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diff --git a/75937-h/75937-h.htm b/75937-h/75937-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e812e61 --- /dev/null +++ b/75937-h/75937-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,2636 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html lang="en"> +<head> + <meta charset="UTF-8"> + <title> + Chambers’s Journal, December 4, 1886 | Project Gutenberg + </title> + <link rel="icon" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover"> + <style> + +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; +} + +p { + margin-top: .51em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .49em; +} + +.ph3{ + text-align: center; + font-size: large; + font-weight: bold; +} + + +hr { + width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: 33.5%; + margin-right: 33.5%; + clear: both; +} + +hr.tb {width: 45%; margin-left: 27.5%; margin-right: 27.5%;} +hr.chap {width: 65%; margin-left: 17.5%; margin-right: 17.5%;} +@media print { hr.chap {display: none; visibility: hidden;} } +hr.full {width: 95%; margin-left: 2.5%; margin-right: 2.5%;} + + +.header {text-align: center; margin-top: 0;} +.header p {text-align: center; text-indent: 0;} +.header .floatl {float: left;} +.header .floatr {float: right;} +.header .floatc {padding-top: .5em;} + +.x-ebookmaker .header {text-align: center; margin-top: 0;} +.x-ebookmaker .header p {text-align: center; text-indent: 0;} +.x-ebookmaker .header .floatl {float: left;} +.x-ebookmaker .header .floatr {float: right;} +.x-ebookmaker .header .floatc {padding-top: .5em;} + +div.chapter {page-break-before: always;} +h2.nobreak {page-break-before: avoid;} + + +.pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: small; + text-align: right; + font-style: normal; + font-weight: normal; + font-variant: normal; + text-indent: 0; +} /* page numbers */ + + + +.center {text-align: center;} + + +.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + + +/* Images */ + +img { + max-width: 100%; + height: auto; +} +img.w100 {width: 100%;} + + +.figcenter { + margin: auto; + text-align: center; + page-break-inside: avoid; + max-width: 100%; +} + + +/* Footnotes */ +.footnotes {border: 1px dashed;} + +.footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + +.footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} + +.fnanchor { + vertical-align: super; + font-size: .8em; + text-decoration: + none; +} + +/* Poetry */ +/* uncomment the next line for centered poetry */ +.poetry-container {display: flex; justify-content: center;} +.poetry-container {text-align: center;} +.poetry {text-align: left; margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 5%;} +.poetry .stanza {margin: 1em auto;} +.poetry .verse {text-indent: -3em; padding-left: 3em;} +.poetry .attrib {text-align: right;} + + + +/* Poetry indents */ +.poetry .indent0 {text-indent: -3.0em;} +.poetry .indent2 {text-indent: -2.0em;} +.poetry .indent10 {text-indent: 2.0em;} + + </style> +</head> +<body> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75937 ***</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_769">{769}</span></p> +<!-- Autogenerated TOC. Modify or delete as required. --> +<h1>CHAMBERS’S JOURNAL<br> +OF<br> +POPULAR<br> +LITERATURE, SCIENCE, AND ART.</h1> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak">CONTENTS</h2> +</div> + +<p class="center"> +<a href="#ON_GUARD_AT_WINDSOR_CASTLE">‘ON GUARD’ AT WINDSOR CASTLE.</a><br> +<a href="#BY_ORDER_OF_THE_LEAGUE">BY ORDER OF THE LEAGUE.</a><br> +<a href="#THE_ORDNANCE_SURVEY_ITS_PAST">THE ORDNANCE SURVEY, ITS PAST AND FUTURE.</a><br> +<a href="#WANTED_A_CLUE">WANTED, A CLUE.</a><br> +<a href="#SOME_ANECDOTES_OF_AMERICAN">SOME ANECDOTES OF AMERICAN CHILDREN.</a><br> +<a href="#A_STRANGE_LOVE_AFFAIR">A STRANGE LOVE AFFAIR.</a><br> +<a href="#MEHALAH">MEHALAH.</a><br> +</p> +<!-- End Autogenerated TOC. --> + + + + +<hr class="full"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<div class="figcenter" id="header" style="max-width: 37.5em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/header.jpg" alt="Chambers’s Journal of Popular Literature, Science, +and Art. Fifth Series. Established by William and Robert Chambers, 1832. Conducted by R. Chambers (Secundus)."> +</div> + +<hr class="full"> +<div class="center"> +<div class="header"> +<p class="floatl"><span class="smcap">No. 153.—Vol. III.</span></p> +<p class="floatr"><span class="smcap">Price</span> 1½<em>d.</em></p> +<p class="floatc">SATURDAY, DECEMBER 4, 1886.</p> +</div></div></div> + +<hr class="full"> + + +<div class="chapter"><h2 class="nobreak" id="ON_GUARD_AT_WINDSOR_CASTLE">‘ON GUARD’ AT WINDSOR CASTLE.</h2></div> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Though</span> the honour implied in the protection +of the principal residence of the sovereign is considerable, +military duty at Windsor is not by +any means held in high estimation by soldiers, +that is to say by those whose lot it is to perform +the ordinary functions of ‘sentry-go’ around the +castle. In a word, the duty is ‘hard.’ This +term, applied to peace-time soldiering, means +that the men have few ‘nights in bed’—the +criterion by which such service is invariably +judged. At some stations the rank and file have +as many as twenty of these coveted consecutive +nights in barracks; but at Windsor the present +writer has at times enjoyed the honour of passing +every third night on the exposed terraces of the +castle; and as the ‘Queen’s Regulations’ lay +particular stress on each soldier having at least +one ‘night in bed’ before going on guard, it +will be granted that the Windsor duty is not +unjustly considered somewhat trying. Perhaps +a glimpse at the inner life of the Castle-guard +may interest some readers.</p> + +<p>The armed party, which consists of some fifty +soldiers, is under the command of an officer, +assisted by two sergeants, together with as many +corporals, and it enters upon its twenty-four +hours’ tour of duty in the forenoon. A drummer-boy +also ‘mounts:’ his chief employment being +to go messages and to carry the lantern used in +making the nocturnal ‘rounds.’ When the guard +marches into the lower ward of the castle, after +having in its progress considerably enlivened the +quiet streets of Windsor, the ‘old’ guard is +formally relieved, and the men not immediately +required as sentinels take possession of the guardroom—a +large, comparatively modern building, +in the vicinity of the antique Curfew Tower. +With a view, probably, to the preservation of +discipline, the two sergeants are provided with +a ‘bunk,’ a small portion of the area of the +apartment partitioned off, and fitted with a +miniature guardbed. Here they often employ +their time in the making up of pay-lists, duty-rosters,<a id="FNanchor_1_1" href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> +and the like. On entering the guardroom, +the privates quickly divest themselves of +their valises and folded greatcoats; for it is now +admitted by the authorities that a sentry may +march about quite ‘steadily’ without being constantly +burdened with his kit. The valises are +suspended from rows of pegs furnished for this +purpose; and—what might in fine weather seem +surprising—the greatcoats set free from their +tightly buckled straps. Ostensibly, the ‘loose’ +coats are necessary to spread out on the guardbed, +so as to slightly soften that uneasy couch, +as well as to prevent dust, which may there +have lodged, from adhering to the tunics of +recumbent guardsmen. But the real reason for +shaking out these garments frequently is to allow +them to dry, because in many cases they have +been liberally sprinkled with water before being +buckled up, to insure a more compact ‘fold.’</p> + +<p>A stranger to things military, on surreptitiously +glancing in at the guardroom door early in the +day, and while the sentry’s back was turned, +would notice a large number of white basins +drawn up on the tables and ‘dressed’ with extraordinary +precision. These vessels are placed in +position for the reception of the soup, which +is served shortly before mid-day, and they bring +us to the important subject of the culinary +department. There are four cooks connected +with the castle guard. One is ‘corporal of the +cooks;’ another is ‘standing’ (or permanent) +cook; and the remaining two are merely sent +daily on ‘fatigue’ from the barracks. The provisions +are conveyed to the castle in a barrow of +peculiar construction, and deposited in the cookhouse—a +place not at all resembling a conventional +kitchen, but both in situation and appearance +very like the dungeons one is occasionally +introduced to when visiting ancient strongholds. +In this dismal region are capacious ‘coppers,’ in +any one of which soup, beef, vegetables, or tea +can be prepared.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_770">{770}</span></p> +<p>To return, however, to the proceedings of the +members of the guard. When they have satisfactorily +arranged their equipments and, above +all, thoroughly repolished their boots, a corporal +calls for silence. This obtained, he begins to +make out the duty-roll, or ‘detail’ as it is usually +termed, of the sentries; and when the detail is +completed, he affixes to the wall in a primitive +fashion—with pieces of damped ration bread—a +short abstract, in which the men are represented +by figures. To the uninitiated observer, +the purport of this might be rather puzzling. +After a particular numeral, for example, is +inscribed the word ‘Cocoa.’ The soldier to whom +it refers has assigned to him the task of preparing +the beverage named, which is issued to +the guard at midnight—the ‘standing’ cook +having the privilege of every night in bed. The +abstract is attentively perused by the men, who +sometimes take private memoranda of the parts +of its contents that apply to them individually. +Not unfrequently this is done with a pencil +on their pipeclayed gun-slings, in such a position +as not to be apparent to the inspecting officer.</p> + +<p>As soon as every one has mastered the corporal’s +hieroglyphics, a sergeant issues from the bunk +already alluded to, bearing the ‘order-board,’ +which is of rather portentous dimensions. As +the great majority of the men know the regulations +off by heart, they are read in a slightly +hasty and perfunctory manner; though, with true +military exactness, not a word is omitted. There +is little in the list of orders that calls for special +remark; but one paragraph is, we imagine, almost +if not quite unknown elsewhere; it relates to +the conduct of the corporals when marching +round the ‘reliefs.’ If, when so marching along +with his men, Her Majesty the Queen should +meet or pass the party, the non-commissioned +officer is directed to halt his subordinates, draw +them up in ‘open order,’ and see that the appropriate +salute is rendered. The curious order +which prohibits soldiers from ‘working at their +trade while on guard’ is of course represented +on the board; but as a matter of fact, some men +pass a good deal of their spare time in the not +very martial occupation of making beadwork +pincushions. These articles, however, command +somewhat tempting prices, especially in the +metropolis.</p> + +<p>While the men of the guard have thus been +engaged, the commandant has taken over his +quarters, adjacent to the guardroom, and reached +by a pretty long stone stair, well worn by the +iron-shod heels of many generations of corporals +and drummer-boys. Soon after mounting duty, +the officer is joined by his servant, who brings +with him a portmanteau containing various comforts. +A cooking department is also required in +the case of the officer, whose meals, however, are +conveyed to him by the messmen from barracks. +Before long, the steps of a corporal ascending +the stair warn the captain of the guard that +the hour approaches for him to march off the +‘second relief.’</p> + +<p>The ‘posts’ are numerous. One sentinel paces +about in front of the guardroom, much of his +attention being devoted to saluting the Knights +Pensioners of Windsor, who reside in the lower +ward of the castle. Another soldier has ample +leisure to examine the architectural features of +the celebrated Round Tower, at the base of which +he is stationed. A third takes post on the North +Terrace, where a splendid prospect enlivens the +monotony of his vigil, and whence, if of a +philological turn, he can contemplate the windings +of the river which are said to have given the +place the name Wind-shore, or Windsor. Or, +if historically inclined, he may recollect that +the North Terrace was once the favourite promenade, +for an hour before dinner, of Queen +Elizabeth, to whom it is alleged the English +soldier was originally indebted for his daily +ration of beef. Then there are two sentries on +the eastern façade of the castle. These men are +in close proximity to the royal apartments. +By night, they do not challenge in the ordinary +manner, but by two stamps with the right +foot; and they are charged to pronounce the +words ‘All’s well’ in an undertone. The grand +entrance to the upper ward of the castle is in +the keeping of a ‘double’ sentry, as is also a +gate near at hand; and there are several other +sentry-posts which it would be tedious to visit +in detail. In each sentry-box hangs a heavy +watchcoat, which the soldier may put on when +he thinks fit, and of the large buttons on this +cloak he is expected to take sedulous care.</p> + +<p>By night, the sentinels around Windsor Castle +are slightly augmented in number; but it will +only be necessary here to notice one nightpost, +the cloisters of St George’s Chapel. This is a +somewhat eerie quarter in the small-hours. There +is a military tradition to the effect that the +cloisters are occasionally visited by shadowy +and unearthly forms, to the perturbation of +young soldiers. The writer has had no experience +of these supernatural visitants; but he has +noticed, when marching round the relief, an +unusual alacrity on the part of some men to +quit the cloisters.</p> + +<p>While the men on guard are engaged in their +usual routine, the officer is not altogether idle; +he inspects and marches off the relieving detachments +at intervals of two hours; and in the +afternoon visits the sentries, taking pains to +ascertain that they are familiar with their instructions. +At eleven o’clock at night he makes +his ‘rounds,’ preceded by the drummer-boy with +his lantern, as well as by a corporal bearing +a bunch of keys, wherewith to open a number +of iron gates in and near the castle; and when +the rounds return to the lower ward, the captain +of the guard is at liberty to retire for the night.</p> + +<p>In the morning, such members of the guard +as may be slumbering are roused by the arrival +of the cooking-party; and soon afterwards the +officer’s man, with his portmanteau, appears on +the scene. Before long, a sergeant comes forth +from the ‘bunk,’ uttering the mandate: ‘Get +these coats folded.’ During the period when the +equipments are being operated upon, the senior +sergeant is engaged on the ‘guard report.’ One +important part of this is already in print upon +the form, and it commences by saying that +‘Nothing extraordinary has occurred during my +tour of duty.’ When the sergeant has carefully +finished the report, he takes it to the officer +for signature, and on his return calls out: ‘Fall-in +the guard.’ The men, who are already fully +accoutred, promptly form-up outside the guardroom; +and the commandant is seen descending +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_771">{771}</span>the stair from his quarters. Then the ‘new’ +guard arrives. In the course of half an hour, +the first stroke bestowed by the big-drummer on +his instrument announces to the ‘old’ guard that +their tour of duty is at an end.</p> + + + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"><h2 class="nobreak x-ebookmaker-important" id="BY_ORDER_OF_THE_LEAGUE">BY ORDER OF THE LEAGUE.</h2></div> + +<p class="ph3">BY FRED. M. WHITE.</p> + + +<h3 title="CHAP. XVII.">IN TWENTY CHAPTERS.—CHAP. XVII.</h3> + +<p><span class="smcap">When</span> Maxwell came to himself it was broad +daylight. He was lying upon a straw mattress +in a small room, containing no furniture besides +the rude bed; and as he looked up, he could +see the rafters, black with dirt and the smoke +of ages. The place was partly a house, partly a +hut. Gradually, as recollection came back to +him, he remembered the events of the previous +night, wondering vaguely why he had been +selected as a victim for attack, and what brought +him here. By the clear sound of voices and the +rush of water, he judged himself to be in the +country. He had no consciousness of fear, so +he rose, and throwing open the heavy door, +looked out. Towering away above his head were +the snow-capped peaks of mountains, and below +him the spreading valley of the Campagna. +Wood upon wood was piled up before him, all +aglow with bright sunlight, the green leaves +whispering and trembling in the breeze. The +hut was built on a long rocky plateau, approached +by a narrow winding path, and ending in a steep +precipice of two hundred feet, and backed up +behind by almost perpendicular rocks, fringed +and crowned by trees. In spite of his position, +Maxwell drew a long breath of delight; the +perfect beauty of the scene thrilled him, and +appealed to his artistic soul and love of the beautiful. +For some time he gazed upon the panorama, +perfectly oblivious to his position, till +gradually the sound of voices borne upon the +wind came to his ears. He walked to the side +of the hut and looked around.</p> + +<p>Seated upon the short springy turf, in every +picturesque and comfortable position the ingenuity +of each could contrive, were four men, +evidently, to Maxwell’s experienced eye, banditti. +They seemed peacefully inclined now, as they +lounged there in the bright sunshine smoking, +and renewing the everlasting <i>papilito</i>, without +which no such gentry are complete, either in +the pages of fiction or as portrayed upon the +modern stage. With the exception of one, evidently +the leader, there was nothing gorgeous +in their costume, it being the usual attire of the +mountaineers; but the long carabines lying by +their sides and the short daggers in their waistbands +spoke of their occupation. Maxwell began +to scent an adventure and enjoy the feeling; it +would only mean the outlay of a few pounds, +a little captivity; but when he approached nearer, +and saw each bearing on some part of his person +the gold moidore, his heart beat a trifle faster +as he stepped forward and confronted the group.</p> + +<p>‘What is the meaning of this?’ he asked, in +the best Italian at his command. ‘I suppose it +is merely a question of ransom. But it is useless +to put the figure too high. Come, what is +the amount?’</p> + +<p>The brigands looked to each other in admiration +of this coolness. Presently, the leader +removed his cigarette from his mouth and spoke: +‘You have your watch, signor, and papers; you +have your rings and purse. It is not our rule +to forget these with an ordinary prisoner.’</p> + +<p>Maxwell felt in his pocket, and, surely enough, +his valuables were perfectly safe—nothing missing, +even to his sketch-book. For the first time, +he began to experience a sensation of fear. +‘Then, if plunder is not your object, why am I +detained?’</p> + +<p>‘Plunder is not a nice word to ears polite, +signor,’ the leader replied with a dark scowl. +‘You are detained by orders. To hear, with us, +is to obey. You will remain here during our +pleasure.’</p> + +<p>‘But suppose I refuse to remain?’</p> + +<p>Without rising, the brigand turned on his side +and pointed towards the sheer precipice, and +then to the wall behind; with a gesture he indicated +the narrow winding path, the only means +of exit, and smiled ironically. ‘You may go; +there is nothing to prevent you,’ he said; ‘but +before you were half-way down the path yonder, +you would be the target for a score of bullets, +and we do not often fail.’</p> + +<p>Maxwell was considerably impressed by this +cool display; and indeed, when he considered +the matter calmly, there appeared no prospect +of immediate escape. Remonstrances or threats +would be equally unavailing, and he determined +to make the best of his position. ‘Perhaps you +would not mind telling me why I am here, and +by whose orders you have arrested me. It would +be some slight consolation to know how long I +am to stay. I am anxious to know this,’ he +continued, ‘because I am afraid your mountain +air, exhilarating as it is, will not suit me.’</p> + +<p>The group burst into loud laughter at this +little humour: it was a kind of wit they were +in a position to appreciate.</p> + +<p>‘It is impossible to say, signor. We only obey +orders; we can only wait for further instructions +as regards your welfare—or otherwise. We were +told to bring one Maxwell here, and lo! we have +done it.’</p> + +<p>‘I see you are brothers of the League,’ Maxwell +replied; ‘and for some act of omission or +commission I am detained here. You can at +least tell me by whose orders you do this.’</p> + +<p>‘Signor, they say you are a traitor to our +Order.’</p> + +<p>‘That I am not!’ Maxwell cried indignantly. +‘Tell me why I am here, and at whose orders. +There is some mistake here.’</p> + +<p>‘Not on our part, signor. The instructions +came from London. I only received them last +night. You will be well treated here, provided +you do not make any attempts to escape. For +the time, you are our guest, and as such, the +best I have is at your disposal. If orders come +to release you, we shall conduct you to Rome. +We shall do everything in our power to serve +you. If, on the other hand, you are tried in +the balance and found wanting, we shall not fail +to do our duty.’ He said these last words sternly, +in contrast to the polite, grave manner with +which he uttered the first part of his speech.</p> + +<p>Maxwell had perception enough to comprehend +his meaning. ‘You mean that I should +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_772">{772}</span>have to die,’ he observed. ‘I suppose it would +be a matter of the utmost indifference to you, +either way?’</p> + +<p>‘As a matter of duty, signor, yes,’ he answered +gravely; ‘though I do not wish to see a brave +man die; but if the mandate came to that effect, +I must obey. There is no refusing the word of +the League.’</p> + +<p>‘Then I really am a prisoner of the League,’ +Maxwell returned bitterly. ‘Well, the cause of +liberty must be in a bad way, when the very +members of the League treat brothers as I have +been treated.’</p> + +<p>‘Ah, it is a fine word liberty,’ the brigand +chief replied sardonically. ‘It is a good phrase +to put into men’s mouths; but there can be no +freedom where the shadow of the sword dwells +upon the land. Even Italy herself has suffered, +as she will again. Perfect liberty and perfect +freedom can only be founded upon the doctrine +of universal love.’</p> + +<p>By this time, Maxwell and the chief had drawn +a little aside from the others. The artist looked +in his companion’s face, and noted the air of +sorrow there. It was a fine manly countenance, +haughty and handsome, though the dark eyes +were somewhat sombre now. Maxwell, with his +cosmopolitan instinct, was drawn towards this +man, who had a history written on his brow. +‘You, too, have suffered,’ he said gently.</p> + +<p>‘Suffered!’ the brigand echoed. ‘Yes, Englishman, +I have suffered, and not more from the +Austrian yoke than the cruelties of my own +countrymen. There will be no true liberty here +while a stiletto remains in an Italian’s belt.’</p> + +<p>‘I suppose not,’ Maxwell mused. ‘These +Societies seem to me a gigantic farce. Would +that I had remained quietly at home, and let +empires manage their own affairs. And Salvarini +warned me too.’</p> + +<p>‘Salvarini! What do you know of him?’ the +chief exclaimed.</p> + +<p>‘Nothing but what is good and noble, everything +to make one proud to call him friend.—Do +you know him too?’</p> + +<p>‘He is my brother,’ the chief replied quietly.—‘You +look surprised to find that a relative of +Luigi should pursue such a profession as mine. +Yes, he is my brother—the brother of an outlaw, +upon whose head a price has been put by the +state. I am known to men as Paulo Lucci.’</p> + +<p>Maxwell started. The man sitting calmly by +his side was the most famous and daring bandit +chief of his time. Provinces rang with his fame, +and the stories of his dashing exploits resounded +far and near. Even away in the distant Apennines, +the villagers sat round the winter firesides +and discoursed of this man with bated breath, +and children trembled in their beds at the mere +thought of his name. He laughed scornfully +now as he noted Maxwell’s startled look.</p> + +<p>‘I am so very terrible,’ he continued, ‘that my +very name strikes terror to you! Bah! you have +been listening to the old women’s tales of my +atrocities, about the tortures my victims undergo, +and the thousand-and-one lies people are fond of +telling about me. I can understand Luigi did +not tell you I was his brother; I am not a +relative to be proud of.’</p> + +<p>‘He is in total ignorance of your identity. +That I do know.—I wonder at you choosing +such a life,’ Maxwell put in boldly. ‘With your +daring, you would have made fame as a soldier; +any path of life you had chosen would have +brought you honour; but now’——</p> + +<p>‘But now I am an outlaw,’ Paulo Salvarini +interrupted. ‘And why? If you will listen, I +will tell you my story in a few words.’</p> + +<p>Maxwell threw himself upon the grass by the +other’s side and composed himself to listen.</p> + +<p>‘If you will look below you,’ the chief commenced, +and pointing with his finger across the +distant landscape, ‘you will see the sun shining +upon a house-top. I can see the light reflected +from it now. That house was once my home. +I like sometimes to sit here and think of those +days when Gillana and I were happy there—that +is ten years ago now. I had done my +best for my country; I had fought for her, +and I retired to this peaceful spot with the +woman of my heart, to live in peace, as I hoped, +for the rest of my life. But the fiend of +Liberty was abroad. My wife’s father, an aged +man, was accused of complicity in political +crimes, and one day, when I was absent, they +came to arrest him. My wife clung to him, +and one of the brutal soldiery struck her down +with the butt of his rifle; I came in time to see +that, for my blood was on fire, and I did not +hesitate. You can understand the rest. My wife +was killed, actually murdered by that foul blow. +But I had my revenge. When I crossed the +threshold of my house, on my flight to the +mountains, I left three dead behind me, and +another, the officer, wounded sore. He recovered, +I afterwards heard; but some day we shall +meet.’</p> + +<p>He stopped abruptly, shaking in every limb +from the violence of his emotion, his sombre eyes +turned towards the spot where the sun shone upon +the roof-tops of what was once a peaceful homestead.</p> + +<p>‘Luigi can only guess at this,’ the speaker continued. +‘To him I have been dead for years; +indeed, I do not know what makes me tell you +now, only that you surprised me, and I like to +hear a little news of him.’</p> + +<p>‘I have heard this history before,’ Maxwell +observed. ‘It is five years ago now; but I am +not likely to forget it. Still, you cannot enjoy +this life. It is wild and exciting, no doubt; but +your companions’——</p> + +<p>‘I live for revenge,’ Salvarini exclaimed sternly. +‘I am waiting to meet the brutal officer who +ordered his follower to strike down my wife. I +have waited long; but the time will come at +length, and then, heaven help the man called +Hector le Gautier!’</p> + +<p>‘Le Gautier!’ Maxwell exclaimed. ‘He, an +Italian officer! Why, he is at present Head Centre +of the Brotherhood in London. He and your +brethren are bosom friends. He was even present +at the time when Luigi told us your sad history. +Surely he cannot know; and yet I trusted him +too. Signor Salvarini, you bewilder me.’</p> + +<p>The outlaw laughed loud and long; but the +mirth was strained, and jarred harshly upon +the listener. ‘And that fiend is a friend of +Luigi’s! Strange things happen in these times. +Beware, Signor Maxwell—beware of that man, +for he will work you mischief yet. It was by +his orders you were arrested. He knows me by +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_773">{773}</span>name, and as one of the Brotherhood only, so I +did his bidding.’</p> + +<p>‘Strange! And yet I have done him no harm.’</p> + +<p>‘Not that you are aware of, perhaps. Still, +no doubt you have crossed his path in some +way. If I have a command in the morning +to lead you out yonder to face a dozen rifles, +I shall not be surprised.’</p> + +<p>‘And you would countenance such murder?’</p> + +<p>‘This morning, yes. Now, I am doubtful. +You are my brother’s friend; I am Le Gautier’s +enemy; I do not wish to help him.’</p> + +<p>Three days passed uneventfully by, at the +end of which time Maxwell had become a great +favourite with the outlaw band. Following the +lead of their chief, they treated him with every +kindness; nor was he in his turn inclined to +resent his captivity or chafe at this delay. His +chief fear was for Enid; for Paulo Salvarini, +though he was inclined to allow his prisoner +every latitude, was firm upon the point of communication +with the outer world; for, as he pointed +out, he might after all be guilty of some great +treachery to the League, and in that case must +be answerable for anything that happened.</p> + +<p>So the days passed on in that quiet spot, no +further news coming to him till the morning of +the fourth day. Then he was sitting at the door +of his hut, watching the sunrise glowing on the +distant hills, when Salvarini approached him, his +face perturbed, and his whole manner agitated. +‘You are in danger,’ he whispered. ‘The orders +have come, and you are proclaimed traitor. The +men are mad against you, and declare you shall +be brought out for instant execution. Ah! you +have only seen the best side of their character; +you have not seen them hungry for blood.’</p> + +<p>‘Do they want to murder me?’ Maxwell +exclaimed. ‘Cannot you’——</p> + +<p>‘I am powerless now,’ Salvarini interrupted. +‘I will do what I can; but I fear nothing +can save you now.’</p> + +<p>‘Do not be afraid,’ said a calm voice behind. +‘<i>I</i> shall save him!’</p> + +<p>‘Isodore!’</p> + +<p>‘Yes, Paulo Lucci; it is I.’</p> + +<p>Maxwell looked up, and saw the most beautiful +woman he had ever seen in his life. For a +moment he could only gaze in rapt astonishment. +This, then, was the Empress of the League—the +woman Visci had mentioned, whose lightest word +could free his feet and clear his path for +ever.</p> + +<p>‘You have come in time,’ Salvarini said with +a low obeisance. ‘An hour hence and our +prisoner would have been no more.’</p> + +<p>‘I am always in time,’ Isodore replied quietly.—‘I +have come to deliver you from a great +danger,’ she continued, turning to Maxwell. +‘Come; we must be in Rome at once, and away, +or we may yet be too late. Hark! Are the +wolves clamouring for their prey already? We +shall see.’</p> + +<p>It was light now, and from the plateau beyond +came the hoarse yells and cries for revenge +from the brigands. On they came towards the +hut, clamouring for blood, and mad with the heat +of passion. They rushed in, seized Maxwell, and +led him out on to the level grass, while six of +the party stepped back a few paces and cocked +their rifles. The whole thing was so sudden that +Lucci and Isodore were totally unprepared to +resist. But the girl roused herself now, and +quitting the hut, swept across the open space and +placed herself in front of Maxwell.</p> + +<p>‘Drop your arms!’ she cried. ‘Are you mad, +that you do this thing? Ground your rifles, or +you shall pay dearly for this indignity.’</p> + +<p>Appalled by her gestures and the dignity of her +voice, the desperadoes hesitated for a moment, +and then one, more daring than the rest, raised +his carabine to the shoulder, standing in the act +of firing.</p> + +<p>‘You may fire,’ Isodore cried. ‘Fire! and every +hair of my head shall be avenged for by a life! +Fire! and then pray for the mercy of heaven, +for you shall not meet with any from the hand +of man!’</p> + +<p>The desperate men were amazed by this beauty +and daring, the audacity of which appealed to +their rude instinct. One by one they dropped +their firearms, and stood looking sullenly in the +direction of the scornful woman, standing there +without a particle of fear in her eyes.</p> + +<p>‘Who are you,’ cried one bolder than the rest—‘who +are you, that come between us and +justice?’</p> + +<p>They all took up the cry, and bade her stand +aside.</p> + +<p>‘If she falls, I fall!’ Lucci exclaimed in a firm +steady voice. ‘Go on your knees, and ask for +pardon.—Madam,’ he continued, falling upon one +knee, ‘I did not think my followers would have +shown such scant courtesy to Isodore.’</p> + +<p>At the very mention of her name, a change +came over the mutineers. One by one they +dropped their firearms, and came forward humbly +to implore her forgiveness for their rashness, +but she waved them aside.</p> + +<p>Long and earnestly the three talked together, +listening to the revelation of Le Gautier’s treachery, +and how the final act was about to be played +over there in England: how Le Gautier had +confessed his treachery, and how, out of his own +mouth, he was going to be convicted. Silently +and slowly they wound their way down the +mountain path, under Lucci’s guidance, out on to +the plains, beyond which the sun lighted upon +the house-tops of distant Rome. When they had +got so far, Isodore held out her hand to the guide.</p> + +<p>‘Good-bye. It will not be safe for you to come +any farther,’ she said. ‘Rest assured, in the +general reckoning your account shall not be forgotten.’</p> + +<p>‘It will not,’ Lucci answered sternly. ‘I shall +see to that myself. By the time you reach +England, I shall be there too.—Nay, do not +strive to dissuade me. I do not take my revenge +from another hand. I shall run a great risk; +but, mark me, when the time comes, I shall be +there!’ Without another word he disappeared; +and Isodore and Maxwell walked on towards the +Eternal City both wrapped in their own thoughts. +Mile after mile passed on thus, ere Maxwell broke +the silence.</p> + +<p>‘Do you think he will keep his word?’ he said +half timidly.</p> + +<p>‘Who, Lucci? Yes; he will keep his word; +nothing but death will prevent that.—And now, +you and I must get back to England without +a moment’s loss of time.’</p> + +<p>‘I cannot say how grateful I am,’ Maxwell +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_774">{774}</span>said earnestly. ‘If it had not been for your +bravery and courage’—— He stopped and shuddered; +the contemplation of what might have +been was horrible.</p> + +<p>Isodore smiled a little unsteadily in answer to +these words. ‘I owe you a debt of gratitude,’ +she replied. ‘My memory serves me well. I was +not going to allow you to die, when you would +have perished rather than raise a hand against +Carlo Visci.’</p> + +<p>‘Indeed, you only do me justice. I would +have died first.’</p> + +<p>‘I know it; and I thank you for your kindness +to him at the last. You were with him when he +died. Things could not have been better. He +was always fond of you. For that, I am +grateful.’</p> + +<p>‘But I do not understand,’ Maxwell faltered. +‘He did not know you except by reputation.’</p> + +<p>‘I think you are mistaken. Am I so changed +that you do not recognise your friend Genevieve?’</p> + +<p>‘Genevieve! You? Am I dreaming?’</p> + +<p>‘Yes; I am Genevieve; though much changed +and altered from those happy old days when +you used to come to the Villa Mattio. You +wonder why I am here now—why I left my home. +Cannot you guess that Le Gautier was at the +bottom of it?’</p> + +<p>‘But he professed not to know you; he’——</p> + +<p>‘Yes, he professed to be a friend of yours. +But until I give you permission to speak, not +a word that Isodore and Genevieve are one and +the same.’</p> + +<p>‘My lips are sealed. I leave everything in +your hands.’</p> + +<p>‘And cannot you guess why you have incurred +Le Gautier’s enmity?—No? Simply, because he +aspires to the hand of Enid Charteris.—You +need not start,’ Isodore continued, laying her +hand upon the listener’s arm. ‘You have no +cause for anxiety. It will never be!’</p> + +<p>‘Never, while I can prevent it!’ Maxwell cried +warmly.</p> + +<p>‘It is impossible. He has a wife already.’</p> + +<p>Only tarrying for one mournful hour to visit +the cemetery where lay Carlo Visci’s quiet grave, +Isodore and Maxwell made their way, but not +together, to England, as fast as steam could carry +them.</p> + + + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"><h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_ORDNANCE_SURVEY_ITS_PAST">THE ORDNANCE SURVEY, ITS PAST +AND FUTURE.</h2></div> + + +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> Ordnance Survey is now a hundred years +old, and it is expected, according to present +arrangements, to be finished in 1890. That, in +one sense, is a considerable time to look forward +to; but there are several knotty and important +questions connected with the completion of this +great scientific enterprise which it would be well +duly to weigh and consider beforehand. A suitable +opportunity for calling attention to the +results of this national undertaking is afforded +by the publication of a popularly written volume, +<i>The Ordnance Survey of the United Kingdom</i> (Blackwood +& Sons), by Lieutenant-Colonel T. P. White +of the Royal Engineers, the executive officer of +the Survey. An additional reason for noticing the +matter at this stage may also be found in the +amount of ignorance which prevails on the subject. +To most persons, the Ordnance Survey only +means some kind of measuring of the land; but +they have little idea of the methods adopted +for the purpose, of the multifarious ends served +by the publication of the maps, of the difficulties +which had to be overcome, and of the marvellous +and unexampled accuracy with which the work +has been carried on. There are indeed few things +of which as a nation we may feel more proud +than the accomplishment of this gigantic work; +a noble illustration and monument of persistent +perseverance, of infinite ingenuity of resource, +and of general engineering skill.</p> + +<p>A beginning was made, according to Colonel +White, with the primary triangulation for the +Survey in 1784 (the Annual Report says 1791), +under the charge of General Roy, an able scientific +officer, who had been associated with General +Watson, thirty-six years before, in a survey of +the Highlands made for military reasons, after +the crushing of the rebellion of 1745. The idea +of a scientific survey of the whole kingdom was +first mooted in 1763; but for various reasons, +nothing was done till twenty-one years later, +when, in response to a proposal from the French +government to connect the system of triangulation +already existing in France with that about +to be set on foot here, the work was at last begun. +Hounslow Heath was selected as the base-line +of that great system which has now overspread +the land. It may not be unnecessary here to +remark that the work of a cadastral survey is +carried on by a series of triangles proceeding +from a base-line—that is, a space of level ground +usually about five miles long, which is measured +by chain in the most exact manner—this forming +the nucleus. From the two ends of this measured +space a triangle is formed to some point at a +distance, and the length of the two unknown +sides computed by trigonometry. From this +primary triangle, other triangles are formed, and +calculated similarly, until there is a series of these +like a network all over the country. Four or +five other base-lines were also measured for verifying +the correctness of the calculations—hence +called ‘bases of verification’—notably that on +Salisbury Plain, on which as a foundation the +principal triangulation of the kingdom was eventually +to rest.</p> + +<p>It forms a remarkable illustration of the +care and exactness with which the work has +been done that the lengths of these base-lines +calculated from the original one by +trigonometry through all the intervening triangles, +has been found to coincide within four +inches with the lengths as actually measured by +chain. A result like this reminds one of the +yearly balancing by the system of double entry +of the transactions of a great bank with branches +all over the country, and where the totals on +both sides, amounting to many millions, square +to a farthing. These primary triangles, some +of them containing sides one hundred miles long, +are broken up into smaller ones, and these again +subdivided; the latter, with sides from one to +two miles, being then measured in the ordinary +way by the surveyors. We have thus, from one +or two measured spaces—it might be from one +only—a triangulation worked out of the whole +country, and its area and the relative geographical +position of every spot on its surface fixed +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_775">{775}</span>for all time. This principal triangulation, as it +is called, was completed in 1852. What has been +going on since is survey work.</p> + +<p>The battle of the scales is another noteworthy +point in the history of the Survey. When it +was resolved, about the close of the last century, +to publish maps based on the triangulation, the +scale of one inch to a mile was adopted, and this +embraced all England and Wales south of Yorkshire +and Lancashire, these two counties being +surveyed about 1840 on the six-inch scale, which +had been adopted for the Irish Survey, and was +now introduced into England. Afterwards, the +scale was enlarged to twenty-five inches to a +mile, and the four northern counties of England +were so surveyed and published. It was then +agreed to re-survey all those counties which had +been done on the one-inch system. Some of these +are completed, while others are still in progress.</p> + +<p>In Scotland, the course of the Survey has not +run very smoothly. The triangulatory work was +begun in 1809, and went on with intermissions +till 1823, when it was stopped for fifteen years, to +allow the Irish Survey to be taken up. The latter +was begun in 1824, and finished in 1842. But +six-inch county maps have now been published +of the whole of Scotland, one-inch maps of nearly +the whole, and those on the twenty-five-inch +scale also, with the exception of Midlothian, Fife, +Haddington, Kinross, Kirkcudbright, Wigtown, +which had been the earliest surveyed, and were +completed before the larger scale was sanctioned. +The uncultivated portions of Scotland, it may be +added, are also excepted from the larger scale. +These six counties, and Yorkshire and Lancashire, +are thus the only counties in Great Britain whose +maps are not published on the twenty-five-inch +scale. Towns with populations over four thousand +have been surveyed on a still larger scale, +varying from one-five-hundredth, or a hundred +and twenty-six inches to the mile, to one-ten-hundred +and fifty-sixth, or about sixty inches +to the mile. Edinburgh and thirteen other +towns are done on the smaller scale, and forty-four +other towns on the larger. In any future +revision of the Survey, those towns and counties +which have not been published on the larger +scales will probably have priority.</p> + +<p>It is needless to add that great delay and vexatious +hindrance to the general efficiency and progress +of the Survey have been caused by the +vacillation and frequent changes made at the +instance of the House of Commons. One session +it would be in a liberal mood, and rule that +the Survey should be carried on with all speed +and on the most liberal scale; and at another +it would rescind its good resolutions and pass +others of a more economical kind. In 1851, +for example, a Committee of the House of +Commons, with the present Earl of Wemyss at +their head, recommended that the six-inch scale +in Scotland should be discontinued and the +one-inch maps only published. Much dissatisfaction +was felt in Scotland at this retrograde +recommendation, and remonstrances from all +quarters poured in to the Treasury on the subject. +Three years afterwards, the twenty-five-inch +scale was approved of; but an adverse +vote was carried in the House of Commons two +years later; and the question was not put to +rest till 1861, when the latter scale was finally +sanctioned; and since then, as Colonel White +remarks, ‘parliamentary committees have troubled +us no more.’ A recommendation to accelerate +the progress of the Survey was made in 1880; +and in the following year the working force +was nearly doubled. As a result of this arrangement, +it is expected that the work will be completed +in 1890; this is on the supposition that +the present numbers and organisation are kept +up. From the last Annual Report, we learn +that on the 31st of December 1885, there were +employed 28 officers, 2 warrant-officers, 364 non-commissioned +officers and sappers of the Royal +Engineers, and 2846 civilians—total, 3240. This, +presumably, includes all those connected with +the production and publication of the maps at +Southampton, the headquarters of the Survey.</p> + +<p>Of the inestimable benefit to the nation at +large of the Ordnance Survey there can be but +one opinion among all persons capable of forming +an intelligent opinion. It has proved of great +value in a large number of matters of the highest +public interest. Its necessity and importance in +connection with the national defences are perhaps +of primary interest; but there are numerous +other departments where it has proved equally +essential, such as for valuation purposes—facilitating +the taking of the census; for drainage, +waterworks, railways, and engineering works +generally; for extension of town boundaries, +and surveys for various purposes. As a practical +example of the public advantage derived from +the Ordnance Survey, Colonel White mentions +that during the progress of the Redistribution +of Seats Bill the enormous number of four +hundred and fifty-three thousand maps were +required for the Boundary Commissioners; and +special duties of a similar kind were also rendered +in 1868, and also to the Irish Church Temporalities +Commission. These and other services +of a more strictly scientific nature, as +those rendered to geodesy and geology, afford +ample testimony to the value of the labours of +those engaged in this arduous and honourable +service.</p> + +<p>The all-important question remains, how are +we to carry on this confessedly important work? +We must not lose the benefit of what, through +great toil and cost, has been already achieved. +Valuable as have been the results, it is evident +that many portions of the Survey are now obsolete. +The triangulation portion of the work +has of course been done once for all; but in +a very large number of cases, especially in the +suburbs of towns, the whole face of the country +is changed. There are hundreds of districts +which are presented in the Survey sheets as +green fields, surrounded with trees and hedgerows, +where now are densely populated towns or parts +of towns. The hills and the rivers remain, but all +else is changed. Glebe-lands, residential estates, +farm-steadings have become streets and lanes, or +perhaps have succumbed to the operations of the +miner, or afforded space for a great industry of +some sort. It is obvious, then, that the Survey, +unequalled, it is believed, in any other country, +should undergo periodical revision in order to +keep pace with the progress of the nation, +otherwise we shall find ourselves unable to cope +satisfactorily with many questions and difficulties +arising from time to time in a great country +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_776">{776}</span>like our own. How, for instance, would the +Boundary Commissioners in the instance already +mentioned have performed their duties had there +been no accurate survey of the country? And in +the war-scare of 1858-9, Colonel White mentions +that a great expense was incurred by the government +of the day in getting special surveys of +large districts hastily made, as at that time the +twenty-five-inch scale was just begun; and it +would have been still more had there been no +force ready to undertake the duty. Imperfectly, +then, as the case has been here stated, there +is sufficient, we think, to demonstrate that there +is a strong plea for a deliberate and favourable +consideration of this important matter at no +distant date.</p> + +<p>It only remains to make acknowledgment to +Colonel White for the use here made of many +of the facts in his interesting volume. To those +who feel any interest in the subject, and even +to those who do not, his story of the labours +of his comrades is worthy, in literary and other +respects, of all commendation, and we venture to +say will do much to popularise the subject.</p> + + + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"><h2 class="nobreak" id="WANTED_A_CLUE">WANTED, A CLUE.</h2></div> + + +<h3 title="CHAP. I.">IN TWO CHAPTERS.—CHAP. I.</h3> + +<p>‘“<span class="smcap">Companion</span> required for a Young Lady. Must +be cheerful, musical, and of good family. Salary, +£60 per annum.”’ Such was the advertisement +my aunt Margaret read out to me one morning, +as we sat at breakfast in her neat little house in +London.</p> + +<p>I am the orphan daughter of a missionary, +and my aunt’s was the only home I had ever +known. For the past three years I had been +resident governess in a wealthy family in Yorkshire; +but my employers’ purse-proud arrogance +was too much for my self-respect, and I had to +leave, resolving if possible to try and obtain a +post as companion.</p> + +<p>Tempted by the excellent salary offered, I at +once wrote to the address indicated. Promptly +I received a reply, from Mr Foster of Great +Gorton Hall, Westernshire. He stated that companionship +was required for his step-daughter, +Miss Thorndyke, a delicate girl of eighteen, who +resided with him and his widowed sister, Mrs +Morrell; her mother, his dear late wife, having +died the previous year. He added that my +acquirements and credentials were satisfactory; +and requested to know whether I had ever been +in Westernshire, and if I had any friends or +connections there.</p> + +<p>I replied that I was an entire stranger to the +county and to all the people in it; and in a +few days I was overjoyed at receiving the nomination +to the post; for I was unwilling to be +a burden on my aunt’s slender means.</p> + +<p>Gorton Hall was a fine building of gray stone, +standing in beautiful grounds, on the outskirts +of a pretty country village. I was shown into +a spacious drawing-room, where a middle-aged +lady in black greeted me very pleasantly, introducing +herself as Mrs Morrell. She kindly bade +me be seated, and sent a servant in search of her +brother.</p> + +<p>Mr Foster was a fine-looking man, with iron-gray +hair, and a keen and searching expression—a +man whom I instinctively felt it would be +dangerous to offend. His manner to me, like +his sister’s, was courtesy itself. He explained +the duties expected from me. ‘And one thing +more I must add, Miss Armitage,’ he said in +conclusion—‘although willing to concede everything +reasonable, there is one thing I cannot +permit in members of my household—gossiping +with strangers concerning my family. I prefer +that my daughter’s companion should have no +friends or acquaintances in this neighbourhood; +and I must request that during your residence +here, you discourage any intimacy which people +at Gorton or any of the neighbouring villages +may seek to establish with you. I have seen +so much mischief caused by gossip and tittle-tattle, +that I am obliged to request this.’</p> + +<p>The stipulation seemed a very reasonable one, +and I readily acceded to it. Mr Foster then went +on to speak of his step-daughter.</p> + +<p>‘Our darling Edith is not so strong as we +could wish, and indeed is frequently confined +to the sofa. The doctor orders her to keep early +hours and avoid all excitement; she therefore +goes but little into society; but we hope the companionship +of a bright and lively girl will prove +beneficial. Keep her amused and happy, Miss +Armitage, and we ask no more from you.’</p> + +<p>I found my future charge in the drawing-room, +when I descended dressed for dinner. She was +a fragile-looking creature, with light hair and +large blue eyes. She greeted me very kindly. +Her manner was childish, considering her age; +but I was much relieved not to find her a fine +fashionable young lady. She was still in mourning +for her mother.</p> + +<p>We had a musical evening. Mrs Morrell and +I executed several duets on the piano, accompanied +by Mr Foster on the violin, which he +played very well. Edith kissed me very kindly +as she said good-night; and before I went to +rest, I sat down and wrote to my aunt in glowing +terms, saying that Gorton Hall was an earthly +paradise.</p> + +<p>Nor did I see reason to change my opinion +for many weeks. I soon felt perfectly at ease +in my new home. Edith was so gentle, so unassuming, +and so considerate, that it was impossible +not to love her; and Mr Foster and his +sister were most kind. I was treated as a gentlewoman +and an equal; and my duties were very +light, being chiefly to drive Edith in a pretty +pony-carriage, to play duets, and occasionally +to read aloud.</p> + +<p>We did not mix very much in society, although +Mrs Morrell received a due amount of calls from +the ladies in the neighbourhood. A few quiet +garden-parties and dinners were the limit of our +dissipations, on Edith’s account. I was always +included in any scheme of pleasure, and Mr +Foster made quite a point of introducing me to +all visitors.</p> + +<p>There was a fine old church in the village, +to which we all went on Sundays. It was a +mile and a half across the fields; but we usually +drove, on account of Edith. I had been nearly +six months at the Hall, when one fine Sunday +morning in July it fell to my lot to go to church +alone, for the first time since my arrival. Mr +Foster was in London; Edith had a headache; +and Mrs Morrell would not leave her, although +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_777">{777}</span>she was urgent that I should go. The service +over, I was returning across the first field, when +I heard steps behind me, and a gentleman’s voice +said: ‘Miss Armitage!’</p> + +<p>I turned round in surprise, to see a young +man who was a perfect stranger to me. Lifting +his hat politely, he begged for the honour of a +few words with me.</p> + +<p>I was both amazed and indignant, and somewhat +loftily informed him that I was not in the +habit of conversing with total strangers; so saying, +I was walking on, when he interrupted me, +and begged me to listen, for Edith Thorndyke’s +sake.</p> + +<p>‘My father, Dr Archer, was her father’s oldest +friend, Miss Armitage. My family is well known +in this neighbourhood; and I live in the next +village, Little Gorton, where I am in partnership +with Dr Selby. You are well known to me by +name, and for some time I have endeavoured to +contrive an interview with you, in vain. I could +not come up to the Hall,’ he added, no doubt +seeing amazement written on my face. ‘The +fact is, Miss Armitage, I love Edith Thorndyke; +but her step-father considers my position inferior +to hers, and refuses to allow me to see her until +she is of age. Doubtless you are aware that she +will inherit a great deal of property.’</p> + +<p>‘I strongly disapprove of discussing these +family matters with a total stranger, sir,’ I +said, trying to move away. ‘Also, Mr Foster +has absolutely forbidden it.—Good-morning.’</p> + +<p>‘One moment!’ he pleaded. ‘Edith Thorndyke’s +very life may depend upon it! Have +you heard the terms of her mother’s will?’</p> + +<p>‘They are nothing to me, sir.’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, but please, Miss Armitage! I entreat you! +Do listen to me! When Mrs Foster’s first husband +died, he left her some thousands a year, +in addition to Gorton Hall and the estates, +entirely at her own disposal. She married again, +and died last year, when it was found that she +had left her husband Edith’s sole guardian until +she should be twenty-one, when she would enter +into the possession of the Thorndyke property. +In case she died before attaining her majority, +one half of the property would devolve upon +Mr Foster, and half upon relatives of the Thorndykes. +Even the half is a very large sum, Miss +Armitage—quite enough to tempt a man like +Mr Foster to—to—— In short, I sadly fear +Edith Thorndyke will not be allowed to live +until she is twenty-one.’</p> + +<p>‘This is downright madness!’ I exclaimed. +‘Mr Foster is the kindest and best of men—quite +incapable of harbouring designs upon his step-daughter’s +life.’</p> + +<p>‘I know Lawrence Foster; you do not,’ he +answered quietly. ‘I know him to be bold and +cunning and unscrupulous. Edith believes in +him and his sister; but she is sadly deceived. +I hoped to be able to enlist you on my side, +Miss Armitage, when I heard of your arrival at +the Hall. I should be glad to feel sure that +Edith has one disinterested friend in the house.’</p> + +<p>‘But I ought not to speak to you at all,’ I +said, feeling very uncomfortable. ‘Mr Foster has +strictly forbidden me to gossip with strangers.’</p> + +<p>‘Because he is afraid that you might hear the +truth.’</p> + +<p>‘But if he is what you say, why does he have +a companion for his step-daughter at all? I +must be a check on his movements. I see all +that goes on; he never hides anything from me.’</p> + +<p>‘Don’t you see that your presence is an additional +security for him? It disarms suspicion. +Supposing Edith—well, died suddenly; people +would say: “Miss Armitage was there; she +knows all about it;” and no comment would be +excited; whereas it would probably seem suspicious, +at all events to the Thorndyke family, +who are by no means satisfied with the terms +of the will, if Edith were to die whilst living +alone with Mr Foster and his sister. There can +be no doubt that the money must be an immense +temptation to him. He has nothing of his own. +Ten thousand a year, and only one fragile girl’s +life in the way!’</p> + +<p>I must say the speaker’s earnestness and unmistakable +sincerity began to make an impression +upon me. I had fancied once or twice that Mr +Foster exercised an unusually close surveillance +over Edith and me. Were Dr Archer’s words +true, and was I merely a lay-figure at Gorton +Hall, to deceive the world? Had I been taken +into society by my employers, and my praises +trumpeted forth to all their acquaintances, +merely in order that my presence should disarm +suspicion? ‘You have made me very uncomfortable,’ +I candidly confessed.</p> + +<p>‘Believe me, Miss Armitage, I would not have +taken this course but that I was compelled by +necessity. Edith’s step-father has such a complete +ascendency over her, that it is difficult to know +what to do. But you are always with her, and +can watch over her.’</p> + +<p>‘But I am only a paid companion, liable to +dismissal at any time.’</p> + +<p>‘True; but I hope you will try and stay as +long as you can, for Edith’s sake.’</p> + +<p>‘I fear she is very delicate.’</p> + +<p>‘She is delicate; she needs care. But, as she +gets older, her health will probably improve. +There is really no reason, humanly speaking, +why she should not live for many years. But +I fear—I fear many things, but chiefly poison, +slow and secret. Mr Foster is an accomplished +chemist; and his antecedents—better known to +me than to most people—give me little confidence +in him. If you knew as much as I do about +him, Miss Armitage, you would not wonder at +my suspicions. But be sure of this: there is +danger. I have no proof against Mr Foster, and +therefore cannot interfere in any way. Promise, +promise me, Miss Armitage, that you will inform +me of everything suspicious that you may see +from this time. Here is my address.’</p> + +<p>I hastily took the proffered card and gave +the promise, anxious to return before Mrs Morrell +should be uneasy at my absence. She laughingly +remarked that the sermon must have been unusually +long, and in a casual manner asked what +was the text. Luckily, I was able to supply +chapter and verse and a lengthy catalogue of +my fellow-worshippers. It then struck me for +the first time that if, by chance, I was allowed +to go out alone, either Mr Foster or Mrs Morrell +might find out, by skilfully put questions, everything +I had said, seen, and done.</p> + +<p>Now that suspicion had once entered my mind, +I saw grounds for it everywhere, as might have +been expected. The most absurd fancies entered +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_778">{778}</span>into my head. I persuaded Edith in secret to +lock her door at night before retiring to rest, +which she had never done before. I do not know +what I expected to happen. The precaution was +a senseless one; for the foes I was fighting against +were far too clever and subtle to contemplate +anything so foolish as commonplace midnight +murder.</p> + +<p>I will do my employers the justice to say that +with all this I spent a delightful summer. They +took Edith and me to Scotland for a two months’ +tour; and I never enjoyed a holiday so much. A +more charming cicerone than Mr Foster could +not be. Then we went back to Gorton, and +settled down for the winter. For some time, +absolutely nothing of any importance occurred. +I wrote occasionally a brief, reassuring, cautious +note to Dr Archer, but carefully refrained from +speaking when we met, to avert suspicion. Edith +and I grew daily more attached; and nothing +could exceed my employers’ kindness.</p> + +<p>Edith had been decidedly better in health, until +she received a severe chill in November. Mrs +Morrell at once sent for the doctor, the same old +family practitioner who had attended her from +her birth.</p> + +<p>Dr Stevens was a worthy man, and once a skilful +physician, no doubt; but when I saw him, +he was nearly eighty and quite past his work. +Feeble, weak in sight and hearing, the old man +seemed more fit to be in bed himself, than to be +employed in his professional capacity. I hinted +as much to Edith; but she was quite indignant, +and reiterated her assurances that she had more +confidence in Dr Stevens than in any one else; +so I had to rest satisfied.</p> + +<p>Miss Thorndyke’s illness dragged on with fluctuating +strength. She was too delicate to shake +off anything easily; and she had frequent relapses, +which sadly weakened her strength. Mrs Morrell +nursed her most assiduously, declining professional +attendance, but permitting me to help her +to the best of my ability. But although I was +allowed to be in the invalid’s room all day, if I +chose, Mrs Morrell would not permit me to +exhaust my strength in night-nursing. She had +had her bed placed in a dressing-room communicating +with Edith’s room, and there she slept, +ready, at the slightest movement of the invalid, +to spring up and wait upon her. Edith spoke +warmly of Mrs Morrell’s kindness and devotion; +and certainly she spared no pains to humour the +fancies of the sick girl.</p> + +<p>About Christmas, the disease assumed a new +phase. Symptoms of stomach derangement set +in, which Dr Stevens attributed to the long-continued +recumbent position and lack of exercise; +and he set himself to combat the new evil by +every means in his power. This was all discussed +in my presence, for no mystery was made of the +matter; and indeed I was usually accustomed to +administer Edith’s food and medicines when I sat +in her room. This, however, never occurred in +the evening; for Mr Foster so pathetically pleaded +his loneliness in the deserted drawing-room after +dinner, when his sister always went to the +invalid, that in common civility I could not +refuse to play chess and cribbage with him, and +occasionally accompany his violin on the piano.</p> + +<p>But one night about nine o’clock I slipped +quietly out of the drawing-room, and went up-stairs +to Edith’s room to see if she was awake. +She had been worse that day, and I was beginning +to feel rather anxious about her. For a wonder, +Mrs Morrell was not on duty, and I entered +unchallenged. I had not been into Edith’s room +so late as this since the beginning of her illness, +and was astonished to find it lighted up by eight +large wax candles, dispersed about the apartment, +although the glare was carefully screened from +the invalid’s face. I stooped over the thin face +on the pillow, and received a faint smile. I could +not help remarking: ‘How light your room is! +I wonder you can sleep in such a blaze.’</p> + +<p>‘Mrs Morrell likes it,’ was the languid answer. +‘She always burns eight candles like that, all +night. I don’t mind them.—O Alice dear, I am +so tired of lying here! and I’m always so thirsty, +so dreadfully thirsty! Do give me something to +drink!’</p> + +<p>I poured out a tumblerful of a cooling drink +from a handsome red glass jug on the table near +me. She drank it eagerly, and sank back on her +pillow as Mrs Morrell came into the room.</p> + +<p>I fancied that an angry gleam shot at me from +under the widow’s black eyebrows; but if so, she +smoothed away her irritation before she addressed +me. ‘Alice, my dear, it is most kind of you to +be here, but I left my darling girl, as I hoped, +to sleep. She is more likely to get a good night’s +rest, if she is not disturbed by late visitors. After +nine o’clock, please, I must request you for the +present, dear, not to come here again.’</p> + +<p>I apologised, and said good-night, turning, however, +at the door to ask if Mrs Morrell did not +think so much light might have a disturbing +effect upon the invalid.</p> + +<p>‘Now, my dear Miss Armitage, that is not like +your usual common-sense,’ answered the widow +sweetly. ‘Above all things, plenty of light is +essential in a sickroom, where medicines have to +be accurately measured out, and where at any +moment the nurse may be summoned to her +patient’s side. I should be tumbling over the +furniture in the dark, if the candles were not +kept burning. And now, my dear girl, I must +really request that you go; Edith is nearly asleep. +Good-night.’ So I ran down-stairs, to be gently +scolded by Mr Foster for my long absence.</p> + +<p>When a week went by and Edith grew worse +every day, I became seriously alarmed, and expressed +my uneasiness in a letter to Dr Archer, +which I posted myself, for fear of accidents. He +sent me a brief note by a trusty messenger, in +reply, which did not tend to allay my fears:</p> + +<p>‘Your account of her symptoms was most +alarming. You say she is wasted and prostrate, +and suffers from painful cramps and insatiable +thirst. These are the symptoms of arsenical +poisoning. You must contrive to secure portions +of all her food and medicine, and bottle them +securely, and bring them to me. Be in the fir +plantation at four o’clock to-morrow to meet me; +it is a matter of life and death.’</p> + +<p>You may imagine how terrified I was; but +luckily I had nerve enough to hide it. I looked +out all the small bottles I could find, washed +them out carefully, and determined to put them +into my pocket one at a time, to fill as occasion +should serve. At the same time I could hardly +believe that Dr Archer was right in his suspicions. +I believed they could not poison Edith +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_779">{779}</span>without my knowledge. I was in and out of the +sickroom all day, from about ten o’clock in the +morning, until I was dismissed at five to dress +for dinner; and at least half of her food and +medicine I administered with my own hands. +The medicine bottles I frequently opened fresh +from Dr Stevens’ wrappings; and it was difficult +to imagine that poison could get into puddings +and jellies brought straight from the kitchen to +the bedside. I could only conclude that at night +must occur Mrs Morrell’s opportunity—if at all.</p> + +<p>I felt like a conspirator, as I contrived to secrete +small portions of everything of which Edith +partook. I secured the last drops remaining of +the cooling drink which Mrs Morrell had had to +administer to the invalid during the night; also +a portion of the farinaceous pudding which Miss +Thorndyke had had for her dinner, a part of her +sleeping-draught, a wine-glassful of the mixture +she was taking every two hours, and some of the +beef-tea which Dr Stevens had ordered for her. +If poison were really being administered, it must +be present in one or other of these. I chiefly +suspected the remains of the cooling drink. I +was young and unsophisticated, and my experience +as a novel-reader made me believe it quite +possible that Mrs Morrell should carry small +packets of arsenic about in her pocket, to mix in +Edith’s medicines and food, as occasion should +serve. I can only smile at my credulity now.</p> + +<p>It was a difficult matter to meet Dr Archer +in the fir plantation unobserved. Mrs Morrell +had first to be evaded, and then Mr Foster, +who manifested a most amiable and pressing +desire to accompany me in my walk. I dared +not linger, but hastily thrust the phials into the +young doctor’s hands, telling him I particularly +suspected the cooling drink. He informed me +that he was going to send them at once to an +eminent analyst at one of the London hospitals; +and that, if they proved to contain poison, he should +instantly apply to a magistrate for a warrant.</p> + +<p>I could not control my feelings that evening +sufficiently well to prevent Mr Foster remarking, +as we sat at chess: ‘Your walk to-day did not do +you much good, Miss Armitage.’</p> + +<p>‘I have rather a headache,’ I hastily answered. +It was perfectly true. ‘I sat with Edith all +the morning, and her room seemed to me very +stuffy.’ Indeed, I had frequently noticed a strange +closeness pervading it, especially when I first +entered it in the morning; and I very often +found my head the worse for a prolonged sojourn +in it.</p> + +<p>‘As soon as Dr Stevens will allow it, she shall +be moved into a larger room,’ he answered, as if +he wished to evade a discussion of the subject.</p> + + + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"><h2 class="nobreak" id="SOME_ANECDOTES_OF_AMERICAN">SOME ANECDOTES OF AMERICAN +CHILDREN.</h2></div> + + +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> subject of children is one in which every +one is more or less interested; for even those +who have none of their own were babies themselves +in some dim period of the past, and probably +most of us have wondered at times what +sort of babies we were. Happy they who have +it on the authority of those who ought to know, +that they were ‘well-behaved children’—lumps +of good-nature, and never addicted to crying. +How kindly does Charles Lamb revert to the +days of his childhood, dwelling with something +of reverence on the image of that ‘young master’ +whom he could scarcely believe to have been +indeed himself, and whose pure memory he +cherished as tenderly ‘as if it had been a child +of some other house,’ and not of his parents. So +perhaps some of us also have yearned over those +little phantoms of the past, our own child-selves.</p> + +<p>But it is of American children that we have +now a few words to say. Perhaps, however, we +make a mistake at the outset in calling them <i>children</i> +at all, for many of them seem to belong to +some species of fairy changelings, so remarkable +and almost uncanny is their precocity, and that, +too, from the earliest infancy, while they are still +in their nurses’ arms, or at the bottle. Gilbert’s +little urchin of the <i>Bab Ballads</i> who chucked his +nurse under the chin when she fed him, and +vowed by the rap it was excellent pap, was +nothing to them. They would be too <i>blasé</i> for +such infantine manifestations as these. We have +one of them before our ‘mind’s eye’ now, an ideal-looking +little maid, with sunny hair, blue eyes, +and rosy cheeks, the youngest darling of a happy +household. Being of a wakeful disposition, she was +indulged with her bottle at night up to the mature +age of nearly two years. Her mother, waking +once at midnight, was aware of some disturbance +in the cot beside her, where baby seemed to be +searching vigorously in the moonlight for something. +Hoping the little one might forego her +search and drop to sleep, the mother lay quiet, +when suddenly baby raised her soft fair head, +and with the startling question, ‘Where de debil +is my mouf-piece?’ fairly banished all slumber +from her fond parent. It must be explained +that this occurred in a part of the country +where children were liable to overhear the talk +of negroes, both indoor and outdoor servants; +and this race, as represented in the States of +America, are evidently of the opinion of the old +sea-captain’s Scotch wife who, while agreeing with +her minister as to the advisability of her husband’s +giving up the habit of swearing, was yet +constrained to acknowledge that ‘nae doubt it +was still a great set-off to conversation.’ Baby’s +grandmamma, however, on being informed of this +last addition to her darling’s vocabulary, remarked +somewhat grimly that it was about time +the bottle should be given up.</p> + +<p>The foregoing was scarcely so bad as what a +little two-year-old neighbour was guilty of; for +on this young scapegrace being mildly remonstrated +with for some misdemeanour by his +grandfather—a venerable old doctor, of much +repute with all who knew him—he retorted, in +his half-articulate baby speech, ‘Gan-pa, you’se +a old fool!’—waking a burst of unhallowed +merriment from all within hearing distance.</p> + +<p>The propensity on the part of their children +to use profane language is a source of great uneasiness +to American mothers. One lady, the +daughter of a clergyman, who had brought her +up on strictly old-fashioned principles, was much +distressed to note the habit growing on her only +child, a fine manly little boy of four years. At +her wits’ end for a timely cure, she at last +resorted to the expedient of a whipping, threatening, +with the most unmistakable air of sincerity, +that it would be repeated if ever a certain word +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_780">{780}</span>were used by him again. The morning after +this occurrence, Georgie was, as usual, at his +spelling lesson with his mother, the task for +the day consisting of a string of words all rhyming +with ‘am.’ The first few of them had been +accomplished with praiseworthy accuracy, when +suddenly the young student came to a dead-stop. +‘Go on, sonny,’ said his mother encouragingly, +not seeing for the moment where the difficulty +lay. ‘C-a-m—cam,’ repeated Georgie in evident +embarrassment, the next word apparently presenting +some insurmountable obstacle. ‘Go on!’ +insisted his mother—when, with a sudden blurt, +out came the monosyllable ‘D-a-m—<i>dam</i>, a millpond +dam,’ added Georgie, the threatened punishment +being uppermost in his mind.</p> + +<p>The same little boy had a cousin, a year older +than himself, and ages ahead of him in knowledge +of the world, so much so, that he would +sometimes assume the part of mentor towards +his more unsophisticated junior. When the two +were together one day, the elder announced his +intention of paying a visit to a family living +near them. ‘But I won’t take you with me,’ +said he. ‘Why not?’ asked Georgie, disconcerted. +‘Because they’ll teach you to swear,’ returned +the other gravely. ‘But you go there yourself,’ +argued little George. ‘O yes,’ rejoined his senior +with a world-worn air; ‘I swear already.’</p> + +<p>Young America does not take kindly to correction +in any form, probably resenting it as an +infringement of natural liberties. One little boy +having been punished for some childish transgression, +astonished his family by coming down +suddenly from his room up-stairs with a small +bundle under his arm, saying, ‘I’m going to +leave this blessed house.’</p> + +<p>American children are, as a rule, more practical +and less imaginative than those of the old +country—inclined from the very beginning to +look on life as a struggle, though a pleasant one +on the whole, and on the world as their oyster, +which they, with their sharp-set wits, must open. +They bring this matter-of-fact element even into +their devotions. A little girl was promised by +her father, on his leaving home for a few days, +that he would bring dolls for her and her sister +when he came back. That night, when at her +prayers, she put in the very laudable petition, +‘Pray God, bring papa home safely;’ but somewhat +compromised the effect by adding with +great emphasis, after a moment’s rapt reflection—‘with +the dolls.’ But this was devotion itself +compared with the following. A little mite of +a creature running out of her room one morning +was called back by her mother: ‘Dolly, you +haven’t said your prayers.’ ‘I dess Dod tan wait,’ +returned little Miss Irreverence; ‘I’se in a hurry.’ +In both these cases, the utter unconsciousness of +presumption on the part of the tiny speakers took +away the effect of profanity from their words.</p> + +<p>Reverence is certainly not the strong point of +our small kinsfolk across the water. Almost from +their entrance into the world, they begin to +assume airs of equality with all around them. +One sweet little damsel, who was of peculiarly +small and fairy-like proportions, could with difficulty +be prevailed upon to call her parents otherwise +than by their Christian names; and the +effect was quaint to hear her, when offered candy +or such-like forbidden dainties, refuse them with +a wistful look and the words: ‘Willie not likes +it’ (Willie being her father); or, ‘Annie’ (her +mother) ‘said no.’ Nay, she did not scruple +even to call her grandmother by <i>her</i> name, as +far as she could pronounce it, for ‘Margaret’ +offered some obstacles to the baby lips. You +would have fancied this same little maiden too +soft and gentle to brush the down from a butterfly’s +wing; but on one occasion she shocked the +sensibilities of her young cousin, fresh from England, +by exclaiming, on an innocent, newly fledged +chicken being brought in for the inspection of +the family: ‘Me have dat pitty bird for my +dinner!’</p> + +<p>From the youngest age, American children are +ready to share—as Wordsworth once expressed it—‘in +anything going.’ A visitor injudiciously +offering a little boy some wine at dinner, was +requested by his watchful mother not to give +him ‘too much;’ when young Hopeful took the +words out of her mouth by protesting with +vehement eagerness: ‘I <i>like</i> too much!’</p> + +<p>It is no easy task to impose any restrictions, +even of time or place, on one of these little free-born +Americans, or to impress them with any +sense of restraint or regard of persons. One little +daughter of Eve, brought up for baptism at the +ripe age of two—episcopal visits being rare in +the part of the country where she lived—somewhat +scandalised the bishop by calling his attention, +just before the ceremony, to her attire, thus: +‘Look at my new dess;’ and drawing it back to +display her dainty feet—‘Look, bissop, at my +pitty new boots!’ The good father took it all +in very amiable part, though he remarked to her +mother afterwards, that the little one had evidently +no intention of giving up the vanities of +the world just yet.</p> + +<p>But we must say good-bye for the present to +our little American cousins, on whom we must +not be understood to have cast the shadow of +an aspersion. Their intelligence and quickness, +indeed, combined with the other charms of +infancy—of which they have their full share—make +them as attractive, to say the least, as any +of their kind. We can assert, moreover, from +our own knowledge, that some of these tiny +gentry, with whose scarce-conscious childish profanity +we have dallied for a while, are growing +up at this present moment into decent and in +every way excellent members of society.</p> + + + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"><h2 class="nobreak" id="A_STRANGE_LOVE_AFFAIR">A STRANGE LOVE AFFAIR.</h2></div> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Hector Mackinnon</span>, the hero of the strange +story we are about to unfold, a story perhaps +unequalled for uniqueness in the annals of love, +was a divinity student. He had just completed +his fourth year of the Hall, and expected soon +to be licensed as a probationer. He was the +only son of a wealthy merchant, and had been +destined for the ministry from his birth.</p> + +<p>Mr Mackinnon, senior, was a prominent and +influential adherent of one of our strictest dissenting +bodies, and had brought up his son +in the belief that there was little else good in +the world outside the pale of its communion. +There was some mystery about Hector’s mother, +who had died shortly after giving him birth. +Some people whispered that she had been on +the stage before she was married, and that +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_781">{781}</span>Mr Mackinnon had fallen violently in love with +her pretty face, and married the young girl while +in the ecstasy of his passion, and before the +cold dictates of prudence, or the counsel of his +friends, could intervene. The marriage had not +been, it was said, a happy one. While the magic +glamour of love lasted, all went well; when it +began to wane, the angular austerities of Mr +Mackinnon’s disposition became painfully apparent +to the young bride. On his part, he looked +without sympathy, if not indeed with positive +contempt, on what he termed the ‘worldly frivolities’ +of her gay and joyous nature. Above +all, he felt keenly the loss of social status which +the marriage entailed on him in the estimation +of his own sect. The young wife was +sternly forbidden to have any intercourse with +her relatives and friends; and her husband’s +sister, who was a maiden lady of very gloomy +religious views, was installed as housekeeper +ostensibly, but really to play ‘propriety’ to her +unregenerate young relative. Happiness could +not, of course, exist in this state of matters; +and when the grim messenger arrived with the +fiat which dissolved the ill-assorted union, it +was perhaps a relief to all.</p> + +<p>Brought up under a terribly severe code of +social ethics, the theatre, concert, and ballroom +were represented to Hector as only so many roads +to perdition; and being of an amiable disposition, +and desirous of pleasing his father, he +had up till now, when he had attained his +twenty-third year, sedulously eschewed these +enticing forms of social amusement. It was not +destined, however, that he was always to remain +in this state of innocent ignorance. A brilliant +theatrical star visited the city, and turned +the heads of all—both young and old, male +and female, alike. Her stage-name was Violet +d’Esterre (no one knew her real name), and +it was on her exquisite delineation of Shakspearean +tragedy that her justly earned fame +rested. The college students were particularly +enthusiastic in her praise, and crowded the +theatre nightly to admire her beauty, and listen +entranced to the melody of her sublime elocution. +One evening, Hector, persuaded by his +companions, consented to accompany them to +hear this paragon of passionate declamation. +The play was the old, old story of the hapless +lovers of Verona. Such a hold had her impersonation +of the intensely loving Juliet taken +of the public, that they insisted on it being +performed night after night, to the exclusion +of other tragic parts in which she was equally +celebrated. If any of our readers have not +been in a theatre until they were about the +age of Hector, they will be able to realise the +very powerful sensuous effect the music, beautiful +scenery, bright dresses, and decorations +had on his imagination, and how they conduced +to give full effect to the sense of bewildered +admiration he felt when the curtain rose on +the banqueting hall in Capulet’s house, and +the fair daughter of Capulet. How feebly, it +seemed to him, did Romeo express his feelings +in saying:</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright!</div> +<div class="verse indent0">It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Like a rich jewel in an Ethiope’s ear:</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear!</div></div> +</div></div> + +<p>Mademoiselle d’Esterre’s physical qualifications +for the part were superb. Her countenance, +which was Italian in cast of features and complexion, +boasted of a pair of orbs of the deepest +violet black. Large and lustrous, they were +mobile and expressive in the highest degree. +When they first rested on Romeo’s form, they +dilated with the eager fire of southern passion, +and as quickly drooped in maidenly confusion +and modesty. Her whole attitude showed she +felt she had met her destiny; and before she +had even spoken a syllable, the audience felt +they were under the spell of an enchantress. +Then, with what simple natural dignity did she +invest the few words the girl-lover addresses +to love-stricken Romeo, already commencing his +love-making as ‘holy palmer.’ From the moment +the curtain was raised until it descended at the +end of the fifth act, Hector sat spellbound, +oblivious to everything on earth save the scenes +that were being enacted on the stage. His +companions had to arouse him when it became +time to quit the theatre.</p> + +<p>‘Well, Mackinnon,’ said Charley Smith, ‘what +do you think of the d’Esterre? Jolly-like girl, +isn’t she?’</p> + +<p>‘Don’t speak of the young lady in that vulgar +way,’ he replied. ‘I am certain that girl is as +pure and good as Juliet was.’</p> + +<p>‘I am not saying a word against her—nobody +can do that,’ his companion rejoined. ‘Surely, +surely, you’ve not got hit with her charms—you, +of all men!’</p> + +<p>Hector was in no mood for badinage at that +moment, and pleading a headache, he hurried +off to his lodgings. He could not imagine what +was the matter; but after tossing all night +uneasily in bed, he had to confess to himself +next morning that he, Hector Mackinnon, the +budding clergyman, the lifelong hater of things +theatrical and bohemianisms of every sort, had +fallen hopelessly and irretrievably in love with +an actress he had seen for the first and only +time a few hours ago! There was no use in +trying to disguise the truth to himself; he felt—or +fancied he felt, which comes to much the +same thing—that life without possession of this +fair divinity would not be worth living; but +that, with her by his side, the roughest tempests +that fate could send would feel like gentle wooing +zephyrs.</p> + +<p>It was not to be expected that this state of +matters could long remain secret from Hector’s +companions. His theses and themes remained +unwritten; his answers to the Professor’s questions +were of the most incoherent description, and +at last he discontinued his attendance at college +altogether. Inheriting a considerable share of his +father’s stern determination, he was not of a +nature to suffer in silence the agonies of a secret +and unrequited passion. The inspirer of the consuming +yet delicious flame which burned within +his bosom must, he admitted, be some few years +older than himself; for had she not been a +celebrity in her profession for over a dozen years +now? Well, what of that? Was that any reason +why he should deny himself the lifelong companionship +of the only woman he ever loved or +could love? To marry her meant, he knew, an +open rupture with his father, and the abandonment +of his ministerial career; but were these +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_782">{782}</span>trifles for one moment to be weighed in the +balance against the pure and unalloyed bliss of +a lifetime spent in the society of his darling? +No—a thousand times, no! In this wise did he +reason with himself, as many a lover has done +before, and, we may safely predict, will do again. +His life had now only one object, and that was +to gain an introduction to Mademoiselle d’Esterre, +and press his suit with all the ardour of a lover +who felt that his life’s happiness depended on +the result.</p> + +<p>Every night found him at the theatre, gazing +on the unconscious cause of his distraction ‘till +his life’s love left him through his eyes.’ The +rich clear notes of her magnificent contralto +voice seemed to flood the theatre with the music +of the spheres, and filled his soul with an agony +of delight. At this period, it would have been +an unspeakable relief to his overcharged feelings, +if he had had some sympathetic friend to +make a confidant of. But, alas, the sufferer +from the darts of the rosy god, like the victim +of prosaic toothache, obtains no sympathy from +his kind.</p> + +<p>Time wore on, and the posters announced the +last six nights of Mademoiselle’s engagement. +He had tried his best to procure an introduction, +but without success, the friends and associates +of his past life being widely outside of +theatrical circles. He found out, however, where +she lodged, and the hour at which she usually +took her daily promenade. In vain did he +follow her at a respectful distance, in the fond +hope that some drunk man, runaway horse, or +other street casualty, might afford the means +of an impromptu introduction; unfortunately, +the pedestrians were all sober, and the horses +jogged on in a manner remarkably sedate and +correct. At last, when almost reduced to despair, +an ingenious thought occurred to him. The +talented actress occasionally gave morning recitations +and readings. He was possessed of considerable +literary ability, and what was to +hinder him from composing a suitable piece +for recitation, sending it to her for approval, +and by that means obtaining a personal interview? +Being favourably impressed with the +feasibility of the scheme, he set to work, and +composed a hundred-line poem in blank verse, +in which the torments of unrequited love were +very forcibly if not elegantly portrayed. With +a trembling hand, he dropped this in the letter-box, +accompanied by a polite note craving her +acceptance of the offering.</p> + +<p>Who shall attempt to describe the thirty-six +dreary hours of suspense that elapsed before +a reply came, in a polite little epistle redolent +of patchouli, thanking Mr Mackinnon for his +kind present, which she would be glad to +use on the first suitable occasion? She was, +however, of opinion that, from an elocutionary +point of view, certain alterations would tend +to make it much more effective. Would Mr +Mackinnon honour Mademoiselle by calling on +her at her residence at noon the following +day, when said alterations could be discussed? +The poor fellow almost cried as he again and +again pressed the precious missive to his lips; +and it was some time before his spirits were +sufficiently calmed down to admit of his inditing +a coherent reply. Hope now lent her roseate +hues to our hero’s love prospects, and it was +with difficulty he compelled himself to await the +slow progress of the hands on the dial of his +watch till they were conjoined over the happy +hour appointed for his interview with her who +held his life’s happiness at her sole command.</p> + +<p>Arrived at his destination, he timidly rang the +door-bell, and on giving the servant his card, +was informed the lady was ‘at home.’ On +entering the drawing-room, he beheld Mademoiselle +reclining in a graceful attitude on a low +ottoman. She wore a <i>négligé</i> costume of some +sort of soft warm cream-coloured material, +which harmonised delightfully with her clear, +transparent, olive complexion, and displayed +the symmetry of her exquisitely formed figure +to great advantage. She wore no jewelry; +her only ornament was a beautiful Marshal +M‘Mahon rose, the deep crimson petals of which +formed a charming contrast to the raven tresses +on which they reposed. There were two other +occupants of the room; and it was easy to see, +from their ‘at-home’ air, that they were not +merely visitors. One was a brisk little lady, +with a pleasant good-humoured expression, who +it would be safe to guess had seen at least fifty +summers. The other was a tall stately girl of +not more than seventeen or eighteen. She had +evidently been practising at the piano, which lay +open, with the score of a new opera on the +music-holder. Had Hector’s mind not been so +fully engrossed, he probably would have noticed a +considerable resemblance between her and the fair +object of his devotions. The principal difference +lay in the colour of the hair, the complexion, +and the stature. The young lady was a pronounced +blonde, possessing large azure orbs of +almost dreamy softness, and a wealth of light +reddish-golden hair carelessly twisted and fastened +in a coil at the back of the head.</p> + +<p>As Hector advanced, Mademoiselle rose gracefully +from her seat and, glancing at his card, +said in the same rich contralto tones which had +so inthralled him in the theatre: ‘Ah, Mr Mackinnon, +I perceive! Good-morning, sir. Pray, +be seated.’ Holding out her hand, he had the +brief precious delight of pressing it for a second +in his trembling palm.—‘Now, you needn’t leave +the room,’ she said, addressing her two companions. +‘This is the gentleman who did me +the honour of sending me the poem entitled +<i>Amor in Mors</i>.—Permit me to introduce you to +my good friend Mrs Eskell; and to Mademoiselle +Andresen, my niece.’</p> + +<p>The introductions being over, Hector resumed +his seat. He never felt so embarrassed in the +whole course of his life. How fondly had he +rehearsed in his mind the many brilliant tender +speeches he would give utterance to on this +occasion! Now that the wished-for opportunity +had arrived, he sat speechless. It is but fair to +say, however, that he did not contemplate the +presence of third parties at the interview. Still, +their presence should not have tongue-tied him +as it did—he, the glibest debater and the best +elocutionist in the college.</p> + +<p>Seeing his embarrassment, the lady came to his +relief. ‘Well, Mr Mackinnon, I am very much +pleased with your poem, and I think, with a +few slight alterations, it might make a very +effective recitation. Do you not think, though, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_783">{783}</span>the title is a little too lugubrious? Could you +not substitute some other word for Mors? Just +reflect! Fancy me dying every night for the +past fortnight as Juliet! It is really too bad of +the good folks of your city to insist on my +manager making me repeat night after night a +part which I have begun really to detest.’</p> + +<p>‘O Mademoiselle, do not say that,’ cried +Hector. ‘Ah, if you but knew the delightful +thrill you send through the audience in the balcony +scene—and—and—the tears you cause them +to shed when the unfortunate heroine—Shakspeare’s +greatest creation’——</p> + +<p>‘Shakspeare’s greatest fiddlestick!’ she replied, +laughing merrily. ‘What people see in her, I’m +sure I don’t know! To my mind, she’s a forward +young chit, that would have been much better +employed in mending Papa Capulet’s hose and +helping her mother to keep house, than philandering +with her Romeo.—But about <i>Amor in +Mors</i>. Don’t you think, now, you could make +it just the tiniest little bit funny? I do so +long to get out of this continued round of love-making, +murder, and suicide.’</p> + +<p>Could he believe his ears? Was this cynical, +matter-of-fact woman identical with the fair +embodiment of transcendental, ethereal love, on +whose accents he had hung with enraptured +delight for the past few nights? No, it could +not be; there must be some strange mistake. +Yet, when her mobile features were for a moment +in repose, there he beheld the same deep, lustrous, +unfathomable eyes—the same sweet innocent +mouth, with its half-childlike pouting lips. He +was bewildered, and as in a dream.</p> + +<p>‘You are pleased, Mademoiselle, to be satirical +this morning,’ he replied. ‘I cannot do you the +injustice of supposing you are in earnest in what +you say. No one could enact the part of Juliet so +nobly unless she were capable of imbuing herself +thoroughly with the divine passion attributed +to her by her creator.’</p> + +<p>‘Believe me, you are quite wrong there, Mr +Mackinnon. It is not by any means those parts +which actors have the natural emotional qualifications +for, that they excel in portraying. Nature +in that case <i>destroys</i> art; and hence it is that +parts that actors like best are precisely those they +act worst. For myself, I am guided entirely by +public criticism, and confine myself to those rôles +that draw the best houses. Of course I have my +own predilections. I have a very fair singing +voice, and think I should be able to do very +well in opera-bouffe. Oh, I <i>do</i> dote on opera-bouffe!—But +about <i>Amor in Mors</i>. I really +think the language is splendid—quite as good as +Shakspeare’s, I daresay, although I don’t profess +to be a literary critic. Well, if you would alter +the conclusion in such a way as to make the +audience take a good hearty laugh after I had +wound them up to the crying pitch, I believe it +would be effective, and I will line it in the bills +for my first Saturday morning readings.’</p> + +<p>‘Alas, Mademoiselle, I fear my poor verses are +not susceptible of being changed in the way you +wish; but if you allow me, I shall endeavour to +write something in a lighter vein, that may have +the happiness to merit your approval. Permit me +to ask you to retain the verses you have.’</p> + +<p>‘With pleasure, sir,’ she replied.—‘I presume +you are of the literary profession?’</p> + +<p>Hector was not very sure whether a divinity +student came of right under that category or not, +but he replied in the affirmative.</p> + +<p>‘Well, then, we shall be glad to see you, if +you can come along here to supper at twelve +o’clock on Friday first. It is a farewell entertainment +I am giving to a few friends of the +press, and others. If you have your new piece +done, bring it with you; I’ll recite it, and +we’ll see what they think of it.’ Thus saying, +she rose, as if to indicate the interview was at +an end; and after making his adieux, Hector +departed in a very anomalous state of mind. +The bright, girlish, gushing Juliet of the footlights +was for ever annihilated in his mind. In +her stead stood an undeniably handsome, accomplished +woman of the world, gay, good-humoured, +and apparently good-hearted; but so utterly +devoid of all sentiment as to frankly avow a +longing for opera-bouffe! By all the rules of +common-sense, our hero being disillusioned, should +have at once fallen <i>out</i> of love. This, however, +did not happen. After the first shock of finding +her so different in her ideas from what he +expected was over, the subjectivity of his passion +asserted itself, and his mind soon formed a fresh +ideal of female perfection, of which she was +again the incarnation.</p> + +<p>He had but two days in which to compose +his second recitation. Striking a new chord, he +wrote it in a light cynical vein, such as he +thought would please the fair actress, judging from +her conversation with him. He wrought hard +at it, polishing and repolishing every line, until it +reached, as he thought, as near as possible to a +state of brilliant perfection. When the eventful +Friday night arrived, he started for Mademoiselle’s +residence with a much greater feeling of confidence +than he had experienced on the former +occasion. He was the first arrival, and while he +sat in the drawing-room, Mademoiselle Andresen +and Mrs Eskell entered. On his first visit, he +had not paid much attention to the appearance +of the former, and he was almost surprised to +see how exceedingly pretty she was. The old +lady was very talkative, and was not long in +making him aware she was a distant relative of +Mademoiselle’s, and always played ‘Nurse’ to her +Juliet. Mademoiselle Andresen, whose father was +a celebrated violinist in Stockholm, had just completed +her course of training for the lyric stage at +the Conservatoire, and was now on a visit to her +aunt, to benefit by her instructions in the technicalities +of stage business. On being invited by +Hector, the young lady sat down to the piano, +and sang an exquisite Danish ballad, which fairly +charmed him. The company now began to arrive, +and he conducted the two ladies down to the +supper-room.</p> + +<p>Exceedingly pretty, and exceedingly happy +too, did Mademoiselle d’Esterre look, as she sat +at the head of the table listening to the cheerful +conversation of her guests. There were not more +than a dozen and a half present—four ladies and +four gentlemen of them being members of Mademoiselle’s +company. After supper, and a due +period of vivacity over the wine, the fair hostess +called for silence, and intimated her intention +of reciting Mr Mackinnon’s new poem. The +author felt himself blushing to the tips of his +ears as he heard the—to him—familiar lines +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_784">{784}</span>tripped off in her melodious voice with rare elocutionary +art. At the conclusion, the applause was +great; and the gentlemen of the press declared +with one voice it was the best thing of the +season, and that the author would be sure to +make his mark if he applied himself to dramatic +literature. With toast and song the hours sped +pleasantly away till two o’clock, when the cabs +began to arrive for the guests. Hector had been +all night in brilliant spirits, and fairly astonished +himself with the smartness of his witty repartees, +and the ease with which he accommodated himself +to society so different from that to which +he had been accustomed. His intoxication of +bliss reached its climax when, as the dispersing +company were singing <i>Auld Langsyne</i> in the +lobby, his hostess whispered in his ear: ‘Wait; +I wish to speak with you. Go up to the drawing-room.’</p> + +<p>He did so, and awaited her coming with +trembling, eager impatience. When she came +into the room, she looked grave, even sad, he +thought. ‘We may never see each other again, +Mr Mackinnon, and I cannot think of letting +you go away to-night without some recompense +for the pretty poem you wrote for me. Pray, +accept of this in recognition of it, and—and as +a token of my regard for you;’ and she handed +him a magnificent cluster diamond ring.</p> + +<p>His head swam; he scarcely knew what he +was doing, and fell on his knees before her.</p> + +<p>‘O Mademoiselle!’ he cried, his voice hoarse +with emotion, ‘you are an angel!—infinitely too +good for me—too good for any one on earth. +Oh, how can I dare look in your sweet face and +utter the words which burn on my tongue! +Forgive me for my presumption in daring to +say so, but I love you—love you with my whole +heart and soul. Dare I ask you to be my +wife!’</p> + +<p>Mademoiselle d’Esterre at first looked frightened, +thinking her friend had taken leave of his +senses, or was giving her a small sample of +his histrionic powers. When he had made an +end of his speech, however, she apparently +could not help bursting into an immoderate fit +of laughter.</p> + +<p>‘Rise up, you silly fellow!’ she cried, ‘and +don’t make a baby of yourself.’</p> + +<p>Her suppliant, who was in a state of bewilderment, +mechanically obeyed.</p> + +<p>She continued: ‘Upon my word, Mr Mackinnon, +you have paid a great compliment to +my skill in preserving my looks. Why, my poor +boy, I could easily be your mother! I was +forty-three on my last birthday!’</p> + +<p>It might have been expected that this astounding +piece of information would have effectually +quenched the flame in the breast of the unfortunate +lover, yet it had not that effect. ‘Alas! +Mademoiselle, I am sorry that the disparity +in our years is so great, although I knew you +must be a few years older than myself. But +what is age where true love exists? Believe me, +if you consent to our union, never will you hear +me refer to the dis’——</p> + +<p>‘Stop, stop, you foolish boy!’ the lady cried. +‘Even were I such a terrible fool as you suppose, +there is an insuperable legal obstacle in the +way.’</p> + +<p>‘What is that?’ he asked, wonderingly.</p> + +<p>‘Why, I’m your aunt!’ she replied. ‘My +sister Agatha was married to your father!’</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>The mortification experienced by our hero, in +consequence of the ludicrous incident we have +described, was extreme, and it was a few weeks +before his mind recovered its accustomed equanimity. +When it did, he resumed his college +studies; but from the time lost, and the still +partially unsettled state of his mind, he failed +to pass his examination, and gave up his intention +of qualifying for the ministry in disgust. His +aunt’s company soon paid another visit to the +city, and she advised him to try ‘adapting’ +French plays. He was tolerably successful in +this, and by her influence, was able to get them +placed with some of the London managers. He +then determined to devote himself entirely to +dramatic literature, and being much thrown into +the company of his fair cousin, Miss Andresen, +a mutual affection grew up between them, which +culminated in marriage. We understand they +live very happily, although his wife does sometimes +joke him on his love-adventure with his +aunt.</p> + + + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"><h2 class="nobreak" id="MEHALAH">MEHALAH.</h2></div> + +<p class="center">[This poem is written on the chief character in the novel of +the same name.]</p> + + +<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0"><span class="smcap">Sleep</span> on, Mehalah; let the rude waves beat</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Their sullen music in thy deafened ear;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Whether they roar in storm, or whisper peace,</div> +<div class="verse indent10">Thou canst not hear.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">What matter though the gale in fury rave?</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Beneath the surface, all is calm and fair;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Held close by flowers too beauteous for the day,</div> +<div class="verse indent10">Thou slumberest there.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Unseen by mortal eye, the ocean sprites</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Vie who shall deck thy form with fairest grace,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">And many a sea-born flower and waving weed</div> +<div class="verse indent10">Adorn thy face.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">But when the shadows of descending day</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Gleam on the marsh, and fire the western sea,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Thy spirit ’scapes the chains that bind it down,</div> +<div class="verse indent10">And rises free.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">As vesper chimes grow dimmer and more faint,</div> +<div class="verse indent2">And sink to silence, conquered by the storm,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">The fishers, hast’ning home to those they love,</div> +<div class="verse indent10">Behold thy form,</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Thy face so proud, thine eyes so dim and sad,</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Thy hair unshackled streaming towards the west,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">The crimson ‘Gloriana’ burning bright</div> +<div class="verse indent10">Upon thy breast.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">But as they gaze, the vision fades away,</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Dragged to the depths by iron hand and chain;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">The seamew shrieks, and darkness o’er the world</div> +<div class="verse indent10">Resumes his reign.</div> +<div class="attrib">J. B. F.</div></div> +</div></div> + +<hr class="full"> + +<p class="center">Printed and Published by <span class="smcap">W. & R. Chambers</span>, 47 Paternoster +Row, <span class="smcap">London</span>, and 339 High Street, <span class="smcap">Edinburgh</span>.</p> + +<hr class="full"> + +<p class="center"><i>All rights reserved.</i></p> + +<hr class="full"> + +<div class="footnotes"><p class="ph3">FOOTNOTES:</p> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_1_1" href="#FNanchor_1_1" class="label">[1]</a> <i>Roster</i>, in military language, is the list of persons +liable to a certain duty.</p></div></div> + +<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75937 ***</div> +</body> +</html> + diff --git a/75937-h/images/cover.jpg b/75937-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..82571da --- /dev/null +++ b/75937-h/images/cover.jpg diff --git a/75937-h/images/header.jpg b/75937-h/images/header.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..7892f08 --- /dev/null +++ b/75937-h/images/header.jpg |
