 'em, capting?"
+
+"I have no horse."
+
+"I have got a horse for you, sir--master's."
+
+"That would be taking a liberty."
+
+"Liberty, sir! no; master would be so pleased if you would but ride
+him. He told me so."
+
+"Then saddle him, pray."
+
+"I have a-saddled him. You had better come in the stable-yard,
+capting; then you can mount and follow; you will catch them before
+they reach the Downs." In another minute David was mounted.
+
+"Do you ride short or long, capting?" inquired Tom, handling the
+stirrup-leather.
+
+David wore a puzzled look. "I ride as long as I can stick on;" and he
+trotted out of the stable-yard. As Tom had predicted, he caught the
+party just as they went off the turn-pike on to the grass. His heart
+beat with joy; he cantered in among them. His horse was fresh,
+squeaked, and bucked at finding himself on grass and in company, and
+David announced his arrival by rolling in among their horses' feet
+with the reins tight grasped in his fist. The ladies screamed with
+terror. David got up laughing; his horse had hoped to canter away
+without him, and now stood facing him and pulling.
+
+"No, ye don't," said David. "I held on to the tiller-ropes though I
+did go overboard." Then ensued a battle between David and his horse,
+the one wanting to mount, the other anxious to be unencumbered with
+sailors. It was settled by David making a vault and sitting on the
+animal's neck, on which the ladies screamed again, and Lucy, half
+whimpering, proposed to go home.
+
+"Don't think of it," cried David. "I won't be beat by such a small
+craft as this--hallo!" for, the horse backing into Talboys, that
+gentleman gave him a clandestine cut, and he bolted, and, being a
+little hard-mouthed, would gallop in spite of the tiller-ropes. On
+came the other nags after him, all misbehaving more or less, so fine a
+thing is example. When they had galloped half a mile the ground began
+to rise, and David's horse relaxed his pace, whereon David whipped him
+industriously, and made him gallop again in spite of remonstrance.
+
+The others drew the rein, and left him to gallop alone. Accordingly,
+he made the round of the hill and came back, his horse covered with
+lather and its tail trembling. "There," said he to Lucy, with an air
+of radiant self-satisfaction, "he clapped on sail without orders from
+quarter-deck, so I made him carry it till his bows were under water."
+
+"You will kill my uncle's horse," was the reply, in a chilling tone.
+
+"Heaven forbid!"
+
+"Look at its poor flank beating."
+
+David hung his head like a school-girl rebuked. "But why did he clap
+on sail if he could not carry it?" inquired he, ruefully, of his
+monitress.
+
+The others burst out laughing; but Lucy remained grave and silent.
+
+David rode along crestfallen.
+
+Mrs. Bazalgette brought her pony close to him, and whispered, "Never
+mind that little cross-patch. _She_ does not care a pin about the
+_horse;_ you interrupted her flirtation, that is all."
+
+This piece of consolation soothed David like a bunch of
+stinging-nettles.
+
+While Mrs. Bazalgette was consoling David with thorns, Kenealy and
+Talboys were quizzing his figure on horseback.
+
+He sat bent like a bow and visibly sticking on: _item,_ he had no
+straps, and his trousers rucked up half-way to his knee.
+
+Lucy's attention being slyly drawn to these phenomena by David's
+friend Talboys, she smiled politely, though somewhat constrainedly;
+but the gentlemen found it a source of infinite amusement during the
+whole ride, which, by the way, was not a very long one, for Miss
+Fountain soon expressed a wish to turn homeward. David felt guilty, he
+scarce knew why.
+
+The promised happiness was wormwood. On dismounting, she went to the
+lawn to tend her flowers. David followed her, and said bitterly, "I am
+sorry I came to spoil your pleasure."
+
+Miss Fountain made no answer.
+
+"I thought I might have one ride with you, when others have so many."
+
+"Why, of course, Mr. Dodd. If you like to expose yourself to ridicule,
+it is no affair of mine." The lady's manner was a happy mixture of
+frigidity and crossness. David stood benumbed, and Lucy, having
+emptied her flower-pot, glided indoors without taking any farther
+notice of him.
+
+David stood rooted to the spot. Then he gave a heavy sigh, and went
+and leaned against one of the pillars of the portico, and everything
+seemed to swim before his eyes.
+
+Presently he heard a female voice inquire, "Is Miss Lucy at home?" He
+looked, and there was a tall, strapping woman in conference with
+Henry. She had on a large bonnet with flaunting ribbons, and a bushy
+cap infuriated by red flowers. Henry's eye fell upon these
+embellishments: "Not at home," chanted he, sonorously.
+
+"Eh, dear," said the woman sadly, "I have come a long way to see her."
+
+"Not at home, ma'am," repeated Henry, like a vocal machine.
+
+"My name is Wilson, young man," said she, persuasively, and the
+Amazon's voice was mellow and womanly, spite of her coal-scuttle full
+of field poppies. "I am her nurse, and I have not seen her this five
+years come Martinmas;" and the Amazon gave a gentle sigh of
+disappointment.
+
+"Not at home, ma'am!" rang the inexorable Plush.
+
+But David's good heart took the woman's part. "She is at home, now,"
+said he, coming forward. "I saw her go into the house scarce a minute
+ago."
+
+"Oh, thank you, sir," said Mrs. Wilson. But Mr. Plush's face was
+instantly puckered all over with signals, which David not
+comprehending, he said, "Can I say a word with you, sir?" and, drawing
+him on one side, objected, in an injured and piteous tone. "We are not
+at home to such gallimaufry as that; it is as much as my place is
+worth to denounce that there bonnet to our ladies."
+
+"Bonnet be d--d," roared David, aloud. "It is her old nurse. Come,
+heave ahead;" and he pointed up the stairs.
+
+"Anything to oblige you, captain," said Henry, and sauntered into the
+drawing-room; "Mrs. Wilson, ma'am, for Miss Fountain."
+
+"Very well; my niece will be here directly."
+
+Lucy had just gone to her own room for some working materials.
+
+"You had better come to an anchor on this seat, Mrs. Wilson," said
+David.
+
+"Thank ye kindly, young gentleman," said Mrs. Wilson; and she settled
+her stately figure on the seat. "I have walked a many miles to-day,
+along of our horse being lame, and I am a little tired. You are one of
+the family, I do suppose?"
+
+"No, I am only a visitor."
+
+"Ain't ye now? Well, thank ye kindly, all the same. I have seen a
+worse face than yours, I can tell you," added she; for in the midst of
+it all she had found time to read countenances _more mulierurn._
+
+"And I have seen a good many hundred worse than yours, Mrs. Wilson."
+
+Mrs. Wilson laughed. "Twenty years ago, if you had said so, I might
+have believed you, or even ten; but, bless you, I am an old woman now,
+and can say what I choose to the men. Forty-two next Candlemas."
+
+In the country they call themselves old at forty-two, because they
+feel young. In town they call themselves young at forty-two, because
+they feel old.
+
+David found that he had fallen in with a gossip; and, being in no
+humor for vague chat, he left Mrs. Wilson to herself, with an
+assurance that Miss Fountain would be down to her directly.
+
+In leaving her he went into worse company--his own thoughts; they were
+inexpressibly sad and bitter. "She hates me, then," said he.
+"Everybody is welcome to her at all hours, except me. That lady said
+it was because I interrupted her flirtation. Aha! well, I shan't
+interrupt her flirtation much longer. I shan't be in her way or
+anybody's long. A few short hours, and this bitter day will be
+forgotten, and nothing left me but the memory of the kindness she had
+for me once, or seemed to have, and the angel face I must carry in my
+heart wherever I go, by land or sea. The sea? would to God I was upon
+it this minute! I'd rather be at sea than ashore in the dirtiest night
+that ever blew."
+
+He had been walking to and fro a good half-hour, deeply dejected and
+turning bitter, when, looking in accidentally at the hall door, he
+caught sight of Mrs. Wilson sitting all alone where he had left her.
+"Why, what on earth is the meaning of that?" thought he; and he went
+into the hall and asked Mrs. Wilson how she came to be there all
+alone.
+
+"That is what I have been asking myself a while past," was the dry
+reply.
+
+"Have you not seen her?"
+
+"No, sir, I have not seen her, and, to my mind, it is doubtful whether
+I am to see her."
+
+"But I say you shall see her."
+
+"No, no, don't put yourself out, sir," said the woman, carelessly; "I
+dare say I shall have better luck next time, if I should ever come to
+this house again, which it is not very likely." She added gently,
+"Young folk are thoughtless; we must not judge them too hardly."
+
+"Thoughtless they may be, but they have no business to be heartless. I
+have a great mind to go up and fetch her down."
+
+"Don't ye trouble, sir. It is not worth while putting you about for an
+old woman like me." Then suddenly dropping the mask of nonchalance
+which women of this class often put on to hide their sensibility, she
+said, very, very gravely, and with a sad dignity, that one would not
+have expected from her gossip and her finery, "I begin to fear, sir,
+that the child I have suckled does not care to know me now she is a
+woman grown."
+
+David dashed up the stairs with a red streak on his brow. He burst
+into the drawing-room, and there sat Mrs. Bazalgette overlooking, and
+Lucy working with a face of beautiful calm. She looked just then so
+very like a pure, tranquil Madonna making an altar-cloth, or
+something, that David's intention to give her a scolding was withered
+in the bud, and he gazed at her surprised and irresolute, and said not
+a word.
+
+"Anything the matter?" inquired Mrs. Bazalgette, attracted by the
+bruskness of his entry.
+
+"Yes, there is," said David sternly.
+
+Lucy looked up.
+
+"Miss Fountain's old nurse has been sitting in the hall more than half
+an hour, and nobody has had the politeness to go near her."
+
+"Oh, is that all? Well, don't look daggers at me. There is Lucy; give
+her a lesson in good-breeding, Mr. Dodd." This was said a little
+satirically, and rather nettled David.
+
+"Perhaps it does not become me to set up for a teacher of that. I know
+my own deficiencies as well as anybody in this house knows them; but
+this I know, that, if an old friend walked eight miles to see me, it
+would not be good-breeding in me to refuse to walk eight yards to see
+her. And, another thing, everybody's time is worth something; if I did
+not mean to see her, I would have that much consideration to send down
+and tell her so, and not keep the woman wasting her time as well as
+her trouble, and vexing her heart into the bargain."
+
+"Where is she, Mr. Dodd?" asked Lucy quickly.
+
+"Where is she?" cried David, getting louder and louder. "Why, she is
+cooling her heels in the hall this half hour and more. They hadn't the
+manners to show her into a room."
+
+"I will go to her, Mr. Dodd," said Lucy, turning a little pale. "Don't
+be angry; I will go directly"; and, having said this with an abject
+slavishness that formed a miraculous contrast with her late crossness
+and imperious chilliness, she put down her work hastily and went out;
+only at the door she curved her throat, and cast back, Parthian-like,
+a glance of timid reproach, as much as to say, "Need you have been so
+very harsh with a creature so obedient as this is?"
+
+That deprecating glance did Mr. Dodd's business. It shot him with
+remorse, and made him feel a brute.
+
+"Ha! ha! That is the way to speak to her, Mr. Dodd; the other
+gentlemen spoil her."
+
+"It was very unbecoming of me to speak to her harshly like that."
+
+"Pooh! nonsense; these girls like to be ordered about; it saves them
+the trouble of thinking for themselves; but what is to become of me?
+You have sent off my workwoman."
+
+"I will do her work for her."
+
+"What! can you sew?"
+
+"Where is the sailor that can't sew?"
+
+"Delightful! Then please to sew these two thick ends together. Here is
+a large needle."
+
+David whipped out of his pocket a round piece of leather with strings
+attached, and fastened it to the hollow of his hand.
+
+"What is that?"
+
+"It is a sailor's thimble." He took the work, held it neatly, and
+shoved the needle from behind through the thick material. He worked
+slowly and uncouthly, but with the precision that was a part of his
+character, and made exact and strong stitches. His task-mistress
+looked on, and, under the pretense of minute inspection, brought a
+face that was still arch and pretty unnecessarily close to the marine
+milliner, in which attitude they were surprised by Mr. Bazalgette,
+who, having come in through the open folding-doors, stood looking
+mighty sardonic at them both before they were even aware he was in the
+room.
+
+Omphale colored faintly, but Hercules gave a cool nod to the newcomer,
+and stitched on with characteristic zeal and strict attention to the
+matter in hand.
+
+At this Bazalgette uttered a sort of chuckle, at which Mrs. Bazalgette
+turned red. David stitched on for the bare life.
+
+"I came to offer to invite you to my study, but--"
+
+"I can't come just now," said David, bluntly; "I am doing a lady's
+work for her."
+
+"So I see," retorted Bazalgette, dryly.
+
+"We all dine with the Hunts but you and Mr. Dodd," said Mrs.
+Bazalgette, "so you will be _en tete-a-tete_ all the evening."
+
+"All the better for us both." And with this ingratiating remark Mr.
+Bazalgette retired whistling.
+
+Mrs. Bazalgette heaved a gentle sigh: "Pity me, my friend," said she,
+softly.
+
+"What is the matter?" inquired David, rather bluntly.
+
+"Mr. Bazalgette is so harsh to me--ah!--to me, who longs so for
+kindness and gentleness that I feel I could give my very soul in
+exchange for them."
+
+The bait did not take.
+
+"It is only his manner," said David, good-naturedly. "His heart is all
+right; I never met a better. What sort of a knot is that you are
+tying? Why, that is a granny's knot;" and he looked morose, at which
+she looked amazed; so he softened, and explained to her with
+benevolence the rationale of a knot. "A knot is a fastening intended
+to be undone again by fingers, and not to come undone without them.
+Accordingly, a knot is no knot at all if it jams or if it slips. A
+granny's knot does both; when you want to untie it you must pick at it
+like taking a nail out of a board, and, for all that, sooner or later
+it always comes undone of itself; now you look here;" and he took a
+piece of string out of his pocket, and tied her a sailor's knot,
+bidding her observe that she could untie it at once, but it could
+never come untied of itself. He showed her with this piece of string
+half a dozen such knots, none of which could either jam or slip.
+
+"Tie me a lover's knot," suggested the lady, in a whisper.
+
+"Ay! ay!" and he tied her a lover's knot as imperturbably as he had
+the reef knot, bowling-knot, fisherman's bend, etc.
+
+"This is very interesting," said Mrs. Bazalgette, ironically. She
+thought David might employ a tete-a-tete with a flirt better than
+this. "What a time Lucy is gone!"
+
+"All the better."
+
+"Why?" and she looked down in mock confusion.
+
+"Because poor Mrs. Wilson will be glad."
+
+Mrs. Bazalgette was piqued at this unexpected answer. "You seem quite
+captivated with this Mrs. Wilson; it was for her sake you took Lucy to
+task. Apropos, you need not have scolded her, for she did not know the
+woman was in the house."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"I mean Lucy was not in the room when Mrs. Wilson was announced. I
+was, but I did not tell her; the all-important circumstance had
+escaped my memory. Where are you running to now?"
+
+"Where? why, to ask her pardon, to be sure."
+
+Mrs. B. [Brute!]
+
+David ran down the stairs to look for Lucy, but he found somebody else
+instead--his sister Eve, whom the servant had that moment admitted
+into the hall. It was "Oh, Eve!" and "Oh, David!" directly, and an
+affectionate embrace.
+
+"You got my letter, David?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Well, then you will before long. I wrote to tell you to look out for
+me; I had better have brought the letter in my pocket. I didn't know I
+was coming till just an hour before I started. Mother insisted on my
+going to see the last of you. Cousin Mary had invited me to ----, so I
+shall see you off, Davy dear, after all. I thought I'd just pop in and
+let you know I was in the neighborhood. Mary and her husband are
+outside the gate in their four-wheel. I would not let them drive in,
+because I want to hear your story, and they would have bothered us."
+
+"Eve, dear, I have no good news for you. Your words have come true. I
+have been perplexed, up and down, hot and cold, till I feel sometimes
+like going mad. Eve, I cannot fathom her. She is deeper than the
+ocean, and more changeable. What am I saying? the sea and the wind;
+they are to be read; they have their signs and their warnings; but
+she--"
+
+"There! there! that is the old song. I tell you it is only a girl--a
+creature as shallow as a puddle, and as easy to fathom, as you call
+it, only men are so stupid, especially boys. Now just you tell me all
+she has said, all she has done, and all she has looked, and I will
+turn her inside out like a glove in a minute."
+
+Cheered by this audacious pledge, David pumped upon Eve all that has
+trickled on my readers, and some minor details besides, and repeated
+Lucy's every word, sweet or bitter, and recalled her lightest
+action--_Meminerunt omnia amantes_--and every now and then he
+looked sadly into Eve's keen little face for his doom.
+
+She heard him in silence until the last fatal incident, Lucy's
+severity on the lawn. Then she put in a question. "Were those her
+exact words?"
+
+"Do I ever forget a syllable she says to me?"
+
+"Don't be angry. I forgot what a ninny she has made of you. Well,
+David, it is all as plain as my hand. The girl likes you--that is
+all."
+
+"The girl likes me? What do you mean? How can you say that? What sign
+of liking is there?"
+
+"There are two. She avoids you, and she has been rude to you."
+
+"And those are signs of liking, are they?" said David, bitterly.
+
+"Why, of course they are, stupid. Tell me, now, does she shun this
+Captain Keely?"
+
+"Kenealy. No."
+
+"Does she shun Mr. Harvey?"
+
+"Hardie. No."
+
+"Does she shun Mr. Talboys?"
+
+"Oh Eve, you break my heart--no! no! She shuns no one but poor David."
+
+"Now think a little. Here are three on one sort of footing, and one on
+a different footing; which is likeliest to be _the man,_ the one
+or the three? You have gained a point since we were all together. She
+_distinguishes_ you."
+
+"But what a way to distinguish me. It looks more like hatred than
+love, or liking either."
+
+"Not to my eye. Why should she shun you? You are handsome, you are
+good-tempered, and good company. Why should she be shy of you? She is
+afraid of you, that is why; and why is she afraid of you? because she
+is afraid of her own heart. That is how I read her. Then, as for her
+snubbing you, if her character was like mine, that ought to go for
+nothing, for I snub all the world; but this is a little queen for
+politeness. I can't think she would go so far out of her way as to
+affront anybody unless she had an uncommon respect for him."
+
+"Listen to that, now! I am on my beam-ends."
+
+"Now think a minute, David," said Eve, calmly, ignoring his late
+observation; "did you ever know her snub anybody?"
+
+"Never. Did you?"
+
+"No; and she never would, unless she took an uncommon interest in the
+person. When a girl likes a man, she thinks she has a right to ill-use
+him a little bit; he has got her affection to set against a scratch or
+two; the others have not. So she has not the same right to scratch
+them. La! listen to me teaching him A B C. Why, David, you know
+nothing; it's scandalous."
+
+Eve's confidence communicated itself at last to David; but when he
+asked her whether she thought Lucy would consent to be his wife, her
+countenance fell in her turn. "That is a very different thing. I am
+pretty sure she likes you; how could she help it? but I doubt she will
+never go to the altar with you. Don't be angry with me, Davy, dear.
+You are in love with her, and to you she is an angel. But I am of her
+own sex, and see her as she is; no matter who she likes, she will
+never be content to make a bad match, as they call it. She told me so
+once with her own lips. But she had no need to tell me; worldliness is
+written on her. David, David, you don't know these great houses, nor
+the fair-spoken creatures that live in them, with tongues tuned to
+sentiment, and mild eyes fixed on the main chance. Their drawing-rooms
+are carpeted market-places; you may see the stones bulge through the
+flowery pattern; there the ladies sell their faces, the gentlemen
+their titles and their money; and much I fear Miss Fountain's hand
+will go like the rest--to the highest bidder."
+
+"If I thought so, my love, deep as it is, would turn to contempt; I
+would tear her out of my heart, though I tore my heart out of my
+body." He added, "I will know what she is before many hours."
+
+"Do, David. Take her off her guard, and make hot love to her; that is
+your best chance. It is a pity you are so much in love with her; you
+might win her by a surprise if you only liked her in moderation."
+
+"How so, dear Eve?"
+
+"The battle would be more even. Your adoring her gives her the upper
+hand of you. She is sure to say 'no' at first, and then I am afraid
+you will leave off, instead of going on hotter and hotter. The very
+look she will put on to check you will check you, you are so green.
+What a pity I can't take your place for half an hour. I would have her
+against her will. I would take her by storm. If she said 'no' twenty
+times, she should say 'yes' the twenty-first; but you are afraid of
+her; fancy being afraid of a woman. Come, David, you must not
+shilly-shally, but attack her like a man; and, if she is such a fool
+she can't see your merit, forgive her like a man, and forget her like
+a man. Come, promise me you will."
+
+"I promise you this, that if I lose her it shall not be for want of
+trying to win her; and, if she refuses me because I am not her fancy,
+I shall die a bachelor for her sake." Eve sighed. "But if she is the
+mercenary thing you take her for--if she owns to liking me, but
+prefers money to love, then from that moment she is no more to me than
+a picture or a statue, or any other lovely thing that has no soul."
+
+With these determined words he gave his sister his arm, and walked
+with her through the grounds to the road where her cousin was waiting
+for her.
+
+
+Lucy found Mrs. Wilson in the hall. "Come into the library, Mrs.
+Wilson," said she; "I have only just heard you were here. Won't you
+sit down? Are you not well, Mrs. Wilson? You tremble. You are
+fatigued, I fear. Pray compose yourself. May I ring for a glass of
+wine for you?"
+
+"No, no, Miss Lucy," said the woman, smiling; "it is only along of you
+coming to me so sudden, and you so grown. Eh! sure, can this fine
+young lady be the little girl I held in my lap but t'other day, as it
+seems?"
+
+There was an agitation and ardor about Mrs. Wilson that, coupled with
+the flaming bonnet, made Miss Fountain uneasy. She thought Mrs. Wilson
+must be a little cracked, or at least flighty.
+
+"Pray compose yourself, madam," said she, soothingly, but with that
+dignity nobody could assume more readily than she could. "I dare say I
+am much grown since I last had the pleasure of seeing you; but I have
+not outgrown my memory, and I am happy to receive you, or any of our
+old servants that knew my dear mother."
+
+"Then I must not look for a welcome," said Mrs. Wilson, with feminine
+logic, "for I was never your servant, nor your mamma's." Lucy opened
+her eyes, and her face sought an explanation.
+
+"I never took any money for what I gave you, so how could I be a
+servant? To see me a dangling of my heels in your hall so long, one
+would say I was a servant; but I am not a servant, nor like to be,
+please God, unless I should have the ill luck to bury my two boys, as
+I have their father. So perhaps the best thing I can do, miss, is to
+drop you my courtesy and walk back as I came." The Amazon's manner was
+singularly independent and calm, but the tell-tale tears were in the
+large gray honest eyes before she ended.
+
+Lucy's natural penetration and habit of attending to faces rather than
+words came to her aid. "Wait a minute, Mrs. Wilson," said she; "I
+think there is some misunderstanding here. Perhaps the fault is mine.
+And yet I remember more than one nursery-maid that was kind enough to
+me; but I have heard nothing of them since."
+
+"Their blood is not in your veins as mine is, unless the doctors have
+lanced it out."
+
+"I never was bled in my life, if you mean that, madam. But I must ask
+you to explain how I can possibly have the--the advantage of
+possessing _your_ blood in _my_ veins."
+
+Mrs. Wilson eyed her keenly. "Perhaps I had better tell you the story
+from first to last, young lady," said she quietly.
+
+"If you please," said the courtier, mastering a sigh; for in Mrs.
+Wilson there was much that promised fluency.
+
+"Well, miss, when you came into the world, your mamma could not nurse
+you. I do notice the gentry that eat the fat of the land are none the
+better for it; for a poor woman can do a mother's part by her child,
+but high-born and high-fed folk can't always; so you had to be brought
+up by hand, miss, and it did not agree with you, and that is no great
+wonder, seeing it is against nature. Well, my little girl, that was
+born just two days after you, died in my arms of convulsion fits when
+she was just a month old. She had only just been buried, and me in
+bitter grief, when doesn't the doctor call and ask me as a great
+favor, would I nurse Mrs. Fountain's child, that was pining for want
+of its natural food. I bade him get out of my sight. I felt as if no
+woman had a right to have a child living when my little darling was
+gone. But my husband, a just man as ever was, said, 'Take a thought,
+Mary; the child is really pining, by all accounts.' Well, I would not
+listen to him. But next Sunday, after afternoon church, my mother,
+that had not said a word till then, comes to me, and puts her hand on
+my shoulder with a quiet way she had. 'Mary,' says she, 'I am older
+than you, and have known more.' She had buried six of us, poor thing.
+Says she, scarce above a whisper, 'Suckle that failing child. It will
+be the better for her, and the better for you, Mary, my girl.' Well,
+miss, my mother was a woman that didn't interfere every minute, and
+seldom gave her reasons; but, if you scorned her advice, you mostly
+found them out to your cost; and then she was my mother; and in those
+days mothers were more thought of, leastways by us that were women and
+had suffered for our children, and so learned to prize the woman that
+had suffered for us. 'Well, then,' I said, 'if you say so, mother, I
+suppose I didn't ought to gainsay you, on the Lord His day.' For you
+see my mother was one that chose her time for speaking--eh! but she
+was wise. 'Mother,' says I, 'to oblige you, so be it'; and with that I
+fell to crying sore on my mother's neck, and she wasn't long behind
+me, you may be sure. Whiles we sat a crying in one another's arms, in
+comes John, and goes to speak a word of comfort. 'It is not that,'
+says my mother; 'she have given her consent to nurse Mrs. Fountain's
+little girl.' 'It is much to her credit,' says he: says he, 'I will
+take her up to the house myself.' 'What for?' says I; 'them that
+grants the favor has no call to run after them that asks it.' You see,
+Miss Lucy, that was my ignorance; we were small farmers, too
+independent to be fawning, and not high enough to weed ourselves of
+upishness. Your mamma, she was a real lady, so she had no need to
+trouble about her dignity; she thought only of her child; and she
+didn't send the child, but she came with it herself. Well, she came
+into our kitchen, and made her obeisance, and we to her, and mother
+dusted her a seat. She was pale-like, and a mother's care was in her
+face, and that went to my heart. 'This is very, very kind of you, Mrs.
+Wilson,' said she. Those were her words. 'Mayhap it is,' says I; and
+my heart felt like lead. Mother made a sign to your mamma that she
+should not hurry me. I saw the signal, for I was as quick as she was;
+but I never let on I saw it. At last I plucked up a bit of courage,
+and I said, 'Let me see it.' So mother took you from the girl that
+held you all wrapped up, and mother put you on my knees; and I took a
+good look at you. You had the sweetest little face that ever came into
+the world, but all peaked and pining for want of nature. With you
+being on my knees, my bosom began to yearn over you, it did. 'The
+child is starved,' said I; 'that is all its grief. And you did right
+to bring it' here.' Your mother clasps her hands, 'Oh, Mrs. Wilson,'
+says she, 'God grant it is not too late.' So then I smiled back to
+her, and I said, 'Don't you fret; in a fortnight you shan't know her.'
+You see I was beginning to feel proud of what I knew I could do for
+you. I was a healthy young woman, and could have nursed two children
+as easy as some can one. To make a long story short, I gave you the
+breast then and there; and you didn't leave us long in doubt whether
+cow's milk or mother's milk is God's will for sucklings. Well, your
+mamma put her hands before her face, and I saw the tears force their
+way between her fingers. So, when she was gone, I said to my mother,
+'What was that for?' 'I shan't tell you,' says she. 'Do, mother,' says
+I. So she said, 'I wonder at your having to ask; can't you see it was
+jealousy-like. Do you think she has not her burden to bear in this
+world as well as you? How would you like to see another woman do a
+mother's part for a child of yours, and you sit looking on like a
+toy-mother? Eh! Miss Lucy, but I was vexed for her at that, and my
+heart softened; and I used to take you up to the great house, and
+spend nearly the whole day there, not to rob her of her child more
+than need be."
+
+"Oh, Mrs. Wilson! Oh, you kind, noble-hearted creature, surely Heaven
+will reward you."
+
+"That is past praying for, my dear. Heaven wasn't going to be long in
+debt to a farmer's wife, you may be sure; not a day, not an hour. I
+had hardly laid you to my breast when you seemed to grow to my heart.
+My milk had been tormenting me for one thing. My good mother had
+thought of that, I'll go bail; and of course you relieved me. But,
+above all, you numbed the wound in my heart, and healed it by degrees:
+a part of my love that lay in the churchyard seemed to come back like,
+and settle on the little helpless darling that milked me. At whiles I
+forgot you were not my own; and even when I remembered it, it was--I
+don't know--somehow--as if it wasn't so. I knew in my head you were
+none of mine, but what of that? I didn't feel it here. Well, miss, I
+nursed you a year and two months, and a finer little girl never was
+seen, and such a weight! And, of course, I was proud of you; and often
+your dear mother tried to persuade me to take a twenty-pound note, or
+ten; but I never would. I could not sell my milk to a queen. I'd
+refuse it, or I'd make a gift of it, and the love that goes with it,
+which is beyond price. I didn't say so to her in so many words, but I
+did use to tell her 'I was as much in her little girl's debt as she
+was in mine,' and so I was. But as for a silk gown, and a shawl, and
+the like, I didn't say 'No' to them; who ever does?"
+
+"Nurse!"
+
+"My lamb!"
+
+"Can you ever forgive me for confounding you with a servant? I am so
+inexperienced. I knew nothing of all this."
+
+"Oh, Miss Lucy, 'let that flea stick in the wall,' as the saying is."
+
+"But, dear Mrs. Wilson, now only think that your affection for me
+should have lasted all these years. You speak as if such tenderness
+was common. I fear you are mistaken there: most nurses go away and
+think no more of those to whom they have been as mothers in infancy."
+
+"How do you know that, Miss Lucy? Who can tell what passes inside
+those poor women that are ground down into slaves, and never dare show
+their real hearts to a living creature? Certainly hirelings will be
+hirelings, and a poor creature that is forced to sell her breast, and
+is bundled off as soon as she has served the grand folks' turn, why,
+she behooves to steel herself against nature, and she knows that from
+the first; but whether she always does get to harden herself, I take
+leave to doubt. Miss Lucy; I knew an unfortunate girl that nursed a
+young gentleman, leastways a young nobleman it was, and years after
+that I have known her to stand outside the hedge for an hour to catch
+a sight of him at play on the lawn among the other children. Ay, and
+if she had a penny piece to spare she would go and buy him
+sugar-plums, and lay wait for him, and give them him, and he heir to
+thousands a year."
+
+"Poor thing! Poor thing!"
+
+"Next to the tie of blood, Miss Lucy, the tie of milk is a binding
+affection. When you went to live twenty miles from us, I behooved to
+come in the cart and see you from time to time."
+
+"I remember, nurse, I remember."
+
+"When I came to our new farm hard by, you were away; but as soon as I
+heard you were come back, it was like a magnet drawing me. I could not
+keep away from you."
+
+"Heaven forbid you should; and I will come and see you, dear nurse."
+
+"Will ye, now? Do now. I have got a nice little parlor for you. It is
+a very good house for a farm-house; and there we can set and talk at
+our ease, and no fine servants, dressed like lords, coming staring
+in."
+
+Lucy now proffered a timid request that Mrs. Wilson would take off her
+bonnet. "I want to see your good kind face without any ornament."
+
+"Hear to that, now, the darling;" and off came the bonnet.
+
+"Now your cap."
+
+"Well, I don't know; I hadn't time to do my hair as should be before
+coming."
+
+"What does that matter with me? I must see you without that cap."
+
+"What! don't you like my new cap? Isn't it a pretty cap? Why, I bought
+it a purpose to come and see you in."
+
+"Oh, it is a very pretty cap in itself," said the courtier, "but it
+does not suit the shape of your face. Oh, what a difference! Ah! now I
+see your heart in your face. Will you let me make you a cap?"
+
+"Will you, now, Miss Lucy? I shall be so proud wearing it our house
+will scarce hold me."
+
+At this juncture a footman came in with a message from Mrs. Bazalgette
+to remind Lucy that they dined out.
+
+"I must go and dress, nurse." She then kissed her and promised to ride
+over and visit her at her farm next week, and spend a long time with
+her quietly, and so these new old friends parted.
+
+Lucy pondered every word Mrs. Wilson had said to her, and said to
+herself: "What a child I am still! How little I know! How feebly I
+must have observed!"
+
+The party at dinner consisted of Mr. Bazalgette, David, and Reginald,
+who, taking advantage of his mother's absence and Lucy's, had
+prevailed on the servants to let him dine with the grown-up ones.
+"Halo? urchin," said Mr. Bazalgette, "to what do we owe this honor?"
+
+"Papa," said Reginald, quaking at heart, "if I don't ever begin to be
+a man what is to become of me?"
+
+Mr. Reginald did not exhibit his full powers at dinner-time. He was
+greatest at dessert. Peaches and apricots fell like blackberries. He
+topped up with the ginger and other preserves; then he uttered a sigh,
+and his eye dwelt on some candied pineapple he had respited too long.
+Putting the pineapple's escape and the sigh together, Mr. Bazalgette
+judged that absolute repletion had been attained. "Come, Reginald,"
+said he, "run away now, and let Mr. Dodd and me have our talk." Before
+the words were even out of his mouth a howl broke from the terrible
+infant. He had evidently feared the proposal, and got this dismal howl
+all ready.
+
+"Oh, papa! Oh! oh!"
+
+"What is the matter?"
+
+"Don't make me go away with the ladies this time. Jane says I am not a
+man because I go away when the ladies go. And Cousin Lucy won't marry
+me till I am a man. Oh, papa, do let me be a man this once."
+
+"Let him stay, sir," said David.
+
+"Then he must go and play at the end of the room, and not interrupt
+our conversation."
+
+Mr. Reginald consented with rapture. He had got a new puzzle. He could
+play at it in a corner; all he wanted was to be able to stop Jane's
+mouth, should she ever jeer him again. Reginald thus disposed of, Mr.
+Bazalgette courted David to replenish his glass and sit round to the
+fire. The fire was huge and glowing, the cut glass sparkled, and the
+ruby wine glowed, and even the faces shone, and all invited genial
+talk. Yet David, on the eve of his departure and of his fate,
+oppressed with suspense and care, was out of the reach of those
+genial, superficial influences. He could only just mutter a word of
+assent here and there, then relapsed into his reverie, and eyed the
+fire thoughtfully, as if his destiny lay there revealed. Mr.
+Bazalgette, on the contrary, glowed more and more in manner as well as
+face, and, like many of his countrymen, seemed to imbibe friendship
+with each fresh glass of port.
+
+At last, under the double influence of his real liking for David and
+of the Englishman-thawing Portuguese decoction, he gave his favorite a
+singular proof of friendship. It came about as follows. Observing that
+he had all the talk to himself, he fixed his eyes with an expression
+of paternal benevolence on his companion, and was silent in turn.
+
+David looked up, as we all do when a voice ceases, and saw this mild
+gaze dwelling on him.
+
+"Dodd, my boy, you don't say a word; what is the matter?"
+
+"I am very bad company, sir, that is the truth."
+
+"Well, fill your glass, then, and I'll talk for you. I have got
+something to say for you, young gentleman." David filled his glass and
+forced himself to attend; after a while no effort was needed.
+
+"Dodd," resumed the mature merchant, "I need hardly tell you that I
+have a particular regard for you; the reason is, you are a young man
+of uncommon merit."
+
+"Mr. Bazalgette! sir! I don't know which way to look when you praise
+me like that. It is your goodness; you overrate me."
+
+"No, I don't. I am a judge of men. I have seen thousands, and seen
+them too close to be taken in by their outside. You are the only one
+of my wife's friends that ever had the run of my study. What do you
+think of that, now?"
+
+"I am very proud of it, sir; that is all I can find to say."
+
+"Well, young man, that same good opinion I have of you induces me to
+do something else, that I have never done for any of your
+predecessors."
+
+Mr. Bazalgette paused. David's heart beat. Quick as lightning it
+darted through his mind, "He is going to ask a favor for me.
+Promotion? Why not? He is a merchant. He has friends in the Company.'"
+
+"I am going to interfere in your concerns, Dodd."
+
+"You are very good, sir."
+
+"Well, perhaps I am. I have to overcome a natural reluctance. But you
+are worth the struggle. I shall therefore go against the usages of the
+world, which I don't care a button for, and my own habits, which I
+care a great deal for, and give you, humph--a piece of friendly
+advice."
+
+David looked blank.
+
+"Dodd, my boy, you are playing the fool in this house."
+
+David looked blanker.
+
+"It is not your fault; you are led into it by one of those sweet
+creatures that love to reduce men to the level of their own wisdom.
+You are in love, or soon will be."
+
+David colored all over like a girl, and his face of distress was
+painful to see.
+
+"You need not look so frightened; I am your friend, not your enemy.
+And do you really think others besides me have not seen what is going
+on? Now, Dodd, my dear fellow, I am an old man, and you are a young
+one. Moreover, I understand the lady, and you don't."
+
+"That is true, sir; I feel I cannot fathom her."
+
+"Poor fellow! Well, but I have known her longer than you."
+
+"That is true, sir."
+
+"And on closer terms of intimacy."
+
+"No doubt, sir."
+
+"Then listen to me. She is all very charming outside, and full of
+sensibility outside, but she has no more real feeling than a fish. She
+will go a certain length with you, or with any agreeable young man,
+but she can always stop where it suits her. No lady in England values
+position and luxury more than she does, or is less likely to sacrifice
+them to love, a passion she is incapable of. Here, then, is a game at
+which you run all the risk. No! leave her to puppies like Kenealy;
+they are her natural prey. You must not play such a heart as yours
+against a marble taw. It is not an even stake."
+
+David groaned audibly. His first thought was, "Eve says the same of
+her." His second, "All the world is against her, poor thing."
+
+"Is she to bear the blame of my folly?"
+
+"Why not? She is the cause of your folly. It began with her setting
+her cap at you."
+
+"No, sir, you do her wrong. She is modesty itself."
+
+"Ta! ta! ta! you are a sailor, green as sea-weed."
+
+"Mr. Bazalgette, as I am a gentleman, she never has encouraged me to
+love her as I do."
+
+"Your statement, sir, is one which becomes a gentleman--under the
+circumstances. But I happen to have watched her. It is a thing I have
+taken the trouble to do for some time past. It was my interest in you
+that made me curious, and apprehensive--on your account."
+
+"Then, if you have watched her, you must have seen her avoid me."
+
+"Pooh! pooh! that was drawing the bait; these old stagers can all do
+that."
+
+"Old stagers!" and David looked as if blasphemy had been uttered.
+Bazalgette wore a grin of infinite irony.
+
+"Don't be shocked," said he; "of course, I mean old in flirtation; no
+lady is old in years."
+
+"_She_ is not, at all events."
+
+"It is agreed. There are legal fictions, and why not social ones?"
+
+"I don't understand you, sir; and, in truth, it is all a puzzle to me.
+You don't seem angry with me?"
+
+"Why, of course not, my poor fellow; I pity you."
+
+"Yet you discourage me, Mr. Bazalgette."
+
+"But not from any selfish motive. I want to spare you the
+mortification that is in store for you. Remember, I have seen the
+_end_ of about a dozen of you."
+
+"Good Heavens! And what is the end of us?"
+
+"The cold shoulder without a day's warning, and another fool set in
+your place, and the house door slammed in your face, etc., etc. Oh,
+with her there is but one step from flirtation to detestation. Not one
+of her flames is her friend at this moment."
+
+David hung his head, and his heart turned sick; there was a silence of
+some seconds, during which Bazalgette eyed him keenly. "Sir," said
+David, at last, "your words go through me like a knife."
+
+"Never mind. It is a friendly surgeon's knife, not an assassin's."
+
+"Yet you say it is only out of regard for me you warn me so against
+her."
+
+"I repeat it."
+
+"Then, sir, if, by Heaven's mercy, you should be mistaken in her
+character--if, little as I deserve it, I should succeed in winning her
+regard--I might reckon on your permission--on your kind--support?"
+
+"Hardly," said Mr. Bazalgette, hastily. He then stared at the honest
+earnest face that was turned toward him. "Well," said he, "you modest
+gentlemen have a marvelous fund of assurance at bottom. No, sir; with
+the exception of this piece of friendly advice I shall be strictly
+neutral. In return for it, if you should succeed, be so good as to
+take her out of the house, that is the only stipulation I venture to
+propose."
+
+"I should be sure to do that," cried David, lifting his eyes to Heaven
+with rapture; "but I shall not have the chance."
+
+"So I keep telling you. You might as well hope to tempt a statue of
+the Goddess Flirtation. She infinitely prefers wealth and vanity to
+anything, even to vice."
+
+"Vice, sir! is that a term for us to apply to a lady like her, whom we
+are all unworthy to approach?" and David turned very red.
+
+"Well, _you_ need not quarrel with _me_ about her, as
+_I_ don't with _you."_
+
+"Quarrel with you, dear sir? I hope I feel your kindness, and know my
+duty better; but, sir, I am agitated, and my heart is troubled; and
+surely you go beyond reason. She is not old enough to have had so many
+lovers."
+
+"Humph! she has made good use of her time."
+
+"Even could I believe that she, who seems to me an angel, is a
+coquette, still she cannot be hard and heartless as you describe her.
+It is impossible; it does not belong to her years."
+
+"You keep harping on her age, Dodd. Do you know her age? If you do,
+you have the advantage of me. I have not seen her baptismal register.
+Have you?"
+
+"No, sir, but I know what she says is her age."
+
+"That is only evidence of what is not her age."
+
+"But there is her face, sir; that is evidence."
+
+"You have never seen her face; it is always got up to deceive the
+public."
+
+"I have seen it at the dawn, before any of you were up."
+
+"What is that? Halo! the deuce--where?"
+
+"In the garden."
+
+"In the garden? Oh, she does not jump off her down-bed on to a
+flowerbed. She had been an hour at work on that face before ever the
+sun or you got leave to look on it."
+
+"I'll stake my head I tell her age within a year, Mr. Bazalgette."
+
+"No you will not, nor within ten years."
+
+"That is soon seen. I call her one-and-twenty."
+
+"One-and-twenty! You are mad! Why, she has had a child that would be
+fifteen now if it had lived."
+
+"Miss Lucy? A child? Fifteen years? What on earth do you mean?"
+
+"What do _you_ mean? What has Miss Lucy to do with it? You know
+very well it is MY WIFE I am warning you against, not that innocent
+girl."
+
+At this David burst out in his turn. "YOUR WIFE! and have you so vile
+an opinion of me as to think I would eat your bread and tempt your
+wife under your roof. Oh, Mr. Bazalgette, is this the esteem you
+profess for me?"
+
+"Go to the Devil!" shouted Bazalgette, in double ire at his own
+blunder and at being taken to task by his own Telemachus; he added,
+but in a very different tone, "You are too good for this world."
+
+The best things we say miss fire in conversation; only second-rate
+shots hit the mind through the ear. This, we will suppose, is why
+David derived no amusement or delectation from Mr. Bazalgette's
+inadvertent but admirable _bon-mot._
+
+"Go to the Devil! you are too good for this world."
+
+He merely rose, and said gravely, "Heaven forgive you your unjust
+suspicions, and God bless you for your other kindness. Good-by!"
+
+"Why, where on earth are you going?"
+
+"To stow away my things; to pack up, as they call it."
+
+"Come back! come back! why, what a terrible fellow you are; you make
+no allowances for metaphors. There, forgive me, and shake hands. Now
+sit down. I esteem you more than ever. You have come down from another
+age and a much better one than this. Now let us be calm, quiet,
+sensible, tranquil. Hallo!" (starting up in agitation), "a sudden
+light bursts on me. You are in love, and not with my wife; then it is
+my ward."
+
+"It is too late to deny it, sir."
+
+"That is far more serious than the other," said Bazalgette, very
+gravely; "the old one would have been sure to cure you of your fancy
+for her, soon or late, but Lucy! Now, just look at that young buffer's
+eyes glaring at us like a pair of saucers."
+
+"I am not listening, papa; I haven't heard a word you and Mr. Dodd
+have said about naughty ladies. I have been such a good boy, minding
+my puzzle."
+
+"I wish he may not have been minding ours instead," muttered his sire,
+and rang the bell, and ordered the servant to take away Master
+Reginald and bring coffee.
+
+The pair sipped their coffee in dead silence. It was broken at last by
+David saying sadly and a little bitterly, "I fear, sir, your good
+opinion of me does not go the length of letting me come into your
+family."
+
+The merchant seemed during the last five minutes to have undergone
+some starching process, so changed was his whole manner now; so
+distant, dignified and stiff. "Mr. Dodd," said he, "I am in a
+difficult position. Insincerity is no part of my character. When I say
+I have a regard for a man, I mean it. But I am the young lady's
+guardian, sir. She is a minor, though on the verge of her majority,
+and I cannot advise her to a match which, in the received sense, would
+be a very bad one for her. On the other hand, there are so many
+insuperable obstacles between you and her, that I need not combat my
+personal sentiments so far as to act against you; it would, indeed,
+hardly be just, as I have surprised your secret unfairly, though with
+no unfair intention. My promise not to act hostilely implies that I
+shall not reveal this conversation to Mrs. Bazalgette; if I did I
+should launch the deadliest of all enemies--irritated vanity--upon
+you, for she certainly looks on you as her plaything, not her niece's;
+and you would instantly be the victim of her spite, and of her
+influence over Lucy, if she discovered you have the insolence to
+escape her, and pursue another of her sex. I shall therefore keep
+silence and neutrality. Meantime, in the character, not of her
+guardian, but of your friend, I do strongly advise you not to think
+seriously of her. She will never marry you. She is a good, kind,
+amiable creature, but still she is a girl of the world--has all its
+lessons at her finger ends. Bless your heart, these meek beauties are
+as ambitious as Lucifer, and this one's ambition is fed by constant
+admiration, by daily matrimonial discussions with the old stager, and
+I believe by a good offer every now and then, which she refuses,
+because she is waiting for a better. Come, now, it only wants one good
+wrench--"
+
+David interrupted him mildly: "Then, sir," said he, thoughtfully; "the
+upshot is that, if she says 'Yes,' you won't say 'No.'"
+
+The mature merchant stared.
+
+"If," said he, and with this short sentence and a sardonic grin he
+broke off trying
+
+           "To fetter flame with flaxen band."
+
+So nothing more was said or done that evening worth recording.
+
+The next day, being the day of the masquerade, was devoted by the
+ladies to the making, altering, and trying on of dresses in their
+bedrooms. This turned the downstairs rooms so dark and unlovely that
+the gentlemen deserted the house one after the other. Kenealy and
+Talboys rode to see a cricket match ten miles off. Hardie drove into
+the town of ---- and David paced the gravel walk in hopes that by
+keeping near the house he might find Lucy alone, for he was determined
+to know his fate and end his intolerable suspense.
+
+He had paced the walk about an hour when fortune seemed to favor his
+desires. Lucy came out into the garden. David's heart beat violently.
+To his great annoyance, Mr. Fountain followed her out of the house and
+called her. She stopped, and he joined her; and very soon uncle and
+niece were engaged in a conversation which seemed so earnest that
+David withdrew to another part of the garden not to interfere with
+them.
+
+He waited, and waited, and waited till they should separate; but no,
+they walked more and more slowly, and the conversation seemed to
+deepen in interest. David chafed. If he had known the nature of that
+conversation he would have writhed with torture as well as fretted
+with impatience, for there the hand of her he loved was sought in
+marriage before his eyes, and within a few steps of him. On such
+threads hangs human life. Had he been at the hall door instead of in
+the garden, he might have anticipated Mr. Fountain. As it was, Mr.
+Fountain stole the march on him.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+TO-MORROW Lucy had agreed to sail, and in the boat Mr. Talboys was to
+ask and win her band. But from the first Mr. Fountain had never a
+childlike confidence in the scheme, and his understanding kept
+rebelling more and more.
+
+"'The man that means to pop, pops," said he; "one needn't go to
+sea--to pop. Terra firma is poppable on, if it is nothing else. These
+young fellows are like novices with a gun: the bird must be in a
+position or they can't shoot it--with their pop-guns. The young sparks
+in my day could pop them down flying. We popped out walking, popped
+out riding, popped dancing, popped psalm-singing. Talboys could not
+pop on horseback, because the lady's pony fidgeted, not his. Well, it
+will be so to-morrow. The boat will misbehave, or the wind will be
+easterly, and I shall be told southerly is the popping wind. The truth
+is, he is faint-hearted. His sires conquered England, and he is afraid
+of a young girl. I'll end this nonsense. He shall pop by proxy."
+
+In pursuance of this resolve, seeing his niece pass through the hall
+with her garden hat on, he called to her that he would get his hat and
+join her. They took one turn together almost in silence. Fountain was
+thinking how he should best open the subject, and Lucy waiting after
+her own fashion, for she saw by the old man's manner he had something
+to say to her.
+
+"Lucy, my dear, I leave you in a day or two."
+
+"So soon, uncle."
+
+"And it depends on you whether I am to go away a happy or a
+disappointed old man."
+
+At these words, to which she was too cautious to reply in words, Lucy
+wore a puzzled air; but underneath it a keen observer might have
+noticed her cheek pale a little, a very little, and a quiver of
+suppressed agitation pass over her like a current of air in summer
+over a smooth lake.
+
+Receiving no answer, Mr. Fountain went on to remind her that he was
+her only kinsman, Mrs. Bazalgette being her relation by half-blood
+only; and told her that, looking on himself as her father, he had
+always been anxious to see her position in life secured before his own
+death.
+
+"I have been ambitious for you, my dear," said he, "but not more so
+than your beauty and accomplishments, and your family name entitle us
+to be. Well, my ambition for you and my affection for you are both
+about to be gratified; at least, it now rests with you to gratify
+them. Will you be Mrs. Talboys?"
+
+Lucy looked down, and said demurely, "What a question for a third
+person to put!"
+
+"Should I put it if I had not a right?"
+
+"I don't know."'
+
+"You ought to know, Lucy."
+
+"Mr. Talboys has authorized you, dear?"
+
+"He has."'
+
+"Then this is a formal proposal from Mr. Talboy's?"
+
+"Of course it is," said the old gentleman, fearlessly, for Lucy's
+manner of putting these questions was colorless; nobody would have
+guessed what she was at.
+
+She now drew her arm round her uncle's neck, and kissed him, which
+made him exult prematurely.
+
+"Then, dear uncle," said she lovingly, "you must tell Mr. Talboys that
+I thank him for the honor he does me, and that I decline."
+
+"Accept, you mean?"
+
+"No I don't--ha! ha!"
+
+
+Her laugh died rapidly away at sight of the effect of her words. Mr.
+Fountain started, and his face turned red and pale alternately.
+
+"Refuse my friend--refuse Talboys in that way? Thoughtless girl, you
+don't know what you are doing. His family is all but noble. What am I
+saying? noble? why, half the House of Peers is sprung from the dregs
+of the people, and got there either by pettifogging in the courts of
+law, or selling consciences in the Lower House; and of the other half,
+that are gentlemen of descent, not two in twenty can show a pedigree
+like Talboys. And with that name a princely mansion--antiquity stamped
+on it--stands in its own park, in the middle of its vast estates, with
+title-deeds in black-letter, girl."
+
+"But, uncle, all this is encumbered--"
+
+"It is false, whoever told you so. There is not a mortgage on any part
+of it--only a few trifling copyholds and pepper-corn rents."
+
+"You misunderstand me; I was going to say, it is encumbered with a
+gentleman for whom I could never feel affection, because he does not
+inspire me with respect."
+
+"Nonsense! he inspires universal respect."
+
+"It must be by his estates, then, not his character. You know, uncle,
+the world is more apt to ask, 'What _has_ he, then what _is_
+he?'"
+
+"He _is_ a polished gentleman."
+
+"But not a well-bred one."
+
+"The best bred I ever saw.
+
+"Then you never looked in a glass, dear. No, dear uncle, I will tell
+you. Mr. Talboys has seen the world, has kept good society, is at his
+ease (a great point), and is perfect in externals. But his good
+manners are--what shall I say?--coat deep. His politeness is not proof
+against temptation, however petty. The reason is, it is only a
+spurious politeness. Real politeness is founded and built on the
+golden rule, however delicate and artificial its superstructure may
+be. But, leaving out of the question the politeness of the heart, he
+has not in any sense the true art of good-breeding; he has only the
+common traditions. Put him in a novel situation, with no rules and
+examples to guide him, he would be maladroit as a school-boy. He is
+just the counterpart of Mr. Dodd in that respect. Poor Mr. Dodd is
+always shocking one by violating the commonest rules of society; but
+every now and then he bursts out with a flash of natural courtesy so
+bright, so refined, so original, yet so worthy of imitation, that you
+say to yourself this is genius--the genius of good-breeding."
+
+Mr. Fountain chafed with impatience during this tirade, in which he
+justly suspected an attempt to fritter away a serious discussion.
+
+"Come off your hobby, Lucy," cried he, "and speak to me like a woman
+and like my niece. If this is your objection, overcome it for my
+sake."
+
+"I would, dear," said Lucy, "but it is only one of my objections, and
+by no means the most serious."
+
+On being invited to come at once to the latter, Lucy hesitated. "Would
+not that be unamiable on my part? Mr. Talboys has just paid me the
+highest compliment a gentleman can pay a lady; it is for me to decline
+him courteously, not abuse him to his friend and representative."
+
+"No humbug, Lucy, if you please; I am in no humor for it."
+
+"We should all be savages without a _little_ of it."
+
+"I am waiting."
+
+"Then pledge me your word of honor no word of what I now say to the
+disadvantage of poor Mr. Talboys shall ever reach him."
+
+"You may take your oath of that."
+
+"Then he is a detractor, a character I despise."
+
+"Who does he detract from? I never heard him."
+
+"From all his superiors--in other words, from everybody he meets. Did
+you ever know him fail to sneer at Mr. Hardie?"
+
+"Oh, that is the offense, is it?"
+
+"No, it is the same with others; there, the other day, Mr. Dodd joined
+us on horseback. He did not dress for the occasion. He had no straps
+on. He came in a hurry to have our society, not to cut a dash. But
+there was Mr. Talboys, who can only do this one thing well, and who,
+thanks to his servant, had straps on, sneering the whole time at Mr.
+Dodd, who has mastered a dozen far more difficult and more honorable
+accomplishments than putting on straps and sitting on horses. But he
+is always backbiting and sneering; he admires nothing and nobody."
+
+"He has admired you ever since he saw you."
+
+"What! has he never sneered at me?"
+
+"Never! ungrateful girl, never."
+
+"How humiliating! He takes me for his inferior. His superiors he
+always sneers at. If he had seen anything good or spirited in me, he
+could not have helped detracting from me. Is not this a serious
+reason--that I despise the person who now solicits my love, honor and
+obedience? Well, then, there is another--a stronger still. But perhaps
+you will call it a woman's reason."
+
+"I know. You don't like him--that is, you fancy you don't, and can't."
+
+"No, uncle, it is not that I don't like him. It is that I HATE HIM."
+
+"You hate him?" and Mr. Fountain looked at her to see if it was his
+niece Lucy who was uttering words so entirely out of character.
+
+"I am but a poor hater. I have but little practice; but, with all the
+power of hating I do possess, I hate that Mr. Talboys. Oh, how
+delicious it is to speak one's mind out nice and rudely. It is a
+luxury I seldom indulge in. Yes, uncle," said Lucy, clinching her
+white teeth, "I hate that man, and I did hope his proposal would come
+from himself; then there would have been nothing to alloy my quiet
+satisfaction at mortifying one who is so ready to mortify others. But
+no, he has bewitched you; and you take his part, and you look vexed;
+so all my pleasure is turned to pain."
+
+"It is all self-deception," gasped Fountain, in considerable
+agitation; "you girls are always deceiving yourselves: you none of you
+hate any man--unless you love him. He tells me you have encouraged him
+of late. You had better tell me that is a lie."
+
+"A lie, uncle; what an expression! Mr. Talboys is a gentleman; he
+would not tell a falsehood, I presume."
+
+"Aha! it is true, then, you have encouraged him?"
+
+"A little."
+
+"There, you see; the moment we come from the generalities to facts,
+what a simpleton you are proved to be. Come, now, did you or did you
+not agree to go in a boat with him?"
+
+"I did, dear."
+
+"That was a pretty strong measure, Lucy."
+
+"Very strong, I think. I can tell you I hesitated."
+
+"Now you see how you have mistaken your own feelings."
+
+Lucy hung her head. "Oh uncle, you call me simple--and look at you!
+fancy not seeing why I agreed to go--_dans cette galere._ It was
+that Mr. Talboys might declare himself, and so I might get rid of him
+forever. I saw that if I could not bring him to the point, he would
+dangle about me for years, and perhaps, at last, succeed in irritating
+me to rudeness. But now, of course, I shall stay on shore with my
+uncle to-morrow. _Qu'irais je faire dana cette galere?_ you have
+done it all for me. Oh, my dear, dear uncle, I am so grateful to you!"
+
+She showed symptoms of caressing Mr. Fountain, but he recoiled from
+her angrily. "Viper! but no, this is not you. There is a deeper hand
+than you in all this. This is that Mrs. Bazalgette's doings."
+
+"No, indeed, uncle."
+
+"Give me a proof it is not."
+
+"With pleasure; any proof that is in my power."
+
+"Then promise me not to marry Mr. Hardie."
+
+"My dear uncle, Mr. Hardie has never asked me."
+
+"But he will."
+
+"What right have I to say so? What right have I to constitute Mr.
+Hardie my admirer? I would not for all the world put it into any
+gentleman's power to say, 'Why say "no," Miss Fountain, before I have
+asked you to say "yes"?' Oh!"
+
+And, with this, Lucy put her face into her hands, but they were not
+large enough to hide the deep blush that suffused her whole face at
+the bare idea of being betrayed into an indelicacy of this sort.
+
+"How could he say that? how could he know?" said Mr. Fountain,
+pettishly.
+
+"Uncle, I cannot, I dare not. You and my aunt hate one another; so you
+might be tempted to tell her, and she would be sure to tell him.
+Besides, I cannot; my very instinct revolts from it. It would not be
+modest. I love you, uncle. Let me know your wishes, and have some
+faith in my affection, but pray do not press me further. Oh, what have
+I done, to be spoken of with so many gentlemen!"
+
+Lucy was in evident agitation, and the blushes glowed more and more
+round her snowy hands and between her delicate fingers; and there is
+something so sacred about the modesty alarmed of an intelligent young
+woman--it is a feeling which, however fantastical, is so genuine in
+her, and so manifestly intense beyond all we can ourselves feel of the
+kind, that no man who is not utterly stupid or depraved can see it
+without a certain awe. Even Mr. Fountain, who looked on Lucy's
+distress as transcendent folly with a dash of hypocrisy, could not go
+on making her cheek burn so. "There! there!" cried he, "don't torment
+yourself, Lucy. I will spare your fanciful delicacy, though you have
+no pity on me--on your poor old uncle, whose heart you will break if
+you decline this match."
+
+At these words, and the old man's change from anger to sadness, Lucy
+looked up in dismay, and the vivid color died, like a retiring wave,
+out of her cheek.
+
+"You look surprised, Lucy. What! do you think this will not be a
+heartbreaking disappointment to me? If you knew how I have schemed for
+it--what I have done and endured to bring it about! To quarter the
+arms of Fontaine and Talboys! I put by the 5,000 pounds directly, and
+as much more of my own, that you should not go into that noble family
+without a proper settlement. It was the dream of my heart; I could
+have died contented the next hour. More fool I to care for anybody but
+myself. Your selfish people escape these bitter disappointments. Well,
+it is a lesson. From this hour I will live for myself and care for
+nobody, for nobody cares for me."
+
+These words, uttered with great agitation, and, I believe, with
+perfect sincerity, on his own unselfishness and hard fate, were
+terrible to Lucy. She wreathed her arms suddenly round him.
+
+"Oh, uncle," she cried, despairingly, "kill me! send me to Heaven!
+send me to my mother, but don't stab me with such bitter words;" and
+she trembled with an emotion so much more powerful and convulsing than
+his, in which temper had a large share, that she once more cowed him.
+
+"There! there!" he muttered, "I don't want to kill you, child, God
+knows, or to hurt you in any way."
+
+Lucy trembled, and tried to smile. The good nature, which was the
+upper crust of this man's character, got the better of him.
+
+"There! there! don't distress yourself so. I know who I have to thank
+for all this."
+
+"She has not the power," said Lucy, in a faint voice, "to make me
+ungrateful to you."
+
+Mind is more rapid than lightning. At this moment, in the middle of a
+sentence, it flashed across Lucy that her aunt had convinced her, sore
+against her will, that there was a strong element of selfishness in
+Mr. Fountain. "But it is that he deceives himself," thought Lucy. "He
+would sacrifice my happiness to his hobby, and think he has done it
+for love of me." Enlightened by this rapid reflection, she did not say
+to him as one of his own sex would, "Look in your own heart, and you
+will see that all this is not love of me, but of your own schemes."
+Oh, dear, no, that would not have been the woman. She took him round
+the neck, and, fixing her sapphire eyes lovingly on his, she said, "It
+is for love of me you set your heart on this great match? You wish to
+see me well settled in the world, and, above all, happy?"
+
+"Of course it is. I told you so. What other object can I have?"
+
+"Then, if you saw me wretched, and degraded in my own eyes, your heart
+would bleed for your poor niece--too late. Well, uncle, I love you,
+too, and I save you this day from remorse. Oh, think what it must be
+to hate and despise a man, and link yourself body and soul to that man
+for life. Oh, think and shudder with me. I have a quick eye. I have
+seen your lip curl with contempt when that fool has been talking--ah!
+you blush. You are too much his superior in everything but fortune not
+to despise him at heart. See the thing as it is. Speak to me as you
+would if my mother stood here beside us, uncle, and to speak to me,
+you must look her in the face. Could you say to me before her, 'I love
+you; marry a man we both despise!'?"
+
+Mr. Fountain made no answer. He was disconcerted. Nothing is so easy
+to resist as logic solo. We see it, as a general rule, resisted with
+great success in public and private every day; but when it comes in
+good company, a voice of music, an angel face, gentle, persuasive
+caresses, and imploring eyes, it ceases to revolt the understanding.
+And so, caught in his own trap, foiled, baffled, soothed, caressed,
+all in one breath, Mr. Fountain hung his head, and could not
+immediately reply.
+
+Lucy followed up her advantage. "No," cried she; "say to me, 'I love
+you, Lucy; marry nobody; stay with your uncle, and find your happiness
+in contributing to his comfort.'"
+
+"What is the use my saying that, when I have got Mother Bazalgette
+against me, and her shopkeeper?"
+
+"Never mind, uncle, you say it, and time will show whether your
+influence is small with me, and my affections small for you"; and she
+looked in his face with glistening eyes.
+
+"Well, then," said he, "I do say it, and I suppose that means I must
+urge you no more about poor Talboys."
+
+A shower of kisses descended upon him that moment. Moral: Lose no time
+in sealing a good bargain.
+
+"Come, now, Lucy, you must do me a favor."
+
+"Oh, thank you! thank you! what is it?"
+
+"Ah! but it is about Talboys too."
+
+"Never mind," faltered Lucy, "if it is anything short of--" (full
+stop).
+
+"It is a long way short of that. Look here, Lucy, I must tell you the
+truth. He intends to ask your hand himself: he confided this to me,
+but he never authorized me to commit him as I have done, so that this
+conversation cannot be acted on: it must be a secret between you and
+me."
+
+"Oh, dear! and I thought I had got rid of him so nicely."
+
+"Don't be alarmed," groaned Fountain; "such matches as this can always
+be dropped; the difficulty is to bring them on. All I ask of you,
+then, is not to make mischief between me and my friend, the proudest
+man in England. If you don't value his friendship, I do. You must not
+let him know I have got him insulted by a refusal. For instance, you
+had better go out sailing with him to-morrow as if nothing had passed.
+Will your affection for me carry you as far as that?"
+
+The proposal was wormwood to Lucy. So she smiled and said eagerly: "Is
+that all? Why, I will do it with pleasure, dear. It is not like being
+in the same boat with him for life, you know. Can you give me nothing
+more than that to do for you?"
+
+"No; it does not do to test people's affection too severely. You have
+shown me that. Go on with your walk, Lucy. I shall go in."
+
+"May I not come with you?"
+
+"No; my head aches with all this; if I don't mind I shall eat no
+dinner. Agitation and vexation, don't agree with me. I have carefully
+avoided them all my life. I must go in and lie down for an hour"; and
+he left her rather abruptly.
+
+She looked after him; her subtle eye noticed directly that he walked a
+little more feebly than usual. She ascribed this to his
+disappointment, justly perhaps, for at his age the body has less
+elastic force to resist a mental blow. The sight of him creeping away
+disappointed, and leaning heavier than usual on his stick, knocked at
+her cool but affectionate heart. She began to cry bitterly. When he
+was quite out of sight, she turned and paced the gravel slowly and
+sadly. It was new to her to refuse her uncle anything, still more
+strange to have to refuse him a serious wish. She was prepared,
+thoroughly prepared, for the proposal, but not to find the old man's
+heart so deeply set upon it. A wild impulse came over her to call him
+back and sacrifice herself; but the high spirit and intelligence that
+lay beneath her tenderness and complaisance stood firm. Yet she felt
+almost guilty, and very, very unhappy, as we call it at her age. She
+kept sighing; "Poor uncle!" and paced the gravel very slowly, hanging
+her sweet head, and crying as she went.
+
+
+At the end of the walk David Dodd stood suddenly before her. He came
+flurried on his own account, but stopped thunder-struck at her tears.
+"What is the matter, Miss Lucy?"' said he, anxiously.
+
+"Oh, nothing, Mr. Dodd;" and they flowed afresh.
+
+"Can I do anything for you, Miss Lucy?"
+
+"No, Mr. Dodd."
+
+"Won't you tell me what is the matter? Are you not friends with me
+to-day?"
+
+"I was put out by a very foolish circumstance, Mr. Dodd, and it is one
+with which I shall not trouble you, nor any person of sense. I prefer
+to retain your sympathy by not revealing the contemptible cause of my
+babyish--There!" She shook her head proudly, as if tears were to be
+dispersed like dewdrops. "There!" she repeated; and at this second
+effort she smiled radiantly.
+
+"It is like the sun coming out after a shower," cried David
+rapturously.
+
+"That reminds me I must be _going_ in, Mr. Dodd."
+
+"Don't say that, Miss Lucy. What for?"
+
+"To arrange another shower, one of pearls, on a dress I am to wear
+to-night."
+
+David sighed. "Ah! Miss Lucy, at sight of me you always make for the
+hall door."
+
+Lucy colored. "Oh, do I? I really was not aware of that. Then I
+suppose I am afraid of you. Is that what you would insinuate? "'
+
+"No, Miss Lucy, you are not afraid of me; but I sometimes fear--" and
+he hesitated.
+
+"It must blow very hard that day," said Lucy, with a world of
+politeness. Her tongue was too quick for him. He found it so, and
+announced the fact after his fashion. "I can't tack fast enough to
+follow you," said he despondently.
+
+"But you are not required to follow me," replied this amiable eel,
+with hypocritical benignity; "I am going to my aunt's room to do what
+I told you. I leave you in charge of the quarter-deck." So saying, she
+walked slowly up the steps, and left David standing sorrowfully on the
+gravel. At the top step Miss Lucy turned and inquired gently when he
+was to sail. He told her the ship was expected to anchor off the fort
+to-morrow, but she would not sail till she had got all her passengers
+on board.
+
+"Oh!" said Lucy, with an air of reflection. She then leaned in an easy
+posture against the wall, and, whether it was that she relented a
+little, or that, having secured her retreat, she was now indifferent
+to flight, certain it is that she did after her own fashion what many
+a daughter of Eve has done before her, and many a duchess and many a
+dairymaid will do after La Fountain and I are gone from earth. A
+minute ago it had been, "She must go directly." The more opposition to
+her departure, the more inexorable the necessity for her going;
+opposition withdrawn, and the door open, she stayed no end.
+
+Full twenty minutes did that young lady stand there unsolicited, and
+chat with David Dodd in the kindest, sweetest, most amicable way
+imaginable.
+
+
+She little knew she had an auditor--a female auditor, keen as a lynx.
+
+All this day Reginald George Bazalgette, Esq., might have been defined
+"a pest in search of a playmate." Tom had got a holiday. Lucy only
+came out of her workshop to be seized by Mr. Fountain. David, who was
+waiting in the garden for Lucy, begged Reginald to excuse him for
+once. The young gentleman had recourse as a _pis aller_ to his
+mamma. He invaded her bedroom, and besought her piteously to play at
+battledoor. That lady, sighing deeply at being taken from her dress,
+consented. Her soul not being in it, she played very badly. Her cub
+did not fail to tell her so. "Why, I can keep up a hundred with Mr.
+Dodd," said he.
+
+"Oh, we all know Mr. Dodd is perfection," said the lady with a sneer.
+She was piqued with David. He had gone and left her in a brutal way,
+to make his apologies to Lucy.
+
+"No, he is not," said Reginald. "I have found him out. He is as unjust
+as the rest of them."
+
+"Dear me! and, pray, what has he done?"
+
+"I will tell you, mamma, if you will promise not to tell papa, because
+he told me not to listen, and I didn't listen, mamma, because, you
+know, a gentleman always keeps his word; but they talked so loud the
+words would come into my ear; I could not keep them out. Mamma, are
+there any naughty ladies here?"
+
+"No, my dear."
+
+"Then what did papa mean, warning Mr. Dodd against one?"
+
+Mrs. Bazalgette began to listen as he wished.
+
+"Oh, he called her all the names. He said she was a statue of
+flirtation."
+
+"Who? Lucy?"
+
+"Lucy? no! the naughty lady--the one that had twelve husbands. He kept
+warning him, and warning him, and then Mr. Dodd and papa they began to
+quarrel almost, because Mr. Dodd said the naughty lady was quite
+young, and papa said she was ever so old. Mr. Dodd said she was
+twenty-one. But papa told him she must be more than that, because she
+had a child that would be fifteen years old; only it died. How old
+would sister Emily be if she was alive, mamma? La, mamma, how pretty
+you are: you have got red cheeks like Lucy--redder, oh, ever so much
+redder--and in general they are so pale before dinner. Let me kiss
+you, mamma. I do love the ladies when their cheeks are red."
+
+"There! there! now go on, dear; tell me some more."
+
+"It is very interesting, isn't it, dear mamma?"
+
+"It is amusing, at all events."
+
+"No, it is not amusing--at least, what came after, isn't: it is
+wicked, it is unjust, it is abominable."
+
+"Tell me, dear."
+
+"It turned out it wasn't the naughty lady Mr. Dodd was in love for,
+and who do you think he is in love of?"
+
+"I have not an idea."
+
+"MY LUCY!!!"
+
+"Nonsense, child."
+
+"No, no, mamma, it is not. He owned it plump."
+
+"Are you quite sure, love?"
+
+"Upon my honor."
+
+"What did they say next?"
+
+"Oh, next papa began to talk his fine words that I don't know what the
+meaning of them is one bit. But Mr. Dodd, he could make them out, I
+suppose, for he said, 'So, then, the upshot is--' There, now, what is
+upshot? I don't know. How stupid grown-up people are; they keep using
+words that one doesn't know the meaning of."
+
+"Never mind, love! tell me. What came _after_ upshot?" said Mrs.
+Bazalgette, soothingly, with great apparent calmness and flashing eye.
+
+"How kind you are to-day, mamma! That is twice you have called me
+love, and three times dear; only think. I should love you if you were
+always so kind, and your cheeks as red as they are now."
+
+"Never mind my cheeks. What did Mr. Dodd say? Try and
+remember--come--'The upshot was--'"
+
+"The upshot was--what was the upshot? I forget. No, I remember; the
+upshot was, if Lucy said 'yes,' papa would not say 'no;' that meant to
+marry him. Now didn't you promise me her ever so long ago--the day you
+and I agreed if I went a whole day without being naughty once I should
+have her for ever and ever? and I did go."
+
+"Go to Lucy's room, and tell her to come to me," said Mrs. Bazalgette,
+in a stern, thoughtful voice, which startled poor Reginald, coming so
+soon after the _calinerie._ However, he told her it was no use
+his going to Lucy's room, for she was out in the garden; he had seen
+her there walking with Mr. Fountain. Reginald then ran to the window
+which commanded the garden, to look for Lucy. He had scarcely reached
+it when he began to squeak wildly, "Come here! come here! come here!"
+Mrs. Bazalgette was at the window in a moment, and lo! at the end of
+the garden, walking slowly side by side, were Lucy and Mr. Dodd.
+
+Ridiculous as it may appear, a pang of jealousy shot through the
+married flirt's heart that made her almost feel sick. This was
+followed at the interval of half a second by as pretty a flame of
+hatred as ever the _spretoe injuria formoe_ lighted up in a
+coquette's heart. Doubt drove in its smaller sting besides, and at
+sight of the couple she resolved to have better evidence than
+Reginald's, especially as to Lucy's sentiments. The plan she hit upon
+was effective, but vulgar, and must not be witnessed by a boy of
+inconvenient memory and mistimed fluency. She got rid of him with
+high-principled dexterity. "Reginald," said she, sadly, "you are a
+naughty boy, a disobedient boy, to listen when your papa told you not,
+and to tell me a pack of falsehoods. I must either tell your papa, or
+I must punish you myself; I prefer to do it myself, he would whip you
+so"; with this she suddenly opened her dressing-room door, and pushed
+the terrible infant in, and locked the door. She then told him through
+the keyhole he had better cease yelling, because, if he kept quiet,
+his punishment would only last half an hour, and she flew downstairs.
+There was a large hot-house with two doors, one of which came very
+near to the house door that opened into the garden. Mrs. Bazalgette
+entered the hothouse at the other end, and, hidden by the exotic trees
+and flowers, made rapidly for the door Lucy and David must pass. She
+found it wide open. She half shut it, and slipped behind it, listening
+like a hare and spying like a hawk through the hinges. And, strange as
+it may appear, she had an idea she should make a discovery. As the
+finished sportsman watches a narrow ride in the wood, not despairing
+by a snap-shot to bag his hare as she crosses it, though seen but for
+a moment, so the Bazalgette felt sure that, as the couple passed her
+ambush, something, either in the two sentences they might utter, or,
+more probably, in their tones and general manner, would reveal to one
+of her experience on what footing they were.
+
+A shrewd calculation! But things will be things. They take such turns,
+I might without exaggeration say twists, that calculation is baffled,
+and prophecy dissolved into pitch and toss. This thing turned just as
+not expected. _Primo,_ instead of getting only a snap-shot, Mrs.
+Bazalgette heard every word of a long conversation; and,
+_secundo,_ when she had heard it she could not tell for certain
+on what footing the lady and gentleman were. At first, from their
+familiarity, she inclined to think they were lovers; but, the more she
+listened, the more doubtful she seemed. Lucy was the chief speaker,
+and what she said showed an undisguised interest in her companion; but
+the subject accounted in great measure for that; she was talking of
+his approaching voyage, of the dangers and hardships of his
+profession, and of his return two years hence, his chances of
+promotion, etc. But here was no proof positive of love; they were
+acquaintances of some standing. Then Lucy's manner struck her as
+rather amicable than amorous. She was calm, kind, self-possessed, and
+almost voluble. As for David, he only got in a word here and there.
+When he did, there was something so different in his voice from
+anything he had ever bestowed on _her,_ that she hated him, and
+longed to stick scissors into him from the rear, unseen. At last Lucy
+suddenly recollected, or seemed to recollect, she was busy, and
+retired hastily--so hastily that David saw too late his opportunity
+lost. But the music of her voice had so charmed him that he did not
+like to interrupt it even to speak of that which was nearest his
+heart. David sighed deeply, standing there alone.
+
+Mrs. Bazalgette clinched her little fists and looked round for the
+means of vengeance. David went down on his knees. La Bazalgette glared
+through the crack, and wondered what on earth he was at now. Oh! he
+was praying. "He loves her: he is eccentricity itself; so he is
+praying for her, and on _my_ doorsteps" (the householder wounded
+as well as the flirt). It was lucky she had not "a thunderbolt in her
+eye"--Shakespeare, or a celestial messenger of the wrong sort would
+have descended on the devout mariner. It was more than Mrs. Bazalgette
+could bear: she had now and then, not often, unladylike impulses. One
+of them had set her crouching behind the door of an outhouse, and
+listening through a crack; and now she had another, an irresistible
+one: it was, to take that empty flower-pot, fling it as hard as ever
+she could at the devotee, then shut the door quick, fly out at the
+other door, and leave her faithless swain in the agony of knowing
+himself detected and exposed by some unknown and undiscoverable enemy.
+
+For a vengeance extemporized in less than half a second this was very
+respectable. Well, she clawed the flower-pot noiselessly, put her
+other hand on the door, cast a hasty glance at the means of retreat,
+and--things took another twist: she heard the rustle of a coming gown,
+and drew back again, and out came Lucy, and nearly ran over David, who
+was not on his knees after all, but down on his nose, prostrate
+Orientally. The fact is, Lucy, among her other qualities, good and
+bad, was a born housewife, and solicitously careful of certain odds
+and ends called property. She found she had dropped one of her gloves
+in the garden, and she came back in a state of disproportionate
+uneasiness to find it, and nearly ran over David Dodd.
+
+"What _are_ you doing, Mr. Dodd?"
+
+David arose from his Oriental position, and, being a young man whose
+impulse always was to tell the simple truth, replied, "I was kissing
+the place where you stood so long."
+
+He did not feel he had done anything extraordinary, so he gave her
+this information composedly; but her face was scarlet in an instant;
+and he, seeing that, began to blush too. For once Lucy's tact was
+baffled; she did not know what on earth to say, and she stood blushing
+like a girl of fifteen.
+
+
+Then she tried to turn it off.
+
+"Mr. Dodd, how can you be so ridiculous?" said she, affecting humorous
+disdain.
+
+But David was not to be put down now; he was launched.
+
+"I am not ridiculous for loving and worshiping you, for you are worthy
+of even more love than any human heart can hold."
+
+"Oh, hush, Mr. Dodd. I must not hear this."
+
+"Miss Lucy, I can't keep it any longer--you must, you shall hear me.
+You can despise my love if you will, but you _shall_ know it
+before you reject it."
+
+"Mr. Dodd, you have every right to be heard, but let me persuade you
+not to insist. Oh, why did I come back?"
+
+"The first moment I saw you, Miss Lucy, it was a new life to me. I
+never looked twice at any girl before. It is not your beauty only--oh,
+no! it is your goodness--goodness such as I never thought was to be
+found on earth. Don't turn your head from me; I know my defects; could
+I look on you and not see them? My manners are blunt and rude--oh, how
+different from yours! but you could soon make me a fine gentleman, I
+love you so. And I am only the first mate of an Indiaman; but I should
+be a captain next voyage, Miss Lucy, and a sailor like me has no
+expenses; all he has is his wife's. The first lady in the land will
+not be petted as you will, if you will look kindly on me. Listen to
+me," trying to tempt her. "No, Miss Lucy, I have nothing to offer you
+worth your acceptance, only my love. No man ever loved woman as I love
+you; it is not love, it is worship, it is adoration! Ah! she is going
+to speak to me at last!"
+
+Lucy presented at this moment a strange contrast of calmness and
+agitation. Her bosom heaved quickly, and she was pale, but her voice
+was calm, and, though gentle, decided.
+
+"I know you love me, Mr. Dodd, and I feared this. I have tried to save
+you the mortification of being declined by one who, in many things, is
+your inferior. I have even been rude and unkind to you. Forgive me for
+it. I meant it kindly. I regret it now. Mr. Dodd, I thank you for the
+honor you do me, but I cannot accept your love." There was a pause,
+but David's tongue seemed glued to the roof of his mouth. He was not
+surprised, yet he was stupefied when the blow came.
+
+At last he gasped out, "You love some other man?"
+
+Lucy was silent.
+
+"Answer me, for pity's sake; give me something to help me."
+
+"You have no right to ask me such a question, but--I have no
+attachment, Mr. Dodd."
+
+"Ah! then one word more. Is it because you cannot love me, or because
+I am poor, and only first mate of an Indiaman?"
+
+"_That_ I will not answer. You have no right to question a lady
+why she--Stay! you wish to despise me. Well, why not, if that will
+cure you of this unfortunate--Think what you please of me, Mr. Dodd,"
+murmured Lucy, sadly.
+
+"Ah! you know I can't," cried David, despairingly.
+
+"I know that you esteem me more than I deserve. Well, I esteem you,
+Mr. Dodd. Why, then, can we not be friends? You have only to promise
+me you will never return to this subject--come!"
+
+"Me promise not to love you! What is the use? Me be your friend, and
+nothing more, and stand looking on at the heaven that is to be
+another's, and never to be mine? It is my turn to decline. Never.
+Betrothed lovers or strangers, but nothing between! It would drive me
+mad. Away from you, and out of sight of your sweet face, I may make
+shift to live, and go through my duty somehow, for my mother's and
+sister's sake."
+
+"You are wiser than I was, Mr. Dodd. Yes, we must part."
+
+"Of course we must. I have got my answer, and a kinder one than I
+deserve; and now what is the polite thing for me to do, I wonder?"
+David said this with terrible bitterness.
+
+"You frighten me," sighed Lucy.
+
+"Don't you be frightened, sweet angel; there! I have been used to obey
+orders all my life, and I am like a ship tossed in the breakers, and
+you are calm--calm as death. Give me my orders, for God's sake."
+
+"It is not for me to command you, Mr. Dodd. I have forfeited that
+right. But listen to her who still asks to be your friend, and she
+will tell you what will be best for you, and kindest and most generous
+to her."
+
+"Tell me about that last; the other is a waste of words."
+
+"I will, then. Your sister is somewhere in the neighborhood."
+
+"She is at ----; how did you know?"
+
+"I saw her on your arm. I am glad she is so near--Oh, so glad! Bid my
+uncle and aunt good-by; make some excuse. Go to your sister at once.
+_She_ loves you. She is better than I am, if you will but see us
+as we really are. Go to her at once," faltered Lucy, who disliked Eve,
+and Eve her.
+
+"I will! I will! I have thought too little of my own flesh and blood.
+Shall I go now?"
+
+"Yes," murmured Lucy softly, trying to disarm the fatal word. "Forget
+me--and--forgive me!" and, with this last word scarce audible, she
+averted her face, and held out her hand with angelic dignity, modesty
+and pity.
+
+The kind words and the gentle action brought down the stout heart that
+had looked death in the face so often without flinching. "Forgive you,
+sweet angel!" he cried; "I pray Heaven to bless you, and to make you
+as happy as I am desolate for your sake. Oh, you show me more and more
+what I lose this day. God bless you! God bless--" and David's heart
+filled to choking, and he burst out sobbing despairingly, and the hot
+tears ran suddenly from his eyes over her hand as he kissed and kissed
+it. Then, with an almost savage feeling of shame (for these were not
+eyes that were wont to weep), he uttered one cry of despair and ran
+away, leaving her pale and panting heavily.
+
+She looked piteously at her hand, wet with a hero's tears, and for the
+second time to-day her own began to gush. She felt a need of being
+alone. She wanted to think on what she had done. She would hide in the
+garden. She ran down the steps; lo! there was Mr. Hardie coming up the
+gravel-walk. She uttered a little cry of impatience, and dashed
+impetuously into the hot-house, driving the half-open door before her
+with her person as well as her arm.
+
+A scream of terror and pain issued from behind it, with a crash of
+pottery.
+
+Lucy wheeled round at the sound, and there was her aunt, flattened
+against the flower-frame.
+
+Lucy stood transfixed.
+
+But soon her look of surprise gave way to a frown; ay! and a somber
+one.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI.
+
+THAT ready-minded lady extricated herself from the pots, and wriggled
+out of the moral situation. "I was a listener, dear! an unwilling
+listener; but now I do not regret it. How nobly you behaved!" and with
+this she came at her with open arms, crying, "My own dear niece."
+
+Her own dear niece recoiled with a shiver, and put up both her hands
+as a shield.
+
+"Oh, don't touch me, please. I never heard of a lady listening!!!!"
+
+She then turned her back on her aunt in a somewhat uncourtier-like
+manner, and darted out of the place, every fiber of her frame strung
+up tight with excitement. She felt she was not the calm, dispassionate
+being of yesterday, and hurried to her own room and locked herself in.
+
+Mrs. Bazalgette remained behind in a state of bitter mortification,
+and breathing fury on her small scale. But what could she do? David
+would be out of her reach in a few minutes, and Lucy was scarce
+vulnerable.
+
+In the absence of any definite spite, she thought she could not go
+wrong in thwarting whatever Lucy wished, and her wish had been that
+David should go. Besides, if she kept him in the house, who knows, she
+might pique him with Lucy, and even yet turn him her way; so she lay
+in wait for him in the hall. He soon appeared with his bag in his
+hand. She inquired, with great simplicity, where he was going. He told
+her he was going away. She remonstrated, first tenderly, then almost
+angrily. "We all counted on you to play the violin. We can't dance to
+the piano alone."
+
+"I am very sorry, but I have got my orders." Then this subtle lady
+said, carelessly, "Lucy will be _au desespoir._ She will get no
+dancing. She said to me just now, 'Aunt, do try and persuade Mr. Dodd
+to stay over the ball. We shall miss him so.'"
+
+"When did she say that?"
+
+"Just this minute. Standing at the door there."
+
+"Very well; then I'll stay over the ball." And without a word more he
+carried his bag and violin-case up to his room again. Oh, how La
+Bazalgette hated him! She now resigned all hope of fighting with him,
+and contented herself with the pleasure of watching him and Lucy
+together. One would be wretched, and the other must be uncomfortable.
+
+Lucy did not come down to dinner; she was lying down with headache.
+She even sent a message to Mrs. Bazalgette to know whether she could
+be dispensed with at the ball. Answer, "Impossible!" At half-past
+eight she got up, put on her costume, took it off again, and dressed
+in white watered silk. Her assumption of a character was confined to
+wearing a little crown rising to a peak in front. Many of the guests
+had arrived when she glided into the room looking every inch a queen.
+David was dazzled at her, and awestruck at her beauty and mien, and at
+his own presumption.
+
+Her eye fell on him. She gave a little start, but passed on without a
+word. The carpets had been taken up, and the dancing began.
+
+Mrs. Bazalgette arranged that Lucy and David should play pianoforte
+and violin until some lady could be found to take her part.
+
+I incline to think Mrs. Bazalgette, spiteful as mortified vanity is
+apt to be, did not know the depth of anguish her subtle vengeance
+inflicted on David Dodd.
+
+He was pale and stern with the bitter struggle for composure. He
+ground his teeth, fixed his eyes on the music-book, and plowed the
+merry tunes as the fainting ox plows the furrow. He dared not look at
+Lucy, nor did he speak to her more than was necessary for what they
+were doing, nor she to him. She was vexed with him for subjecting
+himself and her to unnecessary pain, and in the eye of society--her
+divinity.
+
+Another unhappy one was Mr. Fountain. He sat disconsolate on a seat
+all alone. Mrs. Bazalgette fluttered about like a butterfly, and
+sparkled like a Chinese firework.
+
+Two young ladies, sisters, went to the piano to give Miss Fountain an
+opportunity of dancing. She danced quadrilles with four or five
+gentlemen, including her special admirers. She declined to waltz: "I
+have a little headache; nothing to speak of."
+
+She then sat down to the piano again. "I can play alone, Mr. Dodd; you
+have not danced at all."
+
+"I am not in the humor."
+
+"Very well."
+
+This time they played some of the tunes they had rehearsed together
+that happy evening, and David's lip quivered.
+
+Lucy eyed him unobserved.
+
+"Was this wise--to subject yourself to this?"
+
+"I must obey orders, whatever it costs me--'ri tum ti tum ti tum ti
+tum.'"
+
+"Who ordered you to neglect my advice?--'ri tum tum tum.'"
+
+_"You_ did--'ri tum ti tum tiddy iddy.'"
+
+A look of silent disdain: "Ri tum, ti tum, tiddy iddy." (Ah! perdona
+for relating things as they happen, and not as your grand writers
+pretend they happen.)
+
+Between the quadrilles she asked an explanation.
+
+"Your aunt met me with my bag in my hand, and told me you wanted me to
+play to the company."
+
+When he said this, David heard a sound like the click of a trigger. He
+looked up; it was Lucy clinching her teeth convulsively. But time was
+up: the woman of the world must go on like the prizefighter. The
+couples were waiting.
+
+"Ri tum ti tum ti tum ti tum tiddy iddy." For all that, she did not
+finish the tune. In the middle of it she said to David, "'Ri tum ti
+tum--' can you get through this without me?--'ri tum.'"
+
+"If I can get through life without you, I can surely get through this
+twaddle: 'ri tum ti tum ti tum ti tum tiddy iddy.'" Lucy started from
+her seat, leaving David plowing solo. She started from her seat and
+stood a moment, looking like an angel stung by vipers. Her eye went
+all round the room in one moment in search of some one to blight. It
+surprised Mr. Hardie and Mrs. Bazalgette sitting together and casting
+ironical glances pianoward: "So she has been betraying to Mr. Hardie
+the secret she gained by listening," thought Lucy. The pair were
+probably enjoying David's mortification, his misery.
+
+She walked very slowly down the room to this couple. She looked them
+long and full in the face with that confronting yet overlooking glance
+which women of the world can command on great occasions. It fell, and
+pressed on them both like lead, they could not have told you why. They
+looked at one another ruefully when she had passed them, and then
+their eyes followed her. They saw her walk straight up to her uncle,
+and sit down by him, and take his hand. They exchanged another uneasy
+look.
+
+"Uncle," said Lucy, speaking very quickly, "you are unhappy. I am the
+cause. I am come to say that I promise you not to marry anyone my aunt
+shall propose to me."
+
+"My dear girl, then you won't marry that shopkeeper there?"
+
+"What need of names, still less of epithets? I will marry no friend of
+hers."
+
+"Ah! now you are my brother's daughter again."
+
+"No, I love you no better than I did this morning; but the--"
+
+Celestial happiness diffused itself over old Fountain's face, and Lucy
+glided back to the piano just as the quadrille ended.
+
+"Give me your arm, Mr. Dodd," said she, authoritatively. She took his
+arm, and made the tour of the room leaning on him, and chatting gayly.
+
+She introduced him to the best people, and contrived to appear to the
+whole room joyous and flattered, leaning on David's arm.
+
+The young fellows envied him so.
+
+Every now and then David felt her noble white arm twitch convulsively,
+and her fingers pinch the cloth of his sleeve where it was loose.
+
+She guided him to the supper-room. It was empty. "Oblige me with a
+glass of water."
+
+He gave it her. She drank it.
+
+"Mr. Dodd, the advice I gave you with my own lips I never retracted.
+My aunt imposed upon you. It was done to mortify you. It has failed,
+as you may have observed. My head aches so, it is intolerable. When
+they ask you where I am, say I am unwell, and have retired to my room.
+I shall not be at breakfast; directly after breakfast go to your
+sister, and tell her your friend Lucy declined you, though she knows
+your value, and would not let you be mortified by nullities and
+heartless fools. Good-by, Mr. Dodd; try and believe that none of us
+you leave in this house are worth remembering, far less regretting."
+
+She vanished haughtily; David crept back to the ball-room. It seemed
+dark by comparison now she who lent it luster was gone. He stayed a
+few minutes, then heavy-hearted to bed.
+
+The next morning he shook hands with Mr. Bazalgette, the only one who
+was up, kissed the terrible infant, who, suddenly remembering his many
+virtues, formally forgave him his one piece of injustice, and, as he
+came, so he went away, his bag on his shoulder and his violin-case in
+his hand.
+
+
+He went to Cousin Mary and asked for Eve. Cousin Mary's face turned
+red: "You will find her at No. 80 in this street. She is gone into
+lodgings." The fact is, the cousins had had a tiff, and Eve had left
+the house that moment.
+
+Oh! my sweet, my beloved heroines--you young vipers, when will you
+learn to be faultless, like other people? You have turned my face into
+a peony, blushing for you at every fourth page.
+
+David came into her apartment. He smiled sweetly, but sadly. "Well, it
+is all over. I have offered, and been declined."
+
+At seeing him so quiet and resigned, Eve burst out crying.
+
+"Don't you cry, dear," said David. "It is best so. It is almost a
+relief. Anything before the suspense I was enduring."
+
+Then Eve, recovering her spirits by the help of anger, began to abuse
+Lucy for a cold-hearted, deceitful girl; but David stopped her
+sternly.
+
+"Not a word against her--not a word. I should hate anyone that
+miscalled her. She speaks well of you, Eve; why need you speak ill of
+her? She and I parted friends, and friends let us be. There is no hate
+can lie alongside love in a true heart. No, let nobody speak of her at
+all to me. I shan't; my thoughts, they are my own. 'Go to your
+sister,' said she, and here I am; and I beg your pardon, Eve, for
+neglecting you as I have of late."
+
+"Oh, never mind _that,_ David; _our_ affection will outlast
+this folly many a long year."
+
+"Please God! Your hand in mine, Eve, my lamb, and let us talk of
+ourselves and mother: the time is short."
+
+They sat hand in hand, and never mentioned Lucy's name again; and,
+strange to say, it was David who consoled Eve; for, now the battle was
+lost, her spirit seemed to have all deserted her, and she kept
+bursting out crying every now and then irrelevantly.
+
+It was three in the afternoon. David was sitting by the window, and
+Eve packing his chest in the same room, not to be out of his sight a
+minute, when suddenly he started up and cried, "There she is," and an
+instinctive unreasonable joy illumined his face; the next moment his
+countenance fell.
+
+The carriage passed down the street.
+
+"I remember now," muttered David, "I heard she was to go sailing, and
+Mr. Talboys was to be skipper of the boat. Ah! well."
+
+"Well, let them sail, David. It is not your business."
+
+"That it is not, Eve--nobody's less than mine.
+
+"Eve, there is plenty of wind blowing up from the nor'east."
+
+"Is there? I am afraid that will bring your ship down quick."
+
+"Yes; but it is not that. I am afraid that lubber won't think of
+looking to windward."
+
+"Nonsense about the wind; it is a beautiful day. Come, David, it is no
+use lighting against nature. Put on your hat, then, and run down to
+the beach, and see the last of her; only, for my sake, don't let the
+others see you, to jeer you."
+
+"No, no."
+
+"And mind and be back to dinner at four. I have got a nice roast fowl
+for you."
+
+"Ay ay."
+
+A little before four o'clock a sailor brought a note from David,
+written hastily in pencil. It was sent up to Eve. She read it, and
+clasped her hands vehemently.
+
+"Oh, David, she was born to be your destruction."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII.
+
+MR. FOUNTAIN, Miss Fountain, and Mr. Talboys started to go on the
+boating expedition. As they were getting into the boat, Mr. Fountain
+felt a little ill, and begged to be excused. Mr. Talboys offered to
+return with him. He declined: "Have your little sail. I will wait at
+the inn for you."
+
+This pantomime had, I blush to say, been arranged beforehand. Miss
+Fountain, we may be sure, saw through it, but she gave no sign. A
+lofty impassibility marked her demeanor, and she let them do just what
+they liked with her.
+
+The boat was launched, the foresail set, and Fountain remained on
+shore in anything but a calm and happy state.
+
+But friendships like these are not free from dross; and I must confess
+that among the feelings which crossed his mind was a hope that Talboys
+would pop, and be refused, as _he_ had been. Why should he,
+Fountain, monopolize defeat? We should share all things with a friend.
+
+Meantime, by one of those caprices to which her sex are said to be
+peculiarly subject, Lucy seemed to have given up all intention of
+carrying out her plan for getting rid of Mr. Talboys. Instead of
+leading him on to his fate, she interposed a subtle but almost
+impassable barrier between him and destruction; her manner and
+deportment were of a nature to freeze declarations of love upon the
+human lip. She leaned back languidly and imperially on the luxurious
+cushions, and listlessly eyed the sky and the water, and ignored with
+perfect impartiality all the living creatures in the boat.
+
+Mr. Talboys endeavored in vain to draw her out of this languid mood.
+He selected an interesting subject of conversation to--himself; he
+told her of his feats yachting in the Mediterranean; he did not tell
+her, though, that his yacht was sailed by the master and not by him,
+her proprietor. In reply to all this Lucy dropped out languid
+monosyllables.
+
+At last Talboys got piqued and clapped on sail.
+
+There had not been a breath of air until half an hour before they
+started; but now a stiff breeze had sprung up; so they had smooth
+water and yet plenty of wind, and the boat cut swiftly through-the
+bubbling water.
+
+"She walks well," said the yachtsman.
+
+Lucy smiled a gracious, though still rather too queenly assent. I
+think the motion was pleasing her. Lively motion is very agreeable to
+her sex.
+
+"This is a very fast boat," said Mr. Talboys. "I should like to try
+her speed. What do you say, Miss Fountain?"
+
+"With all my heart," said Lucy, in a tone that expressed her utter
+indifference.
+
+"Here is this lateen-rigged boat creeping down on our quarter; we will
+stand east till she runs down to us, and then we will run by her and
+challenge her." Accordingly Talboys stood east.
+
+But he did not get his race; for, somewhat to his surprise, the
+lateen-rigged boat, instead of holding her course, which was about
+south-southwest, bore up directly and stood east, keeping about half a
+mile to windward of Talboys.
+
+This puzzled Talboys. "They are afraid to try it," said he. "If they
+are afraid of us sailing on a wind, they would not have much chance
+with us in beating to windward. A lugger can lie two points nearer the
+wind than a schooner."
+
+All this science was lost on Lucy. She lay back languid and listless.
+
+Mr. Talboy's crew consisted of a man and a boy. He steered the boat
+himself. He ordered them to go about and sail due west. It was no
+sooner done than, lo and behold, the schooner came about and sailed
+west, keeping always half a mile to windward.
+
+"That boat is following us, Miss Fountain."
+
+"What for?" inquired she; "is it my uncle coming after us?"
+
+"No; I see no one aboard but a couple of fishermen."
+
+"They are not fishermen," put in the boy; "they are
+sailors--coastguard men, likely."
+
+"Besides," said Mr. Talboys, "your uncle would run down to us at once,
+but these keep waiting on us and dogging us. Confound their
+impudence."
+
+"It is all fancy," said Lucy; "run away as fast as you can that way,"
+and she pointed down the wind, "and you will see nobody will take the
+trouble to run after us."
+
+"Hoist the mainsail," cried Talboys.
+
+They had hitherto been sailing under the foresail only. In another
+minute they were running furiously before the wind with both sails
+set. The boat yawed, and Lucy began to be nervous; still, the
+increased rapidity of motion excited her agreeably. The
+lateen-schooner, sailing under her fore-sail only, luffed directly and
+stood on in the lugger's wake. Lucy's cheek burned, but she said
+nothing.
+
+"There," cried Talboys, "now do you believe me? I think we gain on
+her, though."
+
+"We are going three knots to her two, sir," said the old man, "but it
+is by her good will; that is the fastest boat in the town, sailing on
+a wind; at beating to windward we could tackle her easy enough, but
+not at running free. Ah! there goes her mainsel up; I thought she
+would not be long before she gave us that."
+
+"Oh, how beautiful!" cried Lucy; "it is like a falcon or an eagle
+sailing down on us; it seems all wings. Why don't we spread wings too
+and fly away?"
+
+"You see, miss," explained the boatman, "that schooner works her sails
+different from us; going down wind she can carry her mainsel on one
+side of the craft and her foresel on the other. By that she keeps on
+an even keel, and, what is more, her mainsel does not take the wind
+out of her foresel. Bless you, that little schooner would run past the
+fastest frigate in the king's service with the wind dead aft as we
+have got it now; she is coming up with us hand over head, and as stiff
+on her keel as a rock; this is her point of sailing, beating to
+windward is ours. Why, if they ain't reefing the foresel, to make the
+race even; and there go three reefs into her mainsel too." The old
+boatman scratched his head.
+
+"Who is aboard her, Dick? they are strangers to me."
+
+By taking in so many reefs the lateen had lowered her rate of sailing,
+and she now followed in their wake, keeping a quarter of a mile to
+windward.
+
+Talboys lost all patience. "Who is it, I wonder, that has the
+insolence to dog us so?" and he looked keenly at Miss Fountain.
+
+She did not think herself bound to reply, and gazed with a superior
+air of indifference on the sky and the water.
+
+"I will soon know," said Talboys.
+
+"What does it matter?" inquired Lucy. "Probably somebody who is
+wasting his time as we are."
+
+"The road we are on is as free to him as to us," suggested the old
+boatman, with a fine sense of natural justice. He added, "But if you
+will take my advice, sir, you will shorten sail, and put her about for
+home. It is blowing half a gale of wind, and the sea will be getting
+up, and that won't be agreeable for the young lady."
+
+"Gale of wind? Nonsense," said Talboys; "it is a fine breeze."
+
+"Oh, thank you, sir," said Lucy to the old man; "I love the sea, but I
+should not like to be out in a storm."
+
+The old boatman grinned. "'Storm is a word that an old salt reserves
+for one of those hurricanes that blow a field of turnips flat, and
+teeth down your throat. You can turn round and lean your back against
+it like a post; and a carrion-crow making for the next parish gets
+fanned into another county. That is a storm."
+
+The old boatman went forward grinning, and he and his boy lowered the
+mainsail. Then Talboys at the helm brought the boat's head round to
+the wind. She came down to her bearings directly, which is as much as
+to say that to Lucy she seemed to be upsetting.
+
+Lucy gave a little scream. The sail, too, made a report like the crack
+of a pistol.
+
+"Oh, what is that?" cried Lucy.
+
+"Wind, mum," replied the boatman, composedly.
+
+"What is that purple line on the water, sir, out there, a long way
+beyond the other boat?
+
+"Wind, mum."
+
+"It seems to move. It is coming this way."
+
+"Ay, mum, that is a thing that always makes to leeward," said the old
+fellow, grinning. "I'll take in a couple of reefs before it comes to
+us."
+
+Meantime, the moment the lugger lowered her mainsail, the schooner,
+divining, as it appeared, her intention, did the same, and luffed
+immediately, and was on the new tack first of the two.
+
+"Ay, my lass," said the old boatman, "you are smartly handled, no
+doubt, but your square stern and your try-hanglar sail they will take
+you to leeward of us pretty soon, do what you can."
+
+The event seemed to justify this assertion; the little lugger was on
+her best point of sailing, and in about ten minutes the distance
+between the two boats was slightly but sensibly diminished. The
+lateen, no doubt, observed this, for she began to play the game of
+short tacks, and hoisted her mainsail, and carried on till she seemed
+to sail on her beam-ends, to make up, as far as possible, by speed and
+smartness for what she lost by rig in beating to windward.
+
+"They go about quicker than we do," said Talboys.
+
+"Of course they do; they have not got to dip their sail, as we have,
+every time we tack."
+
+This was the true solution, but Mr. Talboys did not accept it.
+
+"We are not so smart as we ought to be. Now you go to the helm, and I
+and the boy will dip the lug."
+
+The old boatman took the helm as requested, and gave the word of
+command to Mr. Talboys. "Stand _by_ the foretack."
+
+"Yes," said Mr. Talboys, "here I am."
+
+"Let _go_ the fore-tack"; and, contemporaneously with the order,
+he brought the boat's head round.
+
+Now this operation is always a nice one, particularly in these small
+luggers, where the lug has to be dipped, that is to say, lowered, and
+raised again on the opposite side of the mast; for the lug should not
+be lowered a moment too soon, or the boat, losing her way, would not
+come round; nor a moment too late, lest the sail, owing to the new
+position the boat is taking under the influence of the rudder, should
+receive the wind while between the wind and the mast, and so the craft
+be taken aback, than which nothing can well happen more disastrous.
+
+Mr. Talboys, though not the accomplished sailor he thought himself,
+knew this as well as anybody, and with the boy's help he lowered the
+sail at the right moment; but, getting his head awkwardly in the way,
+the yard, in coming down, hit him on the nose and nearly knocked him
+on to his beam-ends. It would have been better if it had done so quite
+instead of bounding off his nose on to his shoulder and there resting;
+for, as it was, the descent of the sail being thus arrested half-way
+at the critical moment, and the boat's head coming round all the same,
+a gust of wind caught the sail and wrapped it tight round the mast to
+windward. The boy uttered a cry of terror so significant that Lucy
+trembled all over, and by an uncontrollable impulse leaned
+despairingly back and waved her white handkerchief toward the
+antagonist boat. The old boatman with an oath darted forward with an
+agility he could not have shown ashore.
+
+The effect on the craft was alarming. If the whole sail had been thus
+taken aback, she would have gone down like lead; for, as it was, she
+was driven on her side and at the same time driven back by the stern;
+the whole sea seemed to rise an inch above her gunwale; the water
+poured into her at every drive the gusts of wind gave her, and the
+only wonder seemed why the waves did not run clean over her.
+
+In vain the old boatman, cursing and swearing, tugged at the canvas to
+free it from the mast. It was wrapped round it like Dejanira's shirt,
+and with as fatal an effect; the boat was filling; and as this brought
+her lower in the water, and robbed her of much of her buoyancy, and as
+the fatal cause continued immovable, her destruction was certain.
+
+Every cheek was blanched with fear but Lucy's, and hers was red as
+fire ever since she waved her handkerchief; so powerful is modesty
+with her sex. A true virgin can blush in death's very grasp.
+
+In the midst of this agitation and terror, suddenly the boat was
+hailed. They all looked up, and there was the lateen coming tearing
+down on them under all her canvas, both her broad sails spread out to
+the full, one on each side. She seemed all monstrous wing. The lugger
+being now nearly head to wind, she came flying down on her weather bow
+as if to run past her, then, lowering her foresail, made a broad
+sweep, and brought up suddenly between the lugger and the wind. As her
+foresail fell, a sailor bounded over it on to the forecastle, and
+stood there with one foot on the gunwale, active as Mercury, eye
+glowing, and a rope in his hand.
+
+"Stand by to lower your mast," roared this sailor in a voice of
+thunder to the boatman of the lugger; and the moment the schooner came
+up into the wind athwart the lugger's bows he bounded over ten feet of
+water into her, and with a turn of the hand made the rope fast to her
+thwart, then hauling upon it, brought her alongside with her head
+literally under the schooner's wing.
+
+He and the old boatman then instantly unstepped the mast and laid it
+down in the boat, sail and all. It was not his great strength that
+enabled them to do this (a dozen of him could not have done it while
+the wind pressed on the mast); it was his address in taking all the
+wind out of the lug by means of the schooner's mainsail. The old man
+never said a word till the work was done; then he remarked, "That was
+clever of you."
+
+The new-comer took no notice whatever. "Reef that sail, Jack," he
+cried; "it will be in the lady's face by and by; and heave your bailer
+in here; their boat is full of water."
+
+"Not so full as it would if you hadn't brought up alongside," said the
+old boatman.
+
+"Do you want to frighten the lady?" replied the sailor, in his driest
+and least courtier-like way.
+
+"I am not frightened, Mr. Dodd," said Lucy. "I was, but I am not now."
+
+"Come and help me get the water out of her, Jack. Stay! Miss Fountain
+had better step into the dry boat, meantime. Now, Jack, look alive;
+lash her longside aft."
+
+This done, the two sailors, one standing on the lugger's gunwale, one
+on the schooner's, handed Miss Fountain into the schooner, and gave
+her the cushions of the lugger to sit upon. They then went to work
+with a will, and bailed half a ton of water out.
+
+When she was dry David jumped back into his own boat. "Now, Miss
+Fountain, your boat is dry, but the sea is getting up, and I think, if
+I were you, I would stay where you are."
+
+"I mean to," said the lady, calmly. "Mr. Talboys, _would_ you
+mind coming into this boat? We shall be safer here; it--it is larger."
+
+The gentleman thus addressed was embarrassed between two
+mortifications, one on each side him. If he came into David's boat he
+would be second fiddle, he who had gone out of port first fiddle. If
+he stuck to the lugger Lucy would go off with Dodd, and he would look
+like a fool coming ashore without her. He hesitated.
+
+David got impatient. "Come, sir," he cried, "don't you hear the lady
+invite you? and every moment is precious." And he held out his hand to
+him.
+
+Talboys decided on taking it, and he even unbent so far as to jump
+vigorously--so vigorously that, David pulling him with force at the
+same moment, he came flying into the schooner like a cannon-ball, and,
+toppling over on his heels, went down on the seat with his head
+resting on the weather gunwale, and his legs at a right angle with his
+back.
+
+"That is one way of boarding a craft," muttered David, a little
+discontentedly; then to the old boatman: "Here, fling us that
+tarpaulin. I say, here is more wind coming; are you sure you can work
+that lugger, you two?"
+
+"We will be ashore before you can, now there's nobody to bother us,"
+was the prompt reply.
+
+"Then cast loose; here we are, drifting out to sea."
+
+The old man cast the rope loose; David hauled it on board, and the
+schooner shot away from her companion and bore up north-north-west,
+leaving the luggar rocking from side to side on the rising waves. But
+the next minute Lucy saw her sail rise, and she bore up and stood
+northeast.
+
+"Good-by to you, little horror," said Lucy.
+
+"We shall fall in with her a good many times more before we make the
+land," said David Dodd.
+
+Lucy inquired what he meant; but he had fallen to hauling the sheet
+aft and making the sail stand flatter, and did not answer her. Indeed,
+he seemed much more taken up with Jack than with her, and, above all,
+entirely absorbed in the business of sailing the boat.
+
+She was a little mortified at this behavior, and held her tongue.
+Talboys was sulky, and held his. It was a curious situation. In the
+hurry and bustle, none of the parties had realized it; but now, as the
+boat breasted the waves, and all was silent on board, they had time to
+review their position.
+
+Talboys grew gloomier and gloomier at the poor figure he cut. Lucy
+kept blushing at intervals as she reflected on the obligation she had
+laid herself under to a rejected lover. The rejected lover alone
+seemed to mind his business and nothing else; and, as he was almost
+ludicrously unconscious that he was doing a chivalrous action, a
+misfortune to which those who do these things are singularly liable,
+he did not gild the transaction with a single graceful speech, and
+permitted himself to be more occupied with the sails than with rescued
+beauty.
+
+Succeeding events, however, explained, and in some degree excused,
+this commonplace behavior.
+
+The next time they tacked some spray came flying in, and wetted all
+hands. Lucy laughed. The lugger had also tacked, and the two boats
+were now standing toward each other; when they met the lugger had
+weathered on them some sixty or seventy yards.
+
+A furious rain now came on almost horizontally, and the sailors
+arranged the tarpaulin so as to protect Mr. Talboys and Miss Fountain.
+
+"But you will be wet through yourself, Mr. Dodd. Will you not come
+under shelter too?"
+
+"And who is to sail the boat?" He added, "I am glad to see the rain. I
+hope it will still the wind; if it doesn't, we shall have to try
+something else, that is all."
+
+"Pray, when do you undertake to land us, Mr. Dodd?" inquired Mr.
+Talboys, superciliously.
+
+"Well, sir, if it does not blow any harder, about eight bells."
+
+"Eight bells? Why, that means midnight," exclaimed Talboys.
+
+"Wind and tide both dead against us," replied David, coolly.
+
+"Oh, Mr. Dodd, tell me the truth: is there any danger?"
+
+"Danger? Not that I see; but it is very uncomfortable, and unbecoming,
+for you to be beating to windward against the tide for so many hours,
+when you ought to be sitting on the sofa at home. However, next time
+you run out of port, I hope those that take charge of you will look to
+the almanac for the tide, and look to windward for the weather: Jack,
+the lugger lies nearer the wind than we do.
+
+"A little, sir."
+
+"Will you take the helm a minute, Mr. Talboys? and _you_ come
+forward and unbend this." The two sailors put their heads together
+amidships, and spoke in an undertone. "The wind is rising with the
+rain instead of falling."
+
+"'Seems so, sir."
+
+"What do you think yourself?"
+
+"Well, sir, it has been blowing harder and harder ever since we came
+out, and very steady."
+
+"It will turn out one of those dry nor'easters, Jack."
+
+"I shouldn't wonder, sir. I wish she was cutter-rigged, sir. A boat
+has no business to be any other rig but cutter; there ought to be a
+nact o' parliam't against these outlandish rigs."
+
+"I don't know; I have seen wonders done with this lateen rig in the
+Pacific."
+
+"The lugger forereaches on us, sir."
+
+"A little, but, for all that, I am glad she is on board our craft; we
+have got more beam, and, if it comes to the worst, we can run. The
+lugger can't with her sharp stern. I'll go to the helm."
+
+Just as David was stepping aft to take the helm, a wave struck the
+boat hard on the weather bow, close to the gunwale, and sent a bucket
+of salt water flying all over him; he never turned his head even--took
+no more notice of it than a rock does when the sea spits at it. Lucy
+shrieked and crouched behind the tarpaulin. David took the helm, and,
+seeing Talboys white, said kindly: "Why don't you go forward, sir, and
+make yourself snug under the folksel deck? she is sure to wet us abaft
+before we can make the land."
+
+No. Talboys resisted his inclination and the deadly nausea that was
+creeping over him.
+
+"Thank you, but I like to see what is going on; and" (with an heroic
+attempt at sea-slang) "I like a wet boat."
+
+They now fell in with the lugger again lying on the opposite tack, and
+a hundred yards at least to windward.
+
+Just before they crossed her wake David sang out to Jack:
+
+"Our masts--are they sound?"
+
+"Bran-new, sir; best Norway pine."
+
+"What d'ye think?"
+
+"Think we are wasting time and daylight."
+
+"Then stand _by_ the main sheet."
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+_"Slack_ the main sheet."
+
+"Ay, ay, sir."
+
+The boat instantly fell off into the wind, and, as she went round,
+David stood up in the stern-sheets and waved his cap to the men on
+board the lugger, who were watching him. The old man was seen to shake
+his head in answer to the signal, and point to his lug-sail standing
+flat as a board, and the next moment they parted company, and the
+lateen was running close-reefed before the wind.
+
+Mr. Talboys was sitting collapsed in the lethargy that precedes
+seasickness. He started up. "What are you doing?" he shrieked.
+
+"Keep quiet, sir, and don't bother," said David, with calm sternness,
+and in his deepest tones.
+
+"Pray don't interfere with Mr. Dodd," said Lucy; "he must know best."
+
+"You don't see what he is doing, then," cried Talboys, wildly; "the
+madman is taking us out to sea."
+
+"Are you taking us out to sea, Mr. Dodd?" inquired Lucy, with dismay.
+
+"I am doing according to my judgment of tide and wind, and the
+abilities of the craft I am sailing," said David, firmly; "and on
+board my own craft I am skipper, and skipper I will be. Go forward,
+sir, if you please, and don't speak except to obey orders."
+
+Mr. Talboys, sick, despondent and sulky, went gloomily forward, coiled
+himself up under the forecastle deck, and was silent and motionless.
+
+"Don't send me," cried Lucy, "for I will not go. Nothing but your eye
+keeps up my courage. I don't mind the water," added she, hastily and a
+little timidly, anxious to meet every reason that could be urged for
+imprisoning her in the forecastle hold.
+
+"You are all right where you are, miss," said Jack, cheerfully; "we
+shan't have no more spray come aboard us; it won't come in by the can
+full if it doesn't come by the ton."
+
+"Will you belay your jaw?" roared David, in a fury that Lucy did not
+comprehend at the time. "What a set of tarnation babblers in one
+little boat."
+
+"I won't speak any more, Mr. Dodd; I won't speak."
+
+"Bless your heart, it isn't you I meant. 'Twould be hard if a lady
+might not put her word in. But a man is different. I do love to see a
+man belay his jaw, and wait for orders, and then do his duty; hoist
+the mainsel, you!"
+
+"Ay, ay, sir."
+
+"Shake out a couple of reefs."
+
+"Ay, ay, sir."
+
+And the lateen spread both her great wings like an albatross, and
+leaped and plunged, and flew before the mighty gale.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII.
+
+"THIS is nice. The boat does not upset or tumble as it did. It only
+courtesies and plunges. I like it."
+
+"The sea has not got up yet, miss," said Jack.
+
+"Hasn't it? the waves seem very large."
+
+"Lord love you, wait till we have had four or five hours more of
+this."
+
+"Belay your jaw, Jack."
+
+"Ay, ay, sir."
+
+"Why so, Mr. Dodd?" objected Lucy gently. "I am not so weak as you
+think me. Do not keep the truth from me. I share the danger; let me
+share the sense of danger, too. You shall not blush for me."
+
+"Danger? There is not a grain of it, unless we make danger by
+inattention--and babbling."
+
+"You will not do that," said Lucy.
+
+Equivoque missed fire.
+
+"Not while you are on board," replied David, simply.
+
+Lucy felt inclined to give him her hand. She had it out half-way; but
+he had lately asked her to marry him, so she drew it back, and her
+eyes rested on the bottom of the boat.
+
+The wind rose higher. The masts bent so that each sail had every
+possible reef taken in. Her canvas thus reduced she scudded as fast as
+before, such was now the fury of the gale. The sea rose so that the
+boat seemed to mount with each wave as high as the second story of a
+house, and go down again to the cellar at every plunge. Talboys,
+prostrated by seasickness in the forehold, lay curled but motionless,
+like a crooked log, and almost as indifferent to life or death. Lucy,
+pale but firm, put no more questions that she felt would not be
+answered, but scanned David Dodd's face furtively yet closely. The
+result was encouraging to her. His cheek was not pale, as she felt her
+own. On the contrary, it was slightly flushed; his eye bright and
+watchful, but lion-like. He gave a word or two of command to Jack
+every now and then very sharply, but without the slightest shade of
+agitation, and Jack's "ay, ay" came back as sharply, but cheerfully.
+
+The principal feature she discerned in both sailors was a very
+attentive, business-like manner. The romantic air with which heroes
+face danger in story was entirely absent; and so, being convinced by
+his yarns that David _was_ a hero, she inferred that their
+situation could not be dangerous, but, as David himself had inferred,
+merely one in which watchfulness was requisite.
+
+
+The sun went down red and angry. The night came on dark and howling.
+No moon. A murky sky, like a black bellying curtain above, and huge
+ebony waves, that in the appalling blackness seemed all crested with
+devouring fire, hemmed in the tossing boat, and growled, and snarled,
+and raged above, below, and around her.
+
+Then, in that awful hour, Lucy Fountain felt her littleness and the
+littleness of man. She cowered and trembled.
+
+The sailors, rough but tender nurses, wrapped shawls round her one
+above the other, "to make her snug for the night," they said. They
+seemed to her to be mocking her. "Snug? Who could hope to outlive such
+a fearful night? and what did it matter whether she was drowned in one
+shawl or a dozen?"
+
+David being amidships, bailing the boat out, and Jack at the helm, she
+took the opportunity, and got very close to the latter, and said in
+his ear--
+
+"Mr. Jack, we are in danger."
+
+"Not exactly in danger, miss; but, of course, we must mind our eye.
+But I have often been where I have had to mind my eye, and hope to be
+again."
+
+"Mr. Jack," said Lucy, shivering, "what is our danger? Tell me the
+nature of it, then I shall not be so cowardly; will the boat break?"
+
+"Lord bless you, no."
+
+"Will it upset?"
+
+"No fear of that."
+
+"Will not the sea swallow us?"
+
+"No, miss. How can the sea swallow us? She rides like a cork, and
+there is the skipper bailing her out, to make her lighter still. No;
+I'll tell you, miss; all we have got to mind is two things; we must
+not let her broach to, and we must not get pooped."
+
+"But _why_ must we not?"
+
+"_Why?_ Because we _mustn't."_
+
+"But I mean, what would be the consequence of--broaching to?"
+
+Jack opened his eyes in astonishment. "Why, the sea would run over her
+quarter, and swamp her."
+
+"Oh!! And if we get pooped?"
+
+"We shall go to Davy Jones, like a bullet."
+
+"Who is Davy Jones?"
+
+"The Old One, you know--down below. Leastways you won't go there,
+miss; you will go aloft, and perhaps the skipper; but Davy will have
+me; so I won't give him a chance, if I can help it."
+
+Lucy cried.
+
+"Where are we, Mr. Jack?"
+
+"British Channel."
+
+"I know that; but whereabouts?"
+
+"Heaven knows; and no doubt the skipper, he knows; but I don't. I am
+only a common sailor. Shall I hail the skipper? he will tell you."
+
+"No, no, no. He is so angry if we speak."
+
+"He won't be angry if you speak to him, miss," said Jack, with a sly
+grin, that brought a faint color into Lucy's cheek; "you should have
+seen him, how anxious he was about you before we came alongside; and
+the moment that lubber went forward to dip the lug, says he, 'Jack,
+there will be mischief; up mainsail and run down to them. I have no
+confidence in that tall boy.' (He do seem a long, weedy, useless sort
+of lubber.) Lord bless you, miss, we luffed, and were running down to
+you long before you made the signal of distress with your little white
+flag." Lucy's cheeks got redder. "No, miss, if the skipper speaks
+severe to you, Jack Painter is blind with one eye, and can't see with
+t'other."
+
+Lucy's cheeks were carnation.
+
+But the next moment they were white, for a terrible event interrupted
+this chat. Two huge waves rolled one behind the other, an occurrence
+which luckily is not frequent; the boat, descending into the valley of
+the sea, had the wind taken out of her sails by the high wave that was
+coming. Her sails flapped, she lost her speed, and, as she rose again,
+the second wave was a moment too quick for her, and its combing crest
+caught her. The first thing Lucy saw was Jack running from the helm
+with a loud cry of fear, followed by what looked an arch of fire, but
+sounded like a lion rushing, growling on its prey, and directly her
+feet and ankles were in a pool of water. David bounded aft, swearing
+and splashing through it, and it turned into sparks of white fire
+flying this way and that. He seized the helm, and discharged a loud
+volley of curses at Jack.
+
+"Fling out ballast, ye d--d cowardly, useless lubber," cried he; and
+while Jack, who had recoiled into his normal state of nerves with
+almost ridiculous rapidity, was heaving out ballast, David discharged
+another rolling volley at him.
+
+"Oh, pray don't!" cried Lucy, trembling like an aspen leaf. "Oh,
+think! we shall soon be in the presence of our Maker--of Him whose
+name you--"
+
+"Not we," cried David, with broad, cheerful incredulity; "we have lots
+more mischief to do--that lubber and I. And if he thinks he is going
+there, let him end like a man, not like a skulking lubber, running
+from the helm, and letting the craft come up in the wind."
+
+"No, no, it was the sea he ran from. Who would not?"
+
+"The lubber! If it had been a tiger or a bear I'd say nothing; but
+what is the use of trying to run from the sea? Should have stuck to
+his post, and set that thundering back of his up--it's broad
+enough--and kept the sea out of your boots. The sea, indeed! I have
+seen the sea come on board me, and clear the deck fore and aft, but it
+didn't come in the shape of a cupful o' water and a spoonful o' foam."
+Here David's wrath and contempt were interrupted by Jack singing
+waggishly at his work,
+
+           "Cease--rude Boreas--blustering--railer!!"
+
+At which sly hit David was pleased, and burst into a loud, boisterous
+laugh.
+
+Lucy put her hands to her ears. "Oh, don't! don't! this is worse than
+your blasphemies--laughing on the brink of eternity; these are not
+men--they are devils."
+
+"Do you hear that, Jack? Come, you behave!" roared David.
+
+A faint snarl from Talboys. The water had penetrated him, and roused
+him from a state of sick torpor; he lay in a tidy little pool some
+eight inches deep.
+
+The boat was bailed and lightened, but Lucy's fears were not set at
+rest. What was to hinder the recurrence of the same danger, and with
+more fatal effect? She timidly asked David's permission to let her
+keep the sea out. Instead of snubbing her as she expected, David
+consented with a sort of paternal benevolence tinged with incredulity.
+She then developed her plan; it was, that David, Jack, and she should
+sit in a triangle, and hold the tarpaulin out to windward and fence
+the ocean out. Jack, being summoned aft to council, burst into a
+hoarse laugh; but David checked him.
+
+"There is more in it than you see, Jack--more than she sees, perhaps.
+My only doubt is whether it is possible; but you can try."
+
+Lucy and Jack then tried to get the tarpaulin out to windward; instead
+of which, it carried them to leeward by the force of the wind. The
+mast brought them up, or Heaven knows where their new invention would
+have taken them. With infinite difficulty they got it down and kneeled
+upon it, and even then it struggled. But Lucy would not be defeated;
+she made Jack gather it up in the middle, and roll it first to the
+right, then to the left, till it became a solid roll with two narrow
+open edges. They then carried it abaft, and lowered it vertically over
+the stern-port; then suddenly turned it round, and sat down. "Crack!"
+the wind opened it, and wrapped it round the boat and the trio.
+
+"Hallo!" cried David, "it is foul of the rudder;" and, he whipped out
+his knife and made a slit in the stuff. It now clung like a blister.
+
+"There, Mr. Dodd, will not that keep the sea out?" asked Lucy,
+triumphantly.
+
+"At any rate, it may help to keep us ahead of the sea. Why, Jack, I
+seem to feel it lift her; it is as good as a mizzen."
+
+"But, oh, Mr. Dodd, there is another danger. We may broach to."
+
+"How can she broach to when I am at the helm? Here is the arm that
+won't let her broach to."
+
+"Then I feel safe."
+
+"You are as safe as on your own sofa; it is the discomfort you are put
+to that worries me."
+
+"Don't think so meanly of me, Mr. Dodd. If it was not for my
+cowardice, I should enjoy this voyage far more than the luxurious ease
+you think so dear to me. I despise it."
+
+
+"Mr. Dodd, now I am no longer afraid. I am, oh, so sleepy."
+
+"No wonder--go to sleep. It is the best thing you can do."
+
+"Thank you, sir. I am aware my conversation is not very interesting."
+Having administered this sudden bloodless scratch, to show that, at
+sea or ashore, in fair weather or foul, she retained her sex, Lucy
+disposed herself to sleep.
+
+David, steering the boat with his left hand, arranged the cushion with
+his right. She settled herself to sleep, for an irresistible
+drowsiness had followed the many hours of excitement she had gone
+through. Twice the heavy plunging sea brought her into light contact
+with David. She instantly awoke, and apologized to him with gentle
+dismay for taking so audacious a liberty with that great man,
+commander of the vessel; the third time she said nothing, a sure sign
+she was unconscious.
+
+Then David, for fear she might hurt herself, curled his arm around
+her, and let her head decline upon his shoulder. Her bonnet fell off;
+he put it reverently on the other side the helm. The air now cleared,
+but the gale increased rather than diminished. And now the moon rose
+large and bright. The boat and masts stood out like white stone-work
+against the flint-colored sky, and the silver light played on Lucy's
+face. There she lay, all unconscious of her posture, on the man's
+shoulder who loved her, and whom she had refused; her head thrown back
+in sweet helplessness, her rich hair streaming over David's shoulder,
+her eyes closed, but the long, lovely lashes meeting so that the
+double fringe was as speaking as most eyes, and her lips half open in
+an innocent smile. The storm was no storm to her now. She slept the
+sleep of childhood, of innocence and peace; and David gazed and gazed
+on her, and joy and tenderness almost more than human thrilled through
+him, and the storm was no storm to him either; he forgot the past,
+despised the future, and in the delirium of his joy blessed the sea
+and the wind, and wished for nothing but, instead of the Channel, a
+boundless ocean, and to sail upon it thus, her bosom tenderly grazing
+him, and her lovely head resting on his shoulder, for ever, and ever,
+and ever.
+
+
+Thus they sailed on two hours and more, and Jack now began to nod.
+
+All of a sudden Lucy awoke, and, opening her eyes, surprised David
+gazing at her with tenderness unspeakable. Awaking possessed with the
+notion that she was sleeping at home on a bed of down, she looked
+dumfounded an instant; but David's eyes soon sent the blood into her
+cheek. Her whole supple person turned eel-like, and she glided
+quickly, but not the least bruskly, from him; the latter might have
+seemed discourteous.
+
+"Oh, Mr. Dodd," she cried, "what am I doing?"
+
+"You have been getting a nice sleep, thank Heaven."
+
+"Yes, and making use of you even in my sleep; but we all impose on
+your goodness."
+
+"Why did you awake? You were happy; you felt no care, and I was happy
+seeing you so."
+
+Lucy's eyes filled. "Kind, true friend," she murmured, "how can I ever
+thank you as I ought? I little deserved that you should watch over my
+safety as you have done, and, alas! risk your own. Any other but you
+would have borne me malice, and let me perish, and said, 'It serves
+her right.'"
+
+"Malice! Miss Lucy. What for, in Heaven's name?"
+
+"For--for the affront I put upon you; for the--the honor I declined."
+
+"Hate cannot lie alongside love in a true heart."
+
+"I see it cannot in a noble one. And then you are so generous. You
+have never once recurred to that unfortunate topic; yet you have
+gained a right to request me--to reconsider--Mr. Dodd, you have saved
+my life!!"
+
+"What! do you praise me because I don't take a mean advantage? That
+would not be behaving like a man."
+
+"I don't know that. You overrate your sex--and mine. We don't deserve
+such generosity. The proof is, we reward those who are not
+so--delicate."
+
+"I don't trouble my head about your sex. They are nothing to me, and
+never will be. If you think I have done my duty like a man, and as
+much like a gentleman as my homely education permits, that is enough
+for me, and I shall sail for China as happy as anything on earth can
+make me now."
+
+Lucy answered this by crying gently, silently, tenderly.
+
+"Don't ye cry. Have I said something to vex you?"
+
+"Oh no, no."
+
+"Are you alarmed still?"
+
+"Oh, no; I have such faith in you."
+
+"Then go to sleep again, like a lamb."
+
+"I will; then I shall not tease you with my conversation."
+
+"Now there is a way to put it."
+
+"Forgive me."
+
+"That I will, if you will take some repose. There, I will lash you to
+my arm with this handkerchief; then you can lie the other way, and
+hold on by the handkerchief--there."
+
+She closed her eyes and fell apparently to sleep, but really to
+thinking.
+
+Then David nudged Jack, and waked him. "Speak low now, Jack."
+
+"What is it, sir?"
+
+"Land ahead."
+
+Jack looked out, and there was a mountain of jet rising out of the
+sea, and, to a landsman's eye, within a stone's throw of them.
+
+"Is it the French coast, sir? I must have been asleep."
+
+"French coast? no, Channel Island--smallest of the lot."
+
+"Better give it a wide berth, sir. We shall go smash like a teacup if
+we run on to one of them rocky islands."
+
+"Why, Jack," said David, reproachfully, "am I the man to run upon a
+leeshore, and such a night as this?"
+
+"Not likely. You will keep her head for Cherbourg or St. Malo, sir; it
+is our only chance."
+
+"It is not our only chance, nor our best. We have been running a
+little ahead of this gale, Jack; there is worse in store for us; the
+sea is rolling mountains high on the French coast this morning, I
+know. We are like enough to be pooped before we get there, or swamped
+on some harbor-bar at last."
+
+"Well, sir, we must take our chance."
+
+"Take our chance? What! with heads on our shoulders, and an angel on
+board that Heaven has given us charge of? No, I sha'n't take my
+chance. I shall try all I know, and hang on to life by my eyelids.
+Listen to me. 'Knowledge is gold;' a little of it goes a long way. I
+don't know much myself, but I do know the soundings of the British
+Channel. I have made them my study. On the south side of this rocky
+point there is forty fathoms water close to the shore, and good
+anchorage-ground."
+
+"Then I wish we could jump over the thundering island, and drop on the
+lee side of it; but, as we can't, what's the use?"
+
+"We may be able to round the point."
+
+"There will be an awful sea running off that point, sir."
+
+"Of course there will. I mean to try it, for all that."
+
+"So be it, sir; that is what I like to hear. I hate palaver. Let one
+give his orders, and the rest obey them. We are not above half a mile
+from it now."
+
+"You had better wake the landsman. We must have a third hand for
+this."
+
+"No," said a woman's voice, sweet, but clear and unwavering. "I shall
+be the third hand."
+
+"Curse it," cried David, "she has heard us."
+
+"Every word. And I have no confidence in Mr. Talboys; and, believe me,
+I am more to be trusted than he is. See, my cowardice is all worn out.
+Do but trust me, and you shall find I want neither courage nor
+intelligence."
+
+David eyed her keenly, and full in the face. She met his glance
+calmly, with her fine nostrils slightly expanding, and her compressed
+lip curving proudly.
+
+"It is all right, Jack. It is not a flash in the pan. She is as steady
+as a rock." He then addressed her rapidly and business-like, but with
+deference. "You will stand by the helm on this side, and the moment I
+run forward, you will take the helm and hold it in this position. That
+will require all your strength. Come, try it. Well done."
+
+"How the sea struggles with me! But I am strong, you see," cried Lucy,
+her brow flushed with the battle.
+
+"Very good; you are strong, and, what is better, resolute. Now,
+observe me: this is port, this is starboard, and this is amidships."
+
+"I see; but how am I to know which to do?"'
+
+"I shall give you the word of command."
+
+"And all I have to do is to obey it?"
+
+"That is all; but you will find it enough, because the sea will seem
+to fight you. It will shake the boat to make you leave go, and will
+perhaps dash in your face to make you leave go."
+
+"Forewarned, forearmed, Mr. Dodd. I will not let go. I will hold on by
+my eyelids sooner than add to your danger."
+
+"Jack, she is on fire; she gives me double heart."
+
+"So she does me. She makes it a pleasure."
+
+They were now near enough the point to judge what they had to do, and
+the appearance of the sea was truly terrible; the waves were all
+broken, and a surge of devouring fire seemed to rage and roar round
+the point, and oppose an impassable barrier between them and the inky
+pool beyond, where safety lay under the lee of the high rocks.
+
+"I don't like it," said David. "It looks to me like going through a
+strip of hell fire."
+
+"But it is narrow," said Lucy.
+
+"That is our chance; and the tide is coming in. We will try it. She
+will drench us, but I don't much think she will swamp us. Are you
+ready, all hands?"
+
+"Oh! please wait a minute, till I do up my hair."
+
+"Take a minute, but no more."
+
+"There, it is done. Mr. Dodd, one word. If all should fail, and death
+be inevitable, tell me so just before we perish, and I shall have
+something to say to you. Now, I am ready."
+
+"Jump forward, Jack."
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"Stand by to jibe the foresail."
+
+"Ay, ay, sir."
+
+"See our sweeps all clear."
+
+"Ay."
+
+David now handled the main sheet, and at the same time looked
+earnestly at Lucy, who met his eye with a look of eager attention.
+
+"Starboard a little. That will do. Steady--steady as you go," As the
+boat yielded to the helm, Jack gathered in on the sheet, took two
+turns round the cleat, and eased away till the sail drew its best: so
+far so good. Both sails were now on the same side of the boat, the
+wind on her port quarter; but now came the dangerous operation of
+coming to the wind, in a rough and broken sea, among the eddies of
+wind and tide so prevalent off headlands. David, with the main sheet
+in his right hand, directed Lucy with his left as well as his voice.
+
+"Starboard the helm--starboard yet--now meet her--so!" and, as she
+rounded to Jack and he kept hauling the sheets aft, and the boat, her
+course and trim altered, darted among the breakers like a brave man
+attacking danger. After the first plunge she went up and down like a
+pickax, coming down almost where she went up; but she held her course,
+with the waves roaring round her like a pack of hell-hounds.
+
+More than half the terrible strip was passed. "Starboard yet," cried
+David; and she headed toward the high mainland under whose lee was
+calm and safety. Alas! at this moment a snorter of a sea broke under
+her broadside, and hove her to leeward like a cork, and a tide eddy
+catching her under the counter, she came to more than two points, and
+her canvas, thus emptied, shook enough to tear the masts out of her by
+the board.
+
+"Port your helm! PORT! PORT!" roared David, in a voice like the roar
+of a wounded lion; and, in his anxiety, he bounded to the helm
+himself; but Lucy obeyed orders at half a word, and David, seeing
+this, sprang forward to help Jack flatten in the foresheet. The boat,
+which all through answered the helm beautifully, fell off the moment
+Lucy ported the helm, and thus they escaped the impending and terrible
+danger of her making sternway. "Helm amidships!" and all drew again:
+the black water was in sight. But will they ever reach it? She tosses
+like a cork. Bang! A breaker caught her bows, and drenched David and
+Jack to the very bone. She quivered like an aspen-leaf but held on.
+
+"Starboard one point," cried David, sitting down, and lifting an oar
+out from the boat; but just as Lucy, in obeying the order, leaned a
+little over the lee gunwale with the tiller, a breaker broke like a
+shell upon the boat's broadside abaft, stove in her upper plank, and
+filled her with water; some flew and slapped Lucy in the face like an
+open hand. She screamed, but clung to the gunwale, and griped the
+helm: her arm seemed iron, and her heart was steel. While she clung
+thus to her work, blinded by the spray, and expecting death, she heard
+oars splash into the water, and mellow stentorian voices burst out
+singing.
+
+In amazement she turned, squeezed the brine out of her eyes, and
+looked all round, and lo! the boat was in a trifling bobble of a sea,
+and close astern was the surge of fire raging, and growling, and
+blazing in vain, and the two sailors were pulling the boat, with
+superhuman strength and inspiration, into a monster mill-pool that now
+lay right ahead, black as ink and smooth as oil, singing loudly as
+they rowed:
+
+         "Cheerily oh oh! (pull) cheerily oh oh! (pull)
+          To port we go oh (pull), to port we go (pull)."
+
+FLARE!! a great flaming eye opened on them in the center of the
+universal blackness.
+
+"Look! look!" cried Lucy; "a fire in the mountain."
+
+It was the lantern of a French sloop anchored close to the shore. The
+crew had heard the sailors' voices. At sight of it David and Jack
+cheered so lustily that Talboys crawled out of the water and glared
+vaguely. The sailors pulled under the sloop's lee quarter: a couple of
+ropes were instantly lowered, the lantern held aloft, ruby heads and
+hands clustered at the gangway, and in another minute the boat's party
+were all upon deck, under a hailstorm of French, and the boat fast to
+her stern.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX.
+
+THE skipper of the ship, hearing a commotion on deck, came up, and,
+taking off his cap, made Lucy a bow in a style remote from an English
+sailor's. She courtesied to him, and, to his surprise, addressed him
+in Parisian French. When he learned she was from England, and had
+rounded that point in an open boat, he was astonished.
+
+"Diables d'Anglais!" said he.
+
+The good-natured Frenchman insisted on Lucy taking sole possession of
+his cabin, in which was a cheerful stove. His crew were just as kind
+to David, Jack, and Talboys. This latter now resumed his right
+place--at the head of mankind; being the only one who could talk
+French, he interpreted for his companions. He improved upon my
+narrative in one particular: he led the Frenchmen to suppose it was he
+who had sailed the boat from England, and weathered the point. Who can
+blame him?
+
+Dry clothes were found them, and grog and beef.
+
+While employed on the victuals, a little Anglo-Frank, aged ten,
+suddenly rolled out of a hammock and offered aid in the sweet accents
+of their native tongue. The sound of the knives and forks had woke the
+urchin out of a deep sleep. David filled the hybrid, and then sent him
+to Lucy's cabin to learn how she was getting on. He returned, and told
+them the lady was sitting on deck.
+
+"Dear me," said David, "she ought to be in her bed." He rose and went
+on deck, followed by Mr. Talboys. "Had you not better rest yourself?"
+said David.
+
+"No, thank you, Mr. Dodd; I had a delicious sleep in the boat."
+
+Here Talboys put in his word, and made her a rueful apology for the
+turn his pleasure-excursion had taken.
+
+She stopped him most graciously.
+
+"On the contrary, I have to thank you, indirectly, for one of the
+pleasantest evenings I ever spent. I never was in danger before, and
+it is delightful. I was a little frightened at first, but it soon wore
+off, and I feel I should shortly revel in it; only I must have a brave
+man near just to look at, then I gather courage from his eye; do I not
+now, Mr. Dodd?"
+
+"Indeed you do," said David, simply enough.
+
+Lucy Fountain's appearance and manner bore out her words. Talboys was
+white; even David and Jack showed some signs of a night of watching
+and anxiety; but the young lady's cheek was red and fresh, her eye
+bright, and she shone with an inspired and sprightly ardor that was
+never seen, or never observed in her before. They had found the way to
+put her blood up, after all--the blood of the Funteyns. Such are
+thoroughbreds: they rise with the occasion; snobs descend as the
+situation rises. See that straight-necked, small-nosed mare stepping
+delicately on the turnpike: why, it is Languor in person, picking its
+way among eggs. Now the hounds cry and the horn rings. Put her at
+timber, stream, and plowed field in pleasing rotation, and see her
+now: up ears; open nostril; nerves steel; heart immovable; eye of
+fire; foot of wind. And ho! there! What stuck in that last arable,
+dead stiff as the Rosinantes in Trafalgar Square, all but one limb,
+which goes like a water-wagtail's? Why, by Jove! if it isn't the hero
+of the turnpike road: the gallant, impatient, foaming, champing,
+space-devouring, curveting cocktail.
+
+
+Out of consideration for her male companions' infirmities, and
+observing that they were ashamed to take needful rest while she
+remained on deck, Lucy at length retired to her cabin.
+
+She slept a good many hours, and was awakened at last by the rocking
+of the sloop. The wind had fallen gently, but it had also changed to
+due east, which brought a heavy ground-swell round the point into
+their little haven. Lucy made her toilet, and came on deck blooming
+like a rose. The first person she encountered was Mr. Talboys. She
+saluted him cordially, and then inquired for their companions.
+
+"Oh, they are gone."
+
+"Gone! What do you mean?"
+
+"Sailed half an hour ago. Look, there is the boat coasting the island.
+No, not that way--westward; out there, just weathering that point
+Don't you see?"
+
+"Are they making a tour of the island, then?"
+
+Here the little Anglo-Frank put in his word. "No, ma'ainselle, gone to
+catch sheep bound for ze East Indeeze."
+
+"Gone! gone! for good?" and Lucy turned very pale. The next moment
+offended pride sent the blood rushing to her brow. "That is just like
+Mr. Dodd; there is not another gentleman in the world would have had
+the ill-breeding to go off like that to India without even bidding us
+good-morning or good-by. Did he bid _you_ good-by, Mr. Talboys?"
+
+"No."
+
+"There, now, it is insolent--it is barbarous." Her vexation at the
+affront David had put on Mr. Talboys soon passed into indignation.
+"This was done to insult--to humiliate us. A noble revenge. You know
+we used sometimes to quiz him a little ashore, especially you; so now,
+out of spite, he has saved our lives, and then turned his back
+arrogantly upon us before we could express our gratitude; that is as
+much as to say he values us as so many dogs or cats, flings us our
+lives haughtily, and then turned his back disdainfully on us. Life is
+not worth having when given so insultingly."
+
+Talboys soothed the offended fair. "I really don't think he meant to
+insult us; but you know Dodd; he is a good-natured fellow, but he
+never had the slightest pretension to good-breeding."
+
+"Don't you think," replied the lady, "it would be as well to leave off
+detracting from Mr. Dodd now that he has just saved your life?"
+
+Talboys opened his eyes. "Why, you began it."
+
+"Oh, Mr. Talboys, do not descend to evasion. What I say goes for
+nothing. Mr. Dodd and I are fast friends, and nobody will ever succeed
+in robbing me of my esteem for him. But you always hated him, and you
+seize every opportunity of showing your dislike. Poor Mr. Dodd! He has
+too many great virtues not to be envied--and hated."
+
+Talboys stood puzzled, and was at a loss which way to steer his
+tongue, the wind being so shifty. At last he observed a little
+haughtily that "he never made Mr. Dodd of so much importance as all
+this. He owned he _had_ quizzed him, but it was not his intention
+to quiz him any more; for I do feel under considerable obligations to
+Mr. Dodd; he has brought us safe across the Channel; at the same time,
+I own I should have been more grateful if he had beat against the wind
+and landed us on our native coast; the lugger is there long before
+this, and our boat was the best of the two."
+
+"Absurd!" replied Lucy, with cold hauteur. "The lugger had a sharp
+stern, but ours was a square stern, so we were obliged to _run;_
+if we had _beat,_ we should all have been drowned directly."
+
+Talboys was staggered by this sudden influx of science; but he held
+his ground. "There is something in that," said he; "but still,
+a--a----"
+
+"There, Mr. Talboys," said the young lady suddenly, assuming extreme
+languor after delivering a facer, "pray do not engage me in an
+argument. I do not feel equal to one, especially on a subject that has
+lost its interest. Can you inform me when this vessel sails?"
+
+"Not till to-morrow morning."
+
+"Then will you be so kind as to borrow me that little boat? it is
+dangling from the ship, so it must belong to it. I wish to land, and
+see whether he has cast us upon an in- or an uninhabited island."
+
+The sloop's boat speedily landed them on the island, and Lucy proposed
+to cross the narrow neck of land and view the sea they had crossed in
+the dark. This was soon done, and she took that opportunity of looking
+about for the lateen, for her mind had taken another turn, and she
+doubted the report that David had gone to intercept the East-Indiaman.
+A short glance convinced her it was true. About seven miles to
+leeward, her course west-northwest, her hull every now and then hidden
+by the waves, her white sails spread like a bird's, the lateen was
+flying through the foam at its fastest rate. Lucy gazed at her so long
+and steadfastly that Talboys took the huff, and strolled along the
+cliff.
+
+When Lucy turned to go back, she found the French skipper coming
+toward her with a scrap of paper in his hand. He presented it with a
+low bow; she took it with a courtesy. It was neatly folded, though not
+as letters are folded ashore, and it bore her address. She opened it
+and read:
+
+
+"It was not worth while disturbing your rest just to see us go off.
+God bless you, Miss Lucy! The Frenchman is bound for ----, and will
+take you safe; and mind you don't step ashore till the plank is fast.
+
+"Yours, respectfully,
+
+"DAVID DODD."
+
+
+That was all. She folded it back thoughtfully into the original folds,
+and turned away. When she had gone but a few steps she stopped and put
+her rejected lover's little note into her bosom, and went slowly back
+to the boat, hanging her sweet head, and crying as she went.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX.
+
+MR. FOUNTAIN remained in the town waiting for his niece's return. Six
+o'clock came--no boat. Eight o'clock--no boat, and a heavy gale
+blowing. He went down to the beach in great anxiety; and when he got
+there he soon found it was shared to the full by many human beings.
+There were little knots of fishermen and sailors discussing it, and
+one poor woman, mother and wife, stealing from group to group and
+listening anxiously to the men's conjectures. But the most striking
+feature of the scene was an old white-haired man, who walked wildly,
+throwing his arms about. The others rather avoided him, but Mr.
+Fountain felt he had a right to speak to him; so he came to him, and
+told him "his niece was on board; and you, too, I fear, have some one
+dear to you in danger."
+
+The old man replied sorrowfully that "his lovely new boat was in
+danger--in such danger that he should never see her again;" then
+added, going suddenly into a fury, that "as to the two rascally
+bluejackets that were on board of her, and had borrowed her of his
+wife while he was out, all he wished was that they had been swamped to
+all eternity long ago, then they would not have been able to come and
+swamp his dear boat."
+
+Peppery old Fountain cursed him for a heartless old vagabond, and
+joined the group whose grief and anxiety were less ostentatious, being
+for the other boat that carried their own flesh and blood. But all
+night long that white-haired old man paced the shore, flinging his
+arms, weeping and cursing alternately for his dear schooner.
+
+Oh holy love--of property! how venerable you looked in the moonlight,
+with your white hairs streaming! How well you imitated, how close you
+rivaled, the holiest effusions of the heart, and not for the first
+time nor the last.
+
+"My daughter! my ducats! my ducats! my daughter!" etc.
+
+
+The morning broke; no sign of either boat. The wind had shifted to the
+east, and greatly abated. The fishermen began to have hopes for their
+comrades; these communicated themselves to Mr. Fountain.
+
+It was about one o'clock in the afternoon when this latter observed
+people streaming along the shore to a distant point. He asked a
+coastguard man, whom he observed scanning the place with a glass,
+"What it was?"
+
+The man lowered his voice and said, "Well, sir, it will be something
+coming ashore, by the way the folk are running."
+
+Mr. Fountain got a carriage, and, urging the driver to use speed, was
+hastily conveyed by the road to a part whence a few steps brought him
+down to the sea. He thrust wildly in among the crowd.
+
+"Make way," said the rough fellows: they saw he was one of those who
+had the best right to be there.
+
+He looked, and there, scarce fifty yards from the shore, was the
+lugger, keel uppermost, drifting in with the tide. The old man
+staggered, and was supported by a beach man.
+
+When the wreck came within fifteen yards of the shore, she hung, owing
+to the under suction, and could get neither way. The cries of the
+women broke out afresh at this. Then half a dozen stout fellows swam
+in with ropes, and with some difficulty righted her, and in another
+minute she was hauled ashore.
+
+The crowd rushed upon her. She was empty! Not an oar, not a
+boat-hook--nothing. But jammed in between the tiller and the boat they
+found a purple veil. The discovery was announced loudly by one of the
+females, but the consequent outcry was instantly hushed by the men,
+and the oldest fisherman there took it, and, in a sudden dead and
+solemn silence, gave it with a world of subdued meaning to Mr.
+Fountain.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI.
+
+MR. FOUNTAIN'S grief was violent; the more so, perhaps, that it was
+not pure sorrow, but heated with anger and despair. He had not only
+lost the creature he loved better than anyone else except himself, but
+all his plans and all his ambition were upset forever. I am sorry to
+say there were moments when he felt indignant with Heaven, and accused
+its justice. At other times the virtues of her he had lost came to his
+recollection, and he wept genuine tears. Now she was dead he asked
+himself a question that is sometimes reserved for that occasion, and
+then asked with bitter regret and idle remorse at its postponement,
+"What can I do to show my love and respect for her?" The poor old
+fellow could think of nothing now but to try and recover her body from
+the sea, and to record her virtues on her tomb. He employed six men to
+watch the coast for her along a space of twelve miles, and he went to
+a marble-cutter and ordered a block of beautiful white marble. He drew
+up the record of her virtues himself, and spelled her "Fontaine," and
+so settled that question by brute force.
+
+Oh, you may giggle, but men are not most sincere when they are most
+reasonable, nor most reasonable when most sincere. When a man's heart
+is in a thing, it is in it--wise or nonsensical, it is all one; so it
+is no use talking.
+
+
+I lack words to describe the gloom that fell on Mr. Bazalgette's home
+when the sad tidings reached it. And, indeed, it would be trifling
+with my reader to hang many more pages with black when he and I both
+know Lucy Fontaine is alive all the time.
+
+Meantime the French sloop lay at her anchor, and Lucy fretted with
+impatience. At noon the next day she sailed, and, being a slow vessel,
+did not anchor off the port of ---- till daybreak the day after. Then
+she had to wait for the tide, and it was nearly eleven o'clock when
+Lucy landed. She went immediately to the principal inn to get a
+conveyance. On the road, whom should she meet but Mr. Hardie. He gave
+a joyful start at sight of her, and with more heart than she could
+have expected welcomed her to life again. From him she learned all the
+proofs of her death. This made her more anxious to fly to her aunt's
+house at once and undeceive her.
+
+Mr. Hardie would not let her hire a carriage; he would drive her over
+in half the time. He beckoned his servant, who was standing at the inn
+door, and ordered it immediately. "Meantime, Miss Fountain, if you
+will take my arm, I will show you something that I think will amuse
+you, though _we_ have found it anything but amusing, as you may
+well suppose." Lucy took his arm somewhat timidly, and he walked her
+to the marble-cutter's shop. "Look there," said he. Lucy looked and
+there was an unfinished slab on which she read these words:
+
+               Sacred to the Memory
+                       OF
+                  LUCY FONTAINE,
+         WHO WAS DROWNED AT SEA ON THE
+                10TH SEPT., 18--.
+
+      As her beauty endeared her to all eyes,
+         So her modesty, piety, docilit
+
+At this point in her moral virtues the chisel had stopped. Eleven
+o'clock struck, and the chisel went for its beer; for your English
+workman would leave the d in "God" half finished when strikes the hour
+of beer.
+
+The fact is that the shopkeeper had newly set up, was proud of the
+commission, and, whenever the chisel left off, he whipped into the
+workshop and brought the slab out, _pro tem.,_ into his window
+for an advertisement.
+
+Hardie pointed it out to Lucy with a chuckle. Lucy turned pale, and
+put her hand to her heart. Hardie saw his mistake too late, and
+muttered excuses.
+
+Lucy gave a little gasp and stopped him. "Pray say no more; it is my
+fault; if people will feign death, they must expect these little
+tributes. My uncle has lost no time." And two unreasonable tears
+swelled to her eyes and trickled one after another down her cheeks;
+then she turned her back quickly on the thing, and Mr. Hardie felt her
+arm tremble. "I think, Mr. Hardie," said she presently, with marked
+courtesy, "I should, under the circumstances, prefer to go home alone.
+My aunt's nerves are sensitive, and I must think of the best way of
+breaking to her the news that I am alive."
+
+"It would be best, Miss Fountain; and, to tell the truth, I feel
+myself unworthy to accompany you after being so maladroit as to give
+you pain in thinking to amuse you."
+
+"Oh, Mr. Hardie," said Lucy, growing more and more courteous, "you are
+not to be called to account for my weakness; that _would_ be
+unjust. I shall have the pleasure of seeing you at dinner?"
+
+"Certainly, since you permit me."
+
+He put Lucy into the carriage and off she drove. "Come," thought Mr.
+Hardie, "I have had an escape; what a stupid blunder for me to make!
+She is not angry, though, so it does not matter. She asked me to
+dinner."
+
+Said Lucy to herself: "The man is a fool! Poor Mr. Dodd! _he_
+would not have shown me my tombstone--to amuse me." And she dismissed
+the subject from her mind.
+
+She sent away the carriage and entered Mr. Bazalgette's house on foot.
+After some consideration she determined to employ Jane, a girl of some
+tact, to break her existence to her aunt. She glided into the
+drawing-room unobserved, fully expecting to find Jane at work there
+for Mrs. Bazalgette. But the room was empty. While she hesitated what
+to do next, the handle of the door was turned, and she had only just
+time to dart behind a heavy window-curtain, when it opened, and Mrs.
+Bazalgette walked slowly and silently in, followed by a woman. Mrs.
+Bazalgette seated herself and sighed deeply. Her companion kept a
+respectful silence. After a considerable pause, Mrs. Bazalgette said a
+few words in a voice so thoroughly subdued and solemn, and every now
+and then so stifled, that Lucy's heart yearned for her, and nothing
+but the fear of frightening her aunt into a hysterical fit kept her
+from flying into her arms.
+
+"I need not tell you," said Mrs. Bazalgette, "why I sent for you. You
+know the sad bereavement that has fallen on me, but you cannot know
+all I have lost in her. Nobody can tell what she was to all of us, but
+most of all to me. I was her darling, and she was mine." Here tears
+choked Mrs. Bazalgette's words, for a while. Recovering herself, she
+paid a tribute to the character of the deceased. "It was a soul
+without one grain of selfishness; all her thoughts were for others,
+not one for herself. She loved us all--indeed, she loved some that
+were hardly worthy of so pure a creature's love; but the reason was,
+she had no eye for the faults of her friends; she pictured them like
+herself, and loved her own sweet image in them. _And_ such a
+temper! and so free from guile. I may truly say her mind was as lovely
+as her person."
+
+"She was, indeed, a sweet young lady," sighed the woman.
+
+"She was an angel, Baldwin--an angel sent to bear us company a little
+while, and now she is a saint in Heaven."
+
+"Ah! ma'am, the best goes first, that is an old saying."
+
+"So I have heard; but my niece was as healthy as she was lovely and
+good. Everything promised long life. I hoped she would have closed my
+eyes. In the bloom of health one day, and the next lying cold, stark,
+and drenched!! Oh, how terrible! Oh, my poor Lucy! oh! oh! oh!"
+
+"In the midst of life we are in death, ma'am. I am sure it is a
+warning to me, ma'am, as well as to my betters."
+
+"It, is, indeed, Baldwin, a warning to all of us who have lived too
+much for vanities, to think of this sweet flower, snatched in a moment
+from our bosoms and from the world; we ought to think of it on our
+knees, and remember our own latter end. That last skirt you sent me
+was rather scrimped, my poor Baldwin."
+
+"Was it, ma'am?"
+
+"Oh, it does not matter; I shall never wear it now; and, under such a
+blow as this, I am in no humor to find fault. Indeed, with my grief I
+neglect my household and my very children. I forget everything; what
+did I send for you for?" and she looked with lack-luster eyes full in
+Mrs. Baldwin's face.
+
+"Jane did not say, ma'am, but I am at your orders."
+
+"Oh, of course; I am distracted. It was to pay the last tribute of
+respect to her dear memory. Ah! Baldwin, often and often the black
+dress is all; but here the heart mourns beyond the power of grief to
+express by any outward trappings. No matter; the world, the shallow
+world, respects these signs of woe, and let mine be the deepest
+mourning ever worn, and the richest. And out of that mourning I shall
+never go while I live."
+
+"No, ma'am," said Baldwin soothingly.
+
+"Do you doubt me?" asked the lady, with a touch of sharpness that did
+not seemed called for by Baldwin's humble acquiescence.
+
+"Oh, no, ma'am; it is a very natural thought under the present
+affliction, and most becoming the sad occasion. Well, ma'am, the
+deepest mourning, if you please, I should say cashmere and crape."
+
+"Yes, that would be deep. Oh, Baldwin, it is her violent death that
+kills me. Well?"
+
+"Cashmere and crape, ma'am, and with nothing white about the neck and
+arms."
+
+"Yes; oh yes; but will not that be rather unbecoming?"
+
+"Well, ma'am--" and Baldwin hesitated.
+
+"I hardly see how I _could_ wear that, it makes one look so old.
+Now don't you think black _glace_ silk, and trimmed with
+love-ribbon, black of course, but scalloped--"
+
+"That would be very rich, indeed, ma'am, and very becoming to you;
+but, being so near and dear, it would not be so deep as you are
+desirous of."
+
+"Why, Baldwin, you don't attend to what I say; I told you I was never
+going out of mourning again, so what is the use of your proposing
+anything to me that I can't wear all my life? Now tell me, can I
+always wear cashmere and crape?"
+
+"Oh no, ma'am, that is out of the question; and if it is for a
+permanency, I don't see how we could improve on _glace_ silk,
+with crape, and love-ribbons. Would you like the body trimmed with
+jet, ma'am?"
+
+"Oh, don't ask me; I don't know. If my darling had only died
+comfortably in her bed, then we could have laid out her sweet remains,
+and dressed them for her virgin tomb."
+
+"It would have been a satisfaction, ma'am."
+
+"A sad one, at the best; but now the very earth, perhaps, will never
+receive her. Oh yes, anything you like--the body trimmed with jet, if
+you wish it, and let me see, a gauze bodice, goffered, fastened to the
+throat. That is all, I think; the sleeves confined at the wrist just
+enough not to expose the arm, and yet look light--you understand."
+
+"Yes, ma'am."
+
+"She kissed me just before she went on that fatal excursion, Baldwin;
+she will never kiss me again--oh! oh! You must call on Dejazet for me,
+and bespeak me a bonnet to match; it is not to be supposed I can run
+about after her trumpery at such a time; besides, it is not usual."
+
+"Indeed, ma'am, you are in no state for it; I will undertake any
+purchases you may require."
+
+"Thank you, my good Baldwin; you are a good, kind, feeling, useful
+soul. Oh, Baldwin, if it had pleased Heaven to take her by disease, it
+would have been bad enough to lose her; but to be drowned! her clothes
+all wetted through and through; her poor hair drenched, too; and then
+the water is so cold at this time of year--oh! oh! Send me a cross of
+jet, and jet beads, with the dress, and a jet brooch, and a set of jet
+buttons, in case--besides--oh! oh! oh!--I expect every moment to see
+her carried home, all pale and wetted by the nasty sea--oh! oh!--and
+an evening dress of the same--the newest fashion. I leave it to you;
+don't ask me any questions about it, for I can't and won't go into
+that. I can try it on when it is made--oh! oh! oh!--it does not do to
+love any creature as I loved my poor lost Lucy--and a black fan---oh!
+oh!--and a dozen pair of black kid gloves--oh!--and a
+mourning-ring--and--"
+
+"Stop, aunt, or your love for me will be your ruin!" said Lucy,
+coldly, and stood suddenly before the pair, looking rather cynical.
+
+"What, Lucy! alive! No, her ghost--ah! ah!"
+
+"Be calm, aunt; I am alive and well. Now, don't be childish, dear; I
+have been in danger, but here I am."
+
+Mrs. Bazalgette and Mrs. Baldwin flew together, and trembled in one
+another's arms. Lucy tried to soothe them, but at last could not help
+laughing at them. This brought Baldwin to her senses quicker than
+anything; but Mrs. Bazalgette, who, like many false women, was
+hysterical, went off into spasms--genuine ones. They gave her
+salts--in vain. Slapped her hands--in vain.
+
+Then Lucy cried to Baldwin, "Quick! the tumbler; I must sprinkle her
+face and bosom."
+
+"Oh, don't spoil my lilac gown!" gasped the sufferer, and with a
+mighty effort she came to. She would have come back from the edge of
+the grave to shield silk from water. Finally she wreathed her arms
+round Lucy, and kissed her so tenderly, warmly and sobbingly, that
+Lucy got over the shock of her shallowness, and they kissed and cried
+together most joyously, while Baldwin, after a heroic attempt at
+jubilation, retired from the room with a face as long as your arm.
+_A bas les revenants!!_ She went to the housekeeper's room. The
+housekeeper persuaded her to stay and take a bit of dinner, and soon
+after dinner she was sent for to Mrs. Bazalgette's room.
+
+Lucy met her coming out of it. "I fear I came _mal apropos,_ Mrs.
+Baldwin; if I had thought of it, I would have waited till you had
+secured that munificent order."
+
+"I am much obliged to you, miss, I am sure; but you were always a
+considerate young lady. You'll be glad to learn, miss, it makes no
+difference; I have got the order; it is all right."
+
+"That is fortunate," replied Lucy, kindly, "otherwise I should have
+been tempted to commit an extravagance with you myself. Well, and what
+is my aunt's new dress to be now?"
+
+"Oh, the same, miss."
+
+"The same? why, she is not going into mourning on my return? ha! ha!"
+
+"La bless you, miss, mourning? you can't call that
+mourning--_glace_ silk and love-ribbons scalloped out, and
+cetera. Of course it was not my business to tell her so; but I could
+not help thinking to myself, if that is the way my folk are going to
+mourn for me, they may just let it alone. However, that is all over
+now; and your aunt sent for me, and says she, 'Black becomes
+_me;_ you will make the dresses all the same.'" And Baldwin
+retired radiant.
+
+Lucy put her hand to her bosom. "Make the dresses all the same--all
+the same, whether I am alive or dead. No, I will not cry; no, I will
+not. Who is worth a tear? what is worth a tear? All the same. It is
+not to be forgotten--nor forgiven. Poor Mr. Dodd!!"
+
+
+Mr. Fountain learned the good news in the town, so his meeting with
+Lucy was one of pure joy. Mr. Talboys did not hear anything. He had
+business up in London, and did not stay ten minutes in ----.
+
+The house revived, and _jubilabat, jubilabat._ But after the
+first burst of triumph things went flat. David Dodd was gone, and was
+missed; and Lucy was changed. She looked a shade older, and more than
+one shade graver; and, instead of living solely for those who happened
+to be basking in her rays, she was now and then comparatively
+inattentive, thoughtful, and _distraite._
+
+Mr. Fountain watched her keenly; ditto Mrs. Bazalgette. A slight
+reaction had taken place in both their bosoms. "Hang the girl! there
+were we breaking our hearts for her, and she was alive." She had
+"_beguiled_ them of their tears."--Othello. But they still
+loved her quite well enough to take charge of her fate.
+
+A sort of itch for settling other people's destinies, and so gaining a
+title to their curses for our pragmatical and fatal interference, is
+the commonest of all the forms of sanctioned lunacy.
+
+Moreover, these two had imbibed the spirit of rivalry, and each was
+stimulated by the suspicion that the other was secretly at work.
+
+Lucy's voluntary promise in the ballroom was a double sheet-anchor to
+Mr. Fountain. It secured him against the only rival he dreaded.
+Talboys, too, was out of the way just now, and the absence of the
+suitor is favorable to his success, where the lady has no personal
+liking for him. To work went our Machiavel again, heart and soul, and
+whom do you think he had the cheek, or, as the French say, the
+forehead, to try and win over?--Mrs. Bazalgette.
+
+This bold step, however, was not so strange as it would have been a
+month ago. The fact is, I have brought you unfairly close to this
+pair. When you meet them in the world you will be charmed with both of
+them, and recognize neither. There are those whose faults are all on
+the surface: these are generally disliked; there are those whose
+faults are all at the core: they charm creation. Mrs. Bazalgette is
+allowed by both sexes to be the most delightful, amiable woman in the
+county, and will carry that reputation to her grave. Fountain is "the
+jolliest old buck ever went on two legs." I myself would rather meet
+twelve such agreeable humbugs--six of a sex--_at dinner_ than the
+twelve apostles, and so would you, though you don't know it. These
+two, then, had long ere this found each other mighty agreeable. The
+woman saw the man's vanity, and flattered it. The man the woman's, and
+flattered it. Neither saw--am I to say?--his own or her own, or what?
+Hang language!!! In short, they had long ago oiled one another's
+asperities, and their intercourse was smooth and frequent: they were
+always chatting together--strewing flowers of speech over their mines
+and countermines.
+
+Mr. Fountain, then, who, in virtue of his sex, had the less patience,
+broke ground.
+
+"My dear Mrs. Bazalgette, I would not have missed this visit for a
+thousand pounds. Certainly there is nothing like contact for rubbing
+off prejudices. I little thought, when I first came here, the
+principal attraction of the place would prove to be my fair hostess."
+
+"I know you were prejudiced, my dear Mr. Fountain. I can't say I ever
+had any against you, but certainly I did not know half your good
+qualities. However, your courtesy to me when I invaded you at Font
+Abbey prepared me for your real character; and now this visit, I
+trust, makes us friends."
+
+"Ah! my dear Mrs. Bazalgette, one thing only is wanting to make you my
+benefactor as well as friend--if I could only persuade you to withdraw
+your powerful opposition to a poor old fellow's dream."
+
+"What poor old fellow?"
+
+"Me."
+
+"You? why, you are not so very old. You are not above fifty."
+
+"Ah! fair lady, you must not evade me. Come, can nothing soften you?"
+
+"I don't know what you mean, Mr. Fountain"; and the mellifluous tones
+dried suddenly.
+
+"You are too sagacious not to know everything; you know my heart is
+set on marrying my niece to a man of ancient family."
+
+"With all my heart. You have only to use your influence with her. If
+she consents, I will not oppose."
+
+"You cruel little lady, you know it is not enough to withdraw
+opposition; I can't succeed without your kind aid and support."
+
+"Now, Mr. Fountain, I am a great coward, but, really, I could almost
+venture to scold you a little. Is not a poor little woman to be
+allowed to set her heart on things as well as a poor old gentleman who
+does not look fifty? You know my poor little heart is bent on her
+marrying into our own set, yet you can ask me to influence her the
+other way--me, who have never once said a word to her for my own
+favorites! No; the fairest, kindest, and best way is to leave her to
+select her own happiness."
+
+"A fine thing it would be if young people were left to marry who they
+like," retorted Fountain. "My dear lady, I would never have asked your
+aid so long as there was the least chance of her marrying Mr. Hardie;
+but, now that she has of her own accord declined him--"
+
+"What is that? declined Mr. Hardie? when did he ever propose for her?"
+
+"You misunderstand me. She came to me and told me she would never
+marry him."
+
+"When was that? I don't believe it."
+
+"It was in the ball-room."
+
+Mrs. Bazalgette reflected; then she turned very red. "Well, sir," said
+she, "don't build too much on that; for four months ago she made me a
+solemn promise she would never marry any lover you should find her,
+and she repeated that promise in your very house."
+
+"I don't believe it, madam."
+
+"That is polite, sir. Come, Mr. Fountain, you are agitated and cross,
+and it is no use being cross either with me or with Lucy. You asked my
+co-operation. You gentlemen can ask anything; and you are wise to do
+these droll things; that is where you gain the advantage over us poor
+cowards of women. Well, I will co-operate with you. Now listen. Lucy's
+_penchant_ is neither for Mr. Hardie, nor Mr. Talboys, but for
+Mr. Dodd."
+
+"You don't mean it?"
+
+"Oh, she does not care _much_ for him; she has refused him to my
+knowledge, and would again; besides, he is gone to India, so there is
+an end of _him._ She seems a little languid and out of spirits;
+it may be because he _is_ gone. Now, then, is the very time to
+press a marriage upon her."
+
+"The very worst time, surely, if she is really such an idiot as to be
+fretting for a fellow who is away."
+
+Mrs. Bazalgette informed her new ally condescendingly that he knew
+nothing of the sex he had undertaken to tackle.
+
+"When a cold-blooded girl like this, who has no strong attachment, is
+out of spirits, and all that sort of thing, then is the time she falls
+to any resolute wooer. She will yield if we both insist, and we
+_will_ insist. Only keep your temper, and let nothing tempt you
+to say an unkind word to her."
+
+She then rang the bell, and desired that Miss Fountain might be
+requested to come into the drawing-room for a minute.
+
+"But what are you going to do?"
+
+"Give her the choice of two husbands--Mr. Talboys or Mr. Hardie."
+
+"She will take neither, I am afraid."
+
+"Oh, yes, she will."
+
+"Which?"
+
+"Ah! the one she dislikes the least."
+
+"By Jove, you are right--you are an angel." And the old gentleman in
+his gratitude to her who was outwitting him, and vice versa,
+kissed Mrs. Bazalgette's hand with great devotion, in which act he was
+surprised by Lucy, who floated through the folding-doors. She said
+nothing, but her face volumes.
+
+"Sit down, love."
+
+"Yes, aunt."
+
+She sat down, and her eye mildly bored both relatives, like, if you
+can imagine a gentle gimlet, worked by insinuation, not force.
+
+Then the favored Fountain enjoyed the inestimable privilege of
+beholding a small bout of female fence.
+
+The accomplished actress of forty began.
+
+The novice held herself apparently all open with a sweet smile, the
+eye being the only weapon that showed point.
+
+"My love, your uncle and I, who were not always just to one another,
+have been united by our love for you."
+
+"So I observed as I came in--ahem!"
+
+"Henceforth we are one where your welfare is concerned, and we have
+something serious to say to you now. There is a report, dearest,
+creeping about that you have formed an unfortunate attachment--to a
+person beneath you."
+
+"Who told you that, aunt? Name, as they say in the House."
+
+"No matter; these things are commonly said without foundation in this
+wicked world; but, still, it is always worth our while to prove them
+false, not, of course, directly--_'qui s'excuse s'accuse'_--but
+indirectly."
+
+"I agree with you, and I shall do so in my uncle's presence. You were
+present, aunt--though uninvited--when the gentleman you allude to
+offered me what I consider a great honor, and you heard me decline it;
+you are therefore fully able to contradict that report, whose source,
+by the by, you have not given me, and of course you will contradict
+it."
+
+Mrs. Bazalgette colored a little. But she said affectionately: "These
+silly rumors are best contradicted by a good marriage, love, and that
+brings me to something more important. We have two proposals for you,
+and both of them excellent ones. Now, in a matter where your happiness
+is at stake, your uncle and I are determined not to let our private
+partialities speak. We do press you to select one of these offers, but
+leave you quite free as to which you take. Mr. Talboys is a gentleman
+of old family and large estates. Mr. Hardie is a wealthy, and able,
+and rising man. They are both attached to you; both excellent matches.
+
+"Whichever you choose your uncle and I shall both feel that an
+excellent position for life is yours, and no regret that you did not
+choose our especial favorite shall stain our joy or our love." With
+this generous sentiment tears welled from her eyes, whereat Fountain
+worshiped her and felt his littleness.
+
+But Lucy was of her own sex, and had observed what an unlimited
+command of eye-water an hysterical female possesses. She merely bowed
+her head graciously, and smiled politely. Thus encouraged to proceed,
+her aunt dried her eyes with a smile, and with genial cheerfulness
+proceeded: "Well, then, dear, which shall it be--Mr. Talboys?"
+
+Lucy opened her eyes _so_ innocently. "My dear aunt, I wonder at
+that question from you. Did you not make me promise you I would never
+marry that gentleman, nor any friend of my uncle's?"
+
+"And did you?" cried Fountain.
+
+"I did," replied the penitent, hanging her head. "My aunt was so kind
+to me about something or other, I forget what."
+
+Fountain bounced up and paced the room.
+
+Mrs. Bazalgette lowered her voice: "It is to be Mr. Hardie, then?"
+
+"Mr. Hardie!!!" cried Lucy, rather loudly, to attract her uncle's
+attention.
+
+"Oh, no, the same objection applies there; I made my uncle a solemn
+promise not to marry any friend of yours, aunt. Poor uncle! I refused
+at first, but he looked so unhappy my resolution failed, and I gave my
+promise. I will keep it, uncle. Don't fear me."
+
+It caused Mrs. Bazalgette a fierce struggle to command her temper.
+Both she and Fountain were dumb for a minute; then elastic Mrs.
+Bazalgette said:
+
+"We were both to blame; you and I did not really know each other. The
+best thing we can do now is to release the poor girl from these silly
+promises, that stand in the way of her settlement in life."
+
+"I agree, madam."
+
+"So do I. There, Lucy, choose, for we both release you."
+
+"Thank you," said Lucy gravely; "but how can you? No unfair advantage
+was taken of me; I plighted my word knowingly and solemnly, and no
+human power can release persons of honor from a solemn pledge.
+Besides, just now you would release me; but you might not always be in
+the same mind. No, I will keep faith with you both, and not place my
+truth at the mercy of any human being nor of any circumstance. If that
+is all, please permit me to retire. The less a young lady of my age
+thinks or talks about the other sex, the more time she has for her
+books and her needle;" and, having delivered this precious sentence,
+with a deliberate and most deceiving imitation of the pedantic prude,
+she departed, and outside the door broke instantly into a joyous
+chuckle at the expense of the plotters she had left looking moonstruck
+in one another's faces. If the new allies had been both Fountain, the
+apple of discord this sweet novice threw down between them would have
+dissolved the alliance, as the sly novice meant it to do; but, while
+the gentleman went storming about the room ripe for civil war, the
+lady leaned back in her chair and laughed heartily.
+
+"Come, Mr. Fountain, it is no use your being cross with a female, or
+she will get the better of you. She has outwitted us. We took her for
+a fool, and she is a clever girl. I'll--tell--you--what, she is a very
+clever girl. Never mind that, she is only a girl; and, if you will be
+ruled by me, her happiness shall be secured in spite of her, and she
+shall be engaged in less than a week."
+
+Fountain recognized his superior, and put himself under the lady's
+orders--in an evil hour for Lucy.
+
+The poor girl's triumph over the forces was but momentary; her ground
+was not tenable. The person promised can release the person who
+promises--_volenti non fit injuria._ Lucy found herself attacked
+with female weapons, that you and I, sir, should laugh at; but they
+made her miserable. Cold looks; short answers; solemnity; distance;
+hints at ingratitude and perverseness; kisses intermitted all day, and
+the parting one at night degraded to a dignified ceremony. Under this
+impalpable persecution the young thoroughbred, that had steered the
+boat across the breakers, winced and pined.
+
+She did not want a husband or a lover, but she could not live without
+being loved. She was not sent into the world for that. She began
+secretly to hate the two gentlemen that had lost her her relations'
+affection, and she looked round to see how she could get rid of them
+without giving fresh offense to her dear aunt and uncle. If she could
+only make it their own act! Now a man in such a case inclines to give
+the obnoxious parties a chance of showing themselves generous and
+delicate; he would reveal the whole situation to them, and indicate
+the generous and manly course; but your thorough woman cannot do this.
+It is physically as well as morally impossible to her. Misogynists say
+it is too wise, and not cunning enough. So what does Miss Lucy do but
+turn round and make love to Captain Kenealy? And the cold virgin being
+at last by irrevocable fate driven to love-making, I will say this for
+her, she did not do it by halves. She felt quite safe here. The
+good-natured, hollow captain was fortified against passion by
+self-admiration. She said to herself: "Now here is a peg with a
+military suit hanging to it; if I can only fix my eyes on this piece
+of wood and regimentals, and make warm love to it, the love that poets
+have dreamed and romances described, I may surely hope to disgust my
+two admirers, and then they will abandon me and despise me. Ah! I
+could love them if they would only do that."
+
+Well, for a young lady that had never, to her knowledge, felt the
+tender passion, the imitation thereof which she now favored that
+little society with was a wonderful piece of representation. Was
+Kenealy absent, behold Lucy uneasy and restless; was he present; but
+at a distance, her eye demurely devoured him; was he near her, she
+wooed him with such a god-like mixture of fire, of tenderness, of
+flattery, of tact; she did so serpentinely approach and coil round the
+soldier and his mental cavity, that all the males in creation should
+have been permitted to defile past (like the beasts going into the
+ark), and view this sweet picture a moment, and infer how women would
+be wooed, and then go and do it. Effect:
+
+Talboys and Hardie mortified to the heart's core; thought they had
+altogether mistaken her character. "She is a love-sick fool."
+
+On Bazalgette: "Ass! Dodd was worth a hundred of him."
+
+On Kenealy: made him twirl his mustache.
+
+On Fountain: filled him with dismay. There remained only one to be
+hoodwinked.
+
+           SCENA.
+
+A letter is brought in and handed to Captain Kenealy. He reads it, and
+looks a little--a very little--vexed. Nobody else notices it.
+
+Lucy. "What is the matter? Oh, what has occurred?"
+
+Kenealy. "Nothing particulaa."
+
+Lucy. "Don't deceive us: it is an order for you to join the
+horrid army." (Clasps her hands.) "You are going to leave us."
+
+Kenealy. "No, it is from my tailaa. He waunts to be paed."
+(Glares astonished.)
+
+Lucy. "Pay the creature, and nevermore employ him."
+
+Kenealy. "Can't. Haven't got the money. Uncle won't daie. The
+begaa knows I can't pay him, that is the reason why he duns."
+
+Lucy. "He knows it? then what business has he to annoy you
+thus? Take my advice. Return no reply. That is not courteous. But when
+the sole motive of an application is impertinence, silent contempt is
+the course best befitting your dignity."
+
+Kenealy (twirling his mustache). "Dem the fellaa. Shan't take
+any notice of him."
+
+Mrs. Bazalgette (to Lucy in passing). "Do you think we are all
+fools?"
+
+_Ibi omnis effusus amor;_ for La Bazalgette undeceived her ally
+and Mr. Hardie, and the screw was put harder still on poor Lucy. She
+was no longer treated like an equal, but made for the first time to
+feel that her uncle and aunt were her elders and superiors, and, that
+she was in revolt. All external signs of affection were withdrawn, and
+this was like docking a strawberry of its water. A young girl may have
+flashes of spirit, heroism even, but her mind is never steel from top
+to toe; it is sure to be wax in more places than one.
+
+"Nobody loves me now that poor Mr. Dodd is gone," sighed Lucy. "Nobody
+ever will love me unless I consent to sacrifice myself. Well, why not?
+I shall never love any gentleman as others of my sex can love. I will
+go and see Mrs. Wilson."
+
+So she ordered out her captain, and rode to Mrs. Wilson, and made her
+captain hold her pony while she went in. Mrs. Wilson received her with
+a tenor scream of delight that revived Lucy's heart to hear, and then
+it was nothing but one broad gush of hilarity and cordiality--showed
+her the house, showed her the cows, showed her the parlor at last, and
+made her sit down.
+
+"Come, set ye down, set ye down, and let me have a downright good look
+at ye. It is not often I clap eyes on ye, or on anything like ye, for
+that matter. Aren't ye well, my dear?"
+
+"Oh yes."
+
+"Are ye sure? Haven't ye ailed anything since I saw ye up at the
+house?"
+
+"No, dear nurse."
+
+"Then you are in care. Bless you, it is not the same face--to a
+stranger, belike, but not to the one that suckled you. Why, there is
+next door to a wrinkle on your pretty brow, and a little hollow under
+your eye, and your face is drawn like, and not half the color. You are
+in trouble or grief of some sort, Miss Lucy; and--who knows?--mayhap
+you be come to tell it your poor old nurse. You might go to a worse
+part. Ay! what touches you will touch me, my nursling dear, all one as
+if it was your own mother."
+
+"Ah! _you_ love me," cried Lucy; "I don't know why you love me
+so; I have not deserved it of you, as I have of others that look
+coldly on me. Yes, you love me, or you would not read my face like
+this. It is true, I am a little--Oh, nurse, I am unhappy;" and in a
+moment she was weeping and sobbing in Mrs. Wilson's arms.
+
+The Amazon sat down with her, and rocked to and fro with her as if she
+was still a child. "Don't check it, my lamb," said she; "have a good
+cry; never drive a cry back on your heart"; and so Lucy sobbed and
+sobbed, and Mrs. Wilson rocked her.
+
+When she had done sobbing she put up a grateful face and kissed Mrs.
+Wilson. But the good woman would not let her go. She still rocked with
+her, and said, "Ay, ay, it wasn't for nothing I was drawed so to go to
+your house that day. I didn't know you were there; but I was drawed. I
+WAS WANTED. Tell me all, my lamb; never keep grief on your heart; give
+it a vent; put a part on't on me; I do claim it; you will see how much
+lighter your heart will feel. Is it a young man?"
+
+"Oh no, no; I hate young men; I wish there were no such things. But for
+them no dissension could ever have entered the house. My uncle and
+aunt both loved me once, and oh! they were so kind to me. Yes; since
+you permit me, I will tell you all."
+
+And she told her a part.
+
+She told her the whole Talboys and Hardie part.
+
+Mrs. Wilson took a broad and somewhat vulgar view of the distress.
+
+"Why, Miss Lucy," said she, "if that is all, you can soon sew up their
+stockings. You don't depend on _them,_ anyways: you are a young
+lady of property."
+
+"Oh, am I?"
+
+"Sure. I have heard your dear mother say often as all her money was
+settled on you by deed. Why, you must be of age, Miss Lucy, or near
+it."
+
+"The day after to-morrow, nurse."
+
+"There now! I knew your birthday could not be far off. Well, then, you
+must wait till you are of age, and then, if they torment you or put on
+you, 'Good-morning,' says you; 'if we can't agree together, let's
+agree to part,' says you."
+
+"What! leave my relations!!"
+
+"It is their own fault. Good friends before bad kindred! They only
+want to make a handle of you to get 'em rich son-in-laws. You pluck up
+a sperrit, Miss Lucy. There's no getting through the world without a
+bit of a sperrit. You'll get put upon at every turn else; and if they
+don't vally you in that house, why, off to another; y'ain't chained to
+their door, I do suppose."
+
+"But, nurse, a young lady cannot live by herself: there is no instance
+of it."
+
+"All wisdom had a beginning. 'Oh, shan't I spoil the pudding once I
+cut it?' quoth Jack's wife."
+
+"What would people say?"
+
+"What could they say? You come to me, which I am all the mother you
+have got left upon earth, and what scandal could they make out of
+that, I should like to know? Let them try it. But don't let me catch
+it atween their lips, or down they do go on the bare ground, and their
+caps in pieces to the winds of heaven;" and she flourished her hand
+and a massive arm with a gesture free, inspired, and formidable.
+
+"Ah! nurse, with you I should indeed feel safe from every ill. But,
+for all that, I shall never go beyond the usages of society. I shall
+never leave my aunt's house."
+
+"I don't say as you will. But I shall get your room ready this
+afternoon, and no later."
+
+"No, nurse, you must not do that."
+
+"Tell'ee I shall. Then, whether you come or not, there 'tis. And when
+they put on you, you have no call to fret. Says you, 'There's my room
+awaiting, and likewise my welcome, too, at Dame Wilson's; I don't need
+to stand no more nonsense here than I do choose,' says you. Dear
+heart! even a little foolish, simple thought like that will help keep
+your sperrit up. You'll see else--you'll see."
+
+"Oh, nurse, how wise you are! You know human nature."
+
+"Well, I am older than you, miss, a precious sight; and if I hadn't
+got one eye open at this time of day, why, when should I, you know?"
+
+
+After this, a little home-made wine forcibly administered, and then
+much kissing, and Lucy rode away revivified and cheered, and quite
+another girl. Her spirits rose so that she proposed to Kenealy to
+extend their ride by crossing the country to ----. She wanted to buy
+some gloves.
+
+"Yaas," said the assenter; and off they cantered.
+
+In the glove-shop who should Lucy find but Eve Dodd. She held out her
+hand, but Eve affected not to observe, and bowed distantly. Lucy would
+not take the hint. After a pause she said:
+
+"Have you any news of Mr. Dodd?"
+
+"I have," was the stiff reply.
+
+"He left us without even saying good-by."
+
+"Did he?"
+
+"Yes, after saving all our lives. Need I say that we are anxious, in
+our turn, to hear of his safety? It was still very tempestuous when he
+left us to catch the great ship, and he was in an open boat."
+
+"My brother is alive, Miss Fountain, if that is what you wish to
+know."
+
+"Alive? is he not well? has he met with any accident? any misfortune?
+is he in the East Indiaman? has he written to you?"
+
+"You are very curious: it is rather late in the day; but, if I am to
+speak about my brother, it must be at home, and not in an open shop. I
+can't trust my feelings."
+
+"Are you going home, Miss Dodd?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Shall I come with you?"
+
+"If you like: it is close by."
+
+Lucy's heart quaked. Eve was so stern, and her eyes like basilisks'.
+
+"Sit down, Miss Fountain, and I will tell you what you have done for
+my brother. I did not court this, you know; I would have avoided your
+eye if I could; it is your doing."
+
+"Yes, Miss Dodd," faltered Lucy, "and I should do it again. I have a
+right to inquire after his welfare who saved my life."
+
+"Well, then, Miss Fountain, his saving your life has lost him his ship
+and ruined him for life."
+
+"Oh!"
+
+"He came in sight of the ship; but the captain, that was jealous of
+him like all the rest, made all sail and ran from him: he chased her,
+and often was near catching her, but she got clear out of the Channel,
+and my poor David had to come back disgraced, ruined for life, and
+broken-hearted. The Company will never forgive him for deserting his
+ship. His career is blighted, and all for one that never cared a straw
+for him. Oh, Miss Fountain, it was an evil day for my poor brother
+when first he saw your face!" Eve would have said more, for her heart
+was burning with wrath and bitterness, but she was interrupted.
+
+Lucy raised both her hands to Heaven, and then, bowing her head, wept
+tenderly and humbly.
+
+A woman's tears do not always affect another woman; but one reason is,
+they are very often no sign of grief or of any worthy feeling. The
+sex, accustomed to read the nicer shades of emotion, distinguishes
+tears of pique, tears of disappointment, tears of spite, tears
+various, from tears of grief. But Lucy's was a burst of regret so
+sincere, of sorrow and pity so tender and innocent that it fell on
+Eve's hot heart like the dew.
+
+"Ah! well," she cried, "it was to be, it was to be; and I suppose I
+oughtn't to blame you. But all he does for you tells against himself,
+and that does seem hard. It isn't as if he and you were anything to
+one another; then I shouldn't grudge it so much. He has lost his
+character as a seaman."
+
+"Oh dear!"
+
+"He valued it a deal more than his life. He was always ready to throw
+THAT away for you or anybody else. He has lost his standing in the
+_service."_
+
+"Oh!"
+
+"You see he has no interest, like some of them; he only got on by
+being better and cleverer than all the rest; so the Company won't
+listen to any excuses from him, and, indeed, he is too proud to make
+them."
+
+"He will never be captain of a ship now?"
+
+"Captain of a ship! Will he ever leave the bed of sickness he lies
+on?"
+
+"The bed of sickness! Is he ill? Oh, what have I done?"
+
+"Is he ill? What! do you think my brother is made of iron? Out all
+night with you--then off, with scarce a wink of sleep; then two days
+and two nights chasing the _Combermere,_ sometimes gaining,
+sometimes losing, and his credit and his good name hanging on it; then
+to beat back against wind, heartbroken, and no food on board--"
+
+"Oh, it is too horrible."
+
+"He staggered into me, white as a ghost. I got him to bed: he was in a
+burning fever. In the night he was lightheaded, and all his talk was
+about you. He kept fretting lest you should not have got safe home. It
+is always so. We care the most for those that care the least for us."
+
+"Is he in the Indiaman?"
+
+"No, Miss Fountain, he is not in the Indiaman," cried Eve, her wrath
+suddenly rising again; "he lies there, Miss Fountain, in that room, at
+death's door, and you to thank for it."
+
+At this stab Lucy uttered a cry like a wounded deer. But this cry was
+followed immediately by one of terror: the door opened suddenly, and
+there stood David Dodd, looking as white as his sister had said, but,
+as usual, not in the humor to succumb. "Me at death's port, did you
+say?" cried he, in a loud tone of cheerful defiance; "tell that to the
+marines!!"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII.
+
+"I HEARD your voice, Miss Lucy; I would know it among a million; so I
+rigged myself directly. Why, what is the matter?"
+
+"Oh, Mr. Dodd," sobbed Lucy, "she has told me all you have gone
+through, and I am the wicked, wicked cause!"
+
+David groaned. "If I didn't think as much. I heard the mill going. Ah!
+Eve, my girl, your jawing-tackle is too well hung. Eve is a good
+sister to me, Miss Lucy, and, where I am concerned, let her alone for
+making a mountain out of a mole-hill. If you believe all she says, you
+are to blame. The thing that went to my heart was to see my skipper
+run out his stunsel booms the moment he saw me overhauling him; it was
+a dirty action, and him an old shipmate. I am glad now I couldn't
+catch her, for if I had my foot would not have been on the deck two
+seconds before his carcass would have been in the Channel. And pray,
+Eve, what has Miss Fountain got to do with that? the dirty lubber
+wasn't bred at her school, or he would not have served an old messmate
+so.
+
+"Belay all that, and let's hear something worth hearing. Now, Miss
+Lucy, you tell me--oh, Lord, Eve, I say, isn't the thundering old
+dingy room bright now?--you spin me your own yarn, if you will be so
+good. Here you are, safe and sound, the Lord be praised! But I left
+you under the lee of that thundering island: wasn't very polite, was
+it? but you will excuse, won't you? Duty, you know--a seaman must
+leave his pleasure for his duty. Tell me, now, how did you come on?
+Was the vessel comfortable? You would not sail till the wind fell? Had
+you a good voyage? A tiresome one, I am afraid: the sloop wasn't built
+for fast sailing. When did you land?"
+
+To this fire of eager questions Lucy was in no state to answer. "Oh,
+no, Mr. Dodd," she cried, "I can't. I am choking. Yes, Miss Dodd, I am
+the heartless, unfeeling girl you think me." Then, with a sudden dart,
+she took David's hand and kissed it, and, both her hands hiding her
+blushing face, she fled, and a single sob she let fall at the door was
+the last of her. So sudden was her exit, it left both brother and
+sister stupefied.
+
+"Eve, she is offended," said David, with dismay.
+
+"What if she is?" retorted Eve; "no, she is not offended; but I have
+made her feel at last, and a good job, too. Why should she escape? she
+has done all the mischief. Come, you go to bed."
+
+"Not I; I have been long enough on my beam-ends. And I have heard her
+voice, and have seen her face, and they have put life into me. I shall
+cruise about the port. I have gone to leeward of John Company's favor,
+but there are plenty of coasting-vessels; I may get the command of
+one. I'll try; a seaman never strikes his flag while there's a shot in
+the locker."
+
+
+"Here, put me up, Captain Kenealy! Oh, do pray make haste! don't
+dawdle so!" Off cantered Lucy, and fanned her pony along without
+mercy. At the door of the house she jumped off without assistance, and
+ran to Mr. Bazalgette's study, and knocked hastily, and that gentleman
+was not a little surprised when this unusual visitor came to his side
+with some signs of awe at having penetrated his sanctum, but evidently
+driven by an overpowering excitement. "Oh, Uncle Bazalgette! Oh, Uncle
+Bazalgette!"
+
+"Why, what is the matter? Why, the child is ill. Don't gasp like that,
+Lucy. Come, pluck up courage; I am sure to be on your side, you know.
+What is it?"
+
+"Uncle, you are always so kind to me; you know you are."
+
+"Oh, am I? Noble old fellow!"
+
+"Oh, don't make me laugh! ha! ha! oh! oh! oh! ha! oh!"
+
+"Confound it, I have sent her into hysterics; no, she is coming round.
+Ten thousand million devils, has anybody been insulting the child in
+my house? They have. My wife, for a guinea."
+
+"No, no, no. It is about Mr. Dodd."
+
+"Mr. Dodd? oho!"
+
+"I have ruined him."
+
+"How have you managed that, my dear?"
+
+Then Lucy, all in a flutter, told Mr. Bazalgette what the reader has
+just learned.
+
+He looked grave. "Lucy," said he, "be frank with me. Is not Mr. Dodd
+in love with you?"
+
+"I _will_ be frank with _you,_ dear uncle, because you are
+frank. Poor Mr. Dodd did love me once; but I refused him, and so his
+good sense and manliness cured him directly."
+
+"So, now that he no longer loves you, you love him; that is so like
+you girls."
+
+"Oh, no, uncle; how ridiculous! If I loved Mr. Dodd, I could repair
+the cruel injuries I have done him with a single word. I have only to
+recall my refusal, and he--But I do not love Mr. Dodd. Esteem him I
+do, and he has saved my life; and is he to lose his health, and his
+character, and his means of honorable ambition for that? Do you not
+see how shocking this is, and how galling to my pride? Yes, uncle, I
+_have_ been insulted. His sister told me to my face it was an
+evil day for him when he and I first met--that was at Uncle
+Fountain's."
+
+"Well, and what am I to do, Lucy?"
+
+"Dear Uncle, what I thought was, if you would be so kind as to use
+your influence with the Company in his favor. Tell them that if he did
+miss his ship it was not by a fault, but by a noble virtue; tell them
+that it was to save a fellow creature's life--a young lady's life--one
+that did not deserve it from him, your own niece's; tell them it is
+not for your honor he should be disgraced. Oh, uncle, you know what to
+say so much better than I do."
+
+Bazalgette grinned, and straightway resolved to perpetrate a practical
+joke, and a very innocent one. "Well," said he, "the best way I can
+think of to meet your views will be, I think, to get him appointed to
+the new ship the Company is building."
+
+Lucy opened her eyes, and the blood rushed to her cheek. "Oh uncle, do
+I hear right? a ship? Are you so powerful? are you so kind? do you
+love your poor niece so well as all this? Oh, Uncle Bazalgette!"
+
+"There is no end to my power," said the old man, solemnly; "no limit
+to my goodness, no bounds to my love for my poor niece. Are you in a
+hurry, my poor niece? Shall we have his commission down to-morrow, or
+wait a month?"
+
+"To-morrow? is it possible? Oh, yes! I count the minutes till I say to
+his sister, 'There, Miss Dodd, I have friends who value me too highly
+to let me lie under these galling obligations.' Dear, dear uncle, I
+don't mind being under them to you, because I love you" (kisses).
+
+"And not Mr. Dodd?"
+
+"No, dear; and that is the reason I would rather give him a ship
+than--the only other thing that would make him happy. And really, but
+for your goodness, I should have been tempted to--ha! ha! Oh, I am so
+happy now. No; much as I admire my preserver's courage and delicacy
+and unselfishness and goodness, I don't love him; so, but for this, he
+MUST have been unhappy for life, and then I should have been miserable
+forever."
+
+"Perfectly clear and satisfactory, my dear. Now, if the commission is
+to be down to-morrow, you must not stay here, because I have other
+letters to write, to go by the same courier that takes my application
+for the ship."
+
+"And do you really think I will go till I have kissed you, Uncle
+Bazalgette?"
+
+"On a subject so important, I hardly venture to give an opin--hallo!
+kissing, indeed? Why, it is like a young wolf flying at horseflesh."
+
+"Then that will teach you not to be kinder to me than anybody else
+is."
+
+Lucy ran out radiant and into the garden. Here she encountered
+Kenealy, and, coming on him with a blaze of beauty and triumph, fired
+a resolution that had smoldered in him a day or two.
+
+He twirled his mustache and--popped briefly.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII.
+
+AFTER the first start of rueful astonishment, the indignation of the
+just fired Lucy's eyes.
+
+She scolded him well. "Was this his return for all her late kindness?"
+
+She hinted broadly at the viper of Aesop, and indicated more faintly
+an animal that, when one bestows the choicest favors on it, turns and
+rends one. Then, becoming suddenly just to the brute creation, she
+said: "No, it is only your abominable sex that would behave so
+perversely, so ungratefully."
+
+"Don't understand," drawled Kenealy, "I thought you would laike it."
+
+"Well, you see, I don't laike it."
+
+"You seemed to be getting rather spooney on me."
+
+"Spooney! what is that? one of your mess-room terms, I suppose."
+
+"Yaas; so I thought you waunted me to pawp."
+
+"Captain Kenealy, this subterfuge is unworthy of you. You know
+perfectly well why I distinguished you. Others pestered me with their
+attachments and nonsense, and you spared me that annoyance. In return,
+I did all in my power to show you the grateful friendship I thought
+you worthy of. But you have broken faith; you have violated the clear,
+though tacit understanding that subsisted between us, and I am very
+angry with you. I have some little influence left with my aunt, sir,
+and, unless I am much mistaken, you will shortly rejoin the army,
+sir."
+
+"What a boa! what a dem'd boa!"
+
+"And don't swear; that is another foolish custom you gentlemen have;
+it is almost as foolish as the other. Yes, I'll tell my aunt of you,
+and then you will see."
+
+"What a boa! How horrid spaiteful you are."
+
+"Well, I am rather vindictive. But my aunt is ten times worse, as her
+deserter shall find, unless--"
+
+"Unless whawt?"
+
+"Unless you beg my pardon directly." And at this part of the
+conversation Lucy was fain to turn her head away, for she found it
+getting difficult to maintain that severe countenance which she
+thought necessary to clothe her words with terror, and subjugate the
+gallant captain.
+
+"Well, then, I apolojaize," said Kenealy.
+
+"And I accept your apology; and don't do it again."
+
+"I won't, 'pon honaa. Look heah; I swear I didn't mean to affront yah;
+I don't waunt yah to mayrry me; I only proposed out of civility."
+
+"Come, then, it was not so black as it appeared. Courtesy is a good
+thing; and if you thought that, after staying a month in a house, you
+were bound by etiquette to propose to the marriageable part of it, it
+is pardonable, only don't do it again, _please."_
+
+"I'll take caa--I'll take caa. I say your tempaa is not--quite--what
+those other fools think it is--no, by Jove;" and the captain glared.
+
+"Nonsense: I am only a little fiendish on this one point. Well, then,
+steer clear of it, and you will find me a good crechaa on every
+other."
+
+Kenealy vowed he would profit by the advice.
+
+"Then there is my hand: we are friends again."
+
+"You won't tell your aunt, nor the other fellaas?"
+
+"Captain Kenealy, I am not one of your garrison ladies; I am a young
+person who has been educated; your extra civility will never be known
+to a soul: and you shall not join the army but as a volunteer."
+
+"Then, dem me, Miss Fountain, if I wouldn't be cut in pieces to
+oblaige you. Just you tray me, and you'll faind, if I am not very
+braight, I am a man of honah. If those ether begaas annoy you, jaast
+tell me, and I'll parade 'em at twelve paces, dem me."
+
+"I must try and find some less insane vent for your friendly feelings;
+and what can I do for you?"
+
+"Yah couldn't go on pretending to be spooney on me, could yah?"
+
+"Oh, no, no. What for?"
+
+"I laike it; makes the other begaas misable."
+
+"What worthy sentiments! it is a sin to balk them. I am sure there is
+no reason why I should not appear to adore you in public, so long as
+you let me keep my distance in private; but persons of my sex cannot
+do just what they would like. We have feelings that pull us this way
+and that, and, after all this, I am afraid I shall never have the
+courage to play those pranks with you again; and that is a pity, since
+it amused you, and teased those that tease me."
+
+In short, the house now contained two "holy alliances" instead of one.
+Unfortunately for Lucy, the hostile one was by far the stronger of the
+two; and even now it was preparing a terrible coup.
+
+This evening the storm that was preparing blew good to one of a
+depressed class, which cannot fail to gratify the just.
+
+Mrs. Bazalgette. "Jane, come to my room a minute; I have
+something for you. Here is a cashmere gown and cloak; the cloak I
+want; I can wear it with anything; but you may have the gown."
+
+"Oh, thank you, mum; it is beautiful, and a'most as good as new. I am
+sure, mum, I am very much obliged to you for your kindness."
+
+"No, no, you are a good girl, and a sensible girl. By the by, you
+might give me your opinion upon something. Does Miss Lucy prefer any
+one of our guests? You understand me."
+
+"Well, mum, it is hard to say. Miss Lucy is as reserved as ever."
+
+"Oh, I thought she might--ahem!"
+
+"No, mum, I do assure you, not a word."
+
+"Well, but you are a shrewd girl; tell me what you think: now, for
+instance, suppose she was compelled to choose between, say Mr. Hardie
+and Mr. Talboys, which would it be?"
+
+"Well, mum, if you ask my opinion, I don't think Miss Lucy is the one
+to marry a fool; and by all accounts, there's a deal more in Mr.
+Hardies's head than what there isn't in Mr. Talboysese's."
+
+"You are a clever girl. You shall have the cloak as well, and, if my
+niece marries, you shall remain in her service all the same."
+
+"Thank you kindly, mum. I don't desire no better mistress, married or
+single; and Mr. Hardies is much respected in the town, and heaps o'
+money; so miss and me we couldn't do no better, neither of us. Your
+servant, mum, and thanks you for your bounty"; and Jane courtesied
+twice and went off with the spoils.
+
+In the corridor she met old Fountain. "Stop, Jane," said he, "I want
+to speak to you."
+
+"At your service, sir."
+
+"In the first place, I want to give you something to buy a new gown";
+and he took out a couple of sovereigns. "Where am I to put them? in
+your breast-pocket?"
+
+"Put them under the cloak, sir," murmured Jane, tenderly. She loved
+sovereigns.
+
+He put his hand under the heap of cashmere, and a quick little claw
+hit the coins and closed on them by almighty instinct.
+
+"Now I want to ask your opinion. Is my niece in love with anyone?"
+
+"Well, Mr. Fountains, if she is she don't show it."
+
+"But doesn't she like one man better than another?"
+
+"You may take your oath of that, if we could but get to her mind."
+
+"Which does she like best, this Hardie or Mr. Talboys? Come, tell me,
+now."
+
+"Well, sir, you know Mr. Talboys is an old acquaintance, and like
+brother and sister at Font Abbey. I do suppose she have been a scare
+of times alone with him for one, with Mr. Hardie's. That she should
+take up with a stranger and jilt an old acquaintance, now is it
+feasible?"
+
+"Why, of course not. It was a foolish question; you are a young woman
+of sense. Here's a 5 pound note for you. You must not tell I spoke to
+you."
+
+"Now is it likely, sir? My character would be broken forever."
+
+"And you shall be with my niece when she is Mrs. Talboys."
+
+"I might do worse, sir, and so might she. He is respected far and
+wide, and a grand house, and a carriage and four, and everything to
+make a lady comfortable. Your servant, sir, and wishes you many
+thanks."
+
+"And such as Jane was, all true servants are."
+
+The ancients used to bribe the Oracle of Delphi. Curious.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV.
+
+Lucy's twenty-first birthday dawned, but it was not to her the gay
+exulting day it is to some. Last night her uncle and aunt had gone a
+step further, and, instead of kissing her ceremoniously, had evaded
+her. They were drawing matters to a climax: once of age, each day
+would make her more independent in spirit as in circumstances. This
+morning she hoped custom would shield her from unkindness for one day
+at least. But no, they made it clear there was but one way back to
+their smiles. Their congratulations at the breakfast-table were cold
+and constrained; her heart fell; and long before noon on her birthday
+she was crying. Thus weakened, she had to encounter a thoroughly
+prepared attack. Mr. Bazalgette summoned her to his study at one
+o'clock, and there she found him and Mrs. Bazalgette and Mr. Fountain
+seated solemnly in conclave. The merchant was adding up figures.
+
+"Come, now, business," said he. "Dick has added them up: his figures
+are in that envelope; break the seal and open it, Lucy. If his total
+corresponds with mine, we are right; if not, I am wrong, and you will
+all have to go over it with me till we are right." A general groan
+followed this announcement. Luckily, the sum totals corresponded to a
+fraction.
+
+Then Mr. Bazalgette made Lucy a little speech.
+
+"My dear, in laying down that office which your amiable nature has
+rendered so agreeable, I feel a natural regret on your account that
+the property my colleague there and I have had to deal with on your
+account has not been more important. However, as far as it goes, we
+have been fortunate. Consols have risen amazingly since we took you
+off land and funded you. The rise in value of your little capital
+since your mother's death is calculated on this card. You have, also,
+some loose cash, which I will hand over to you immediately. Let me
+see--eleven hundred and sixty pounds and five shillings. Write your
+name in full on that paper, Lucy."
+
+He touched a bell; a servant came. He wrote a line and folded it,
+inclosing Lucy's signature.
+
+"Let this go to Mr. Hardie's bank immediately. Hardie will give you
+three per cent for your money. Better than nothing. You must have a
+check-book. He sent me a new one yesterday. Here it is; you shall have
+it. I wonder whether you know how to draw a check?"
+
+"No, uncle."
+
+"Look here, then. You note the particulars first on this counter-foil,
+which thus serves in some degree for an account-book. In drawing the
+check, place the sum in letters close to these printed words, and the
+sum in figures close to the pound. For want of this precaution, the
+holder of the check has been known to turn a 10 pound check into 110
+pounds."
+
+"Oh how wicked!"
+
+"Mind what you say. Dexterity is the only virtue left in England; so
+we must be on our guard, especially in what we write with our name
+attached."
+
+"I must say, Mr. Bazalgette, you are unwise to put such a sum of money
+into a young girl's hands."
+
+"The young girl has been a woman an hour and ten minutes, and come
+into her property, movables, and cash aforesaid."
+
+"If you were her real friend, you would take care of her money for her
+till she marries."
+
+"The eighth commandment, my dear, the eighth commandment, and other
+primitive axioms: _suum cuique,_ and such odd sayings: 'Him as
+keeps what isn't hisn, soon or late shall go to prison,' with similar
+apothegms. Total: let us keep the British merchant and the Newgate
+thief as distinct as the times permit. Fountain and Bazalgette,
+account squared, books closed, and I'm off!"
+
+"Oh, uncle, pray stay!" said Lucy. "When you are by me, Rectitude and
+Sense seem present in person, and I can lean on them."
+
+"Lean on yourself; the law has cut your leading-strings. Why patch
+'em? It has made you a woman from a baby. Rise to your new rank.
+Rectitude and Sense are just as much wanted in the town of ----, where
+I am due, as they are in this house. Besides, Sense has spoken
+uninterrupted for ten minutes; prodigious! so now it is Nonsense's
+turn for the next ten hours." He made for the door; then suddenly
+returning, said: "I will leave a grain of sense, etc., behind me. What
+is marriage? Do you give it up? Marriage is a contract. Who are the
+parties? the papas and mammas, uncles and aunts? By George, you would
+think so to hear them talk. No, the contract is between two parties,
+and these two only. It is a printed contract. Anybody can read it
+gratis. None but idiots sign a contract without reading it; none but
+knaves sign a contract which, having read, they find they cannot
+execute. Matrimony is a mercantile affair; very well, then, import
+into it sound mercantile morality. Go to market; sell well; but, d--n
+it all, deliver the merchandise as per sample, viz., a woman warranted
+to love, honor and obey the purchaser. If you swindle the other
+contracting party in the essentials of the contract, don't complain
+when you are unhappy. Are shufflers entitled to happiness? and what
+are those who shuffle and prevaricate in a church any better than
+those who shuffle and prevaricate in a counting-house?" and the brute
+bolted.
+
+"My husband is a worthy man," said Mrs. Bazalgette, languidly, "but
+now and then he makes me blush for him."
+
+"Our good friend is a humorist," replied Fountain, good-humoredly,
+"and dearly loves a paradox"; and they pooh-poohed him without a
+particle of malice.
+
+Then Mrs. Bazalgette turned to Lucy, and hoped that she did her the
+justice to believe she had none but affectionate motives in wishing to
+see her speedily established.
+
+"Oh no, aunt," said Lucy. "Why should you wish to part with me? I give
+you but little trouble in your great house."
+
+"Trouble, child? you know you are a comfort to have in any house."
+
+This pleased Lucy; it was the first gracious word for a long time.
+Having thus softened her, Mrs. Bazalgette proceeded to attack her by
+all the weaknesses of her sex and age, and for a good hour pressed her
+so hard that the tears often gushed from Lucy's eyes over her red
+cheeks. The girl was worn by the length of the struggle and the
+pertinacity of the assault. She was as determined as ever to do
+nothing, but she had no longer the power to resist in words. Seeing
+her reduced to silence, and not exactly distinguishing between
+impassibility and yielding, Mrs. Bazalgette delivered the
+_coup-de-grace._
+
+"I must now tell you plainly, Lucy, that your character is compromised
+by being out all night with persons of the other sex. I would have
+spared you this, but your resistance compels those who love you to
+tell you all. Owing to that unfortunate trip, you are in such a
+situation that you _must_ marry."
+
+"The world is surely not so unjust as all this," sighed Lucy.
+
+"You don't know the world as I do," was the reply. "And those who live
+in it cannot defy it. I tell you plainly, Lucy, neither your uncle nor
+I can keep you any longer, except as an engaged person. And even that
+engagement ought to be a very short one."
+
+"What, aunt? what, uncle? your house is no longer mine?" and she
+buried her head upon the table.
+
+"Well, Lucy," said Mr. Fountain, "of course we would not have told you
+this yesterday. It would have been ungenerous. But you are now your
+own mistress; you are independent. Young persons in your situation can
+generally forget in a day or two a few years of kindness. You have now
+an opportunity of showing us whether you are one of that sort."
+
+Here Mrs. Bazalgette put in her word. "You will not lack people to
+encourage you in ingratitude--perhaps my husband himself; but if he
+does, it will make a lasting breach between him and me, of which you
+will have been the cause."
+
+"Heaven forbid!" said Lucy, with a shudder. "Why should dear Mr.
+Bazalgette be drawn into my troubles? He is no relation of mine, only
+a loyal friend, whom may God bless and reward for his kindness to a
+poor fatherless, motherless girl. Aunt, uncle, if you will let me stay
+with you, I will be more kind, more attentive to you than I have been.
+Be persuaded; be advised. If you succeeded in getting rid of me, you
+might miss me, indeed you might. I know all your little ways so well."
+
+"Lucy, we are not to be tempted to do wrong," said Mrs. Bazalgette,
+sternly. "Choose which of these two offers you will accept. Choose
+which you please. If you refuse both, you must pack up your things,
+and go and live by yourself, or with Mr. Dodd."
+
+"Mr. Dodd? why is his name introduced? Was it necessary to insult me?"
+and her eyes flashed.
+
+"Nobody wishes to insult you, Lucy. And I propose, madam, we give her
+a day to consider."
+
+"Thank you, uncle."
+
+"With all my heart; only, until she decides, she must excuse me if I
+do not treat her with the same affection as I used, and as I hope to
+do again. I am deeply wounded, and I am one that cannot feign."
+
+"You need not fear me, aunt; my heart is turned to ice. I shall never
+intrude that love on which you set no value. May I retire?"
+
+Mrs. Bazalgette looked to Mr. Fountain, and both bowed acquiescence.
+Lucy went out pale, but dry-eyed; despair never looked so lovely, or
+carried its head more proudly.
+
+"I don't like it," said Mr. Fountain. "I am afraid we have driven the
+poor girl too hard."
+
+"What are you afraid of, pray?"
+
+"She looked to me just like a woman who would go and take an ounce of
+laudanum. Poor Lucy! she has been a good niece to me, after all;" and
+the water stood in the old bachelor's eyes.
+
+Mrs. Bazalgette tapped him on the shoulder and said archly, but with a
+tone that carried conviction, "She will take no poison. She will hate
+us for an hour; then she will have a good cry: to-morrow she will come
+to our terms; and this day next year she will be very much obliged to
+us for doing what all women like, forcing her to her good with a
+little harshness."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV.
+
+SAID Lucy as she went from the door, "Thank Heaven, they have insulted
+me!"
+
+This does not sound logical, but that is only because the logic is so
+subtle and swift. She meant something of this kind: "I am of a
+yielding nature; I might have sacrificed myself to retain their
+affection; but they have roused a vice of mine, my pride, against
+them, so now I shall be immovable in right, thanks to my wicked pride.
+Thank Heaven, they have insulted me!" She then laid her head upon her
+bed and moaned, for she was stricken to the heart. Then she rose and
+wrote a hasty note, and, putting it in her bosom, came downstairs and
+looked for Captain Kenealy. He proved to be in the billiard-room,
+playing the spotted ball against the plain one. "Oh, Captain Kenealy,
+I am come to try your friendship; you said I might command you."
+
+"Yaas!"
+
+"Then _will_ you mount my pony, and ride with this to Mrs.
+Wilson, to that farm where I kept you waiting so long, and you were
+not angry as anyone else would have been?"
+
+"Yaas!"
+
+"But not a soul must see it, or know where you are gone."
+
+"All raight, Miss Fountain. Don't you be fraightened; I'm close as the
+grave, and I'll be there in less than haelf an hour."
+
+"Yes; but don't hurt my dear pony either; don't beat him; and, above
+all, don't come back without an answer."
+
+"I'll bring you an answer in an hour and twenty minutes." The captain
+looked at his watch, and went out with a smartness that contrasted
+happily with his slowness of speech.
+
+Lucy went back to her own room and locked herself in, and with
+trembling hands began to pack up her jewels and some of her clothes.
+But when it came to this, wounded pride was sorely taxed by a host of
+reminiscences and tender regrets, and every now and then the tears
+suddenly gushed and fell upon her poor hands as she put things out, or
+patted them flat, to wander on the world.
+
+While she is thus sorrowfully employed, let me try and give an outline
+of the feelings that had now for some time been secretly growing in
+her, since without their co-operation she would never have been driven
+to the strange step she now meditated.
+
+Lucy was a very unselfish and very intelligent girl. The first trait
+had long blinded her to something; the second had lately helped to
+open her eyes.
+
+If ever you find a person quick to discover selfishness in others, be
+sure that person is selfish; for it is only the selfish who come into
+habitual collision with selfishness, and feel how sharp-pointed a
+thing it is. When Unselfish meets Selfish, each acts after his kind;
+Unselfish gives way, Selfish holds his course, and so neither is
+thwarted, and neither finds out the other's character.
+
+Lucy, then, of herself, would never have discovered her relatives'
+egotism. But they helped her, and she was too bright not to see
+anything that was properly pointed out to her.
+
+When Fountain kept showing and proving Mrs. Bazalgette's egotism, and
+Mrs. Bazalgette kept showing and proving Mr. Fountain's egotism, Lucy
+ended by seeing both their egotisms, as clearly as either could
+desire; and, as she despised egotism, she lost her respect for both
+these people, and let them convince her they were both persons against
+whom she must be on her guard.
+
+This was the direct result of their mines and countermines heretofore
+narrated, but not the only result. It followed indirectly, but
+inevitably, that the present holy alliance failed. Lucy had not
+forgotten the past; and to her this seemed not a holy, but an unholy,
+hollow, and empty alliance.
+
+"They hate one another," said she, "but it seems they hate me worse,
+since they can hide their mutual dislike to combine against poor me."
+
+Another thing: Lucy was one of those women who thirst for love, and,
+though not vain enough to be always showing they think they ought to
+be beloved, have quite secret _amour propre_ enough to feel at
+the bottom of their hearts that they were sent here to that end, and
+that it is a folly and a shame not to love them more or less.
+
+If ever Madame Ristori plays "Maria Stuarda" within a mile of you, go
+and see her. Don't chatter: you can do that at home; attend to the
+scene; the worst play ever played is not so unimproving as chit-chat.
+Then, when the scaffold is even now erected, and the poor queen, pale
+and tearful, palpitates in death's grasp, you shall see her suddenly
+illumined with a strange joy, and hear her say, with a marvelous burst
+of feminine triumph,
+
+           "I have been _amata molto!!!"_
+
+Uttered, under a scaffold, as the Italian utters it, this line is a
+revelation of womanhood.
+
+The English virgin of our humbler tale had a soul full of this
+feeling, only she had never learned to set the love of sex above other
+loves; but, mark you, for that very reason, a mortal insult to her
+heart from her beloved relatives was as mortifying, humiliating and
+unpardonable as is, to other high-spirited girls, an insult from their
+favored lover.
+
+What could she do more than she had done to win their love? No, their
+hearts were inaccessible to her.
+
+"They wish to get rid of me. Well, they shall. They refuse me their
+houses. Well, I will show them the value of their houses to me. It was
+their hearts I clung to, not their houses."
+
+
+A tap came to Lucy's door.
+
+"Who is that? I am busy."
+
+"Oh, miss!" said an agitated voice, "may I speak to you--the captain!"
+
+"What captain?" inquired Lucy, without opening the door.
+
+"Knealys, miss.
+
+"I will come out to you. Now. Has Captain Kenealy returned already?"
+
+"La! no, miss. He haven't been anywhere as I know of. He had them
+about him as couldn't spare him."
+
+"Something is the matter, Jane. What is it?"
+
+Jane lowered her voice mysteriously. "Well, miss, the captain is--in
+trouble."
+
+"Oh, dear, what has happened?"
+
+"Well, the fact is, miss, the captain's--took"
+
+"I cannot understand you. Pray speak intelligibly."
+
+"Arrested, miss."
+
+"Captain Kenealy arrested! Oh, Heaven! for what crime?"
+
+"La, miss, no crime at all--leastways not so considered by the gentry.
+He is only took in payment of them beautiful reg-mentals. However,
+black or red, he is always well put on. I am sure he looks just out of
+a band-box; and I got it all out of one of the men as it's a army
+tailor, which he wrote again and again, and sent his bill, and the
+captain he took no notice; then the tailor he sent him a writ, and the
+captain he took no notice; then the tailor he lawed him, but the
+captain he kep' on a taking no more notice nor if it was a dog a
+barking, and then a putting all them ere barks one after another in a
+letter, and sending them by the post; so the end is, the captain is
+arrested; and now he behooves to attend a bit to what is a going on
+around an about him, as the saying is, and so he is waiting to pay you
+his respects before he starts for Bridewell."
+
+"My fatal advice! I ruin all my friends."
+
+"Keep dark," says he; "don't tell a soul except Miss Fountain."
+
+"Where is he? Oh?"
+
+Jane offered to show her that, and took her to the stable yard.
+Arriving with a face full of tender pity and concern, Lucy was not a
+little surprised to find the victim smoking cigars in the center of
+his smoking captors. The men touched their hats, and Captain Kenealy
+said: "Isn't it a boa, Miss Fountain? they won't let me do your little
+commission. In London they will go anywhere with a fellaa."
+
+"London ye knows," explained the assistant, "but this here is full of
+hins and houts, and folyidge."
+
+"Oh, sir," cried Lucy to the best-dressed captor, "surely you will not
+be so cruel as to take a gentleman like Captain Kenealy to prison?"
+
+"Very sorry, marm, but we 'ave no hoption: takes 'em every day; don't
+we, Bill?"
+
+Bill nodded.
+
+"But, sir, as it is only for money, can you not be induced
+by--by--money--"
+
+"Bill, lady's going to pay the debtancosts. Show her the ticket. Debt
+eighty pund, costs seven pund eighteen six."
+
+"What! will you liberate him if I pay you eighty-eight pounds?"
+
+"Well, marm, to oblige you we will; won't we, Bill?"
+
+He winked. Bill nodded.
+
+"Then pray stay here a minute, and this shall be arranged to your
+entire satisfaction"; and she glided swiftly away, followed by Jane,
+wriggling.
+
+"Quite the lady, Bill."
+
+"Kevite. Captn is in luck. Hare ve to be at the vedding, capn?"
+
+"Dem your impudence! I'll cross-buttock yah!"
+
+"Hold your tongue, Bill--queering a gent. Draw it mild, captain.
+Debtancosts ain't paid yet. Here they come, though."
+
+Lucy returned swiftly, holding aloft a slip of paper.
+
+"There, sir, that is a check for 90 pounds; it is the same thing as
+money, you are doubtless aware." The man took it and inspected it
+keenly.
+
+"Very sorry, marm, but can't take it. It's a lady's check."
+
+"What! is it not written properly?"
+
+"Beautiful, marm. But when we takes these beautiful-wrote checks to
+the bank, the cry is always, 'No assets.'"
+
+"But Uncle Bazalgette said everybody would give me money for it."
+
+"What! is Mr. Bazalgette your uncle, marm? then you go to him, and get
+his check in place of yours, and the captain will be free as the birds
+in the hair."
+
+"Oh, thank you, sir," cried Lucy, and the next minute she was in Mr.
+Bazalgette's study. "Uncle, don't be angry with me: it is for no
+unworthy purpose; only don't ask me; it might mortify another; but
+_would_ you give me a check of your own for mine? They will not
+receive mine."
+
+Mr. Bazalgette looked grave, and even sad; but he sat quietly down
+without a word, and drew her a check, taking hers, which he locked in
+his desk. The tears were in Lucy's eyes at his gravity and his
+delicacy. "Some day I will tell you," said she. "I have nothing to
+reproach myself, indeed--indeed."
+
+"Make the rogue--or jade--give you a receipt," groaned Bazalgette.
+
+"All right, marm, this time. Captain, the world is hall before you
+where to chewse. But this is for ninety, marm;" and he put his hand
+very slowly into his pocket.
+
+"Do me the favor to keep the rest for your trouble, sir."
+
+"Trouble's a pleasure, marm. It is not often we gets a tip for taking
+a gent. Ve are funk shin hairies as is not depreciated, mam, and the
+more genteel we takes 'em the rougher they cuts; and the very women no
+more like you nor dark to light; but flies at us like ryal Bengal
+tigers, through taking of us for the creditors."
+
+"Verehas we hare honly servants of the ke veen;" suggested No. 2,
+hashing his mistress's English.
+
+"Stow your gab, Bill, and mizzle. Let the captain thank the lady.
+Good-day, marm."
+
+
+"Oh, my poor friend, what language! and my ill advice threw you into
+their company!"
+
+Captain Kenealy told her, in his brief way, that the circumstance was
+one of no import, except in so far as it had impeded his discharge of
+his duty to her. He then mounted the pony, which had been waiting for
+him more than half an hour.
+
+"But it is five o'clock," said Lucy; "you will be too late for
+dinner."
+
+"Dinner be dem--d," drawled the man of action, and rode off like a
+flash.
+
+"It is to be, then," said Lucy, and her heart ebbed. It had ebbed and
+flowed a good many times in the last hour or two.
+
+Captain Kenealy reappeared in the middle of dinner. Lucy scanned his
+face, but it was like the outside of a copy-book, and she was on
+thorns. Being too late, he lost his place near her at dinner, and she
+could not whisper to him. However, when the ladies retired he opened
+the door, and Lucy let fall a word at his feet: "Come up before the
+rest."
+
+Acting on this order, Kenealy came up, and found Lucy playing sad
+tunes softly on the piano and Mrs. Bazalgette absent. She was trying
+something on upstairs. He gave Lucy a note from Mrs. Wilson. She
+opened it, and the joyful color suffused her cheek, and she held out
+her hand to him; but, as she turned her head away mighty prettily at
+the same time, she did not see the captain was proffering a second
+document, and she was a little surprised when, instead of a warm
+grasp, all friendship and no love, a piece of paper was shoved into
+her delicate palm. She took it; looked first at Kenealy, then at it,
+and was sore puzzled.
+
+The document was in Kenealy's handwriting, and at first Lucy thought
+it must be intended as a mere specimen of caligraphy; for not only was
+it beautifully written, but in letters of various sizes. There were
+three gigantic vowels, I. O. U. There were little wee notifications of
+time and place, and other particulars of medium size. The general
+result was that Henry Kenealy O'd Lucy Fountain ninety pound for value
+received per loan. Lucy caught at the meaning. "But, my dear friend,"
+said she, innocently, "you mistake. I did not lend it you; I meant to
+give it you. Will you not accept it? Are we not friends?"
+
+"Much oblaiged. Couldn't do it. Dishonable."
+
+"Oh, pray do not let me wound your pride. I know what it is to have
+one's pride wounded; call it a loan if you wish. But, dear friend,
+what am I to do with this?"
+
+"When you want the money, order your man of business to present it to
+me, and, if I don't pay, lock me up, for I shall deserve it."
+
+"I think I understand. This is a memorandum--a sort of reminder."
+
+"Yaas."
+
+"Then clearly I am not the person to whom it should be given. No; if
+you want to be reminded of this mighty matter, put this in your desk;
+if it gets into mine, you will never see it again; I will give you
+fair warning. There--hide it--quick--here they come."
+
+They did come, all but Mr. Bazalgette, who was at work in his study.
+Mr. Talboys came up to the piano and said gravely, "Miss Fountain, are
+you aware of the fate of the lugger--of the boat we went out in?"
+
+Indeed I am. I have sent the poor widow some clothes and a little
+money."
+
+"I have only just been informed of it," said Mr. Talboys, "and I feel
+under considerable obligations to Mr. Dodd."
+
+"The feeling does you credit."
+
+"Should you meet him, will you do me the honor to express my gratitude
+to him?"
+
+"I would, with pleasure, Mr. Talboys, but there is no chance whatever
+of my seeing Mr. Dodd. His sister is staying in Market Street, No. 80,
+and if you would call on them or write to them, it would be a
+kindness, and I think they would both feel it."
+
+"Humph!" said Talboys, doubtfully. Here a servant stepped up to Miss
+Fountain. "Master would be glad to see you in his study, miss."
+
+
+"I have got something for you, Lucy. I know what it is, so run away
+with it, and read it in your own room, for I am busy." He handed her a
+long sealed packet. She took it, trembling, and flew to her own room
+with it, like a hawk carrying off a little bird to its nest. She broke
+the enormous seal and took out the inclosure. It was David Dodd's
+commission. He was captain of the _Rajah,_ the new ship of eleven
+hundred tons' burden.
+
+While she gazes at it with dilating eye and throbbing heart, I may as
+well undeceive the reader. This was not really effected in forty-eight
+hours. Bazalgette only pretended that, partly out of fun, partly out
+of nobility. Ever since a certain interview in his study with David
+Dodd, who was a man after his own heart, he had taken a note, and had
+worked for him with "the Company;" for Bazalgette was one of those
+rare men who reduce performance to a certainty long before they
+promise. His promises were like pie-crust made to be eaten, and eaten
+hot.
+
+Lucy came out of her room, and at the same moment issued forth from
+hers Mrs. Bazalgette in a fine new dress. It was that black
+_glace;_ silk, divested of gloom by cheerful accessories, in
+which she had threatened to mourn eternally Lucy's watery fate. Fire
+flashed from the young lady's eyes at the sight of it. She went down
+to her uncle, muttering between her ivory teeth: "All the same--all
+the same;" and her heart flowed. The next minute, at sight of Mr.
+Bazalgette it ebbed. She came into his room, saying: "Oh, Uncle
+Bazalgette, it is not to thank you--that I can never do worthily; it
+is to ask another favor. Do, pray, let me spend this evening with you;
+let me be where you are. I will be as still as a mouse. See, I have
+brought some work; or, if you _would_ but let me help you.
+Indeed, uncle, I am not a fool. I am very quick to learn at the
+bidding of those I love. Let me write your letters for you, or fold
+them up, or direct them, or something--do, pray!"
+
+"Oh, the caprices of young ladies! Well, can you write large and
+plain? Not you."
+
+"I can _imitate_ anything or anybody."
+
+"Imitate this hand then. I'll walk and dictate, you sit and write."
+
+"Oh, how nice!"
+
+"Delicious! The first is to--Hetherington. Now, Lucy, this is a
+dishonest, ungrateful old rogue, who has made thousands by me, and now
+wants to let me into a mine, with nothing in it but water. It would
+suck up twenty thousand pounds as easily as that blotting-paper will
+suck up our signature."
+
+"Heartless traitor! monster!" cried Lucy.
+
+"Are you ready?"
+
+"Yes," and her eye flashed and the pen was to her a stiletto.
+
+Bazalgette dictated, "My dear Sir--"
+
+"What? to a cheat?"
+
+"Custom, child. I'll have a stamp made. Besides, if we let them see we
+see through them, they would play closer and closer--"
+
+"My dear Sir--In answer to yours of date 11th instant, I regret to
+say--that circumstances prevent--my closing--with your obliging--and
+friendly offer."
+
+
+They wrote eight letters; and Lucy's quick fingers folded up
+prospectuses, and her rays brightened the room. When the work was
+done, she clung round Mr. Bazalgette and caressed him, and seemed
+strangely unwilling to part with him at all; in fact, it was twelve
+o'clock, and the drawing-room empty, when they parted.
+
+At one o'clock the whole house was dark except one room, and both
+windows of that room blazed with light. And it happened there was a
+spectator of this phenomenon. A man stood upon the grass and eyed
+those lights as if they were the stars of his destiny.
+
+It was David Dodd. Poor David! he had struck a bargain, and was to
+command a coasting vessel, and carry wood from the Thames to our
+southern ports. An irresistible impulse brought him to look, before he
+sailed, on the place that held the angel who had destroyed his
+prospects, and whom he loved as much as ever, though he was too proud
+to court a second refusal.
+
+"She watches, too," thought David, "but it is not for me, as I for
+her."
+
+At half past one the lights began to dance before his wearied eyes,
+and presently David, weakened by his late fever, dozed off and forgot
+all his troubles, and slept as sweetly on the grass as he had often
+slept on the hard deck, with his head upon a gun.
+
+Luck was against the poor fellow. He had not been unconscious much
+more than ten minutes when Lucy's window opened and she looked out;
+and he never saw her. Nor did she see him; for, though the moon was
+bright, it was not shining on him; he lay within the shadow of a tree.
+But Lucy did see something--a light upon the turnpike road about forty
+yards from Mr. Bazalgette's gates. She slipped cautiously down, a
+band-box in her hand, and, unbolting the door that opened on the
+garden, issued out, passed within a few yards of Dodd, and went round
+to the front, and finally reached the turnpike road. There she found
+Mrs. Wilson, with a light-covered cart and horse, and a lantern. At
+sight of her Mrs. Wilson put out the light, and they embraced; then
+they spoke in whispers.
+
+"Come, darling, don't tremble; have you got much more?"
+
+"Oh, yes, several things."
+
+"Look at that, now! But, dear heart, I was the same at your age, and
+should be now, like enough. Fetch them all, as quick as you like. I am
+feared to leave Blackbird, or I'd help you down with 'em."
+
+"Is there nobody with you to take care of us?"
+
+"What do you mean--men folk? Not if I know it."
+
+"You are right. You are wise. Oh, how courageous!" And she went back
+for her finery. And certain it is she had more baggage than I should
+choose for a forced march.
+
+But all has an end--even a female luggage train; so at last she put
+out all her lights and came down, stepping like a fairy, with a large
+basket in her hand.
+
+Now it happened that by this time the moon's position was changed, and
+only a part of David lay in the shade; his head and shoulders
+glittered in broad moonlight; and Lucy, taking her farewell of a house
+where she had spent many happy days, cast her eyes all around to bid
+good-by, and spied a man lying within a few paces, and looking like a
+corpse in the silver sheen. She dropped her basket; her knees knocked
+together with fear, and she flew toward Mrs. Wilson. But she did not
+go far, for the features, indistinct as they were by distance and pale
+light, struck her mind, and she stopped and looked timidly over her
+shoulder. The figure never moved. Then, with beating heart, she went
+toward him slowly and so stealthily that she would have passed a mouse
+without disturbing it, and presently she stood by him and looked down
+on him as he lay.
+
+And as she looked at him lying there, so pale, so uncomplaining, so
+placid, under her windows, this silent proof of love, and the thought
+of the raging sea this helpless form had steered her through, and all
+he had suffered as well as acted for her, made her bosom heave, and
+stirred all that was woman within her. He loved her still, then, or
+why was he here? And then the thought that she had done something for
+him too warmed her heart still more toward him. And there was nothing
+for her to repel now, for he lay motionless; there was nothing for her
+to escape--he did not pursue her; nothing to negative--he did not
+propose anything to her. Her instinct of defense had nothing to lay
+hold of; so, womanlike, she had a strong impulse to wake him and be
+kind to him--as kind as she could be without committing herself. But,
+on the other hand, there was shy, trembling, virgin modesty, and shame
+that he should detect her making a midnight evasion, and fear of
+letting him think she loved him.
+
+While she stood thus, with something drawing her on and something
+drawing her back, and palpitating in every fiber, Mrs. Wilson's voice
+was heard in low but anxious tones calling her. A feather turned the
+balanced scale. She must go. Fate had decided for her. She was called.
+Then the sprites of mischief tempted her to let David know she _had
+been_ near him. She longed to put his commission into his pocket;
+but that was impossible. It was at the very bottom of her box. She
+took out her tablets, wrote the word "Adieu," tore out half the leaf,
+and, bending over David, attached the little bit of paper by a pin to
+the tail of his coat. If he had been ever so much awake he could not
+have felt her doing it; for her hand touching him, and the white paper
+settling on his coat, was all done as lights a spot of down on still
+water from the bending neck of a swan.
+
+
+"No, dear Mrs. Wilson, we must not go yet. I will hold the horse, and
+you must go back for me for something."
+
+"I'm agreeable. What is it? Why, what is up? How you do pant!"
+
+"I have made a discovery. There is a gentleman lying asleep there on
+the wet grass."
+
+"Lackadaisy! why, you don't say so."
+
+"It is a friend; and he will catch his death."
+
+"Why, of course he will. He will have had a drop too much, Miss Lucy.
+I'll wake him, and we will take him along home with us."
+
+"Oh, not for the world, nurse. I would not have him see what I am
+doing, oh, not for all the world!"
+
+"Where is he?"
+
+"In there, under the great tree."
+
+"Well, you get into the cart, miss, and hold the reins"; and Mrs.
+Wilson went into the grounds and soon found David.
+
+She put her hand on his shoulder, and he awoke directly, and looked
+surprised at Mrs. Wilson.
+
+"Are you better, sir?" said the good woman. "Why, if it isn't the
+handsome gentleman that was so kind to me! Now do ee go in, sir--do ee
+go in. You will catch your death o' cold." She made sure he was
+staying at the house.
+
+David looked up at Lucy's windows. "Yes, I will go home, Mrs. Wilson;
+there is nothing to stay for now"; and he accompanied her to the cart.
+But Mrs. Wilson remembered Lucy's desire not to be seen; so she said
+very loud, "I'm sure it's very lucky me and _my niece_ happened
+to be coming home so late, and see you lying there. Well, one good
+turn deserves another. Come and see me at my farm; you go through the
+village of Harrowden, and anybody there will tell you where Dame
+Wilson do live. I _would_ ask you to-night, but--" she hesitated,
+and Lucy let down her veil.
+
+"No, thank you, not now; my sister will be fretting as it is.
+Good-morning"; and his steps were heard retreating as Mrs. Wilson
+mounted the cart.
+
+"Well, I should have liked to have taken him home and warmed him a
+bit," said the good woman to Lucy; "it is enough to give him the
+rheumatics for life. However, he is not the first honest man as has
+had a drop too much, and taken 's rest without a feather-bed. Alack,
+miss, why, you are all of a tremble! What ails _you?_ I'm a fool
+to ask. Ah! well, you'll soon be at home, and naught to vex you. That
+is right; have a good cry, do. Ay, ay, _'tis_ hard to be forced
+to leave our nest. But all places are bright where love abides; and
+there's honest hearts both here and there, and the same sky above us
+wherever we wander, and the God of the fatherless above that; and
+better a peaceful cottage than a palace full of strife." And with many
+such homely sayings the rustic consoled her nursling on their little
+journey, not quite in vain.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI.
+
+NEXT morning the house was in an uproar. Servants ran to and fro, and
+the fish-pond was dragged at Mr. Fountain's request. But on these
+occasions everybody claims a right to speak, and Jane came into the
+breakfast-room and said: "If you please, mum, Miss Lucy isn't in the
+pond, for she have taken a good part of her clothes, and all her
+jewels."
+
+This piece of common sense convinced everybody on the spot except Mrs.
+Bazalgette. That lady, if she had decided on "making a hole in the
+water," would have sat on the bank first, and clapped on all her
+jewels, and all her richest dresses, one on the top of another.
+Finally, Mr. Bazalgette, who wore a somber air, and had not said a
+word, requested everybody to mind their own business. "I have a
+communication from Lucy," said he, "and I do not at present disapprove
+the step she has taken."
+
+All eyes turned with astonishment toward him, and the next moment all
+voices opened on him like a pack of hounds. But he declined to give
+them any further information. Between ourselves he had none to give.
+The little note Lucy left on his table merely begged him to be under
+no anxiety, and prayed him to suspend his judgment of her conduct till
+he should know the whole case. It was his strong good sense which led
+him to pretend he was in the whole secret. By this means he
+substituted mystery for scandal, and contrived that the girl's folly
+might not be irreparable.
+
+At the same time he was deeply indignant with her, and, above all,
+with her hypocrisy in clinging round him and kissing him the very
+night she meditated flight from his house.
+
+"I must find the girl out and get her back;" said he, and directly
+after breakfast he collected his myrmidons and set them to discover
+her retreat.
+
+The outward frame-work of the holy alliance remained standing, but
+within it was dissolving fast. Each of the allies was even now
+thinking how to find Lucy and make a separate peace. During the
+flutter which now subsided, one person had done nothing but eat
+pigeon-pie. It was Kenealy, captain of horse.
+
+Now eating pigeon-pie is not in itself a suspicious act, but ladies
+are so sharp. Mrs. Bazalgette said to herself, "This creature alone is
+not a bit surprised (for Bazalgette is fibbing); why is this creature
+not surprised? humph! Captain Kenealy," said she, in honeyed tones,
+"what would you advise us to do?"
+
+"Advertaize," drawled the captain, as cool as a cucumber.
+
+"Advertise? What! publish her name?"
+
+"No, no names. I'll tell you;" and he proceeded to drawl out very
+slowly, from memory, the following advertisement. N. B.--The captain
+was a great reader of advertisements, and of little else.
+
+
+           "WANDERAA, RETARN.
+
+"If L. F. will retarn--to her afflicted--relatives--she shall be
+received with open aams. And shall be forgotten and forgiven--and
+reunaited affection shall solace every wound."
+
+
+"That is the style. It always brings 'em back--dayvilish good
+paie--have some moa."
+
+Mr. Fountain and Mrs. Bazalgette raised an outcry against the
+captain's advice, and, when the table was calm again, Mrs. Bazalgette
+surprised them all by fixing her eyes on Kenealy, and saying quietly,
+"You know where she is." She added more excitedly: "Now don't deny it.
+On your honor, sir, have you no idea where my niece is?"
+
+"Upon my honah, I have an idea."
+
+"Then tell me."
+
+"I'd rayther not."
+
+"Perhaps you would prefer to tell me in private?"
+
+"No; prefer not to tell at all."
+
+Then the whole table opened on him, and appealed to his manly feeling,
+his sense of hospitality, his humanity--to gratify their curiosity.
+
+Kenealy stretched himself out from the waist downward, and delivered
+himself thus, with a double infusion of his drawl:--
+
+"See yah all dem--d first."
+
+
+At noon on the same day, by the interference of Mrs. Bazalgette, the
+British army was swelled with Kenealy, captain of horse.
+
+The whole day passed, and Lucy's retreat was not yet discovered. But
+more than one hunter was hemming her in.
+
+
+The next day, being the second after her elopement with her nurse, at
+eleven in the forenoon, Lucy and Mrs. Wilson sat in the little parlor
+working. Mrs. Wilson had seen the poultry fed, the butter churned, and
+the pudding safe in the pot, and her mind was at ease for a good hour
+to come, so she sat quiet and peaceful. Lucy, too, was at peace. Her
+eye was clear; and her color coming back; she was not bursting with
+happiness, for there was a sweet pensiveness mixed with her sweet
+tranquillity; but she looked every now and then smiling from her work
+up at Mrs. Wilson, and the dame kept looking at her with a motherly
+joy caused by her bare presence on that hearth. Lucy basked in these
+maternal glances. At last she said: "Nurse."
+
+"My dear?"
+
+"If you had never done anything for me, still I should know you loved
+me."
+
+"Should ye, now?"
+
+"Oh yes; there is the look in your eye that I used to long to see in
+my poor aunt's, but it never came."
+
+"Well, Miss Lucy, I can't help it. To think it is really you setting
+there by my fire! I do feel like a cat with one kitten. You should
+check me glaring you out o' countenance like that."
+
+"Check you? I could not bear to lose one glance of that honest tender
+eye. I would not exchange one for all the flatteries of the world. I
+am so happy here, so tranquil, under my nurse's wing."
+
+With this declaration came a little sigh.
+
+Mrs. Wilson caught it. "Is there nothing wanting, dear?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Well, I do keep wishing for one thing."
+
+"What is that?"
+
+"Oh, I can't help my thoughts."
+
+"But you can help keeping them from me, nurse."
+
+"Well, my dear, I am like a mother; I watch every word of yours and
+every look; and it is my belief you deceive yourself a bit: many a
+young maid has done that. I do judge there is a young man that is more
+to you than you think for."
+
+"Who on earth is that, nurse?" asked Lucy, coloring.
+
+"The handsome young gentleman."
+
+"Oh, they are all handsome--all my pests."
+
+"The one I found under your window, Miss Lucy; he wasn't in liquor; so
+what was he there for? and you know you were not at your ease till you
+had made me go and wake him, and send him home; and you were all of a
+tremble. I'm a widdy now, and can speak my mind to men-folk all one as
+women-folk; but I've been a maid, and I can mind how I was in those
+days. Liking did use to whisper me to do so and so; Shyness up and
+said, 'La! not for all the world; what'll he think?'"
+
+"Oh, nurse, do you believe me capable of loving one who does not love
+me?"
+
+"No. Who said he doesn't love you? What was he there for? I stick to
+that."
+
+"Now, nurse, dear, be reasonable; if Mr. Dodd loved me, would he go to
+sleep in my presence?"
+
+"Eh! Miss Lucy, the poor soul was maybe asleep before you left your
+room."
+
+"It is all the same. He slept while I stood close to him ever so long.
+Slept while I--If I loved anybody as these gentlemen pretend they
+love us, should I sleep while the being I adored was close to me?"
+
+"You are too hard upon him. 'The spirit is willing but the flesh is
+weak.' Why, miss, we do read of Eutychus, how he snoozed off setting
+under Paul himself--up in a windy--and down a-tumbled. But parson says
+it wasn't that he didn't love religion, or why should Paul make it his
+business to bring him to life again, 'stead of letting un lie for a
+warning to the sleepy-headed ones. ''Twas a wearied body, not a heart
+cold to God,' says our parson."
+
+"Now, nurse, I take you at your word. If Eutychus had been Eutycha,
+and in love with St. Paul, Eutycha would never have gone to sleep,
+though St. Paul preached all day and all night; and if Dorcas had
+preached instead of St. Paul, and Eutychus been in love with her, he
+would never have gone to sleep, and you know it."
+
+At this home-thrust Mrs. Wilson was staggered, but the next moment her
+sense of discomfiture gave way to a broad expression of triumph at her
+nursling's wit.
+
+"Eh! Miss Lucy," cried she, showing a broadside of great white teeth
+in a rustic chuckle, "but ye've got a tongue in your head. Ye've sewed
+up my stocking, and 'tisn't many of them can do that." Lucy followed
+up her advantage.
+
+"And, nurse, even when he was wide awake and stood by the cart, no
+inward sentiment warned him of my presence; a sure sign he did not
+love me. Though I have never experienced love, I have read of it, and
+know all about it." [_Jus-tice des Femmes!_]
+
+"Well, Miss Lucy, have it your own way; after all, if he loves you he
+will find you out."
+
+"Of course he would, and you will see he will do nothing of the kind."
+
+"Then I wish I knew where he was; I would pull him in at my door by
+the scruf of the neck."
+
+"And then I should jump out at the window. Come, try on your new cap,
+nurse, that I have made for you, and let us talk about anything you
+like except gentlemen. Gentlemen are a sore subject with me. Gentlemen
+have been my ruin."
+
+"La, Miss Lucy!"
+
+"I assure you they have; why, have they not set my uncle's heart
+against me, and my aunt's, and robbed me of the affection I once had
+for both? I believe gentlemen to be the pests of society; and oh! the
+delight of being here in this calm retreat, where love dwells, and no
+gentleman can find me. Ah! ah! Oh! What is that?"
+
+For a heavy blow descended on the door. "That is Jenny's
+_knock,"_ said Mrs. Wilson; dryly. "Come in, Jenny." The servant,
+thus invited, burst the door open as savagely as she had struck it,
+and announced with a knowing grin, "A GENTLEMAN--_for Miss
+Fountain!!"_
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII.
+
+DAVID and Eve sat together at their little breakfast, and pressed each
+other to eat; but neither could eat. David's night excursion had
+filled Eve with new misgivings. It was the act of a madman; and we
+know the fears that beset her on that head, and their ground. He had
+come home shivering, and she had forced him to keep his bed all that
+day. He was not well now, and bodily weakness, added to his other
+afflictions, bore his spirit down, though nothing could cow it.
+
+"When are you to sail?" inquired Eve, sick-like.
+
+"In three days. Cargo won't be on board before."
+
+"A coasting vessel?"
+
+"A man can do his duty in a coaster as well as a merchantman or a
+frigate." But he sighed.
+
+"Would to God you had never seen her!"
+
+"Don't blame her--blame me. I had good advice from my little sister,
+but I was willful. Never mind, Eve, I needn't to blush for loving her;
+she is worthy of it all."
+
+"Well, think so, David, if you can." And Eve, thoroughly depressed,
+relapsed into silence. The postman's rap was heard, and soon after a
+long inclosure was placed in Eve's hand.
+
+Poor little Eve did not receive many letters; and, sad as she was, she
+opened this with some interest; but how shall I paint its effect? She
+kept uttering shrieks of joy, one after another, at each sentence. And
+when she had shrieked with joy many times, she ran with the large
+paper round to David. "You are captain of the _Rajah!_ ah! the
+new ship! ah! eleven hundred tons! Oh, David! Oh, my heart! Oh! oh!
+oh!" and the poor little thing clasped her arms round her brother's
+neck, and kissed him again and again, and cried and sobbed for joy.
+
+All men, and most women, go through life without once knowing what it
+is to cry for joy, and it is a comfort to think that Eve's pure and
+deep affection brought her such a moment as this in return for much
+trouble and sorrow. David, stout-hearted as he was, was shaken as the
+sea and the wind had never yet shaken him. He turned red and white
+alternately, and trembled. "Captain of the _Rajah!_ It is too
+good--it is too good! I have done nothing _for it";_ and he was
+incredulous.
+
+Eve was devouring the inclosure. "It is her doing," she cried; "it is
+all her doing."
+
+"Whose?"
+
+"Who do you think? I am in the air! I am in heaven! Bless her--oh,
+God, bless her for this. Never speak against cold-blooded folk before
+me; they have twice the principle of us hot ones: I always said so.
+She is a good creature; she is a true friend; and you accused her of
+ingratitude!"
+
+"That I never did."
+
+"You did--_Rajah_--he! he! oh!--and I defended her. Here, take
+and read that: is that a commission or not? Now you be quiet, and let
+us see what she says. No, I can't; I cannot keep the tears out of my
+eyes. Do take and read it, David; I'm blind."
+
+David took the letter, kissed it, and read it out to Eve, and she kept
+crowing and shedding tears all the time.
+
+
+"DEAR MISS DODD--I admire too much your true affection for your
+brother to be indifferent to your good opinion. Think of me as
+leniently as you can. Perhaps it gives me as much pleasure to be able
+to forward you the inclosed as the receipt of it, I hope, may give
+you.
+
+"It would, I think, be more wise, and certainly more generous, not to
+let Mr. Dodd think he owes in any degree to me that which, if the
+world were just, would surely have been his long ago. Only, some few
+months hence, when it can do him no harm, I could wish him not to
+think his friend Lucy was ungrateful, or even cold in his service, who
+saved her life, and once honored her with so warm an esteem. But all
+this I confide to your discretion and your justice. Dear Miss Dodd,
+those who give pain to others do not escape it themselves, nor is it
+just they should. My insensibility to the merit of persons of the
+other sex has provoked my relatives; they have punished me for
+declining Mr. Dodd's inferiors with a bitterness Mr. Dodd, with far
+more cause, never showed me; so you see at each turn I am reminded of
+his superiority.
+
+"The result is, I am separated from my friends, and am living all
+alone with my dear old nurse, at her farmhouse.
+
+"Since, then, I am unhappy, and you are generous, you will, I think,
+forgive me all the pain I have caused you, and will let me, in bidding
+you adieu, subscribe myself,
+
+                                 "Yours affectionately,
+
+                                 "LUCY FOUNTAIN"
+
+
+"It is the letter of a sweet girl, David, with a noble heart; and she
+has taken a noble revenge of me for what I said to her the other day,
+and made her cry, like a little brute as I am. Why, how glum you
+look!"
+
+"Eve," said David, "do you think I will accept this from her without
+herself?"
+
+"Of course you will. Don't be too greedy, David. Leave the girl in
+peace; she has shown you what she will do and what she won't. One such
+friend as this is worth a hundred lovers. Give me her dear little
+note."
+
+While Eve was persuing it, David went out, but soon returned, with his
+best coat on, and his hat in his hand. Eve asked in some surprise
+where he was going in such a hurry.
+
+"To her."
+
+"Well, David, now I come to read her letter quietly, it is a woman's
+letter all over; you may read it which way you like. What need had she
+to tell me she has just refused offers? And then she tells me she is
+all alone. That sounds like a hint. The company of a friend might he
+agreeable. Brush your coat first, at any rate; there's something white
+on it; it is a paper; it is pinned on. Come here. Why, what is this?
+It is written on. 'Adieu.'" And Eve opened her eyes and mouth as well.
+
+She asked him when he wore the coat last.
+
+"The day before yesterday."
+
+"Were you in company of any girls?"
+
+"Not I."
+
+"But this is written by a girl, and it is pinned on by a girl; see how
+it is quilted in!! that's proof positive. Oh! oh! oh! look here. Look
+at these two 'Adieus'--the one in the letter and this; they are the
+same--precisely the same. What, in Heaven's name, is the meaning of
+this? Were you in her company that night?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Will you swear that?"
+
+"No, I can't swear it, because I was asleep a part of the time; but
+waking in her company I was not."
+
+"It is her writing, and she pinned it on you."
+
+"How can that be, Eve?"
+
+"I don't know; I am sure she did, though. Look at this 'Adieu' and
+that; you'll never get it out of my head but what one hand wrote them
+both. You are so green, a girl would come behind you and pin it on
+you, and you never feel her."
+
+While saying these words, Eve slyly repinned it on him without his
+feeling or knowing anything about it.
+
+David was impatient to be gone, but she held him a minute to advise
+him.
+
+"Tell her she must and shall. Don't take a denial. If you are
+cowardly, she will be bold; but if you are bold and resolute, she will
+knuckle down. Mind that; and don't go about it with such a face as
+that, as long as my arm. If she says 'No,' you have got the ship to
+comfort you. Oh! I am so happy!"
+
+"No, Eve," said David, "if she won't give me herself, I'll never take
+her ship. I'd die a foretopman sooner;" and, with these parting words,
+he renewed all his sister's anxiety. She sat down sorrowfully, and the
+horrible idea gained on her that there was mania in David's love for
+Lucy.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII.
+
+DAVID had one advantage over others that were now hunting Lucy. Mrs.
+Wilson had unwittingly given him pretty plain directions how to find
+her farmhouse; and as Eve, in the exercise of her discretion, or
+indiscretion, had shown David Lucy's letter, he had only to ride to
+Harrowden and inquire. But, on the other hand, his competitors were a
+few miles nearer the game, and had a day's start.
+
+David got a horse and galloped to Harrowden, fed him at the inn, and
+asked where Mrs. Wilson's farm was. The waiter, a female, did not
+know, but would inquire. Meantime David asked for two sheets of paper,
+and wrote a few lines on each; then folded them both (in those days
+envelopes were not), but did not seal them. Mrs. Wilson's farm turned
+out to be only two miles from Harrowden, and the road easy to find. He
+was soon there; gave his horse to one of the farm-boys, and went into
+the kitchen and asked if Miss Fountain lived there. This question
+threw him into the hands of Jenny, who invited him to follow her, and,
+unlike your powdered and noiseless lackey, pounded the door with her
+fist, kicked it open with her foot, and announced him with that
+thunderbolt of language which fell so inopportunely on Lucy's
+self-congratulations.
+
+The look Mrs. Wilson cast on Lucy was droll enough; but when David's
+square shoulders and handsome face filled up the doorway, a second
+look followed that spoke folios.
+
+Lucy rose, and with heightened color, but admirable self-possession,
+welcomed David like a valued friend.
+
+Mrs. Wilson's greeting was broad and hearty; and, very soon after she
+had made him sit down, she bounced up, crying: "You will stay dinner
+now you be come, and I must see as they don't starve you." So saying,
+out she went; but, looking back at the door, was transfixed by an
+arrow of reproach from her nursling's eye.
+
+Lucy's reception of David, kind as it was, was not encouraging to one
+coming on David's errand, for there was the wrong shade of amity in
+it.
+
+In times past it would have cooled David with misgivings, but now he
+did not give himself time to be discouraged; he came to make a last
+desperate effort, and he made it at once.
+
+"Miss Lucy, I have got the _Rajah,_ thanks to you."
+
+"Thanks to me, Mr. Dodd? Thanks to your own high character and merit."
+
+"No, Miss Lucy, you know better, and I know better, and there is your
+own sweet handwriting to prove it."
+
+"Miss Dodd has showed you my letter?"
+
+"How could she help it?"
+
+"What a pity! how injudicious!"
+
+"The truth is like the light; why keep it out? Yes; what I have worked
+for, and battled the weather so many years, and been sober and
+prudent, and a hard student at every idle hour--that has come to me in
+one moment from your dear hand."
+
+"It is a shame."
+
+"Bless you, Miss Lucy," cried David, not noting the remark.
+
+Lucy blushed, and the water stood in her eyes. She murmured softly:
+"You should not say Miss Lucy; it is not customary. You should say
+Lucy, or Miss Fountain."
+
+This _apropos_ remark by way of a female diversion.
+
+"Then let me say Lucy to-day, for perhaps I shall never say that, or
+anything that is sweet to say again. Lucy, you know what I came for?"
+
+"Oh, yes, to receive my congratulations."
+
+"More than that, a great deal--to ask you to go halves in the
+_Rajah."_
+
+Lucy's eyebrows demanded an explanation.
+
+"She is worth two thousand a year to her commander; and that is too
+much for a bachelor."
+
+Lucy colored and smiled. "Why, it is only just enough for bachelors to
+live upon."
+
+"It is too much for me alone under the circumstances," said David,
+gravely; and there was a little silence.
+
+"Lucy, I love you. With you the _Rajah_ would be a godsend. She
+will help me keep you in the company you have been used to, and were
+made to brighten and adorn; but without you I cannot take her from
+your hand, and, to speak plain, I won't."
+
+"Oh, Mr. Dodd!"
+
+"No, Lucy; before I knew you, to command a ship was the height of my
+ambition--her quarter-deck my Heaven on earth; and this is a clipper,
+I own it; I saw her in the docks. But you have taught me to look
+higher. Share my ship and my heart with me, and certainly the ship
+will be my child, and all the dearer to me that she came to us from
+her I love. But don't say to me, 'Me you shan't have; you are not good
+enough for that; but there is a ship for you in my place.' I wouldn't
+accept a star out of the firmament on those terms."
+
+"How unreasonable! On the contrary you should say, 'I am doubly
+fortunate: I escape a foolish, weak companion for life, and I have a
+beautiful ship.' But friendship such as mine for you was never
+appreciated; I do you injustice; you only talk like that to tease me
+and make me unhappy."
+
+"Oh, Lucy, Lucy, did you ever know me--"
+
+"There, now, forgive me; and own you are not in earnest."
+
+"This will show you," said David, sadly; and he took out two letters
+from his bosom. "Here are two letters to the secretary. In one I
+accept the ship with thanks, and offer to superintend her when her
+rigging is being set up; and in this one I decline her altogether,
+with my humble and sincere thanks."
+
+"Oh yes, you are very humble, sir," said Lucy. "Now--dear
+friend--listen to reason. You have others--"
+
+"Excuse my interrupting you, but it is a rule with me never to reason
+about right and wrong; I notice that whoever does that ends by
+choosing wrong. I don't go to my head to find out my duty, I go to my
+heart; and what little manhood there is in me all cries out against me
+compounding with the woman I love, and taking a ship instead of her."
+
+"How unkind you are! It is not as if I was under no obligations to
+you. Is not my life worth a ship? an angel like me?"
+
+"I can't see it so. It was a greater pleasure to me to save your life,
+as you call it, than it could be to you. I can't let that into the
+account. A woman is a woman, but a man is a man; and I will be under
+no obligation to you but one."
+
+"What arrogance!"
+
+"Don't you be angry; I'll love you and bless you all the same. But I
+am a man, and a man I'll die, whether I die captain of a ship or of a
+foretop. Poor Eve!"
+
+"See how power tries people, and brings out their true character.
+Since you commanded the _Rajah_ you are all changed. You used to
+be submissive; now you must have your own way entirely. You will fling
+my poor ship in my face unless I give you--but this is really using
+force--yes, Mr. Dodd, this is using force. Somebody has told you that
+my sex yield when downright compulsion is used. It is true; and the
+more ungenerous to apply it;" and she melted into a few placid tears.
+
+David did not know this sign of yielding in a woman, and he groaned at
+the sight and hung his head.
+
+"Advise me what I had better do."
+
+To this singular proposal, David, listening to the ill advice of the
+fiend Generosity, groaned out, "Why should you be tormented and made
+cry?"
+
+"Why indeed?"
+
+"Nothing can change me; I advise you to cut it short."
+
+"Oh, do you? very well. Why did you say 'poor Eve'?"
+
+"Ah, poor thing! she cried for joy when she read your letter, but when
+I go back she will cry for grief;" and his voice faltered.
+
+"I will cut this short, Mr. Dodd; give me that paper."
+
+"Which?"
+
+"The wicked one, where you refuse my _Rajah_."
+
+David hesitated.
+
+"You are no gentleman, sir, if you refuse a lady. Give it me this
+instant," cried Lucy, so haughtily and imperiously that David did not
+know her, and gave her the letter with a half-cowed air.
+
+She took it, and with both her supple white hands tore it with
+insulting precision exactly in half. "There, sir and there, sir"
+(exactly in four); "and there" (in eight, with malicious exactness);
+"and there"; and, though it seemed impossible to effect another
+separation, yet the taper fingers and a resolute will reduced it to
+tiny bits. She then made a gesture to throw them in the fire, but
+thought better of it and held them.
+
+David looked on, almost amused at this zealous demolition of a thing
+he could so easily replace. He said, part sadly, part doggedly, part
+apologetically, "I can write another."
+
+"But you will not. Oh, Mr. Dodd, don't you see?!"
+
+He looked up at her eagerly. To his surprise, her haughty eagle look
+had gone, and she seemed a pitying goddess, all tenderness and
+benignity; only her mantling, burning cheek showed her to be woman.
+
+She faltered, in answer to his wild, eager look. "Was I ever so rude
+before? What right have I to tear your letter unless I--"
+
+The characteristic full stop, and, above all, the heaving bosom, the
+melting eye, and the red cheek, were enough even for poor simple
+David. Heaven seemed to open on him. His burning kisses fell on the
+sweet hands that had torn his death-warrant. No resistance. She
+blushed higher, but smiled. His powerful arm curled round her. She
+looked a little scared, but not much. He kissed her sweet cheek: the
+blush spread to her very forehead at that, but no resistance. As the
+winged and rapid bird, if her feathers be but touched with a speck of
+bird-lime, loses all power of flight, so it seemed as if that one
+kiss, the first a stranger had ever pressed on Lucy's virgin cheek,
+paralyzed her eel-like and evasive powers; under it her whole supple
+frame seemed to yield as David drew her closer and closer to him, till
+she hid her forehead and wet eyelashes on his shoulder, and murmured:
+
+"How could I let _you_ be unhappy?!"
+
+Neither spoke for a while. Each felt the other's heart beat; and David
+drank that ecstasy of silent, delirious bliss which comes to great
+hearts once in a life.
+
+Had he not earned it?
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX.
+
+By some mighty instinct Mrs. Wilson knew when to come in. She came to
+the door just one minute after Lucy had capitulated, and, turning the
+handle, but without opening the door, bawled some fresh directions to
+Jenny: this was to enable Lucy to smooth her ruffled feathers, if
+necessary, and look Agnes. But Lucy's actual contact with that honest
+heart seemed to have made a change in her; instead of doing Agnes, she
+confronted (after a fashion of her own) the situation she had so long
+evaded.
+
+"Oh, nurse!" she cried, and wreathed her arms round her.
+
+"Don't cry, my lamb! I can guess."
+
+"Cry? Oh no; I would not pay him so poor a compliment. It was to say,
+'Dear nurse, you must love Mr. Dodd as well as me now.'"
+
+The dame received this indirect intelligence with hearty delight.
+
+"That won't cost me much trouble," said she. "He is the one I'd have
+picked out of all England for my nursling. When a young man is kind to
+an old woman, it is a good sign; but la! his face is enough for me:
+who ever saw guile in such a face as that. Aren't ye hungry by this
+time? Dinner will be ready in about a minute."
+
+"Nurse, can I speak to you a word?"
+
+"Yes, sure."
+
+It was to inquire whether she would invite Miss Dodd.
+
+"She loves her brother very dearly, and it is cruel to separate them.
+Mr. Dodd will be nearly always here now, will he not?"
+
+"You may take your davy of that."
+
+In a very few minutes a note was written, and Mrs. Wilson's eldest
+son, a handsome young farmer, started in the covered cart with his
+mother's orders "to bring the young lady willy-nilly."
+
+
+The holy allies both openly scouted Kenealy's advice, and both slyly
+stepped down into the town and acted on it. Mr. Fountain then returned
+to Font Abbey. Their two advertisements appeared side by side, and
+exasperated them.
+
+After dinner Mrs. Wilson sent Lucy and David out to take a walk. At
+the gate they met with a little interruption; a carriage drove up; the
+coachman touched his hat, and Mrs. Bazalgette put her head out of the
+window.
+
+"I came to take you back, love."
+
+David quaked.
+
+"Thank you, aunt; but it is not worth while now."
+
+"Ah!" said Mrs. Bazalgette, casting a venomous look on David; "I am
+too late, am I? Poor girl!"
+
+Lucy soothed her aunt with the information that she was much happier
+now than she had been for a long time past. For this was a
+fencing-match.
+
+"May I have a word in private with my niece?" inquired Mrs.
+Bazalgette, bitterly, of David.
+
+"Why not?" said David stoutly; but his heart turned sick as he
+retired. Lucy saw the look of anxiety.
+
+"Lucy," said Mrs. Bazalgette, "you left me because you are averse to
+matrimony, and I urged you to it; of course, with those sentiments,
+you have no idea of marrying that man there. I don't suspect you of
+such hypocrisy, and therefore I say come home with me, and you shall
+marry nobody; your inclination shall be free as air."
+
+"Aunt," said Lucy, demurely, "why didn't you come yesterday? I always
+said those who love me best would find me first, and you let Mr. Dodd
+come first. I am so sorry!"
+
+"Then your pretended aversion to marriage was all hypocrisy, was it?"
+
+Lucy informed her that marriage was a contract, and the contracting
+parties two, and no more--the bride and bridegroom; and that to sign a
+contract without reading it is silly, and meaning not to keep it is
+wicked. "So," said she, "I read the contract over in the prayer-book
+this morning, for fear of accidents."
+
+My reader may, perhaps, be amused at this admission; but Mrs.
+Bazalgette was disgusted, and inquired, "What stuff is the girl
+talking now?"
+
+"It is called common sense. Well, I find the contract is one I can
+carry out with Mr. Dodd, and with nobody else. I can love him a
+little, can honor him a great deal, and obey him entirely. I begin
+now. There he is; and if you feel you cannot show him the courtesy of
+making him one in our conversation, permit me to retire and relieve
+his solitude."
+
+"Mighty fine; and if you don't instantly leave him and come home, you
+shall never enter my house again."
+
+"Unless sickness or trouble should visit your house, and then you will
+send for me, and I shall come."
+
+Mrs. Bazalgette (to the coachman).--"Home!"
+
+Lucy made her a polite obeisance, to keep up appearances before the
+servants and the farm-people, who were gaping. She, whose breeding was
+inferior, flounced into a corner without returning it. The carriage
+drove off.
+
+David inquired with great anxiety whether something had not been said
+to vex her.
+
+"Not in the least," replied Lucy, calmly. "Little things and little
+people can no longer vex me. I have great duties to think of and a
+great heart to share them with me. Let us walk toward Harrowden; we
+may perhaps meet a friend."
+
+Sure enough, just on this side Harrowden they met the covered cart,
+and Eve in it, radiant with unexpected delight. The engaged ones--for
+such they had become in those two miles--mounted the cart, and the two
+men sat in front, and Eve and Lucy intertwined at the back, and opened
+their hearts to each other.
+
+Eve. And you have taken the paper off again?
+
+Lucy. What paper? It was no longer applicable.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXX.
+
+I HAVE already noticed that Lucy, after capitulation, laid down her
+arms gracefully and sensibly. When she was asked to name a very early
+day for the wedding, she opposed no childish delay to David's
+happiness, for the _Rajah_ was to sail in six weeks and separate
+them. So the license was got, and the wedding-day came; and all Lucy's
+previous study of the contract did not prevent her from being deeply
+affected by the solemn words that joined her to David in holy
+matrimony.
+
+She bore up, though, stoutly; for her sense of propriety and courtesy
+forbade her to cloud a festivity. But, when the post-chaise came to
+convey bride and bridegroom on their little tour, and she had to leave
+Mrs. Wilson and Eve for a whole week, the tears would not be denied;
+and, to show how perilous a road matrimony is, these two risked a
+misunderstanding on their wedding-day, thus: Lucy, all alone in the
+post-chaise with David, dissolved--a perfect Niobe--gushing at short
+intervals. Sometimes a faint explanation gurgled out with the tears:
+"Poor Eve! her dear little face was working so not to cry. Oh! oh! I
+should not have minded so much if she had cried right out." Then,
+again, it was "Poor Mrs. Wilson! I was only a week with her, for all
+her love. I have made a c--at's p--paw of her--oh!"
+
+Then, again, "Uncle Bazalgette has never noticed us; he thinks me a
+h--h--ypocrite." But quite as often they flowed without any
+accompanying reason.
+
+Now if David had been a poetaster, he would have said: "Why these
+tears? she has got me. Am I not more than an equivalent to these puny
+considerations?" and all this salt water would have burned into his
+vanity like liquid caustic. If he had been a poet, he would have said:
+"Alas! I make her unhappy whom I hoped to make happy"; and with this
+he would have been sad, and so prolonged her sadness, and perhaps
+ended by sulking. But David had two good things--a kind heart and a
+skin not too thin: and such are the men that make women happy, in
+spite of their weak nerves and craven spirits.
+
+He gave her time; soothed her kindly; but did not check her weakness
+dead short.
+
+At last my Lady Chesterfield said to him, penitently, "This is a poor
+compliment to you, Mr. Dodd"; and then Niobized again, partly, I
+believe, with regret that she was behaving so discourteously.
+
+"It is very natural," said David, kindly, "but we shall soon see them
+all again, you know."
+
+Presently she looked in his radiant face, with wet eyes, but a
+half-smile. "You amaze me; you don't seem the least terrified at what
+we have done."
+
+"Not a bit," cried David, like a cheerful horn: "I have been in worse
+peril than this, and so have you. Our troubles are all over; I see
+nothing but happiness ahead." He then drew a sunny picture of their
+future life, to all which she listened demurely; and, in short, he
+treated her little feminine distress as the summer sun treats a mist
+that tries to vie with it. He soon dried her up, and when they reached
+their journey's end she was as bright as himself.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXI.
+
+THEY had been married a week. A slight change, but quite distinct to
+an observer of her sex, bloomed in Lucy's face and manner. A new
+beauty was in her face--the blossom of wifehood. Her eyes, though not
+less modest, were less timid than before; and now they often met
+David's full, and seemed to sip affection at them. When he came near
+her, her lovely frame showed itself conscious of his approach. His
+queen, though he did not know it, was his vassal. They sat at table at
+a little inn, twenty miles from Harrowden, for they were on their
+return to Mrs. Wilson. Lucy went to the window while David settled the
+bill. At the window it is probable she had her own thoughts, for she
+glided up behind David, and, fanning his hair with her cool, honeyed
+breath, she said, in the tone of a humble inquirer seeking historical
+or antiquarian information, "I want to ask you a question, David: are
+you happy _too?"_
+
+David answered promptly, but inarticulately; so his reply is lost to
+posterity. Conjecture alone survives.
+
+
+One disappointment awaited Lucy at Mrs. Wilson's. There were several
+letters for both David and her, but none from Mr. Bazalgette. She knew
+by that she had lost his respect. She could not blame him, for she saw
+how like disingenuousness and hypocrisy her conduct must look to him.
+"I must trust to time and opportunity," she said, with a sigh. She
+proposed to David to read all her letters, and she would read all his.
+He thought this a droll idea; but nothing that identified him with his
+royal vassal came amiss. The first letter of Lucy's that David opened
+was from Mr. Talboys.
+
+
+"DEAR MADAM--I have heard of your marriage with Mr. Dodd, and desire
+to offer both you and him my cordial congratulations.
+
+"I feel under considerable obligation to Mr. Dodd; and, should my
+house ever have a mistress, I hope she will be able to tempt you both
+to renew our acquaintance under my roof, and so give me once more that
+opportunity I have too little improved of showing you both the sincere
+respect and gratitude with which I am,
+
+"Your very faithful servant,
+
+"REGINALD TALBOYS."
+
+
+Lucy was delighted with this note. "Who says it was nothing to have
+been born a gentleman?"
+
+The second letter was from Reginald No. 2; and, if I only give the
+reader a fragment of it, I still expect his gratitude, all one as if I
+had disinterred a fragment of Orpheus or Tiresias.
+
+     Dear lucy.
+     It is very ungust of you to go and
+     Mary other peeple wen you
+     Promised me. but it is mr. dod.
+     So i dont so much mind i like
+     Mr. dod. he is a duc. and they all
+     Say i am too litle and jane says
+     Sailors always end by been
+     Drouned so it is only put off.
+     But you reely must keep your
+     Promise to me. wen i am biger
+     And mr. Dod is drouned. my
+     Ginny pigs--
+
+
+Here a white hand drew the pleasing composition out of David's hand,
+and dropped it on the floor; two piteous, tearful eyes were bent on
+him, and a white arm went tenderly round his neck to save him from the
+threatened fate.
+
+At this sight Eve pounced on the horrid scroll, and hurled it, with
+general acclamation, into the flames.
+
+Thus that sweet infant revenged himself, and, like Sampson, hit
+hardest of all at parting--in tears and flame vanished from written
+fiction, and, I conclude, went back to Gavarni.
+
+There was a letter from Mr. Fountain--all fire and fury. She was never
+to write or speak to him any more. He was now looking out for a youth
+of good family to adopt and to make a Fontaine of by act of
+Parliament, etc., etc. A fusillade of written thunderbolts.
+
+There was another from Mrs. Bazalgette, written with cream--of tartar
+and oil--of vitriol. She forgave her niece and wished her every
+happiness it was possible for a young person to enjoy who had deceived
+her relations and married beneath her. She felt pity rather than
+anger; and there was no reason why Mr. and Mrs. Dodd should not visit
+her house, as far as she was concerned; but Mr. Bazalgette was a man
+of very stern rectitude, and, as she could not make sure that he would
+treat them with common courtesy after what had passed, she thought a
+temporary separation might be the better course for all parties.
+
+I may as well take this opportunity of saying that these two egotists
+carried out the promise of their respective letters. Mr. Fountain
+blustered for a year or two, and then showed manifest signs of
+relenting.
+
+Mrs. Bazalgette kept cool, and wrote, in oils, twice a year to Mrs.
+Dodd:
+
+"ET GARDAIT TOUT DOUCEMENT UNE HAINE IRRECONCILIABLE."
+
+
+Lucy had to answer these letters. In signing one of them, she took a
+look at her new signature and smiled. "What a dear, quaint little name
+mine is!" said she. "Lucy Dodd;" and she kissed the signature.
+
+           A Month after Marriage.
+
+The Dodds took a house in London and Eve came up to them. David was
+nearly all day superintending the ship, but spent the whole evening
+with his wife at home. Zeal always produces irritation. The servant
+that is anxious for his employer's interest is sure to get into a
+passion or two with the deadness, indifference and heartless injustice
+of the genuine hireling. So David was often irritated and worried, and
+in hot water, while superintending the _Rajah,_ but the moment he
+saw his own door, away he threw it all, and came into the house like a
+jocund sunbeam. Nothing wins a woman more than this, provided she is
+already inclined in the man's favor. As the hour that brought David
+approached, Lucy's spirits and Eve's used both to rise by
+anticipation, and that anticipation his hearty, genial temper never
+disappointed.
+
+
+One day Lucy came to David for information. "David, there is a
+singular change in me. It is since we came to London. I used to be a
+placid girl; now I am a fidget."
+
+"I don't see it, love."
+
+"No; how should you, dear? It always goes away when you come. Now
+listen. When five o'clock comes near, I turn hot and restless, and can
+hardly keep from the window; and if you are five minutes after your
+time, I really cannot keep from the window; and my nerves _se
+crispent,_ and I cannot sit still. It is very foolish. What does it
+mean? Can you tell me?"
+
+"Of course I can. I am just the same when people are unpunctual. It is
+inexcusable, and nothing is so vexing. I ought to be--"
+
+"Oh David, what nonsense! it is not that. Could I ever be vexed with
+my David?"
+
+"Well, then, there is Eve; we'll ask her."
+
+"If you dare, sir!" and Mrs. Dodd was carnation.
+
+           Four years after the above events
+
+Two ladies were gossiping.
+
+1st Lady. "What I like about Mrs. Dodd is that she is so truthful."
+
+2d Lady. "Oh, is she?"
+
+1st Lady. "Yes, she is indeed. Certainly she is not a woman that
+blurts out unpleasant things without any necessity; she is kind and
+considerate in word and deed, but she is always true. She has got an
+eye that meets you like a little lion's eye, and a tongue without
+guile. I do love Mrs. Dodd dearly."
+
+
+Two Qui his were talking in Leadenhall Street.
+
+1st Qui hi. "Well, so you are going out again."
+
+2d Qui hi. "Yes; they have offered me a commissionership. I must make
+another lac for the children."
+
+1st Qui hi. "When do you sail?"
+
+2d Qui hi. "By the first good ship. I should like a good ship."
+
+1st Qui hi. "Well, then, you had better go out with Gentleman Dodd."
+
+2d Qui hi. "Gentleman Dodd? I should prefer Sailor Dodd. I don't want
+to founder off the Cape."
+
+1st Qui hi. "Oh, but this is a first-rate sailor, and a first-rate
+fellow altogether."
+
+2d Qui hi. "Then why do you call him 'Gentleman Dodd'?"
+
+1st Qui hi. "Oh, because he is so polite. He won't stand an oath
+within hearing of his quarter-deck, and is particularly kind and
+courteous to the passengers, especially to the ladies. His ship is
+always full."
+
+2d Qui hi. "Is it? Then I'll go out with 'Gentleman Dodd.'"
+
+                          --------------
+
+
+TO MY MALE READERS.
+
+I SEE with some surprise that there still linger in the field of
+letters writers who think that, in fiction, when a personage speaks
+with an air of conviction, the sentiments must be the author's own.
+(When two of his personages give each other the lie, which represents
+the author? both?)
+
+I must ask you to shun this error; for instance, do not go and take
+Eve Dodd's opinion of my heroine, or Mrs. Bazalgette's, for mine.
+
+Miss Dodd, in particular, however epigrammatic she may appear, is
+shallow: her criticism _peche par la base._ She talks too much as
+if young girls were in the habit of looking into their own minds, like
+little metaphysicians, and knowing all that goes on there; but, on the
+contrary, this is just what women in general don't do, and young women
+can't do.
+
+No male will quite understand Lucy Fountain who does not take
+"instinct" and "self-deception" into the account. But with those two
+dews and your own intelligence, you cannot fail to unravel her, and
+will, I hope, thank me in your hearts for leaving you something to
+study, and not clogging my sluggish narrative with a mass of comment
+and explanation.
+
+
+The End.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's Love Me Little, Love Me Long, by Charles Reade
+
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