THE ENTIRE SHORT WORKS OF GEORGE MEREDITH

CONTENTS:

 Farina Case of General Ople The Tale of Chloe The House on the Beach The Gentleman of Fifty The Sentimentalists Miscellaneous Prose

FARINA

By George Meredith

THE WHITE ROSE CLUB

In those lusty ages when the Kaisers lifted high the golden goblet ofAachen, and drank, elbow upward, the green-eyed wine of old romance, there lived, a bow-shot from the bones of the Eleven Thousand Virginsand the Three Holy Kings, a prosperous Rhinelander, by name GottliebGroschen, or, as it was sometimes ennobled, Gottlieb von Groschen;than whom no wealthier merchant bartered for the glory of his ancientmother-city, nor more honoured burgess swallowed impartially red juiceand white under the shadow of his own fig-tree. 

Vine-hills, among the hottest sun-bibbers of the Rheingau, glistenedin the roll of Gottlieb's possessions; corn-acres below Cologne;basalt-quarries about Linz; mineral-springs in Nassau, a legacy of theRomans to the genius and enterprise of the first of German traders. Hecould have bought up every hawking crag, owner and all, from Hatto'sTower to Rheineck. Lore-ley, combing her yellow locks against thenight-cloud, beheld old Gottlieb's rafts endlessly stealing on themoonlight through the iron pass she peoples above St. Goar. A wailfulhost were the wives of his raftsmen widowed there by her watery music!

This worthy citizen of Cologne held vasty manuscript letters of theKaiser addressed to him:

'Dear Well-born son and Subject of mine, Gottlieb!' and he was easywith the proudest princes of the Holy German Realm. For Gottlieb wasa money-lender and an honest man in one body. He laid out for theplenteous harvests of usury, not pressing the seasons with too muchrigour. 'I sow my seed in winter, ' said he, 'and hope to reap goodprofit in autumn; but if the crop be scanty, better let it lie andfatten the soil. '

'Old earth's the wisest creditor, ' he would add; 'she never squeezes thesun, but just takes what he can give her year by year, and so makes sureof good annual interest. '

Therefore when people asked Gottlieb how he had risen to such a pinnacleof fortune, the old merchant screwed his eye into its wisest corner, and answered slyly, 'Because I 've always been a student of the heavenlybodies'; a communication which failed not to make the orbs and systemsobjects of ardent popular worship in Cologne, where the science was longsince considered alchymic, and still may be. 

Seldom could the Kaiser go to war on Welschland without first takingearnest counsel of his Well-born son and Subject Gottlieb, andlightening his chests. Indeed the imperial pastime must have ceased, andthe Kaiser had languished but for him. Cologne counted its illustriouscitizen something more than man. The burghers doffed when he passed; andscampish leather-draggled urchins gazed after him with praeternaturalrespect on their hanging chins, as if a gold-mine of great girth hadwalked through the awe-struck game. 

But, for the young men of Cologne he had a higher claim to reverence asfather of the fair Margarita, the White Rose of Germany; a noble maiden, peerless, and a jewel for princes. 

The devotion of these youths should give them a name in chivalry. In herhonour, daily and nightly, they earned among themselves black bruisesand paraded discoloured countenances, with the humble hope to find itpleasing in her sight. The tender fanatics went in bands up and downRhineland, challenging wayfarers and the peasantry with staff and beakerto acknowledge the supremacy of their mistress. Whoso of them journeyedinto foreign parts, wrote home boasting how many times his head had beenbroken on behalf of the fair Margarita; and if this happened very often, a spirit of envy was created, which compelled him, when he returned, toverify his prowess on no less than a score of his rivals. Not to possessa beauty-scar, as the wounds received in these endless combats werecalled, became the sign of inferiority, so that much voluntary maimingwas conjectured to be going on; and to obviate this piece of treachery, minutes of fights were taken and attested, setting forth that acertain glorious cut or crack was honourably won in fair field; on whatoccasion; and from whom; every member of the White Rose Club keepinghis particular scroll, and, on days of festival and holiday, wearing ithaughtily in his helm. Strangers entering Cologne were astonished atthe hideous appearance of the striplings, and thought they neverhad observed so ugly a race; but they were forced to admit the fineinfluence of beauty on commerce, seeing that the consumption of beerincreased almost hourly. All Bavaria could not equal Cologne forquantity made away with. 

The chief members of the White Rose Club were Berthold Schmidt, the richgoldsmith's son; Dietrich Schill, son of the imperial saddler; HeinrichAbt, Franz Endermann, and Ernst Geller, sons of chief burghers, each ofwhom carried a yard-long scroll in his cap, and was too disfiguredin person for men to require an inspection of the document. They weredangerous youths to meet, for the oaths, ceremonies, and recantationsthey demanded from every wayfarer, under the rank of baron, were whatfew might satisfactorily perform, if lovers of woman other than thefair Margarita, or loyal husbands; and what none save trained heads andstomachs could withstand, however naturally manful. The captain of theClub was he who could drink most beer without intermediate sighing, and whose face reckoned the proudest number of slices and mixture ofcolours. The captaincy was most in dispute between Dietrich Schill andBerthold Schmidt, who, in the heat and constancy of contention, weregradually losing likeness to man. 'Good coin, ' they gloried to reflect, 'needs no stamp. '

One youth in Cologne held out against the standing tyranny, and chose todo beauty homage in his own fashion, and at his leisure. It was Farina, and oaths were registered against him over empty beer-barrels. An axiomof the White Rose Club laid it down that everybody must be enamoured ofMargarita, and the conscience of the Club made them trebly suspiciousof those who were not members. They had the consolation of knowing thatFarina was poor, but then he was affirmed a student of Black Arts, andfrom such a one the worst might reasonably be feared. He might bewitchMargarita!

Dietrich Schill was deputed by the Club to sound the White Rose herselfon the subject of Farina, and one afternoon in the vintage season, when she sat under the hot vine-poles among maiden friends, eating ripegrapes, up sauntered Dietrich, smirking, cap in hand, with his scrolltrailed behind him. 

'Wilt thou?' said Margarita, offering him a bunch. 

'Unhappy villain that I am!' replied Dietrich, gesticulating fox-likerefusal; 'if I but accept a favour, I break faith with the Club. '

'Break it to pleasure me, ' said Margarita, smiling wickedly. 

Dietrich gasped. He stood on tiptoe to see if any of the Club were by, and half-stretched out his hand. A mocking laugh caused him to drawit back as if stung. The grapes fell. Farina was at Margarita's feetoffering them in return. 

'Wilt thou?' said Margarita, with softer stress, and slight excess ofbloom in her cheeks. 

Farina put the purple cluster to his breast, and clutched them hard onhis heart, still kneeling. 

Margarita's brow and bosom seemed to be reflections of the streamingcrimson there. She shook her face to the sky, and affected laughter atthe symbol. Her companions clapped hands. Farina's eyes yearned to heronce, and then he rose and joined in the pleasantry. 

Fury helped Dietrich to forget his awkwardness. He touched Farina on theshoulder with two fingers, and muttered huskily: 'The Club never allowthat. '

Farina bowed, as to thank him deeply for the rules of the Club. 'Iam not a member, you know, ' said he, and strolled to a seat close byMargarita. 

Dietrich glared after him. As head of a Club he understood the use ofsymbols. He had lost a splendid opportunity, and Farina had seized it. Farina had robbed him. 

'May I speak with Mistress Margarita?' inquired the White Rose chief, ina ragged voice. 

'Surely, Dietrich! do speak, ' said Margarita. 

'Alone?' he continued. 

'Is that allowed by the Club?' said one of the young girls, with a saucyglance. 

Dietrich deigned no reply, but awaited Margarita's decision. Shehesitated a second; then stood up her full height before him; faced himsteadily, and beckoned him some steps up the vine-path. Dietrich bowed, and passing Farina, informed him that the Club would wring satisfactionout of him for the insult. 

Farina laughed, but answered, 'Look, you of the Club! beer-swilling hasimproved your manners as much as fighting has beautified your faces. Goon; drink and fight! but remember that the Kaiser's coming, and fellowswith him who will not be bullied. '

'What mean you?' cried Dietrich, lurching round on his enemy. 

'Not so loud, friend, ' returned Farina. 'Or do you wish to frighten themaidens? I mean this, that the Club had better give as little offence aspossible, and keep their eyes as wide as they can, if they want to be ofservice to Mistress Margarita. '

Dietrich turned off with a grunt. 

'Now!' said Margarita. 

She was tapping her foot. Dietrich grew unfaithful to the Club, andlooked at her longer than his mission warranted. She was bright as thesunset gardens of the Golden Apples. The braids of her yellow hair werebound in wreaths, and on one side of her head a saffron crocus wasstuck with the bell downward. Sweetness, song, and wit hung like dews ofmorning on her grape-stained lips. She wore a scarlet corset with bandsof black velvet across her shoulders. The girlish gown was thin bluestuff, and fell short over her firm-set feet, neatly cased in whiteleather with buckles. There was witness in her limbs and the wayshe carried her neck of an amiable, but capable, dragon, ready, whenaroused, to bristle up and guard the Golden Apples against all save therightful claimant. Yet her nether lip and little white chin-ball had adreamy droop; her frank blue eyes went straight into the speaker: thedragon slept. It was a dangerous charm. 'For, ' says the minnesinger, 'what ornament more enchants us on a young beauty than the soft slumberof a strength never yet called forth, and that herself knows not of!It sings double things to the heart of knighthood; lures, and warns us;woos, and threatens. 'Tis as nature, shining peace, yet the mother ofstorm. '

'There is no man, ' rapturously exclaims Heinrich von der Jungferweide, 'can resist the desire to win a sweet treasure before which lies adragon sleeping. The very danger prattles promise. '

But the dragon must really sleep, as with Margarita. 

'A sham dragon, shamming sleep, has destroyed more virgins than all theheathen emperors, ' says old Hans Aepfelmann of Duesseldorf. 

Margarita's foot was tapping quicker. 

'Speak, Dietrich!' she said. 

Dietrich declared to the Club that at this point he muttered, 'We loveyou. ' Margarita was glad to believe he had not spoken of himself. Hethen informed her of the fears entertained by the Club, sworn to watchover and protect her, regarding Farina's arts. 

'And what fear you?' said Margarita. 

'We fear, sweet mistress, he may be in league with Sathanas, ' repliedDietrich. 

'Truly, then, ' said Margarita, 'of all the youths in Cologne he is theleast like his confederate. '

Dietrich gulped and winked, like a patient recovering wry-faced from anabhorred potion. 

'We have warned you, Fraulein Groschen!' he exclaimed. 'It now becomesour duty to see that you are not snared. '

Margarita reddened, and returned: 'You are kind. But I am a Christianmaiden and not a Pagan soldan, and I do not require a body of tawnyguards at my heels. '

Thereat she flung back to her companions, and began staining her prettymouth with grapes anew. 

THE TAPESTRY WORD

Fair maids will have their hero in history. Siegfried was Margarita'schosen. She sang of Siegfried all over the house. 'O the old days ofGermany, when such a hero walked!' she sang. 

'And who wins Margarita, ' mused Farina, 'happier than Siegfried, has inhis arms Brunhild and Chrimhild together!'

Crowning the young girl's breast was a cameo, and the skill of somecunning artist out of Welschland had wrought on it the story of theDrachenfels. Her bosom heaved the battle up and down. 

This cameo was a north star to German manhood, but caused many chasteexpressions of abhorrence from Aunt Lisbeth, Gottlieb's unmarriedsister, who seemed instinctively to take part with the Dragon. She was afrail-fashioned little lady, with a face betokening the perpetual smackof lemon, and who reigned in her brother's household when the good wifewas gone. Margarita's robustness was beginning to alarm and shock AuntLisbeth's sealed stock of virtue. 

'She must be watched, such a madl as that, ' said Aunt Lisbeth. 'Ursula!what limbs she has!'

Margarita was watched; but the spy being neither foe nor friend, nothingwas discovered against her. This did not satisfy Aunt Lisbeth, whose ownsuspicion was her best witness. She allowed that Margarita dissembledwell. 

'But, ' said she to her niece, 'though it is good in a girl not toflaunt these naughtinesses in effrontery, I care for you too much not tosay--Be what you seem, my little one!'

'And that am I!' exclaimed Margarita, starting up and towering. 

'Right good, my niece, ' Lisbeth squealed; 'but now Frau Groschen lies inGod's acre, you owe your duty to me, mind! Did you confess last week?'

'From beginning to end, ' replied Margarita. 

Aunt Lisbeth fixed pious reproach on Margarita's cameo. 

'And still you wear that thing?'

'Why not?' said Margarita. 

'Girl! who would bid you set it in such a place save Satan? Oh, thoupoor lost child! that the eyes of the idle youths may be drawn there!and thou become his snare to others, Margarita! What was that Welshwandering juggler but the foul fiend himself, mayhap, thou maiden ofsin! They say he has been seen in Cologne lately. He was swarthy asSatan and limped of one leg. Good Master in heaven, protect us! it wasSatan himself I could swear!'

Aunt Lisbeth crossed brow and breast. 

Margarita had commenced fingering the cameo, as if to tear it away; butAunt Lisbeth's finish made her laugh outright. 

'Where I see no harm, aunty, I shall think the good God is, ' sheanswered; 'and where I see there's harm, I shall think Satan lurks. '

A simper of sour despair passed over Aunt Lisbeth. She sighed, and wassilent, being one of those very weak reeds who are easily vanquished andnever overcome. 

'Let us go on with the Tapestry, child, ' said she. 

Now, Margarita was ambitious of completing a certain Tapestry forpresentation to Kaiser Heinrich on his entry into Cologne after hislast campaign on the turbaned Danube. The subject was again her belovedSiegfried slaying the Dragon on Drachenfels. Whenever Aunt Lisbethindulged in any bitter virginity, and was overmatched by Margarita'sfrank maidenhood, she hung out this tapestry as a flag of truce. Theywere working it in bits, not having contrivances to do it in a piece. Margarita took Siegfried and Aunt Lisbeth the Dragon. They shared thecrag between them. A roguish gleam of the Rhine toward Nonnenwerth couldbe already made out, Roland's Corner hanging like a sentinel across thechanting island, as one top-heavy with long watch. 

Aunt Lisbeth was a great proficient in the art, and had taughtMargarita. The little lady learnt it, with many other gruesome matters, in the Palatine of Bohemia's family. She usually talked of the spectresof Hollenbogenblitz Castle in the passing of the threads. Those weredismal spectres in Bohemia, smelling of murder and the charnel-breathof midnight. They uttered noises that wintered the blood, and revealedsights that stiffened hair three feet long; ay, and kept it stiff!

Margarita placed herself on a settle by the low-arched window, and AuntLisbeth sat facing her. An evening sun blazoned the buttresses of theCathedral, and shadowed the workframes of the peaceful couple to atemperate light. Margarita unrolled a sampler sheathed with twists ofdivers coloured threads, and was soon busy silver-threading Siegfried'shelm and horns. 

'I told you of the steward, poor Kraut, did I not, child?' inquired AuntLisbeth, quietly clearing her throat. 

'Many times!' said Margarita, and went on humming over her knee

 'Her love was a Baron, A Baron so bold; She loved him for love, He loved her for gold. '

'He must see for himself, and be satisfied, ' continued Aunt Lisbeth;'and Holy Thomas to warn him for an example! Poor Kraut!'

'Poor Kraut!' echoed Margarita. 

 'The King loved wine, and the Knight loved wine, And they loved the summer weather: They might have loved each other well, But for one they loved together. '

'You may say, poor Kraut, child!' said Aunt Lisbeth. 'Well! his face wasbefore that as red as this dragon's jaw, and ever after he went about aswhite as a pullet's egg. That was something wonderful!' 'That was it!'chimed Margarita. 

 'O the King he loved his lawful wife, The Knight a lawless lady: And ten on one-made ringing strife, Beneath the forest shady. '

'Fifty to one, child!' said Aunt Lisbeth: 'You forget the story. Theymade Kraut sit with them at the jabbering feast, the only mortal there. The walls were full of eye-sockets without eyes, but phosphorus instead, burning blue and damp. '

'Not to-night, aunty dear! It frightens me so, ' pleaded Margarita, forshe saw the dolor coming. 

'Night! when it's broad mid-day, thou timid one! Good heaven take pityon such as thou! The dish was seven feet in length by four broad. Kraut measured it with his eye, and never forgot it. Not he! When thedish-cover was lifted, there he saw himself lying, boiled!

"'I did not feel uncomfortable then, " Kraut told us. "It seemednatural. "

'His face, as it lay there, he says, was quite calm, only a littlewrinkled, and piggish-looking-like. There was the mole on his chin, andthe pucker under his left eyelid. Well! the Baron carved. All the guestswere greedy for a piece of him. Some cried out for breast; some fortoes. It was shuddering cold to sit and hear that! The Baroness said, "Cheek!"'

'Ah!' shrieked Margarita, 'that can I not bear! I will not hear it, aunt; I will not!'

'Cheek!' Aunt Lisbeth reiterated, nodding to the floor. 

Margarita put her fingers to her ears. 

'Still, Kraut says, even then he felt nothing odd. Of course he washorrified to be sitting with spectres as you and I should be; but thefirst tremble of it was over. He had plunged into the bath of horrors, and there he was. I 've heard that you must pronounce the names of theVirgin and Trinity, sprinkling water round you all the while for threeminutes; and if you do this without interruption, everything shalldisappear. So they say. "Oh! dear heaven of mercy!" says Kraut, "what Ifelt when the Baron laid his long hunting-knife across my left cheek!"'

Here Aunt Lisbeth lifted her eyes to dote upon Margarita's fright. Shewas very displeased to find her niece, with elbows on the window-silland hands round her head, quietly gazing into the street. 

She said severely, 'Where did you learn that song you were last singing, Margarita? Speak, thou girl!'

Margarita laughed. 

 'The thrush, and the lark, and the blackbird, They taught me how to sing: And O that the hawk would lend his eye, And the eagle lend his wing. '

'I will not hear these shameless songs, ' exclaimed Aunt Lisbeth. 

 'For I would view the lands they view, And be where they have been: It is not enough to be singing For ever in dells unseen!'

A voice was heard applauding her. 'Good! right good! Carol again, Gretelchen! my birdie!'

Margarita turned, and beheld her father in the doorway. She trippedtoward him, and heartily gave him their kiss of meeting. Gottliebglanced at the helm of Siegfried. 

'Guessed the work was going well; you sing so lightsomely to-day, Grete!Very pretty! And that's Drachenfels? Bones of the Virgins! what abold fellow was Siegfried, and a lucky, to have the neatest lass inDeutschland in love with him. Well, we must marry her to Siegfried afterall, I believe! Aha? or somebody as good as Siegfried. So chirrup on, mydarling!'

'Aunt Lisbeth does not approve of my songs, ' replied Margarita, untwisting some silver threads. 

'Do thy father's command, girl!' said Aunt Lisbeth. 

 'And doing his command, Should I do a thing of ill, I'd rather die to his lovely face, Than wanton at his will. '

'There--there, ' said Aunt Lisbeth, straining out her fingers; 'yousee, Gottlieb, what over-indulgence brings her to. Not another girl inblessed Rhineland, and Bohemia to boot, dared say such words!--than--Ican't repeat them!--don't ask me!--She's becoming a Frankish girl!'

'What ballad's that?' said Gottlieb, smiling. 

'The Ballad of Holy Ottilia; and her lover was sold to darkness. And sheloved him--loved him----'

'As you love Siegfried, you little one?'

'More, my father; for she saw Winkried, and I never saw Siegfried. Ah!if I had seen Siegfried! Never mind. She loved him; but she loved Virtuemore. And Virtue is the child of God, and the good God forgave her forloving Winkried, the Devil's son, because she loved Virtue more, andHe rescued her as she was being dragged down--down--down, and was halffainting with the smell of brimstone--rescued her and had her carriedinto His Glory, head and feet, on the wings of angels, before all men, as a hope to little maidens. 

 'And when I thought that I was lost I found that I was saved, And I was borne through blessed clouds, Where the banners of bliss were waved. '

'And so you think you, too, may fall in, love with Devils' sons, girl?'was Aunt Lisbeth's comment. 

'Do look at Lisbeth's Dragon, little Heart! it's so like!' saidMargarita to her father. 

Old Gottlieb twitted his hose, and chuckled. 

'She's my girl! that may be seen, ' said he, patting her, and wheezed upfrom his chair to waddle across to the Dragon. But Aunt Lisbeth tartlyturned the Dragon to the wall. 

'It is not yet finished, Gottlieb, and must not be looked at, ' sheinterposed. 'I will call for wood, and see to a fire: these evenings ofSpring wax cold': and away whimpered Aunt Lisbeth. 

Margarita sang:

 'I with my playmates, In riot and disorder, Were gathering herb and blossom Along the forest border. '

'Thy mother's song, child of my heart!' said Gottlieb; 'but vex not goodLisbeth: she loves thee!'

 'And do you think she loves me? And will you say 'tis true? O, and will she have me, When I come up to woo?'

'Thou leaping doe! thou chattering pie!' said Gottlieb. 

 'She shall have ribbons and trinkets, And shine like a morn of May, When we are off to the little hill-church, Our flowery bridal way. '

'That she shall; and something more!' cried Gottlieb. 'But, hark thee, Gretelchen; the Kaiser will be here in three days. Thou dear one! hadI not stored and hoarded all for thee, I should now have my feet on ahearthstone where even he might warm his boot. So get thy best dressesand jewels in order, and look thyself; proud as any in the land. Asimple burgher's daughter now, Grete; but so shalt thou not end, mybutterfly, or there's neither worth nor wit in Gottlieb Groschen!'

'Three days!' Margarita exclaimed; 'and the helm not finished, and thetapestry-pieces not sewed and joined, and the water not shaded off. --Oh!I must work night and day. '

'Child! I'll have no working at night! Your rosy cheeks will soon besucked out by oil-light, and you look no better than poor tallow Courtbeauties--to say nothing of the danger. This old house saw Charles theGreat embracing the chief magistrate of his liege city yonder. Someswear he slept in it. He did not sneeze at smaller chambers than ourKaisers abide. No gold ceilings with cornice carvings, but plain woodenbeams. '

 'Know that the men of great renown, Were men of simple needs: Bare to the Lord they laid them down, And slept on mighty deeds. '

'God wot, there's no emptying thy store of ballads, Grete: so much shallbe said of thee. Yes; times are changeing: We're growing degenerate. Look at the men of Linz now to what they were! Would they have let thelads of Andernach float down cabbage-stalks to them without a shy back?And why? All because they funk that brigand-beast Werner, who getsredemption from Laach, hard by his hold, whenever he commits a crimeworth paying for. As for me, my timber and stuffs must come downstream, and are too good for the nixen under Rhine, or think you I wouldacknowledge him with a toll, the hell-dog? Thunder and lightning! if oldscores could be rubbed out on his hide!'

Gottlieb whirled a thong-lashing arm in air, and groaned of law andjustice. What were they coming to!

Margarita softened the theme with a verse:

 'And tho' to sting his enemy, Is sweetness to the angry bee, The angry bee must busy be, Ere sweet of sweetness hiveth he. 

The arch thrill of his daughter's voice tickled Gottlieb. 'That's it, birdie! You and the proverb are right. I don't know which is best, 'Better hive And keep alive Than vengeance wake With that you take. '

A clatter in the cathedral square brought Gottlieb on his legs to thewindow. It was a company of horsemen sparkling in harness. One trumpeterrode at the side of the troop, and in front a standard-bearer, matteddown the chest with ochre beard, displayed aloft to the good citizensof Cologne, three brown hawks, with birds in their beaks, on an azurestardotted field. 

'Holy Cross!' exclaimed Gottlieb, low in his throat; 'the arms ofWerner! Where got he money to mount his men? Why, this is daring allCologne in our very teeth! 'Fend that he visit me now! Ruin smokes inthat ruffian's track. I 've felt hot and cold by turns all day. '

The horsemen came jingling carelessly along the street in scatteredtwos and threes, laughing together, and singling out the maidens at thegable-shadowed windows with hawking eyes. The good citizens of Colognedid not look on them favourably. Some showed their backs and grufflybanged their doors: others scowled and pocketed their fists: not a fewslunk into the side alleys like well-licked curs, and scurried offwith forebent knees. They were in truth ferocious-looking fellows thesetrusty servants of the robber Baron Werner, of Werner's Eck, behindAndernach. Leather, steel, and dust, clad them from head to foot; bigand black as bears; wolf-eyed, fox-nosed. They glistened bravely in thefalling beams of the sun, and Margarita thrust her fair braided yellowhead a little forward over her father's shoulder to catch the wholelength of the grim cavalcade. One of the troop was not long indiscerning the young beauty. He pointed her boldly out to a comrade, whoapproved his appetite, and referred her to a third. The rest followedlead, and Margarita was as one spell-struck when she became aware thatall those hungry eyes were preying on hers. Old Gottlieb was too fullof his own fears to think for her, and when he drew in his head rathersuddenly, it was with a dismal foreboding that Werner's destination inCologne was direct to the house of Gottlieb Groschen, for purposes onlytoo well to be divined. 

'Devil's breeches!' muttered Gottlieb; 'look again, Grete, and see ifthat hell-troop stop the way outside. '

Margarita's cheeks were overflowing with the offended rose. 

'I will not look at them again, father. '

Gottlieb stared, and then patted her. 

'I would I were a man, father!'

Gottlieb smiled, and stroked his beard. 

'Oh! how I burn!'

And the girl shivered visibly. 

'Grete! mind to be as much of a woman as you can, and soon such raff asthis you may sweep away, like cobwebs, and no harm done. '

He was startled by a violent thumping at the streetdoor, and as brazena blast as if the dead were being summoned. Aunt Lisbeth entered, andflitted duskily round the room, crying:

'We are lost: they are upon us! better death with a bodkin! Never shallit be said of me; never! the monsters!'

Then admonishing them to lock, bar, bolt, and block up every room in thehouse, Aunt Lisbeth perched herself on the edge of a chair, and reversedthe habits of the screech-owl, by being silent when stationary. 

'There's nothing to fear for you, Lisbeth, ' said Gottlieb, withdiscourteous emphasis. 

'Gottlieb! do you remember what happened at the siege of Mainz? andpoor Marthe Herbstblum, who had hoped to die as she was; and DameAltknopfchen, and Frau Kaltblut, and the old baker, Hans Topf's sister, all of them as holy as abbesses, and that did not save them! and nothingwill from such godless devourers. '

Gottlieb was gone, having often before heard mention of the calamityexperienced by these fated women. 

'Comfort thee, good heart, on my breast, ' said Margarita, taking Lisbethto that sweet nest of peace and fortitude. 

'Margarita! 'tis your doing! have I not said--lure them not, for theyswarm too early upon us! And here they are! and, perhaps, in fiveminutes all will be over!

Herr Je!--What, you are laughing! Heavens of goodness, the girl isdelighted!'

Here a mocking ha-ha! accompanied by a thundering snack at the door, shook the whole house, and again the trumpet burst the ears with fury. 

This summons, which seemed to Aunt Lisbeth final, wrought a strangecomposure in her countenance. She was very pale, but spread her dressdecently, as if fear had departed, and clasped her hands on her knees. 

'The will of the Lord above must be done, ' said she; 'it is impious tocomplain when we are given into the hand of the Philistines. Others havebeen martyred, and were yet acceptable. '

To this heroic speech she added, with cold energy: 'Let them come!'

'Aunt, ' cried Margarita, 'I hear my father's voice with those men. Aunty! I will not let him be alone. I must go down to him. You will besafe here. I shall come to you if there's cause for alarm. '

And in spite of Aunt Lisbeth's astonished shriek of remonstrance, shehurried off to rejoin Gottlieb. 

THE WAGER

Ere Margarita had reached the landing of the stairs, she repented herhaste and shrank back. Wrapt in a thunder of oaths, she distinguished:''Tis the little maiden we want; let's salute her and begone! or capyour skull with something thicker than you've on it now, if you want awhole one, happy father!'

'Gottlieb von Groschen I am, ' answered her father, 'and the Kaiser----'

''S as fond of a pretty girl as we are! Down with her, and no moredrivelling! It's only for a moment, old Measure and Scales!'

'I tell you, rascals, I know your master, and if you're not punished forthis, may I die a beggar!' exclaimed Gottlieb, jumping with rage. 

'May you die as rich as an abbot! And so you will, if you don't bringher down, for I've sworn to see her; there 's the end of it, man!'

'I'll see, too, if the laws allow this villany!' cried Gottlieb. 'Insulting a peaceful citizen! in his own house! a friend of youremperor! Gottlieb von Groschen!'

'Groschen? We're cousins, then! You wouldn't shut out your nearest kin?Devil's lightning! Don't you know me? Pfennig? Von Pfennig! Thishere's Heller: that's Zwanziger: all of us Vons, every soul! You're notdecided? This'll sharpen you, my jolly King Paunch!'

And Margarita heard the ruffian step as if to get swing for a blow. Shehurried into the passage, and slipping in front of her father, said tohis assailant:

'You have asked for me! I am here!'

Her face was colourless, and her voice seemed to issue from between atightened cord. She stood with her left foot a little in advance, andher whole body heaving and quivering: her arms folded and pressed hardbelow her bosom: her eyes dilated to a strong blue: her mouth ashywhite. A strange lustre, as of suppressed internal fire, flickered overher. 

'My name 's Schwartz Thier, and so 's my nature!' said the fellow witha grin; 'but may I never smack lips with a pretty girl again, if I harmsuch a young beauty as this! Friendly dealing's my plan o' life. '

'Clear out of my house, then, fellow, and here's money for you, ' saidGottlieb, displaying a wrathfully-trembling handful of coin. 

'Pish! money! forty times that wouldn't cover my bet! And if it did?Shouldn't I be disgraced? jeered at for a sheep-heart? No, I'm no ninny, and not to be diddled. I'll talk to the young lady! Silence, out there!all's going proper': this to his comrades through the door. 'So, mybeautiful maiden! thus it stands: We saw you at the window, lookinglike a fresh rose with a gold crown on. Here are we poor fellows cometo welcome the Kaiser. I began to glorify you. "Schwartz Thier!" saysHenker Rothhals to me, "I'll wager you odds you don't have a kiss ofthat fine girl within twenty minutes, counting from the hand-smack!"Done! was my word, and we clapped our fists together. Now, you see, that's straightforward! All I want is, not to lose my money and be madea fool of--leaving alone that sugary mouth which makes mine water'; andhe drew the back of his hand along his stubbled jaws: 'So, come! don'thesitate! no harm to you, my beauty, but a compliment, and SchwartzThier's your friend and anything else you like for ever after. Come, time's up, pretty well. '

Margarita leaned to her father a moment as if mortal sickness had seizedher. Then cramping her hands and feet, she said in his ear, 'Leave meto my own care; go, get the men to protect thee'; and ordered SchwartzThier to open the door wide. 

Seeing Gottlieb would not leave her, she joined her hands, and beggedhim. 'The good God will protect me! I will overmatch these men. Look, my father! they dare not strike me in the street: you they would fellwithout pity. Go! what they dare in a house, they dare not in thestreet. '

Schwartz Thier had opened the door. At sight of Margarita, the troopgave a shout. 

'Now! on the doorstep, full in view, my beauteous one! that they may seewhat a lucky devil I am--and have no doubts about the handing over. '

Margarita looked behind. Gottlieb was still there, every member of himquaking like a bog under a heavy heel. She ran to him. 'My father! Ihave a device wilt thou spoil it, and give me to this beast? You can donothing, nothing! protect yourself and save me!'

'Cologne! broad day!' muttered Gottlieb, as if the enormity hadprostrated his belief in facts; and moved slowly back. 

Margarita strode to the door-step. Schwartz Thier was awaiting her, his arm circled out, and his leering face ducked to a level with hisvictim's. This rough show of gallantry proved costly to him. As he wasgently closing his iron hold about her, enjoying before hand with grimmouthridges the flatteries of triumph, Margarita shot past him throughthe door, and was already twenty paces beyond the troop before eitherof them thought of pursuing her. At the first sound of a hoof, HenkerRothhals seized the rider's bridle-rein, and roared: 'Fair play for afair bet! leave all to the Thier!' The Thier, when he had recoveredfrom his amazement, sought for old Gottlieb to give him a back-hit, asMargarita foresaw that he would. Not finding him at hand, out lumberedthe fellow as swiftly as his harness would allow, and caught a glimpseof Margarita rapidly fleeting up the cathedral square. 

'Only five minutes, Schwartz Thier!' some of the troop sung out. 

'The devil can do his business in one, ' was the retort, and SchwartzThier swung himself on his broad-backed charger, and gored the finebeast till she rattled out a blast of sparkles from the flint. 

In a minute he drew up in front of Margarita. 

'So! you prefer settling this business in the square. 

Good! my choice sweetheart!' and he sprang to her side. 

The act of flight had touched the young girl's heart with the spirit offlight. She crouched like a winded hare under the nose of the hound, andcovered her face with her two hands. Margarita was no wisp in weight, but Schwartz Thier had her aloft in his arm as easily as if he hadtossed up a kerchief. 

'Look all, and witness!' he shouted, lifting the other arm. 

Henker Rothhals and the rest of the troop looked, as they came trottingto the scene, with the coolness of umpires: but they witnessed somethingother than what Schwartz Thier proposed. This was the sight of aformidable staff, whirling an unfriendly halo over the head of theThier, and descending on it with such honest intent to confound andoverthrow him, that the Thier succumbed to its force without argument, and the square echoed blow and fall simultaneously. At the same timethe wielder of this sound piece of logic seized Margarita, and raiseda shout in the square for all true men to stand by him in rescuinga maiden from the clutch of brigands and ravishers. A crowd wascollecting, but seemed to consider the circle now formed by the horsemenas in a manner charmed, for only one, a fair slender youth, came forwardand ranged himself beside the stranger. 

'Take thou the maiden: I'll keep to the staff, ' said this latter, stumbling over his speech as if he was in a foreign land among old rootsand wolfpits which had already shaken out a few of his teeth, and madehim cautious about the remainder. 

'Can it be Margarita!' exclaimed the youth, bending to her, and callingto her: 'Margarita! Fraulein Groschen!'

She opened her eyes, shuddered, and said: 'I was not afraid! Am I safe?'

'Safe while I have life, and this good friend. '

'Where is my father?'

'I have not seen him. '

'And you--who are you? Do I owe this to you?'

'Oh! no! no! Me you owe nothing. '

Margarita gazed hurriedly round, and at her feet there lay the Thierwith his steel-cap shining in dints, and three rivulets of bloodcoursing down his mottled forehead. She looked again at the youth, and ablush of recognition gave life to her cheeks. 

'I did not know you. Pardon me. Farina! what thanks can reward suchcourage! Tell me! shall we go?'

'The youth eyed her an instant, but recovering himself, took a rapidsurvey, and called to the stranger to follow and help give the youngmaiden safe conduct home. 

'Just then Henker Rothhals bellowed, 'Time's up!' He was answered by achorus of agreement from the troop. They had hitherto patiently actedtheir parts as spectators, immovable on their horses. The assault onthe Thier was all in the play, and a visible interference of fortune infavour of Henker Rothhals. Now general commotion shuttled them, and thestranger's keen hazel eyes read their intentions rightly when he liftedhis redoubtable staff in preparation for another mighty swoop, this timedefensive. Rothhals, and half a dozen others, with a war-cry of curses, spurred their steeds at once to ride him down. They had not reckoned thelength and good-will of their antagonist's weapon. Scarce were they inmotion, when round it whizzed, grazing the nostrils of their horseswith a precision that argued practice in the feat, and unhorsing two, Rothhals among the number. He dropped heavily on his head, and showedsigns of being as incapable of combat as the Thier. A cheer burst fromthe crowd, but fell short. 

The foremost of their number was struck flat to the earth by a fellow ofthe troop. 

Calling on St. George, his patron saint, the stranger begansystematically to make a clear ring in his path forward. Several of thehorsemen essayed a cut at his arm with their long double-handed swords, but the horses could not be brought a second time to the edge of themagic circle; and the blood of these warriors being thoroughly up, theynow came at him on foot. In their rage they would have made short workwith the three, in spite of the magistracy of Cologne, had they not beenarrested by cries of 'Werner! Werner!'

At the South-west end of the square, looking Rhinewards, rode themarauder Baron, in full armour, helm and hauberk, with a single retainerin his rear. He had apparently caught sight of the brawl, and, eitherbecause he distinguished his own men, or was seeking his naturalelement, hastened up for his share in it, which was usually that of theking of beasts. His first call was for Schwartz Thier. The men made way, and he beheld his man in no condition to make military responses. He shouted for Henker Rothhals, and again the men opened their ranksmutely, exhibiting the two stretched out in diverse directions, withtheir feet slanting to a common point. The Baron glared; then caught offhis mailed glove, and thrust it between his teeth. A rasping gurgle ofoaths was all they heard, and presently surged up, 'Who was it?'

Margarita's eyes were shut. She opened them fascinated with horror. There was an unearthly awful and comic mixture of sounds in Werner'squerulous fury, that was like the noise of a complaining bear, rollingup from hollow-chested menace to yawning lament. Never in her life hadMargarita such a shock of fear. The half gasp of a laugh broke on hertrembling lips. She stared at Werner, and was falling; but Farina's armclung instantly round her waist. The stranger caught up her laugh, loudand hearty. 

'As for who did it, Sir Baron, ' he cried, is a cheery tone, 'I am theman! As you may like to know why--and that's due to you and me both ofus--all I can say is, the Black Muzzle yonder lying got his settler formerry-making with this peaceful maiden here, without her consent--anoffence in my green island they reckon a crack o' the sconce lightbasting for, I warrant all company present, ' and he nodded sharplyabout. 'As for the other there, who looks as if a rope had been roundhis neck once and shirked its duty, he counts his wages for helping thedevil in his business, as will any other lad here who likes to come onand try. '

Werner himself, probably, would have given him the work he wanted; buthis eye had sidled a moment over Margarita, and the hardly-suppressedapplause of the crowd at the stranger's speech failed to bring his ireinto action this solitary time. 

'Who is the maiden?' he asked aloud. 

'Fraulein von Groschen, ' replied Farina. 

'Von Groschen! Von Groschen! the daughter of GottliebGroschen?--Rascals!' roared the Baron, turning on his men, and outpoured a mud-spring of filthy oaths and threats, which caused HenkerRothhals, who had opened his eyes, to close them again, as if he hadalready gone to the place of heat. 

'Only lend me thy staff, friend, ' cried Werner. 

'Not I! thwack 'em with your own wood, ' replied the stranger, and fellback a leg. 

Werner knotted his stringy brows, and seemed torn to pieces with thedifferent pulling tides of his wrath. He grasped the mane of his horseand flung abroad handfuls, till the splendid animal reared in agony. 

'You shall none of you live over this night, villains! I 'll hangyou, every hag's son! My last orders were, --Keep quiet in the city, yedevil's brood. Take that! and that!' laying at them with his bare sword. 'Off with you, and carry these two pigs out of sight quickly, or I'llhave their heads, and make sure o' them. '

The latter injunction sprang from policy, for at the head of the chiefstreet there was a glitter of the city guard, marching with shoulderedspears. 

'Maiden, ' said Werner, with a bull's bow, 'let me conduct thee to thyfather. '

Margarita did not reply; but gave her hand to Farina, and took a stepcloser to the stranger. 

Werner's brows grew black. 

'Enough to have saved you, fair maid, ' he muttered hoarsely. 'Gratitudenever was a woman's gift. Say to your father that I shall make excusesto him for the conduct of my men. '

Whereupon, casting a look of leisurely scorn toward the guard coming upin the last beams of day, the Baron shrugged his huge shoulders to analtitude expressing the various contemptuous shades of feudal coxcombry, stuck one leather-ruffled arm in his side, and jolted off at an easypace. 

'Amen!' ejaculated the stranger, leaning on his staff. 'There are Baronsin my old land; but never a brute beast in harness. '

Margarita stood before him, and took his two hands. 

'You will come with me to my father! He will thank you. I cannot. Youwill come?'

Tears and a sob of relief started from her. 

The city guard, on seeing Werner's redoubtable back turned, had adopteddouble time, and now came panting up, while the stranger bent smilingunder a fresh overflow of innocent caresses. Margarita was caught to herfather's breast. 

'You shall have vengeance for this, sweet chuck, ' cried old Gottlieb inthe intervals of his hugs. 

'Fear not, my father; they are punished': and Margarita related thestory of the stranger's prowess, elevating him into a second Siegfried. The guard huzzaed him, but did not pursue the Baron. 

Old Gottlieb, without hesitation, saluted the astonished champion with akiss on either cheek. 

'My best friend! You have saved my daughter from indignity! Come withus home, if you can believe that a home where the wolves come daring us, dragging our dear ones from our very doorsteps. Come, that we may thankyou under a roof at least. My little daughter! Is she not a brave lass?'

'She's nothing less than the white rose of Germany, ' said the stranger, with a good bend of the shoulders to Margarita. 

'So she's called, ' exclaimed Gottlieb; 'she 's worthy to be a man!'

'Men would be the losers, then, more than they could afford, ' repliedthe stranger, with a ringing laugh. 

'Come, good friend, ' said Gottlieb; 'you must need refreshment. Proveyou are a true hero by your appetite. As Charles the Great said toArchbishop Turpin, "I conquered the world because Nature gave me agizzard; for everywhere the badge of subjection is a poor stomach. "Come, all! A day well ended, notwithstanding!'

THE SILVER ARROW

At the threshold of Gottlieb's house a number of the chief burgessesof Cologne had corporated spontaneously to condole with him. As he camenear, they raised a hubbub of gratulation. Strong were the expressionsof abhorrence and disgust of Werner's troop in which these excellentcitizens clothed their outraged feelings; for the insult to Gottliebwas the insult of all. The Rhinestream taxes were provoking enough toendure; but that the licence of these free-booting bands should extendto the homes of free and peaceful men, loyal subjects of the Emperor, was a sign that the evil had reached from pricks to pokes, as the sayingwent, and must now be met as became burgesses of ancient Cologne, and byjoint action destroyed. 

'In! in, all of you!' said Gottlieb, broadening his smile to suit themany. 'We 'll talk about that in-doors. Meantime, I've got a hero tointroduce to you: flesh and blood! no old woman's coin and young girl'sdream-o'day: the honest thing, and a rarity, my masters. All that oversome good Rhine-juice from above Bacharach. In, and welcome, friends!'

Gottlieb drew the stranger along with him under the carved old oak-woodportals, and the rest paired, and reverentially entered in his wake. Margarita, to make up for this want of courtesy, formed herself thelast of the procession. She may have had another motive, for she tookoccasion there to whisper something to Farina, bringing sun and cloudover his countenance in rapid flushes. He seemed to remonstrate in dumbshow; but she, with an attitude of silence, signified her wish to sealthe conversation, and he drooped again. On the door step she paused amoment, and hung her head pensively, as if moved by a reminiscence. Theyouth had hurried away some strides. Margarita looked after him. Hisarms were straightened to his flanks, his hands clenched, and strainingout from the wrist. He had the aspect of one tugging against therestraint of a chain that suddenly let out link by link to his wholeforce. 

'Farina!' she called; and wound him back with a run. 'Farina! You do notthink me ungrateful? I could not tell my father in the crowd what youdid for me. He shall know. He will thank you. He does not understandyou now, Farina. He will. Look not so sorrowful. So much I would say toyou. '

So much was rushing on her mind, that her maidenly heart became unruly, and warned her to beware. 

The youth stood as if listening to a nightingale of the old woods, afterthe first sweet stress of her voice was in his ear. When she ceased, he gazed into her eyes. They were no longer deep and calm like forestlakes; the tender-glowing blue quivered, as with a spark of the younggirl's soul, in the beams of the moon then rising. 

'Oh, Margarita!' said the youth, in tones that sank to sighs: 'what am Ito win your thanks, though it were my life for such a boon!'

He took her hand, and she did not withdraw it. Twice his lips dwelt uponthose pure fingers. 

'Margarita: you forgive me: I have been so long without hope. I havekissed your hand, dearest of God's angels!'

She gently restrained the full white hand in his pressure. 

'Margarita! I have thought never before death to have had this sacredbliss. I am guerdoned in advance for every grief coming before death. '

She dropped on him one look of a confiding softness that was to theyouth like the opened gate of the innocent garden of her heart. 

'You pardon me, Margarita? I may call you my beloved? strive, wait, pray, hope, for you, my star of life?'

Her face was so sweet a charity!

'Dear love! one word!--or say nothing, but remain, and move not. Sobeautiful you are! Oh, might I kneel to you here; dote on you; worshipthis white hand for ever. '

The colour had passed out of her cheeks like a blissful western redleaving rich paleness in the sky; and with her clear brows levelled athim, her bosom lifting more and more rapidly, she struggled against thecharm that was on her, and at last released her hand. 

'I must go. I cannot stay. Pardon you? Who might not be proud of yourlove!--Farewell!'

She turned to move away, but lingered a step from him, hastily touchingher bosom and either hand, as if to feel for a brooch or a ring. Thenshe blushed, drew the silver arrow from the gathered gold-shot braidsabove her neck, held it out to him, and was gone. 

Farina clutched the treasure, and reeled into the street. Half a dozenneighbours were grouped by the door. 

'What 's the matter in Master Groschen's house now?' one asked, as heplunged into the midst of them. 

'Matter?' quoth the joy-drunken youth, catching at the word, and musedoff into raptures; 'There never was such happiness! 'Tis paradisewithin, exile without. But what exile! A star ever in the heavensto lighten the road and cheer the path of the banished one'; and heloosened his vest and hugged the cold shaft on his breast. 

'What are you talking and capering at, fellow?' exclaimed another:'Can't you answer about those shrieks, like a Christian, you that havejust come out of the house? Why, there's shrieking now! It 's a woman. Thousand thunders! it sounds like the Frau Lisbeth's voice. What can behappening to her?'

'Perhaps she's on fire, ' was coolly suggested between two or three. 

'Pity to see the old house burnt, ' remarked one. 

'House! The woman, man! the woman!'

'Ah!' replied the other, an ancient inhabitant of Cologne, shaking hishead, 'the house is oldest!'

Farina, now recovering his senses, heard shrieks that he recognizedas possible in the case of Aunt Lisbeth dreading the wickedness ofan opposing sex, and alarmed by the inrush of old Gottlieb's numerousguests. To confirm him, she soon appeared, and hung herself halfway outof one of the upper windows, calling desperately to St. Ursula for aid. He thanked the old lady in his heart for giving him a pretext to enterParadise again; but before even love could speed him, Frau Lisbeth wasseized and dragged remorselessly out of sight, and he and the rosy roomdarkened together. 

Farina twice strode off to the Rhine-stream; as many times he returned. It was hard to be away from her. It was harder to be near and not close. His heart flamed into jealousy of the stranger. Everything threatened tooverturn his slight but lofty structure of bliss so suddenly shot intothe heavens. He had but to remember that his hand was on the silverarrow, and a radiance broke upon his countenance, and a calm fell uponhis breast. 'It was a plight of her troth to me, ' mused the youth. 'Sheloves me! She would not trust her frank heart to speak. Oh, generousyoung girl! what am I to dare hope for such a prize? for I never canbe worthy. And she is one who, giving her heart, gives it all. Do I notknow her? How lovely she looked thanking the stranger! The blue of hereyes, the warm-lighted blue, seemed to grow full on the closing lids, like heaven's gratitude. Her beauty is wonderful. What wonder, then, if he loves her? I should think him a squire in his degree. There aresquires of high birth and low. '

So mused Farina with his arms folded and his legs crossed in the shadowof Margarita's chamber. Gradually he fell into a kind of hazy doze. Thehouses became branded with silver arrows. All up the Cathedral stone wasa glitter, and dance, and quiver of them. In the sky mazed confusion ofarrowy flights and falls. Farina beheld himself in the service of theEmperor watching these signs, and expecting on the morrow to win gloryand a name for Margarita. Glory and the name now won, old Gottlieb wasjust on the point of paternally blessing them, when a rude pat arousedhim from the delicious moon-dream. 

'Hero by day! house-guard by night! That tells a tale, ' said a cheerfulvoice. 

The moon was shining down the Cathedral square and street, and Farinasaw the stranger standing solid and ruddy before him. He was at firstprompted to resent such familiar handling, but the stranger's face wasof that bland honest nature which, like the sun, wins everywhere back areflection of its own kindliness. 

'You are right, ' replied Farina; 'so it is!'

'Pretty wines inside there, and a rare young maiden. She has a throatlike a nightingale, and more ballads at command than a piper's wallet. Now, if I hadn't a wife at home. '

'You're married?' cried Farina, seizing the stranger's hand. 

'Surely; and my lass can say something for herself on the score of bravelooks, as well as the best of your German maids here, trust me. '

Farina repressed an inclination to perform a few of those antics whichviolent joy excites, and after rushing away and back, determined to givehis secret to the stranger. 

'Look, ' said he in a whisper, that opens the private doors of aconfidence. 

But the stranger repeated the same word still more earnestly, andbrought Farina's eyes on a couple of dark figures moving under theCathedral. 

'Some lamb's at stake when the wolves are prowling, ' he added: ''Tisnow two hours to the midnight. I doubt if our day's work be over till wehear the chime, friend. '

'What interest do you take in the people of this house that you watchover them thus?' asked Farina. 

The stranger muffled a laugh in his beard. 

'An odd question, good sooth. Why, in the first place, we like wellwhatso we have done good work for. That goes for something. In thesecond, I've broken bread in this house. Put down that in the reckoning. In the third; well! in the third, add up all together, and the sumtotal's at your service, young sir. '

Farina marked him closely. There was not a spot on his face for guile tolurk in, or suspicion to fasten on. He caught the stranger's hand. 

'You called me friend just now. Make me your friend. Look, I was goingto say: I love this maiden! I would die for her. I have loved her long. This night she has given me a witness that my love is not vain. I ampoor. She is rich. I am poor, I said, and feel richer than the Kaiserwith this she has given me! Look, it is what our German girls slide intheir back-hair, this silver arrow!'

'A very pretty piece of heathenish wear!' exclaimed the stranger. 

'Then, I was going to say--tell me, friend, of a way to win honour andwealth quickly; I care not at how rare a risk. Only to wealth, or highbaronry, will her father give her!'

The stranger buzzed on his moustache in a pause of cool pity, such aselders assume when young men talk of conquering the world for theirmistresses: and in truth it is a calm of mind well won!

'Things look so brisk at home here in the matter of the maiden, thatI should say, wait a while and watch your chance. But you're a boy ofpluck: I serve in the Kaiser's army, under my lord: the Kaiser will behere in three days. If you 're of that mind then, I doubt little you mayget posted well: but, look again! there's a ripe brew yonder. Marry, youmay win your spurs this night even; who knows?--'S life! there's a tallfellow joining those two lurkers. '

'Can you see into the murk shadow, Sir Squire?'

'Ay! thanks to your Styrian dungeons, where I passed a year'sapprenticeship:

 "I learnt to watch the rats and mice At play, with never a candle-end. They play'd so well; they sang so nice; They dubb'd me comrade; called me friend!"

So says the ballad of our red-beard king's captivity. All evil has agood:

 "When our toes and chins are up, Poison plants make sweetest cup"

as the old wives mumble to us when we're sick. Heigho! would I were inthe little island well home again, though that were just their song ofwelcome to me, as I am a Christian. '

'Tell me your name, friend, ' said Farina. 

'Guy's my name, young man: Goshawk's my title. Guy the Goshawk! so theycalled me in my merry land. The cap sticks when it no longer fits. Then I drove the arrow, and was down on my enemy ere he could ruffle afeather. Now, what would be my nickname?

 "A change so sad, and a change so bad, Might set both Christian and heathen a sighing: Change is a curse, for it's all for the worse: Age creeps up, and youth is flying!"

and so on, with the old song. But here am I, and yonder's a game thatwants harrying; so we'll just begin to nose about them a bit. '

He crossed to the other side of the street, and Farina followed outof the moonlight. The two figures and the taller one were evidentlyobserving them; for they also changed their position and passed behindan angle of the Cathedral. 

'Tell me how the streets cross all round the Cathedral you know thecity, ' said the stranger, holding out his hand. 

Farina traced with his finger a rough map of the streets on thestranger's hand. 

'Good! that's how my lord always marks the battlefield, and makes meshow him the enemy's posts. Forward, this way!'

He turned from the Cathedral, and both slid along close under the eavesand front hangings of the houses. Neither spoke. Farina felt that hewas in the hands of a skilful captain, and only regretted the want of aweapon to make harvest of the intended surprise; for he judged clearlythat those were fellows of Werner's band on the look-out. They wounddown numberless intersections of narrow streets with irregular-builthouses standing or leaning wry-faced in row, here a quaint-beamedcottage, there almost a mansion with gilt arms, brackets, and devices. Oil-lamps unlit hung at intervals by the corners, near a pale Christ oncrucifix. Across the passages they hung alight. The passages andalleys were too dusky and close for the moon in her brightest ardour topenetrate; down the streets a slender lane of white beams could steal:'In all conscience, ' as the good citizens of Cologne declared, 'enoughfor those heathen hounds and sons of the sinful who are abroad whenGod's own blessed lamp is out. ' So, when there was a moon, the expenseof oil was saved to the Cologne treasury, thereby satisfying thevirtuous. 

After incessant doubling here and there, listening to footfalls, andthemselves eluding a chase which their suspicious movements aroused, they came upon the Rhine. A full flood of moonlight burnished theknightly river in glittering scales, and plates, and rings, as headlongit rolled seaward on from under crag and banner of old chivalry andrapine. Both greeted the scene with a burst of pleasure. The grey mistof flats on the south side glimmered delightful to their sight, comingfrom that drowsy crowd and press of habitations; but the solemn gloryof the river, delaying not, heedless, impassioned-pouring on in somesublime conference between it and heaven to the great marriage ofwaters, deeply shook Farina's enamoured heart. The youth could notrestrain his tears, as if a magic wand had touched him. He trembled withlove; and that delicate bliss which maiden hope first showers upon uslike a silver rain when she has taken the shape of some young beauty andplighted us her fair fleeting hand, tenderly embraced him. 

As they were emerging into the spaces of the moon, a cheer from thestranger arrested Farina. 

'Seest thou? on the wharf there! that is the very one, the tallest ofthe three. Lakin! but we shall have him. '

Wrapt in a long cloak, with low pointed cap and feather, stood theperson indicated. He appeared to be meditating on the flow of the water, unaware of hostile presences, or quite regardless of them. There was amajesty in his height and air, which made the advance of the two uponhim more wary and respectful than their first impulse had counselled. They could not read his features, which were mantled behind voluminousfolds: all save a pair of very strange eyes, that, even as they gazeddirectly downward, seemed charged with restless fiery liquid. 

The two were close behind him: Guy the Goshawk prepared for one of thosefatal pounces on the foe that had won him his title. He consulted Farinamutely, who Nodded readiness; but the instant after, a cry of anguishescaped from the youth:

'Lost! gone! lost! Where is it? where! the arrow! The Silver Arrow! MyMargarita!'

Ere the echoes of his voice had ceased lamenting into the distance, theyfound themselves alone on the wharf. 

THE LILIES OF THE VALLEY

'He opened like a bat!' said the stranger. 

'His shadow was red!' said Farina. 

'He was off like an arrow!' said the stranger. 

'Oh! pledge of my young love, how could I lose thee!' exclaimed theyouth, and his eyes were misted with tears. 

Guy the Goshawk shook his brown locks gravely. 

'Bring me a man, and I 'll stand up against him, whoever he be, like aman; but this fellow has an ill scent and foreign ways about him, that he has! His eye boils all down my backbone and tingles at myfinger-tips. Jesu, save us!'

'Save us!' repeated Farina, with the echo of a deadened soul. 

They made the sign of the Cross, and purified the place with holyejaculations. 

'I 've seen him at last; grant it be for the last time! That's myprayer, in the name of the Virgin and Trinity, ' said Guy. 'And now let'sretrace our steps: perchance we shall hunt up that bauble of yours, butI'm not fit for mortal work this night longer. '

Burdened by their black encounter, the two passed again behind theCathedral. Farina's hungry glances devoured each footmark of theirtrack. Where the moon held no lantern for him, he went on his knees, and groped for his lost treasure with a miser's eager patience of agony, drawing his hand slowly over the stony kerb and between the intersticesof the thick-sown flints, like an acute-feeling worm. Despair grew heavyin his breast. At every turning he invoked some good new saint to aidhim, and ran over all the propitiations his fancy could suggest and hisreligious lore inspire. By-and-by they reached the head of the streetwhere Margarita dwelt. The moon was dipping down, and paler, as iftouched with a warning of dawn. Chill sighs from the open landpassed through the spaces of the city. On certain coloured gables andwood-crossed fronts, the white light lingered; but mostly the houseswere veiled in dusk, and Gottlieb's house was confused in the twilightwith those of his neighbours, notwithstanding its greater statelinessand the old grandeur of its timbered bulk. They determined to take uptheir position there again, and paced on, Farina with his head below hisshoulders, and Guy nostril in air, as if uneasy in his sense of smell. 

On the window-ledge of a fair-fitted domicile stood a flower-pot, a rudeearthen construction in the form of a river-barge, wherein grew somevalley lilies that drooped their white bells over the sides. 

The Goshawk eyed them wistfully. 

'I must smell those blessed flowers if I wish to be saved!' and hestamped resolve with his staff. 

Moved by this exclamation, Farina gazed up at them. 

'How like a company of maidens they look floating in the vessel oflife!' he said. 

Guy curiously inspected Farina and the flower-pot, shrugged, and withhis comrade's aid, mounted to a level with it, seized the prize andredescended. 

'There, ' he cried, between long luxurious sniffs, 'that chases him outof the nostril sooner than aught else, the breath of a fresh lass-likeflower! I was tormented till now by the reek of the damned rising fromunder me. This is heaven's own incense, I think!'

And Guy inhaled the flowers and spake prettily to them. 

'They have a melancholy sweetness, friend, ' said Farina. 'I think ofwhispering Fays, and Elf, and Erl, when their odour steals through me. Do not you?'

'Nay, nor hope to till my wits are clean gone, ' was the Goshawk's reply. 'To my mind, 'tis an honest flower, and could I do good service by theyoung maiden who there set it, I should be rendering back good servicedone; for if that flower has not battled the devil in my nose thisnight, and beaten him, my head's a medlar!'

'I scarce know whether as a devout Christian I should listen to that, friend, ' Farina mildly remonstrated. 'Lilies are indeed emblems of thesaints; but then they are not poor flowers of earth, being transfigured, lustrous unfadingly. Oh, Cross and Passion! with what silver serenitythy glory enwraps me, gazing on these fair bells! I look on the whitesea of the saints. I am enamoured of fleshly anguish and martyrdom. Allbeauty is that worn by wan-smiling faces wherein Hope sits as a crownon Sorrow, and the pale ebb of mortal life is the twilight of joyeverlasting. Colourless peace! Oh, my beloved! So walkest thou for mysoul on the white sea ever at night, clad in the straight fall of thyspotless virgin linen; bearing in thy hand the lily, and leaning thycheek to it, where the human rose is softened to a milky bloom of red, the espousals of heaven with earth; over thee, moving with thee, awreath of sapphire stars, and the solitude of purity around!'

'Ah!' sighed the Goshawk, dandling his flower-pot; 'the moon givesstrokes as well's the sun. I' faith, moon-struck and maid-struck inone! He'll be asking for his head soon. This dash of the monk and theminstrel is a sure sign. That 's their way of loving in this land: theyall go mad, straight off. I never heard such talk. '

Guy accompanied these remarks with a pitiful glance at his companion. 

'Come, Sir Lover! lend me a help to give back what we've borrowed to itsrightful owner. 'S blood! but I feel an appetite. This night-air takesme in the wind like a battering ram. I thought I had laid in a stoutfour-and-twenty hours' stock of Westphalian Wurst at Master Groschen'ssupper-table. Good stuff, washed down with superior Rhine wine; say yourLiebfrauenmilch for my taste; though, when I first tried it, I grimacedlike a Merry-Andrew, and remembered roast beef and Glo'ster ale in myprayers. '

The Goshawk was in the act of replacing the pot of lilies, when a blowfrom a short truncheon, skilfully flung, struck him on the neck andbrought him to the ground. With him fell the lilies. He glared to theright and left, and grasped the broken flower-pot for a return missile;but no enemy was in view to test his accuracy of aim. 

The deep-arched doorways showed their empty recesses the windows slept. 

'Has that youth played me false?' thought the discomfited squire, as heleaned quietly on his arm. Farina was nowhere near. 

Guy was quickly reassured. 

'By my fay, now! that's a fine thing! and a fine fellow! and a fleetfoot! That lad 'll rise! He'll be a squire some day. Look at him. Bowelsof a'Becket! 'tis a sight! I'd rather see that, now, than old Groschen's supper-table groaning with Wurst again, and running a river ofRudesheimer! Tussle on! I'll lend a hand if there's occasion; but youshall have the honour, boy, an you can win it. '

This crying on of the hound was called forth by a chase up the street, in which the Goshawk beheld Farina pursue and capture a stalwartrunaway, who refused with all his might to be brought back, strivingevery two and three of his tiptoe steps to turn against the impulseFarina had got on his neck and nether garments. 

'Who 'd have thought the lad was so wiry and mettlesome, with his softface, blue eyes, and lank locks? but a green mead has more in it thanmany a black mountain. Hail, and well done! if I could dub you knight, Iwould: trust me!' and he shook Farina by the hand. 

Farina modestly stood aside, and allowed the Goshawk to confront hisprisoner. 

'So, Sir Shy-i'the-dark! gallant Stick-i'the-back! Squire Truncheon, andKnight of the noble order of Quicksilver Legs! just take your stand atthe distance you were off me when you discharged this instrument at myhead. By 'r lady! I smart a scratch to pay you in coin, and it's luckyfor you the coin is small, or you might reckon on it the same, trust me. Now, back!'

The Goshawk lunged out with the truncheon, but the prisoner displayed nohesitation in complying, and fell back about a space of fifteen yards. 

'I suppose he guesses I've never done the stupid trick before, ' musedGuy, 'or he would not be so sharp. ' Observing that Farina had alsofallen back in a line as guard, Guy motioned him to edge off to theright more, bawling, 'Never mind why!'

'Now, ' thought Guy, 'if I were sure of notching him, I'd do the speechpart first; but as I'm not--throwing truncheons being no honourableprofession anywhere--I'll reserve that. The rascal don't quail. We'llsee how long he stands firm. '

The Goshawk cleared his wrist, fixed his eye, and swung the truncheonmeditatively to and fro by one end. He then launched off the shouldera mighty down-fling, calmly, watching it strike the prisoner to earth, like an ox under the hammer. 

'A hit!' said he, and smoothed his wrist. 

Farina knelt by the body, and lifted the head on his breast. 'Berthold!Berthold!' he cried; 'no further harm shall hap to you, man! Speak!'

'You ken the scapegrace?' said Guy, sauntering up. 

''Tis Berthold Schmidt, son of old Schmidt, the great goldsmith ofCologne. '

'St. Dunstan was not at his elbow this time!'

'A rival of mine, ' whispered Farina. 

'Oho!' and the Goshawk wound a low hiss at his tongue's tip. 'Well! asI should have spoken if his ears had been open: Justice struck the blow;and a gentle one. This comes of taking a flying shot, and not standingup fair. And that seems all that can be said. Where lives he?'

Farina pointed to the house of the Lilies. 

'Beshrew me! the dog has some right on his side. Whew! yonder he lives?He took us for some night-prowlers. Why not come up fairly, and ask mybusiness?

Smelling a flower is not worth a broken neck, nor defending yourpremises quite deserving a hole in the pate. Now, my lad, you see whatcomes of dealing with cut and run blows; and let this be a warning toyou. '

They took the body by head and feet, and laid him at the door of hisfather's house. Here the colour came to his cheek, and they wiped offthe streaks of blood that stained him. Guy proved he could be tenderwith a fallen foe, and Farina with an ill-fated rival. It was who couldsuggest the soundest remedies, or easiest postures. One lent a kerchiefand nursed him; another ran to the city fountain and fetched him water. Meantime the moon had dropped, and morning, grey and beamless, looked onthe house-peaks and along the streets with steadier eye. They now bothdiscerned a body of men, far down, fronting Gottlieb's house, and drawnup in some degree of order. All their charity forsook them at once. 

'Possess thyself of the truncheon, ' said Guy: 'You see it can damage. More work before breakfast, and a fine account I must give of myself tomy hostess of the Three Holy Kings!'

Farina recovered the destructive little instrument. 

'I am ready, ' said he. 'But hark! there's little work for us there, Ifancy. Those be lads of Cologne, no grunters of the wild. 'Tis the WhiteRose Club. Always too late for service. '

Voices singing a hunting glee, popular in that age, swelled up the clearmorning air; and gradually the words became distinct. 

 The Kaiser went a-hunting, A-hunting, tra-ra: With his bugle-horn at springing morn, The Kaiser trampled bud and thorn: Tra-ra!

 And the dew shakes green as the horsemen rear, And a thousand feathers they flutter with fear; And a pang drives quick to the heart of the deer; For the Kaiser's out a-hunting, Tra-ra! Ta, ta, ta, ta, Tra-ra, tra-ra, Ta-ta, tra-ra, tra-ra!

the owner of the truncheon awoke to these reviving tones, and uttered afaint responsive 'Tra-ra!'

'Hark again!' said Farina, in reply to the commendation of the Goshawk, whose face was dimpled over with the harmony. 

 The wild boar lay a-grunting, A-grunting, tra-ra! And, boom! comes the Kaiser to hunt up me? Or, queak! the small birdie that hops on the tree? Tra-ra! O birdie, and boar, and deer, lie tame! For a maiden in bloom, or a full-blown dame, Are the daintiest prey, and the windingest game, When Kaisers go a-hunting, Tra-ra! Ha, ha, ha, ha, Tra-ra, tra-ra, Ha-ha, tra-ra, tra-ra!

The voices held long on the last note, and let it die in a forestcadence. 

''Fore Gad! well done. Hurrah! Tra-ra, ha-ha, tra-ra! That's a trickwe're not half alive to at home, ' said Guy. 'I feel friendly with theseGerman lads. '

The Goshawk's disposition toward German lads was that moment harshlytested by a smart rap on the shoulder from an end of German oak, and aproclamation that he was prisoner of the hand that gave the greeting, inthe name of the White Rose Club. Following that, his staff was wrestedfrom him by a dozen stout young fellows, who gave him no time to gethis famous distance for defence against numbers; and he and Farina weremarched forthwith to the chorusing body in front of Gottlieb Groschen'shouse. 

THE MISSIVES

Of all the inmates, Gottlieb had slept most with the day on his eyelids, for Werner hung like a nightmare over him. Margarita lay and dreamedin rose-colour, and if she thrilled on her pillowed silken couch like atense-strung harp, and fretted drowsily in little leaps and starts, itwas that a bird lay in her bosom, panting and singing through thenight, and that he was not to be stilled, but would musically utter thesweetest secret thoughts of a love-bewitched maiden. Farina's devotionshe knew his tenderness she divined: his courage she had that daywitnessed. The young girl no sooner felt that she could love worthily, than she loved with her whole strength. Muffed and remote came thehunting-song under her pillow, and awoke dreamy delicate curves in herfair face, as it thinned but did not banish her dream. Aunt Lisbeth alsoheard the song, and burst out of her bed to see that the door and windowwere secured against the wanton Kaiser. Despite her trials, she hadtaken her spell of sleep; but being possessed of some mystic maidenbelief that in cases of apprehended peril from man, bed was a rock ofrefuge and fortified defence, she crept back there, and allowed thesun to rise without her. Gottlieb's voice could not awaken her to thehousehold duties she loved to perform with such a doleful visage. Sheheard him open his window, and parley in angry tones with the musiciansbelow. 

'Decoys!' muttered Aunt Lisbeth; 'be thou alive to them, Gottlieb!'

He went downstairs and opened the street door, whereupon the scoldingand railing commenced anew. 

'Thou hast given them vantage, Gottlieb, brother mine, ' she complained;'and the good heavens only can say what may result from suchindiscreetness. '

A silence, combustible with shuffling of feet in the passage and on thestairs, dinned horrors into Aunt Lisbeth's head. 

'It was just that sound in the left wing of Hollenbogenblitz, ' she said:'only then it was night and not morning. Ursula preserve me!'

'Why, Lisbeth! Lisbeth!' cried Gottlieb from below. 'Come down! 'tisfull five o' the morning. Here's company; and what are we to do withoutthe woman?'

'Ah, Gottlieb! that is like men! They do not consider how different itis for us!' which mysterious sentence being uttered to herself alone, enjoyed a meaning it would elsewhere have been denied. 

Aunt Lisbeth dressed, and met Margarita descending. They exchanged thegood-morning of young maiden and old. 

'Go thou first, ' said Aunt Lisbeth. 

Margarita gaily tripped ahead. 

'Girl!' cried Aunt Lisbeth, 'what's that thing in thy back hair?'

'I have borrowed Lieschen's arrow, aunt. Mine has had an accident. '

'Lieschen's arrow! An accident! Now I will see to that after breakfast, Margarita. '

'Tra-ra, ta-ta, tra-ra, tra-ra, ' sang Margarita. 

 'The wild boar lay a-grunting, A-grunting, tra-ra. '

'A maiden's true and proper ornament! Look at mine, child! I have wornit fifty years. May I deserve to wear it till I am called! O Margarita!trifle not with that symbol. '

 '"O birdie, and boar, and deer, lie tame!"

I am so happy, aunty. '

'Nice times to be happy in, Margarita. '

 "Be happy in Spring, sweet maidens all, For Autumn's chill will early fall. "

So sings the Minnesinger, aunty; and

 '"A maiden in the wintry leaf Will spread her own disease of grief. "

I love the Minnesingers! Dear, sweet-mannered men they are! Such lovers!And men of deeds as well as song: sword on one side and harp on theother. They fight till set of sun, and then slacken their armour to wafta ballad to their beloved by moonlight, covered with stains of battle asthey are, and weary!'

'What a girl! Minnesingers! Yes; I know stories of those Minnesingers. They came to the castle--Margarita, a bead of thy cross is broken. Iwill attend to it. Wear the pearl one till I mend this. May'st thounever fall in the way of Minnesingers. They are not like Werner's troop. They do not batter at doors: they slide into the house like snakes. '

'Lisbeth! Lisbeth!' they heard Gottlieb calling impatiently. 

'We come, Gottlieb!' and in a low murmur Margarita heard her say: 'Maythis day pass without trouble and shame to the pious and the chaste. '

Margarita knew the voice of the stranger before she had opened the door, and on presenting herself, the hero gave her a guardian-like salute. 

'One may see, ' he said, 'that it requires better men than those ofWerner to drive away the rose from that cheek. '

Gottlieb pressed the rosy cheek to his shoulder and patted her. 

'What do you think, Grete? You have now forty of the best lads inCologne enrolled to protect you, and keep guard over the house nightand day. There! What more could a Pfalzgrafin ask, now? And voluntaryservice; all to be paid with a smile, which I daresay my lady won'trefuse them. Lisbeth, you know our friend. Fear him not, good Lisbeth, and give us breakfast. Well, sweet chuck, you're to have royal honourspaid you. I warrant they've begun good work already in locking up thatidle moony vagabond, Farina--'

'Him? What for, my father? How dared they! What has he done?'

'O, start not, my fairy maid! A small matter of breakage, pet! Hetried to enter Cunigonde Schmidt's chamber, and knocked down her potof lilies: for which Berthold Schmidt knocked him down, and our friendhere, out of good fellowship, knocked down Berthold. However, the chiefoffender is marched off to prison by your trusty guard, and there lethim cool himself. Berthold shall tell you the tale himself: he'llbe here to breakfast, and receive your orders, mistresscommander-in-chief. '

The Goshawk had his eye on Margarita. Her teeth were tight down on hernether lip, and her whole figure had a strange look of awkwardness, shewas so divided with anger. 

'As witness of the affair, I think I shall make a clearer statement, fair maiden, ' he interposed. 'In the first place, I am the offender. Wepassed under the window of the Fraulein Schmidt, and 'twas I mountedto greet the lilies. One shoot of them is in my helm, and here let mepresent them to a worthier holder. '

He offered the flowers with a smile, and Margarita took them, radiantwith gratitude. 

'Our friend Berthold, ' he continued, 'thought proper to aim a blow at mebehind my back, and then ran for his comrades. He was caught, and bymy gallant young hero, Farina; concerning whose character I regret thatyour respected father and I differ: for, on the faith of a soldierand true man, he's the finest among the fine fellows I've yet met inGermany, trust me. So, to cut the story short, execution was done uponBerthold by my hand, for an act of treachery. He appears to be a sort ofcaptain of one of the troops, and not affectionately disposed to Farina;for the version of the affair you have heard from your father is alittle invention of Master Berthold's own. To do him justice, he seemedequally willing to get me under the cold stone; but a word from yourgood father changed the current; and as I thought I could serve ourfriend better free than behind bars, I accepted liberty. Pshaw! I shouldhave accepted it any way, to tell the truth, for your German dungeonsare mortal shivering ratty places. So rank me no hero, fair MistressMargarita, though the temptation to seem one in such sweet eyes wasbeginning to lead me astray. And now, as to our business in the streetsat this hour, believe the best of us. '

'I will! I do!' said Margarita. 

'Lisbeth! Lisbeth!' called Gottlieb. 'Breakfast, little sister! ourchampion is starving. He asks for wurst, milk-loaves, wine, and all thyrarest conserves. Haste, then, for the honour of Cologne is at stake. '

Aunt Lisbeth jingled her keys in and out, and soon that harmony drew anumber of domestics with platters of swine flesh, rolls of white wheatenbread, the perpetual worst, milk, wine, barley-bread, and householdstores of dainties in profusion, all sparkling on silver, relieved byspotless white cloth. Gottlieb beheld such a sunny twinkle across theGoshawk's face at this hospitable array, that he gave the word of onsetwithout waiting for Berthold, and his guest immediately fell to, and didnot relax in his exertions for a full half-hour by the Cathedral clock, eschewing the beer with a wry look made up of scorn and ruefulness, anddrinking a well-brimmed health in Rhine wine all round. Margarita waspensive: Aunt Lisbeth on her guard. Gottlieb remembered Charles theGreat's counsel to Archbishop Turpin, and did his best to remain onearth one of its lords dominant. 

'Poor Berthold!' said he. ''Tis a good lad, and deserves his seat at mytable oftener. I suppose the flower-pot business has detained him. We'lldrink to him: eh, Grete?'

'Drink to him, dear father!--but here he is to thank you in person. '

Margarita felt a twinge of pity as Berthold entered. The livid stainsof his bruise deepened about his eyes, and gave them a wicked lightwhenever they were fixed intently; but they looked earnest; and spokeof a combat in which he could say that he proved no coward and was usedwith some cruelty. She turned on the Goshawk a mute reproach; yet smiledand loved him well when she beheld him stretch a hand of welcome andproffer a brotherly glass to Berthold. The rich goldsmith's son wasoccupied in studying the horoscope of his fortunes in Margarita's eyes;but when Margarita directed his attention to Guy, he turned to him witha glance of astonishment that yielded to cordial greeting. 

'Well done, Berthold, my brave boy! All are friends who sit at table, 'said Gottlieb. 'In any case, at my table:

 "'Tis a worthy foe Forgives the blow Was dealt him full and fairly, "

says the song; and the proverb takes it up with, "A generous enemy is afriend on the wrong side"; and no one's to blame for that, save old DameFortune. So now a bumper to this jovial make-up between you. Lisbeth!you must drink it. '

The little woman bowed melancholy obedience. 

'Why did you fling and run?' whispered Guy to Berthold. 

'Because you were two against one. '

'Two against one, man! Why, have you no such thing as fair play in thisland of yours? Did you think I should have taken advantage of that?'

'How could I tell who you were, or what you would do?' mutteredBerthold, somewhat sullenly. 

'Truly no, friend! So you ran to make yourself twenty to two? But don'tbe down on the subject. I was going to say, that though I treated you ina manner upright, 'twas perhaps a trifle severe, considering your youth:but an example's everything; and I must let you know in confidence, thatno rascal truncheon had I flung in my life before; so, you see, I gaveyou all the chances. '

Berthold moved his lips in reply; but thinking of the figure of defeathe was exhibiting before Margarita, caused him to estimate unfavourablywhat chances had stood in his favour. 

The health was drunk. Aunt Lisbeth touched the smoky yellow glass with amincing lip, and beckoned Margarita to withdraw. 

'The tapestry, child!' she said. 'Dangerous things are uttered after thethird glass, I know, Margarita. '

'Do you call my champion handsome, aunt?'

'I was going to speak to you about him, Margarita. If I remember, he hasrough, good looks, as far as they go. Yes: but thou, maiden, art thouthinking of him? I have thrice watched him wink; and that, as weknow, is a habit of them that have sold themselves. And what is frailwomankind to expect from such a brawny animal?'

 'And oh! to lace his armour up, And speed him to the field; To pledge him in a kissing-cup, The knight that will not yield!

I am sure he is tender, aunt. Notice how gentle he looks now and then. '

'Thou girl! Yes, I believe she is madly in love with him. Tender, and gentle! So is the bear when you're outside his den; but enter it, maiden, and try! Thou good Ursula, preserve me from such a fate. '

'Fear not, dear aunt! Have not a fear of it! Besides, it is not alwaysthe men that are bad. You must not forget Dalilah, and Lot's wife, andPfalzgrafin Jutta, and the Baroness who asked for a piece of poor Kraut. But, let us work, let us work!'

Margarita sat down before Siegfried, and contemplated the hero. For thefirst time, she marked a resemblance in his features to Farina: the samelong yellow hair scattered over his shoulders as that flowing from underSiegfried's helm; the blue eyes, square brows, and regular outlines. 'This is a marvel, ' thought Margarita. 'And Farina! it was to watchover me that he roamed the street last night, my best one! Is he notbeautiful?' and she looked closer at Siegfried. 

Aunt Lisbeth had begun upon the dragon with her usual method, and wassoon wandering through skeleton halls of the old palatial castle inBohemia. The woolly tongue of the monster suggested fresh horrors toher, and if Margarita had listened, she might have had fair excusesto forget her lover's condition; but her voice only did service like apiece of clock-work, and her mind was in the prison with Farina. Shewas long debating how to win his release; and meditated so deeply, andexclaimed in so many bursts of impatience, that Aunt Lisbeth found herheart melting to the maiden. 'Now, ' said she, 'that is a well-knownstory about the Electress Dowager of Bavaria, when she came on a visitto the castle; and, my dear child, be it a warning. Terrible, too!' andthe little woman shivered pleasantly. 'She had--I may tell youthis, Margarita--yes, she had been false to her wedded husband. --Youunderstand, maiden; or, no! you do not understand: I understand it onlypartly, mind. False, I say----'

'False--not true: go on, dear aunty, ' said Margarita, catching the word. 

'I believe she knows as much as I do!' ejaculated Aunt Lisbeth; 'suchare girls nowadays. When I was young-oh! for a maiden to know anythingthen--oh! it was general reprobation. No one thought of confessing it. We blushed and held down our eyes at the very idea. Well, the Electress!she was--you must guess. So she called for her caudle at eleven o'clockat night. What do you think that was? Well, there was spirit in it: notto say nutmeg, and lemon, and peach kernels. She wanted me to sit withher, but I begged my mistress to keep me from the naughty woman: and nofriend of Hilda of Bayern was Bertha of Bohmen, you may be sure. Oh! thethings she talked while she was drinking her caudle. 

Isentrude sat with her, 'and said it was fearful!--beyond blasphemy! andthat she looked like a Bible witch, sitting up drinking and swearingand glaring in her nightclothes and nightcap. She was on a journey intoHungary, and claimed the hospitality of the castle on her way there. Both were widows. Well, it was a quarter to twelve. The Electressdropped back on her pillow, as she always did when she had finished thecandle. Isentrude covered her over, heaped up logs on the fire, wrappedher dressing-gown about her, and prepared to sleep. It was Winter, andthe wind howled at the doors, and rattled the windows, and shook thearras--Lord help us! Outside was all snow, and nothing but forest; asyou saw when you came to me there, Gretelchen. Twelve struck. Isentrudewas dozing; but she says that after the last stroke she woke with cold. A foggy chill hung in the room. She looked at the Electress, who had notmoved. The fire burned feebly, and seemed weighed upon: Herr Je!--shethought she heard a noise. No. Quite quiet! As heaven preserve her, saysslip, the smell in that room grew like an open grave, clammily putrid. Holy Virgin! This time she was certain she heard a noise; but it seemedon both sides of her. There was the great door leading to the firstlanding and state-room; and opposite exactly there was the panel of thesecret passage. The noises seemed to advance as if step by step, andgrew louder in each ear as she stood horrified on the marble of thehearth. She looked at the Electress again, and her eyes were wide open;but for all Isentrude's calling, she would not wake. Only think! Now thenoise increased, and was a regular tramp-grate, tramp-screw sound-comingnearer and nearer: Saints of mercy! The apartment was choking withvapours. Isentrude made a dart, and robed herself behind a curtain ofthe bed just as the two doors opened. She could see through a slit inthe woven work, and winked her eyes which she had shut close on hearingthe scream of the door-hinges--winked her eyes to catch a sight formoment--we are such sinful, curious creatures!--What she saw then, shesays she shall never forget; nor I! As she was a living woman, there shesaw the two dead princes, the Prince Palatine of Bohemia and the Electorof Bavaria, standing front to front at the foot of the bed, all in whitearmour, with drawn swords, and attendants holding pine-torches. Neitherof them spoke. Their vizors were down; but she knew them by their armsand bearing: both tall, stately presences, good knights in their day, and had fought against the Infidel! So one of them pointed to the bed, and then a torch was lowered, and the fight commenced. Isentrude saw thesparks fly, and the steel struck till it was shattered; but they foughton, not caring for wounds, and snorting with fury as they grew hotter. They fought a whole hour. The poor girl was so eaten up with looking on, that she let go the curtain and stood quite exposed among them. So, tosteady herself, she rested her hand on the bed-side; and--think what shefelt--a hand as cold as ice locked hers, and get from it she could not!That instant one of the princes fell. It was Bohmen. Bayern sheathed hissword, and waved his hand, and the attendants took up the slaughteredghost, feet and shoulders, and bore him to the door of the secretpassage, while Bayern strode after--'

'Shameful!' exclaimed Margarita. 'I will speak to Berthold as hedescends. I hear him coming. He shall do what I wish. '

'Call it dreadful, Grete! Dreadful it was. If Berthold would like tosit and hear--Ah! she is gone. A good girl! and of a levity only on thesurface. '

Aunt Lisbeth heard Margarita's voice rapidly addressing Berthold. Hisreply was low and brief. 'Refuses to listen to anything of the sort, 'Aunt Lisbeth interpreted it. Then he seemed to be pleading, andMargarita uttering short answers. 'I trust 'tis nothing a maiden shouldnot hear, ' the little lady exclaimed with a sigh. 

The door opened, and Lieschen stood at the entrance. 

'For Fraulein Margarita, ' she said, holding a letter halfway out. 

'Give it, ' Aunt Lisbeth commanded. 

The woman hesitated--''Tis for the Fraulein. '

'Give it, I tell thee!' and Aunt Lisbeth eagerly seized the missive, and subjected it to the ordeal of touch. It was heavy, and containedsomething hard. Long pensive pressures revealed its shape on the paper. It was an arrow. 'Go!' said she to the woman, and, once alone, began, bee-like, to buzz all over it, and finally entered. It containedMargarita's Silver Arrow. 'The art of that girl!' And the writing said:

 'SWEETEST MAIDEN!

 'By this arrow of our betrothal, I conjure thee to meet me in all haste without the western gate, where, burning to reveal to thee most urgent tidings that may not be confided to paper, now waits, petitioning the saints, thy

 'FARINA. '

Aunt Lisbeth placed letter and arrow in a drawer; locked it; and 'alwaysthought so. ' She ascended the stairs to consult with Gottlieb. Roarsof laughter greeted her just as she lifted the latch, and she retreatedabashed. 

There was no time to lose. Farina must be caught in the act of waitingfor Margarita, and by Gottlieb, or herself. Gottlieb was revelling. 'Maythis be a warning to thee, Gottlieb, ' murmured Lisbeth, as she hoodedher little body in Margarita's fur-cloak, and determined that she wouldbe the one to confound Farina. 

Five minutes later Margarita returned. Aunt Lisbeth was gone. The dragonstill lacked a tip to his forked tongue, and a stream of fiery threadsdangled from the jaws of the monster. Another letter was brought intothe room by Lieschen. 

'For Aunt Lisbeth, ' said Margarita, reading the address. 'Who can it befrom?'

'She does not stand pressing about your letters, ' said the woman; andinformed Margarita of the foregoing missive. 

'You say she drew an arrow from it?' said Margarita, with burning face. 'Who brought this? tell me!' and just waiting to hear it was Farina'smother, she tore the letter open, and read:

 'DEAREST LISBETH!

 'Thy old friend writes to thee; she that has scarce left eyes to see the words she writes. Thou knowest we are a fallen house, through the displeasure of the Emperor on my dead husband. My son, Farina, is my only stay, and well returns to me the blessings I bestow upon him. Some call him idle: some think him too wise. I swear to thee, Lisbeth, he is only good. His hours are devoted to the extraction of essences--to no black magic. Now he is in trouble-in prison. The shadow that destroyed his dead father threatens him. Now, by our old friendship, beloved Lisbeth! intercede with Gottlieb, that he may plead for my son before the Emperor when he comes--'

Margarita read no more. She went to the window, and saw her guardmarshalled outside. She threw a kerchief over her head, and left thehouse by the garden gate. 

THE MONK

By this time the sun stood high over Cologne. The market-places werecrowded with buyers and sellers, mixed with a loitering swarm ofsoldiery, for whose thirsty natures winestalls had been tumbled up. Barons and knights of the empire, bravely mounted and thickly followed, poured hourly into Cologne from South Germany and North. Here, staringSuabians, and round-featured warriors of the East Kingdom, swaggered upand down, patting what horses came across them, for lack of occupationfor their hands. Yonder, huge Pomeranians, with bosks of beard stiffenedout square from the chin, hurtled mountainous among the peaceableinhabitants. Troopers dismounted went straddling, in tight hose andloose, prepared to drink good-will to whomsoever would furnish thebest quality liquor for that solemn pledge, and equally ready to picka quarrel with them that would not. It was a scene of flaring feathers, wide-flapped bonnets, flaunting hose, blue and battered steel plates, slashed woollen haunch-bags, leather-leggings, ensigns, and imperiousboots and shoulders. Margarita was too hurried in her mind tobe conscious of an imprudence; but her limbs trembled, and sheinstinctively quickened her steps. When she stood under the sign ofthe Three Holy Kings, where dwelt Farina's mother, she put up a ferventprayer of thanks, and breathed freely. 

'I had expected a message from Lisbeth, ' said Frau Farina; 'but thou, good heart! thou wilt help us?'

'All that may be done by me I will do, ' replied Margarita; 'but hismother yearns to see him, and I have come to bear her company. '

The old lady clasped her hands and wept. 

'Has he found so good a friend, my poor boy! And trust me, dear maiden, he is not unworthy, for better son never lived, and good son, good all!Surely we will go to him, but not as thou art. I will dress thee. Such throngs are in the streets: I heard them clattering in early thismorning. Rest, dear heart, till I return. '

Margarita had time to inspect the single sitting-room in which her loverlived. It was planted with bottles, and vases, and pipes, and cylinders, piling on floor, chair, and table. She could not suppress a slightsurprise of fear, for this display showed a dealing with hidden things, and a summoning of scattered spirits. It was this that made his brow sopale, and the round of his eye darker than youth should let it be! Shedismissed the feeling, and assumed her own bright face as Dame Farinareappeared, bearing on her arm a convent garb, and other apparel. Margarita suffered herself to be invested in the white and black robesof the denial of life. 

'There!' said the Frau Farina, 'and to seal assurance, I have engageda guard to accompany us. He was sorely bruised in a street combatyesterday, and was billeted below, where I nursed and tended him, and heis grateful, as man should be-though I did little, doing my utmost--andwith him near us we have nought to fear. '

'Good, ' said Margarita, and they kissed and departed. The guard wasawaiting them outside. 

'Come, my little lady, and with thee the holy sister! 'Tis no stepfrom here, and I gage to bring ye safe, as sure as my name's SchwartzThier!--Hey? The good sister's dropping. Look, now! I'll carry her. '

Margarita recovered her self-command before he could make good thisoffer. 

'Only let us hasten there, ' she gasped. 

The Thier strode on, and gave them safe-conduct to the prison whereFarina was confined, being near one of the outer forts of the city. 

'Thank and dismiss him, ' whispered Margarita. 

'Nay! he will wait-wilt thou not, friend! We shall not be long, thoughit is my son I visit here, ' said Frau Farina. 

'Till to-morrow morning, my little lady! The lion thanked him thatplucked the thorn from his foot, and the Thier may be black, but he'snot ungrateful, nor a worse beast than the lion. '

They entered the walls and left him. 

For the first five minutes Schwartz Thier found employment forhis faculties by staring at the shaky, small-paned windows of theneighbourhood. He persevered in this, after all novelty had beenexhausted, from an intuitive dread of weariness. There was nothing tosee. An old woman once bobbed out of an attic, and doused the flintswith water. Harassed by increasing dread of the foul nightmare ofnothing-to-do, the Thier endeavoured to establish amorous intelligencewith her. She responded with an indignant projection of the underjaw, evanishing rapidly. There was no resource left him but to curse her withextreme heartiness. The Thier stamped his right leg, and then his left, and remembered the old woman as a grievance five minutes longer. Whenshe was clean forgotten, he yawned. Another spouse of the moment waswanted, to be wooed, objurgated, and regretted. The prison-gate was ina secluded street. Few passengers went by, and those who did edged awayfrom the ponderous, wanton-eyed figure of lazy mischief lounging there, as neatly as they well could. The Thier hailed two or three. One tookto his legs, another bowed, smirked, gave him a kindly good-day, andaffected to hear no more, having urgent business in prospect. The Thierwas a faithful dog, but the temptation to betray his trust and pursuethem was mighty. He began to experience an equal disposition to cry androar. He hummed a ballad--

 'I swore of her I'd have my will, And with him I'd have my way: I learn'd my cross-bow over the hill: Now what does my lady say?

Give me the good old cross-bow, after all, and none of these lumberingpuff-and-bangs that knock you down oftener than your man!

 'A cross stands in the forest still, And a cross in the churchyard grey: My curse on him who had his will, And on him who had his way!

Good beginning, bad ending! 'Tisn't so always. "Many a cross has thecross-bow built, " they say. I wish I had mine, now, to peg off that oldwoman, or somebody. I'd swear she's peeping at me over the gable, orbehind some cranny. They're curious, the old women, curse 'em! And theyoung, for that matter. Devil a young one here. 

 'When I'm in for the sack of a town, What, think ye, I poke after, up and down? Silver and gold I pocket in plenty, But the sweet tit-bit is my lass under twenty. 

I should like to be in for the sack of this Cologne. I'd nose out thatpretty girl I was cheated of yesterday. Take the gold and silver, andgive me the maiden! Her neck's silver, and her hair gold. Ah! and hercheeks roses, and her mouth-say no more! I'm half thinking Werner, thehungry animal, has cast wolf's eyes on her. They say he spoke of herlast night. Don't let him thwart me. Thunderblast him! I owe him agrudge. He's beginning to forget my plan o' life. '

A flight of pigeons across the blue top of the street abstracted theThier from these reflections. He gaped after them in despair, and fellto stretching and shaking himself, rattling his lungs with loud reports. As he threw his eyes round again, they encountered those of a monkopposite fastened on him in penetrating silence. The Thier hated monksas a wild beast shuns fire; but now even a monk was welcome. 

'Halloo!' he sung out. 

The monk crossed over to him. 

'Friend!' said he, 'weariness is teaching thee wantonness. Wilt thoutake service for a night's work, where the danger is little, the rewardlasting?'

'As for that, ' replied the Thier, 'danger comes to me like greenwood tothe deer, and good pay never yet was given in promises. But I'm boundfor the next hour to womankind within there. They're my masters; asthey've been of tough fellows before me. '

'I will seek them, and win their consent, ' said the monk, and so lefthim. 

'Quick dealing!' thought the Thier, and grew brisker. 'The Baron won'twant me to-night: and what if he does? Let him hang himself--though, ifhe should, 'twill be a pity I'm not by to help him. '

He paced under the wall to its farthest course. Turning back, heperceived the monk at the gateway. 

'A sharp hand!' thought the Thier. 

'Intrude no question on me, ' the monk began; 'but hold thy peace andfollow: the women release thee, and gladly. '

'That's not my plan o' life, now! Money down, and then command me': andSchwartz Thier stood with one foot forward, and hand stretched out. 

A curl of scorn darkened the cold features of the monk. 

He slid one hand into a side of his frock above the girdle, and tossed abag of coin. 

'Take it, if 'tis in thee to forfeit the greater blessing, ' he criedcontemptuously. 

The Thier peeped into the bag, and appeared satisfied. 

'I follow, ' said he; 'lead on, good father, and I'll be in the track ofholiness for the first time since my mother was quit of me. '

The monk hurried up the street and into the marketplace, oblivious ofthe postures and reverences of the people, who stopped to stare at himand his gaunt attendant. As they crossed the square, Schwartz Thierspied Henker Rothhals starting from a wine-stall on horseback, and couldnot forbear hailing him. Before the monk had time to utter a reproach, they were deep together in a double-shot of query and reply. 

'Whirr!' cried the Thier, breaking on some communication. 'Got her, havethey? and swung her across stream? I'm one with ye for my share, or callme sheep!'

He waved his hand to the monk, and taking hold of the horse's rein, ranoff beside his mounted confederate, heavily shod as he was. 

The monk frowned after him, and swelled with a hard sigh. 

'Gone!' he exclaimed, 'and the accursed gold with him! Well did a voicewarn me that such service was never to be bought!'

He did not pause to bewail or repent, but returned toward the prisonwith rapid footsteps, muttering: 'I with the prison-pass for two; whywas I beguiled by that bandit? Saw I not the very youth given into myhands there, he that was with the damsel and the aged woman?'

THE RIDE AND THE RACE

Late in the noon a horseman, in the livery of the Kaiser's body-guard, rode dry and dusty into Cologne, with tidings that the Kaiser was atHammerstein Castle, and commanding all convocated knights, barons, counts, and princes, to assemble and prepare for his coming, on acertain bare space of ground within two leagues of Cologne, thence toswell the train of his triumphal entry into the ancient city of hisempire. 

Guy the Goshawk, broad-set on a Flemish mare, and a pack-horse besidehim, shortly afterward left the hotel of the Three Holy Kings, andtrotted up to Gottlieb's door. 

'Tent-pitching is now my trade, ' said he, as Gottlieb came down to him. 'My lord is with the Kaiser. I must say farewell for the nonce. Is theyoung lady visible?'

'Nor young, nor old, good friend, ' replied Gottlieb, with a countenancesomewhat ruffled. 'I dined alone for lack of your company. Secretmissives came, I hear, to each of them, and both are gadding. Now whatthink you of this, after the scene of yesterday?--Lisbeth too!'

'Preaches from the old text, Master Groschen; "Never reckon on womankindfor a wise act. " But farewell! and tell Mistress Margarita that I takeit ill of her not giving me her maiden hand to salute before parting. Mygravest respects to Frau Lisbeth. I shall soon be sitting with you overthat prime vintage of yours, or fortune's dead against me. '

So, with a wring of the hand, Guy put the spur to his round-flankedbeast, and was quickly out of Cologne on the rough roadway. 

He was neither the first nor the last of the men-at-arms hastening toobey the Kaiser's mandate. A string of horse and foot in serpentineknots stretched along the flat land, flashing colours livelier than thespring-meadows bordering their line of passage. Guy, with a nod for all, and a greeting for the best-disposed, pushed on toward the van, till thegathering block compelled him to adopt the snail's pace of the advanceparty, and gave him work enough to keep his two horses from being jammedwith the mass. Now and then he cast a weather-eye on the heavens, andwas soon confirmed in an opinion he had repeatedly ejaculated, that 'thefirst night's camping would be a drencher. ' In the West a black bankof cloud was blotting out the sun before his time. Northeast shone barefields of blue lightly touched with loosefloating strips and flakes ofcrimson vapour. The furrows were growing purple-dark, and gradually alow moaning obscurity enwrapped the whole line, and mufed the noise ofhoof, oath, and waggon-wheel in one sullen murmur. 

Guy felt very much like a chopped worm, as he wriggled his way onwardin the dusk, impelled from the rear, and reduced to grope after the mainbody. Frequent and deep counsel he took with a trusty flask suspendedat his belt. It was no pleasant reflection that the rain would be downbefore he could build up anything like shelter for horse and man. Stillsadder the necessity of selecting his post on strange ground, and indarkness. He kept an anxious look-out for the moon, and was presentlyrejoiced to behold a broad fire that twinkled branchy beams through aneast-hill orchard. 

'My lord calls her Goddess, ' said Guy, wistfully. 'The title'soutlandish, and more the style of these foreigners but she may have itto-night, an she 'll just keep the storm from shrouding her bright eye amatter of two hours. '

She rose with a boding lustre. Drifts of thin pale upper-cloud leaneddown ladders, pure as virgin silver, for her to climb to her highestseat on the unrebellious half-circle of heaven. 

'My mind's made up!' quoth Guy to the listening part of himself. 'Out ofthis I'll get. '

By the clearer ray he had discerned a narrow track running a whiteparallel with the general route. At the expense of dislocating a mileof the cavalcade, he struck into it. A dyke had to be taken, some heavyfallows crossed, and the way was straight before him. He began to sneerat the slow jog-trot and absence of enterprise which made the fellows hehad left shine so poorly in comparison with the Goshawk, but a sight oftwo cavaliers in advance checked his vanity, and now to overtake them hetasked his fat Flemish mare with unwonted pricks of the heel, that madeher fling out and show more mettle than speed. 

The objects of this fiery chase did not at first awake to a sense ofbeing pursued. Both rode with mantled visages, and appeared profoundlyinattentive to the world outside their meditations. But the Goshawkwas not to be denied, and by dint of alternately roaring at them andupbraiding his two stumping beasts, he at last roused the younger of thecavaliers, who called to his companion loudly: without effect it seemed, for he had to repeat the warning. Guy was close up with them, when theyouth exclaimed:

'Father! holy father! 'Tis Sathanas in person!'

The other rose and pointed trembling to a dark point in the distance ashe vociferated:

'Not here! not here; but yonder!'

Guy recognized the voice of the first speaker, and cried:

'Stay! halt a second! Have you forgotten the Goshawk?'

'Never!' came the reply, 'and forget not Farina!'

Spur and fleeter steeds carried them out of hearing ere Guy could throwin another syllable. Farina gazed back on him remorsefully, but the Monknow rated his assistant with indignation. 

'Thou weak one! nothing less than fool! to betray thy name on such anadventure as this to soul save the saints!'

Farina tossed back his locks, and held his forehead to the moon. All theMonk's ghostly wrath was foiled by the one little last sweet word of hisbeloved, which made music in his ears whenever annoyance sounded. 

'And herein, ' say the old writers, 'are lovers, who love truly, trulyrecompensed for their toils and pains; in that love, for which theysuffer, is ever present to ward away suffering not sprung of love: butthe disloyal, who serve not love faithfully, are a race given overto whatso this base world can wreak upon them, without consolation orcomfort of their mistress, Love; whom sacrificing not all to, they knownot to delight in. '

The soul of a lover lives through every member of him in the joy of amoonlight ride. Sorrow and grief are slow distempers that crouch fromthe breeze, and nourish their natures far from swift-moving things. Atrue lover is not one of those melancholy flies that shoot and maze overmuddy stagnant pools. He must be up in the great air. He must strikeall the strings of life. Swiftness is his rapture. In his wide armshe embraces the whole form of beauty. Eagle-like are his instincts;dove-like his desires. Then the fair moon is the very presence of hisbetrothed in heaven. So for hours rode Farina in a silver-fleetingglory; while the Monk as a shadow, galloped stern and silent besidehim. So, crowning them in the sky, one half was all love and light; one, blackness and fell purpose. 

THE COMBAT ON DRACHENFELS

Not to earth was vouchsafed the honour of commencing the great battle ofthat night. By an expiring blue-shot beam of moonlight, Farina behelda vast realm of gloom filling the hollow of the West, and the moon wassoon extinguished behind sluggish scraps of iron scud detached from theswinging bulk of ruin, as heavily it ground on the atmosphere in thefirst thunder-launch of motion. 

The heart of the youth was strong, but he could not view without quickerfawning throbs this manifestation of immeasurable power, which seemed asif with a stroke it was capable of destroying creation and the works ofman. The bare aspect of the tempest lent terrors to the adventure hewas engaged in, and of which he knew not the aim, nor might forecastthe issue. Now there was nothing to illumine their path but such forkedflashes as lightning threw them at intervals, touching here a hill withclustered cottages, striking into day there a May-blossom, a patch ofweed, a single tree by the wayside. Suddenly a more vivid and continuousquiver of violet fire met its reflection on the landscape, and Farinasaw the Rhine-stream beneath him. 

'On such a night, ' thought he, 'Siegfried fought and slew the dragon!'

A blast of light, as from the jaws of the defeated dragon in his throes, made known to him the country he traversed. Crimsoned above the waterglimmered the monster-haunted rock itself, and mid-channel beyond, flatand black to the stream, stretched the Nuns' Isle in cloistral peace. 

'Halt!' cried the Monk, and signalled with a peculiar whistle, towhich he seemed breathlessly awaiting an answer. They were immediatelysurrounded by longrobed veiled figures. 

'Not too late?' the Monk hoarsely asked of them. 

'Yet an hour!' was the reply, in soft clear tones of a woman's voice. 

'Great strength and valour more than human be mine, ' exclaimed the Monk, dismounting. 

He passed apart from them; and they drew in a circle, while he prayed, kneeling. 

Presently he returned, and led Farina to a bank, drawing from somehiding-place a book and a bell, which he gave into the hands of theyouth. 

'For thy soul, no word!' said the Monk, speaking down his throat as hetook in breath. 'Nay! not in answer to me! Be faithful, and more thanearthly fortune is thine; for I say unto thee, I shall not fail, havinggrace to sustain this combat. '

Thereupon he commenced the ascent of Drachenfels. 

Farina followed. He had no hint of the Monk's mission, nor of thepart himself was to play in it. Such a load of silence gathered onhis questioning spirit, that the outcry of the rageing elements aloneprevented him from arresting the Monk and demanding the end of hisservice there. That outcry was enough to freeze speech on the very lipsof a mortal. For scarce had they got footing on the winding path ofthe crags, when the whole vengeance of the storm was hurled against themountain. Huge boulders were loosened and came bowling from above: treestorn by their roots from the fissures whizzed on the eddies of the wind:torrents of rain foamed down the iron flanks of rock, and flew off inhoar feathers against the short pauses of darkness: the mountain heaved, and quaked, and yawned a succession of hideous chasms. 

'There's a devil in this, ' thought Farina. He looked back and marked theriver imaging lurid abysses of cloud above the mountain-summit--yea! andon the summit a flaming shape was mirrored. 

Two nervous hands stayed the cry on his mouth. 

'Have I not warned thee?' said the husky voice of the Monk. 'I may wellwatch, and think for thee as for a dog. Be thou as faithful!'

He handed a flask to the youth, and bade him drink. Farina drank andfelt richly invigorated. The Monk then took bell and book. 

'But half an hour, ' he muttered, 'for this combat that is to ringthrough centuries. '

Crossing himself, he strode wildly upward. Farina saw him beckon backonce, and the next instant he was lost round an incline of the highestpeak. 

The wind that had just screamed a thousand death-screams, was nowawfully dumb, albeit Farina could feel it lifting hood and hair. In theunnatural stillness his ear received tones of a hymn chanted below; nowsinking, now swelling; as though the voices faltered between prayer andinspiration. Farina caught on a projection of crag, and fixed his eyeson what was passing on the height. 

There was the Monk in his brown hood and wrapper, confronting--if hemight trust his balls of sight--the red-hot figure of the Prince ofDarkness. 

As yet no mortal tussle had taken place between them. They were arguing:angrily, it was true: yet with the first mutual deference of practisedlogicians. Latin and German was alternately employed by both. Itthrilled Farina's fervid love of fatherland to hear the German Satanspoke: but his Latin was good, and his command over that tongueremarkable; for, getting the worst of the argument, as usual, herevenged himself by parodying one of the Church canticles with a pointthat discomposed his adversary, and caused him to retreat a step, claiming support against such shrewd assault. 

'The use of an unexpected weapon in warfare is in itself half a victory. Induce your antagonist to employ it as a match for you, and reckon oncompletely routing him... ' says the old military chronicle. 

'Come!' said the Demon with easy raillery. 'You know your game--Imine! I really want the good people to be happy; dancing, kissing, propagating, what you will. We quite agree. You can have no objection tome, but a foolish old prejudice--not personal, but class; an antipathyof the cowl, for which I pardon you! What I should find in you tocomplain of--I have only to mention it, I am sure--is, that perhaps youdo speak a little too much through your nose. '

The Monk did not fall into the jocular trap by retorting in the samestrain. 

'Laugh with the Devil, and you won't laugh longest, ' says the proverb. 

Keeping to his own arms, the holy man frowned. 

'Avaunt, Fiend!' he cried. 'To thy kingdom below! Thou halt raged overearth a month, causing blights, hurricanes, and epidemics of the deadlysins. Parley no more! Begone!'

The Demon smiled: the corners of his mouth ran up to his ears, and hiseyes slid down almost into one. 

'Still through the nose!' said he reproachfully. 

'I give thee Five Minutes!' cried the Monk. 

'I had hoped for a longer colloquy, ' sighed the Demon, jogging his leftleg and trifling with his tail. 

'One Minute!' exclaimed the Monk. 

'Truly so!' said the Demon. 'I know old Time and his habits better thanyou really can. We meet every Saturday night, and communicate our bestjokes. I keep a book of them Down There!'

And as if he had reason to remember the pavement of his Halls, he stoodtiptoe and whipped up his legs. 

'Two Minutes!'

The Demon waved perfect acquiescence, and continued:

'We understand each other, he and I. All Old Ones do. As long as helasts, I shall. The thing that surprises me is, that you and I cannotagree, similar as we are in temperament, and playing for the long odds, both of us. My failure is, perhaps, too great a passion for sport, aha!Well, 'tis a pity you won't try and live on the benevolent principle. I am indeed kind to them who commiserate my condition. I give them allthey want, aha! Hem! Try and not believe in me now, aha! Ho!... Can'tyou? What are eyes? Persuade yourself you're dreaming. You can doanything with a mind like yours, Father Gregory! And consider the luxuryof getting me out of the way so easily, as many do. It is my finestsuggestion, aha! Generally I myself nudge their ribs with the capitalidea--You're above bribes? I was going to observe--'

'Three!'

'Observe, that if you care for worldly honours, I can smother you withthat kind of thing. Several of your first-rate people made a bargainwith me when they were in the fog, and owe me a trifle. Patronage theycall it. I hook the high and the low. Too-little and too-much serveme better than Beelzebub. A weak stomach is certainly more carnallyvirtuous than a full one. Consequently my kingdom is becoming toorespectable. They've all got titles, and object to being asked to pokethe fire without--Honourable-and-with-Exceeding-Brightness-BeamingBaroness This! Admirably-Benignant-Down-looking Highness That!Interrupts business, especially when you have to ask them to frythemselves, according to the rules... Would you like Mainz and theRheingau?... You don't care for Beauty--Puella, Puellae? I have plentyof them, too, below. The Historical Beauties warmed up at a moment'snotice. Modern ones made famous between morning and night--Fame is thesauce of Beauty. Or, no--eh?'

'Four!'

'Not quite so fast, if you please. You want me gone. Now, where'syour charity? Do you ask me to be always raking up those poor devilsunderneath? While I'm here, they've a respite. They cannot thinkyou kind, Father Gregory! As for the harm, you see, I'm not the moreagreeable by being face to face with you--though some fair dames do taketo my person monstrously. The secret is, the quantity of small talkI can command: that makes them forget my smell, which is, I confess, abominable, displeasing to myself, and my worst curse. Your sort, FatherGregory, are somewhat unpleasant in that particular--if I may judge bytheir Legate here. Well, try small talk. They would fall desperately inlove with polecats and skunks if endowed with small talk. Why, theyhave become enamoured of monks before now! If skunks, why not monks? Andagain--'

'Five!'

Having solemnly bellowed this tremendous number, the holy man lifted hisarms to begin the combat. 

Farina felt his nerves prick with admiration of the ghostly warriordaring the Second Power of Creation on that lonely mountain-top. Heexpected, and shuddered at thought of the most awful fight ever yetchronicled of those that have taken place between heroes and the houndsof evil: but his astonishment was great to hear the Demon, while Bellwas in air and Book aloft, retreat, shouting, 'Hold!'

'I surrender, ' said he sullenly. 'What terms?'

'Instantaneous riddance of thee from face of earth. '

'Good!--Now, ' said the Demon, 'did you suppose I was to be trapped intoa fight? No doubt you wish to become a saint, and have everybody talkingof my last defeat.... Pictures, poems, processions, with the Devildownmost! No. You're more than a match for me. '

'Silence, Darkness!' thundered the Monk, 'and think not to vanquish thyvictor by flatteries. Begone!'

And again he towered in his wrath. 

The Demon drew his tail between his legs, and threw the forked, fleshy, quivering end over his shoulder. He then nodded cheerfully, pointedhis feet, and finicked a few steps away, saying: 'I hope we shall meetagain. '

Upon that he shot out his wings, that were like the fins of thewyver-fish, sharpened in venomous points. 

'Commands for your people below?' he inquired, leering with chinawry. 'Desperate ruffians some of those cowls. You are right not toacknowledge them. '

Farina beheld the holy man in no mood to let the Enemy tamper with himlonger. 

The Demon was influenced by a like reflection; for, saying, 'Cologne isthe city your Holiness inhabits, I think?' he shot up rocket-likeover Rhineland, striking the entire length of the stream, and itsrough-bearded castle-crests, slate-ledges, bramble-clefts, vine-slopes, and haunted valleys, with one brimstone flash. Frankfort and the farMain saw him and reddened. Ancient Trier and Mosel; Heidelberg andNeckar; Limberg and Lahn, ran guilty of him. And the swift artery ofthese shining veins, Rhine, from his snow cradle to his salt decease, glimmered Stygian horrors as the Infernal Comet, sprung over Bonn, sparkled a fiery minute along the face of the stream, and vanished, leaving a seam of ragged flame trailed on the midnight heavens. 

Farina breathed hard through his teeth. 

'The last of him was awful, ' said he, coming forward to where the Monkknelt and grasped his breviary, 'but he was vanquished easily. '

'Easily?' exclaimed the holy man, gasping satisfaction: 'thou weakling!is it for thee to measure difficulties, or estimate powers? Easily? thouworldling! and so are great deeds judged when the danger's past! Andwhat am I but the humble instrument that brought about this wondrousconquest! the poor tool of this astounding triumph! Shall the sword say, This is the battle I won! Yonder the enemy I overthrow! Bow to me, yelords of earth, and worshippers of mighty acts? Not so! Nay, but thesword is honoured in the hero's grasp, and if it break not, it isaccounted trusty. This, then, this little I may claim, that I wastrusty! Trusty in a heroic encounter! Trusty in a battle with earth'sterror! Oh! but this must not be said. This is to think too much! Thisis to be more than aught yet achieved by man!'

The holy warrior crossed his arms, and gently bowed his head. 

'Take me to the Sisters, ' he said. 'The spirit has gone out of me! I amfaint, and as a child!'

Farina asked, and had, his blessing. 

'And with it my thanks!' said the Monk. 'Thou hast witnessed how he canbe overcome! Thou hast looked upon a scene that will be the glory ofChristendom! Thou hast beheld the discomfiture of Darkness before thevoice of Light! Yet think not much of me: account me little in thismatter! I am but an instrument! but an instrument!--and again, but aninstrument!'

Farina drew the arms of the holy combatant across his shoulders anddescended Drachenfels. 

The tempest was as a forgotten anguish. Bright with maiden splendourshone the moon; and the old rocks, cherished in her beams, put up theirhorns to blue heaven once more. All the leafage of the land shook as toshake off a wicked dream, and shuddered from time to time, whisperingof old fears quieted, and present peace. The heart of the river fondledwith the image of the moon in its depths. 

'This is much to have won for earth, ' murmured the Monk. 'And what islife, or who would not risk all, to snatch such loveliness from thetalons of the Fiend, the Arch-foe? Yet, not I! not I! say not, 'twas Idid this!'

Soft praises of melody ascended to them on the moist fragrance of air. It was the hymn of the Sisters. 

'How sweet!' murmured the Monk. 'Put it from me! away with it!'

Rising on Farina's back, and stirruping his feet on the thighs of theyouth, he cried aloud: 'I charge ye, whoso ye be, sing not this deedbefore the emperor! By the breath of your nostrils; pause! ere yewhisper aught of the combat of Saint Gregory with Satan, and hisvictory, and the marvel of it, while he liveth; for he would die thehumble monk he is. '

He resumed his seat, and Farina brought him into the circle of theSisters. Those pure women took him, and smoothed him, lamenting, andfilling the night with triumphing tones. 

Farina stood apart. 

'The breeze tells of dawn, ' said the Monk; 'we must be in Cologne beforebroad day. '

They mounted horse, and the Sisters grouped and reverenced under theblessings of the Monk. 

'No word of it!' said the Monk warningly. 'We are silent, Father!' theyanswered. 'Cologne-ward!' was then his cry, and away he and Farina, flew. 

THE GOSHAWK LEADS

Morning was among the grey eastern clouds as they rode upon thecamp hastily formed to meet the Kaiser. All there was in a wallowof confusion. Fierce struggles for precedence still went on in theneighbourhood of the imperial tent ground, where, under the standard ofGermany, lounged some veterans of the Kaiser's guard, calmly watchingthe scramble. Up to the edge of the cultivated land nothing was to beseen but brawling clumps of warriors asserting the superior claims oftheir respective lords. Variously and hotly disputed were these claims, as many red coxcombs testified. Across that point where the green fieldflourished, not a foot was set, for the Kaiser's care of the farmer, andaffection for good harvests, made itself respected even in the heat ofthose jealous rivalries. It was said of him, that he would have campedin a bog, or taken quarters in a cathedral, rather than trample down agreen blade of wheat, or turn over one vine-pole in the empire. Hencethe presence of Kaiser Heinrich was never hailed as Egypt's plague bythe peasantry, but welcome as the May month wherever he went. 

Father Gregory and Farina found themselves in the centre of a group erethey drew rein, and a cry rose, 'The good father shall decide, and all'sfair, ' followed by, 'Agreed! Hail and tempest! he's dropped down o'purpose. '

'Father, ' said one, 'here it is! I say I saw the Devil himself fly offDrachenfels, and flop into Cologne. Fritz here, and Frankenbauch, sawhim too. They'll swear to him: so 'll I. Hell's thunder! will we. Yonderfellows will have it 'twas a flash o' lightning, as if I didn't see him, horns, tail, and claws, and a mighty sight 'twas, as I'm a sinner. '

A clash of voices, for the Devil and against him, burst on this accuratedescription of the Evil spirit. The Monk sank his neck into his chest. 

'Gladly would I hold silence on this, my sons, ' said he, in asupplicating voice. 

'Speak, Father, ' cried the first spokesman, gathering courage from thelooks of the Monk. 

Father Gregory appeared to commune with himself deeply. At last, liftinghis head, and murmuring, 'It must be, ' he said aloud:

''Twas verily Satan, O my sons! Him this night in mortal combat Iencountered and overcame on the summit of Drachenfels, before the eyesof this youth; and from Satan I this night deliver ye! an instrumentherein as in all other. '

Shouts, and a far-spreading buzz resounded in the camp. Hundreds had nowseen Satan flying off the Drachenstein. Father Gregory could nolonger hope to escape from the importunate crowds that beset him forparticulars. The much-contested point now was, as to the exact positionof Satan's tail during his airy circuit, before descending into Cologne. It lashed like a lion's. 'Twas cocked, for certain! He sneaked itbetween his legs like a lurcher! He made it stumpy as a brown bear's! Hecarried it upright as a pike!

'O my sons! have I sown dissension? Have I not given ye peace?'exclaimed the Monk. 

But they continued to discuss it with increasing frenzy. 

Farina cast a glance over the tumult, and beheld his friend Guybeckoning earnestly. He had no difficulty in getting away to him, as thefetters of all eyes were on the Monk alone. 

The Goshawk was stamping with excitement. 

'Not a moment to be lost, my lad, ' said Guy, catching his arm. 'Here, I've had half-a-dozen fights already for this bit of ground. Do you knowthat fellow squatting there?'

Farina beheld the Thier at the entrance of a tumbledown tent. He wasruefully rubbing a broken head. 

'Now, ' continued Guy, 'to mount him is the thing; and then after thewolves of Werner as fast as horse-flesh can carry us. No questions!Bound, are you? And what am I? But this is life and death, lad! Hark!'

The Goshawk whispered something that sucked the blood out of Farina'scheek. 

'Look you--what's your lockjaw name? Keep good faith with me, and youshall have your revenge, and the shiners I promise, besides my lord'sinterest for a better master: but, sharp! we won't mount till we're outof sight o' the hell-scum you horde with. '

The Thier stood up and staggered after them through the camp. There wasno difficulty in mounting him horses were loose, and scampering aboutthe country, not yet delivered from their terrors of the last night'stempest. 

'Here be we, three good men!' exclaimed Guy, when they were started, andFarina had hurriedly given him the heads of his adventure with the Monk. 'Three good men! One has helped to kick the devil: one has served anapprenticeship to his limb: and one is ready to meet him foot to footany day, which last should be myself. Not a man more do we want, thoughit were to fish up that treasure you talk of being under the Rhinethere, and guarded by I don't know how many tricksy little villains. Horses can be ferried across at Linz, you say?'

'Ay, thereabout, ' grunted the Thier. 

'We 're on the right road, then!' said Guy. 'Thanks to you both, I'vehad no sleep for two nights--not a wink, and must snatch it going--notthe first time. '

The Goshawk bent his body, and spoke no more. Farina could not get aword further from him. By the mastery he still had over his rein, theGoshawk alone proved that he was of the world of the living. SchwartzThier, rendered either sullen or stunned by the latest cracked crown hehad received, held his jaws close as if they had been nailed. 

At Linz the horses were well breathed. The Goshawk, who had been snoringan instant before, examined them keenly, and shook his calculating head. 

'Punch that beast of yours in the ribs, ' said he to Farina. 'Ah! nota yard of wind in him. And there's the coming back, when we shall havemore to carry. Well: this is my lord's money; but i' faith, it's goingin a good cause, and Master Groschen will make it all right, no doubt;not a doubt of it. '

The Goshawk had seen some excellent beasts in the stables of theKaiser's Krone; but the landlord would make no exchange without anadvance of silver. This done, the arrangement was prompt. 

'Schwartz Thier!--I've got your name now, ' said Guy, as they wereferrying across, 'you're stiff certain they left Cologne with the maidenyesternoon, now?'

'Ah, did they! and she's at the Eck safe enow by this time. '

'And away from the Eck this night she shall come, trust me!'

'Or there will I die with her!' cried Farina. 

'Fifteen men at most, he has, you said, ' continued Guy. 

'Two not sound, five true as steel, and the rest shillyshally. 'Slife, one lock loose serves us; but two saves us: five we're a match for, throwing in bluff Baron; the remainder go with victory. '

'Can we trust this fellow?' whispered Farina. 

'Trust him!' roared Guy. 'Why, I've thumped him, lad; pegged andpardoned him. Trust him? trust me! If Werner catches a sight of thatsnout of his within half-a-mile of his hold, he'll roast him alive. '

He lowered his voice: 'Trust him? We can do nothing without him. Iknocked the devil out of him early this morning. No chance for hisHighness anywhere now. This Eck of Werner's would stand a siege from theKaiser in person, I hear. We must into it like weasels; and out as wecan. '

Dismissing the ferry-barge with stern injunctions to be in waiting fromnoon to noon, the three leapt on their fresh nags. 

'Stop at the first village, ' said Guy; 'we must lay in provision. As Master Groschen says, "Nothing's to be done, Turpin, withoutprovender. "'

'Goshawk!' cried Farina; 'you have time; tell me how this business wasdone. '

The only reply was a soft but decided snore, that spoke, like avoluptuous trumpet, of dreamland and its visions. 

At Sinzig, the Thier laid his hand on Guy's bridle, with the words, 'Feed here, ' a brief, but effective, form of signal, which aroused theGoshawk completely. The sign of the Trauben received them. Here, wurstreeking with garlic, eggs, black bread, and sour wine, was all theycould procure. Farina refused to eat, and maintained his resolution, inspite of Guy's sarcastic chiding. 

'Rub down the beasts, then, and water them, ' said the latter. 'Made avow, I suppose, ' muttered Guy. 

'That's the way of those fellows. No upright manlytake-the-thing-as-it-comes; but fly-sky-high whenever there's a dash ontheir heaven. What has his belly done to offend him? It will be cryingout just when we want all quiet. I wouldn't pay Werner such a complimentas go without a breakfast for him. Not I! Would you, Schwartz Thier?'

'Henker! not I!' growled the Thier. 'He'll lose one sooner. '

'First snatch his prey, or he'll be making, God save us! a meal for aKaiser, the brute. '

Guy called in the landlady, clapped down the score, and abused the wine. 

'Sir, ' said the landlady, 'ours is but a poor inn, and we do our best. '

'So you do, ' replied the Goshawk, softened; 'and I say that a civiltongue and rosy smiles sweeten even sour wine. '

The landlady, a summer widow, blushed, and as he was stepping from theroom, called him aside. 

'I thought you were one of that dreadful Werner's band, and I hate him. '

Guy undeceived her. 

'He took my sister, ' she went on, 'and his cruelty killed her. Hepersecuted me even in the lifetime of my good man. Last night he camehere in the middle of the storm with a young creature bright as anangel, and sorrowful--'

'He's gone, you're sure?' broke in Guy. 

'Gone! Oh, yes! Soon as the storm abated he dragged her on. Oh! the waythat young thing looked at me, and I able to do nothing for her. '

'Now, the Lord bless you for a rosy Christian!' cried Guy, and, in hisadmiration, he flung his arm round her and sealed a ringing kiss on eachcheek. 

'No good man defrauded by that! and let me see the fellow that thinksevil of it. If I ever told a woman a secret, I 'd tell you one now, trust me. But I never do, so farewell! Not another?'

Hasty times keep the feelings in a ferment, and the landlady wasextremely angry with Guy and heartily forgave him, all within a minute. 

'No more, ' said she, laughing: 'but wait; I have something for you. '

The Goshawk lingered on a fretting heel. She was quickly under his elbowagain with two flasks leaning from her bosom to her arms. 

'There! I seldom meet a man like you; and, when I do, I like to beremembered. This is a true good wine, real Liebfrauenmilch, which I onlygive to choice customers. '

'Welcome it is!' sang Guy to her arch looks; 'but I must pay for it. '

'Not a pfennig!' said the landlady. 

'Not one?'

'Not one!' she repeated, with a stamp of the foot. 

'In other coin, then, ' quoth Guy; and folding her waist, which did notthis time back away, the favoured Goshawk registered rosy payment on avery fresh red mouth, receiving in return such lively discount, that hefelt himself bound in conscience to make up the full sum a second time. 

'What a man!' sighed the landlady, as she watched the Goshawk lead offalong the banks; 'courtly as a knight, open as a squire, and gentle as apage!'

WERNER'S ECK

A league behind Andernach, and more in the wintry circle of the sun thanLaach, its convenient monastic neighbour, stood the castle of Werner, the Robber Baron. Far into the South, hazy with afternoon light, ayellow succession of sandhills stretched away, spouting fire against theblue sky of an elder world, but now dead and barren of herbage. Aroundis a dusty plain, where the green blades of spring no sooner peep thanthey become grimed with sand and take an aged look, in accordance withthe ungenerous harvests they promise. The aridity of the prospect isrelieved on one side by the lofty woods of Laach, through which the sunsetting burns golden-red, and on the other by the silver sparkle of anarrow winding stream, bordered with poplars, and seen but a glisteningmile of its length by all the thirsty hills. The Eck, or Corner, itself, is thick-set with wood, but of a stunted growth, and lying like a darkpatch on the landscape. It served, however, entirely to conceal thecastle, and mask every movement of the wary and terrible master. Atrained eye advancing on the copse would hardly mark the glimmer of theturrets over the topmost leaves, but to every loophole of the wallslies bare the circuit of the land. Werner could rule with a glance theRhine's course down from the broad rock over Coblentz to the white towerof Andernach. He claimed that march as his right; but the Mosel was nohard ride's distance, and he gratified his thirst for rapine chiefly onthat river, delighting in it, consequently, as much as his robber natureboiled over the bound of his feudal privileges. 

Often had the Baron held his own against sieges and restrictions, bansand impositions of all kinds. He boasted that there was never a knightwithin twenty miles of him that he had not beaten, nor monk of the samelimit not in his pay. This braggadocio received some warrant from hisyearly increase of licence; and his craft and his castle combined, made him a notable pest of the region, a scandal to the abbey whosecountenance he had, and a frightful infliction on the poorer farmers andpeasantry. 

The sun was beginning to slope over Laach, and threw the shadows of theabbey towers half-way across the blue lake-waters, as two men in thegarb of husbandmen emerged from the wood. Their feet plunged heavily andtheir heads hung down, as they strode beside a wain mounted with straw, whistling an air of stupid unconcern; but a close listener might haveheard that the lumbering vehicle carried a human voice giving themdirections as to the road they were to take, and what sort of behaviourto observe under certain events. The land was solitary. A boor passingasked whether toll or tribute they were conveying to Werner. Tribute, they were advised to reply, which caused him to shrug and curse as hejogged on. Hearing him, the voice in the wain chuckled grimly. Theirnext speech was with a trooper, who overtook them, and wanted to knowwhat they had in the wain for Werner. Tribute, they replied, and won thetitle of 'brave pigs' for their trouble. 

'But what's the dish made of?' said the trooper, stirring the straw withhis sword-point. 

'Tribute, ' came the answer. 

'Ha! You've not been to Werner's school, ' and the trooper swung asword-stroke at the taller of the two, sending a tremendous shudderthroughout his frame; but he held his head to the ground, and onlyseemed to betray animal consciousness in leaning his ear closer to thewain. 

'Blood and storm! Will ye speak?' cried the trooper. 

'Never talk much; but an ye say nothing to the Baron, '--thrusting hishand into the straw--'here's what's better than speaking. '

'Well said!--Eh? Liebfrauenmilch? Ho, ho! a rare bleed!'

Striking the neck of the flask on a wheel, the trooper applied it to hismouth, and ceased not deeply ingurgitating till his face was broad tothe sky and the bottle reversed. He then dashed it down, sighed, andshook himself. 

'Rare news! the Kaiser's come: he'll be in Cologne by night; but firsthe must see the Baron, and I'm post with the order. That's to show youhow high he stands in the Kaiser's grace. Don't be thinking of upsettingWerner yet, any of you; mind, now!'

'That's Blass-Gesell, ' said the voice in the wain, as the troopertrotted on: adding, ''gainst us. '

'Makes six, ' responded the driver. 

Within sight of the Eck, they descried another trooper coming towardthem. This time the driver was first to speak. 

'Tribute! Provender! Bread and wine for the high Baron Werner from hisvassals over Tonnistein. '

'And I'm out of it! fasting like a winter wolf, ' howled the fellow. 

He was in the act of addressing himself to an inspection of thewain's contents, when a second flask lifted in air, gave a sop to hiscuriosity. This flask suffered the fate of the former. 

'A Swabian blockhead, aren't you?'

'Ay, that country, ' said the driver. 'May be, Henker Rothhals happens tobe with the Baron?'

'To hell with him! I wish he had my job, and I his, of watching theyellow-bird in her new cage, till she's taken out to-night, and then ajolly bumper to the Baron all round. '

The driver wished him a fortunate journey, strongly recommending himto skirt the abbey westward, and go by the Ahr valley, as there wassomething stirring that way, and mumbling, 'Makes five again, ' as he putthe wheels in motion. 

'Goshawk!' said his visible companion; 'what do you say now?'

'I say, bless that widow!'

'Oh! bring me face to face with this accursed Werner quickly, my God!'gasped the youth. 

'Tusk! 'tis not Werner we want--there's the Thier speaking. No, no, Schwartz Thier! I trust you, no doubt; but the badger smells at a hole, before he goes inside it. We're strangers, and are allowed to miss ourway. '

Leaving the wain in Farina's charge, he pushed through a dense growthof shrub and underwood, and came crouching on a precipitous edge ofshrouded crag, which commanded a view of the stronghold, extending roundit, as if scooped clean by some natural action, about a stone'sthrowdistant, and nearly level with the look-out tower. Sheer from a deepcircular basin clothed with wood, and bottomed with grass and bubblingwater, rose a naked moss-stained rock, on whose peak the castle firmlyperched, like a spying hawk. The only means of access was by a narrownatural bridge of rock flung from this insulated pinnacle across to themainland. One man, well disposed, might have held it against forty. 

'Our way's the best, ' thought Guy, as he meditated every mode of gainingadmission. 'A hundred men an hour might be lost cutting steps up thatsteep slate; and once at the top we should only have to be shoved downagain. '

While thus engaged, he heard a summons sounded from the castle, andscrambled back to Farina. 

'The Thier leads now, ' said he, 'and who leads is captain. It seemseasier to get out of that than in. There's a square tower, and a round. I guess the maiden to be in the round. Now, lad, no crying out--Youdon't come in with us; but back you go for the horses, and have themready and fresh in yon watered meadow under the castle. The path downwinds easy. '

'Man!' cried Farina, 'what do you take me for?--go you for the horses. '

'Not for a fool, ' Guy rejoined, tightening his lip; 'but now is yourtime to prove yourself one. '

'With you, or without you, I enter that castle!'

'Oh! if you want to be served up hot for the Baron's supper-mess, by allmeans. '

'Thunder!' growled Schwartz Thier, 'aren't ye moving?'

The Goshawk beckoned Farina aside. 

'Act as I tell you, or I'm for Cologne. '

'Traitor!' muttered the youth. 

'Swearing this, that if we fail, the Baron shall need a leech soonerthan a bride. '

'That stroke must be mine!'

The Goshawk griped the muscle of Farina's arm till the youth wascompelled to slacken it with pain. 

'Could you drive a knife through a six-inch wood-wall? I doubt this wildboar wants a harder hit than many a best man could give. 'Sblood! obey, sirrah. How shall we keep yon fellow true, if he sees we're at points?'

'I yield, ' exclaimed Farina with a fall of the chest; 'but hear Inothing of you by midnight--Oh! then think not I shall leave anotherminute to chance. Farewell! haste! Heaven prosper you! You will see her, and die under her eyes. That may be denied to me. What have I done to berefused that last boon?'

'Gone without breakfast and dinner, ' said Guy in abhorrent tones. 

A whistle from the wain, following a noise of the castlegates beingflung open, called the Goshawk away, and he slouched his shoulders andstrode to do his part, without another word. Farina gazed after him, anddropped into the covert. 

THE WATER-LADY

'Bird of lovers! Voice of the passion of love! Sweet, deep, disaster-toning nightingale!' sings the old minnesinger; 'who that hasnot loved, hearing thee is touched with the wand of love's mysteries, and yearneth to he knoweth not whom, humbled by overfulness of heart;but who, listening, already loveth, heareth the language he would speak, yet faileth in; feeleth the great tongueless sea of his infinite desiresstirred beyond his narrow bosom; is as one stript of wings whom theangels beckon to their silver homes: and he leaneth forward to ascend tothem, and is mocked by his effort: then is he of the fallen, and ofthe fallen would he remain, but that tears lighten him, and through thetears stream jewelled shafts dropt down to him from the sky, preciousladders inlaid with amethyst, sapphire, blended jasper, beryl, rose-ruby, ether of heaven flushed with softened bloom of theinsufferable Presences: and lo, the ladders dance, and quiver, andwaylay his eyelids, and a second time he is mocked, aspiring: and afterthe third swoon standeth Hope before him with folded arms, and eyes dryof the delusions of tears, saying, Thou hast seen! thou hast felt! thystrength hath reached in thee so far! now shall I never die in thee!'

'For surely, ' says the minstrel, 'Hope is not born of earth, or it wereperishable. Rather know her the offspring of that embrace stronglove straineth the heavens with. This owe we to thy music, bridalnightingale! And the difference of this celestial spirit from thesmirking phantasy of whom all stand soon or late forsaken, is thedifference between painted day with its poor ambitious snares, and nightlifting its myriad tapers round the throne of the eternal, the prophetstars of everlasting time! And the one dieth, and the other liveth; andthe one is unregretted, and the other walketh in thought-spun raiment ofdivine melancholy; her ears crowded with the pale surges that wrap thisshifting shore; in her eyes a shape of beauty floating dimly, that shewill not attain this side the water, but broodeth on evermore. 

'Therefore, hold on thy cherished four long notes, which are as the veryedge where exultation and anguish melt, meet, and are sharpened to oneecstasy, death-dividing bird! Fill the woods with passionate chuckle andsob, sweet chaplain of the marriage service of a soul with heaven! Pourout thy holy wine of song upon the soft-footed darkness, till, like apriest of the inmost temple, 'tis drunken with fair intelligences!'

Thus the old minstrels and minnesingers. 

Strong and full sang the nightingales that night Farina held watch bythe guilty castle that entombed his living beloved. The castle lookeditself a denser shade among the moonthrown shadows of rock and tree. The meadow spread like a green courtyard at the castle's foot. It was oflush deep emerald grass, softly mixed with grey in the moon's light, andshowing like jasper. Where the shadows fell thickest, there was yet amist of colour. All about ran a brook, and babbled to itself. The springcrocus lifted its head in moist midgrasses of the meadow, rejoiced withfreshness. The rugged heights seemed to clasp this one innocent spot astheir only garden-treasure; and a bank of hazels hid it from the castlewith a lover's arm. 

'The moon will tell me, ' mused Farina; 'the moon will signal me thehour! When the moon hangs over the round tower, I shall know 'tis timeto strike. '

The song of the nightingales was a full unceasing throb. 

It went like the outcry of one heart from branch to branch. The fourlong notes, and the short fifth which leads off to that hurried gush ofmusic, gurgling rich with passion, came thick and constant from underthe tremulous leaves. 

At first Farina had been deaf to them. His heart was in the dungeonwith Margarita, or with the Goshawk in his dangers, forming a thousanddesperate plans, among the red-hot ploughshares of desperate action. Finally, without a sense of being wooed, it was won. The tenderness ofhis love then mastered him. 

'God will not suffer that fair head to come to harm!' he thought, andwith the thought a load fell off his breast. 

He paced the meadows, and patted the three pasturing steeds. Involuntarily his sight grew on the moon. She went so slowly. Sheseemed not to move at all. A little wing of vapour flew toward her;it whitened, passed, and the moon was slower than before. Oh! were theheavens delaying their march to look on this iniquity? Again and againhe cried, 'Patience, it is not time!' He flung himself on the grass. Thenext moment he climbed the heights, and was peering at the mass of gloomthat fronted the sky. It reared such a mailed head of menace, that hisheart was seized with a quivering, as though it had been struck. Behindlay scattered some small faint-winkling stars on sapphire fields, and astain of yellow light was in a breach of one wall. 

He descended. What was the Goshawk doing? Was he betrayed? It was surelynow time? No; the moon had not yet smitten the face of the castle. He made his way through the hazel-bank among flitting nightmoths, andglanced up to measure the moon's distance. As he did so, a first touchof silver fell on the hoary flint. 

'Oh, young bird of heaven in that Devil's clutch!'

Sounds like the baying of boar-hounds alarmed him. They whined intosilence. 

He fell back. The meadow breathed peace, and more and more thenightingales volumed their notes. As in a charmed circle of palpitatingsong, he succumbed to languor. The brook rolled beside him fresh asan infant, toying with the moonlight. He leaned over it, and thricewaywardly dipped his hand in the clear translucence. 

Was it his own face imaged there?

Farina bent close above an eddy of the water. It whirled with a strangetumult, breaking into lines and lights a face not his own, nor themoon's; nor was it a reflection. The agitation increased. Now a wreathof bubbles crowned the pool, and a pure water-lily, but larger, ascendedwavering. 

He started aside; and under him a bright head, garlanded with gemmedroses, appeared. No fairer figure of woman had Farina seen. Her visagehad the lustrous white of moonlight, and all her shape undulated in adress of flashing silver-white, wonderful to see. The Lady of the Watersmiled on him, and ran over with ripples and dimples of limpid beauty. Then, as he retreated on the meadow grass, she swam toward him, andtaking his hand, pressed it to her. After her touch the youth no longerfeared. She curved her finger, and beckoned him on. All that she did wasdone flowingly. The youth was a shadow in her silver track as she passedlike a harmless wave over the closed crocuses; but the crocuses shiveredand swelled their throats of streaked purple and argent as at deliciousrare sips of a wine. Breath of violet, and ladysmock, and valley-lily, mingled and fluttered about her. Farina was as a man working the day'sintent in a dream. He could see the heart in her translucent, hanginglike a cold dingy ruby. By the purity of his nature he felt that sucha presence must have come but to help. It might be Margarita's guardianfairy!

They passed the hazel-bank, and rounded the castlecrag, washed by thebrook and, beneath the advancing moon, standing in a ring of brawlingsilver. The youth with his fervid eyes marked the old weather-stains andscars of long defiance coming into colour. That mystery of wickednesswhich the towers had worn in the dusk, was dissolved, and he endured nomore the almost abashed sensation of competing littleness that made himthink there was nought to do, save die, combating single-handed suchmassive power. The moon shone calmly superior, like the prowess ofmaiden knights; and now the harsh frown of the walls struck resolutionto his spirit, and nerved him with hate and the contempt true couragefeels when matched against fraud and villany. 

On a fallen block of slate, cushioned with rich brown moss and rustedweather-stains, the Water-Lady sat, and pointed to Farina the path ofthe moon toward the round tower. She did not speak, and if his lipsparted, put her cold finger across them. Then she began to hum a softsweet monotony of song, vague and careless, very witching to hear. Farina caught no words, nor whether the song was of days in dust or inflower, but his mind bloomed with legends and sad splendours of story, while she sang on the slate-block under sprinkled shadows by the water. 

He had listened long in trance, when the Water-Lady hushed, andstretched forth a slender forefinger to the moon. It stood like a dotover the round tower. Farina rose in haste. She did not leave him to askher aid, but took his hand and led him up the steep ascent. Halfway tothe castle, she rested. There, concealed by bramble-tufts, she disclosedthe low portal of a secret passage, and pushed it open without effort. She paused at the entrance, and he could see her trembling, seeming towax taller, till she was like a fountain glittering in the cold light. Then she dropped, as drops a dying bet, and cowered into the passage. 

Darkness, thick with earth-dews, oppressed his senses. He felt theclammy walls scraping close on him. Not the dimmest lamp, or guidingsound, was near; but the lady went on as one who knew her way. Passinga low-vaulted dungeon-room, they wound up stairs hewn in the rock, andcame to a door, obedient to her touch, which displayed a chamber faintlymisted by a solitary bar of moonlight. Farina perceived they were abovethe foundation of the castle. The walls gleamed pale with knightlyharness, habergeons gaping for heads, breastplates of blue steel, halbert, and hand-axe, greaves, glaives, boar-spears, and polishedspur-fixed heel-pieces. He seized a falchion hanging apart, but the ladystayed his arm, and led to another flight of stone ending in a kind ofcorridor. Noises of laughter and high feasting beset him at this point. The Lady of the Water sidled her head, as to note a familiar voice; andthen drew him to a looped aperture. 

Farina beheld a scene that first dazzled, but, as it grew into shape, sank him with dismay. Below, and level with the chamber he had left, arude banqueting-hall glowed, under the light of a dozen flambeaux, withsmoking boar's flesh, deer's flesh, stone-flagons, and horn-beakers. Atthe head of this board sat Werner, scarlet with furious feasting, and onhis right hand, Margarita, bloodless as a beautiful martyr bound to thefire. Retainers of Werner occupied the length of the hall, chorusing theBaron's speeches, and drinking their own healths when there was no callfor another. Farina saw his beloved alone. She was dressed as when heparted with her last. The dear cameo lay on her bosom, but not heavingproudly as of old. Her shoulders were drooped forward, and contractedher bosom in its heaving. She would have had a humbled look, but for themarble sternness of her eyes. They were fixed as eyes that see the wayof death through all earthly objects. 

'Now, dogs!' cried the Baron, 'the health of the night! and swell yourlungs, for I'll have no cat's cry when Werner's bride is the toast. Monk or no monk's leave, she's mine. Ay, my pretty one! it shall be maderight in the morning, if I lead all the Laach rats here by the nose. Thunder! no disrespect to Werner's bride from Pope or abbot. Now, singout!--or wait! these fellows shall drink it first. '

He stretched and threw a beaker of wine right and left behind him, andFarina's despair stiffened his limbs as he recognized the Goshawk andSchwartz Thier strapped to the floor. Their beards were already moistwith previous libations similarly bestowed, and they received thisin sullen stillness; but Farina thought he observed a rapid glance ofencouragement dart from beneath the Goshawk's bent brows, as Margaritamomentarily turned her head half-way on him. 

'Lick your chaps, ye beasts, and don't say Werner stints vermin goodcheer his nuptial-night. Now, ' continued the Baron, growing huskier ashe talked louder: 'Short and ringing, my devil's pups:--Werner and hisBride! and may she soon give you a young baron to keep you in betterorder than I can, as, if she does her duty, she will. '

The Baron stood up, and lifted his huge arm to lead the toast. 

'Werner and his Bride!'

Not a voice followed him. There was a sudden intimation of the callbeing echoed; but it snapped, and ended in shuffling tones, as if thehall-door had closed on the response. 

'What 's this?' roared the Baron, in that caged wild beast voiceMargarita remembered she had heard in the Cathedral Square. 

No one replied. 

'Speak! or I'll rot you a fathom in the rock, curs!'

'Herr Baron!' said Henker Rothhals impressively; 'the matter is, thatthere's something unholy among us. '

The Baron's goblet flew at his head before the words were uttered. 

'I'll make an unholy thing of him that says it, ' and Werner lowered atthem one by one. 

'Then I say it, Herr Baron!' pursued Henker Rothhals, wiping hisfrontispiece: 'The Devil has turned against you at last. Look upthere--Ah, it's gone now; but where's the man sitting this side saw itnot?'

The Baron made one spring, and stood on the board. 

'Now! will any rascal here please to say so?'

Something in the cruel hang of his threatening hatchet jaw silenced manyin the act of confirming the assertion. 

'Stand out, Henker Rotthals!'

Rotthals slid a hunting-knife up his wrist, and stepped back from theboard. 

'Beast!' roared the Baron, 'I said I wouldn't shed blood to-night. Ispared a traitor, and an enemy----'

'Look again!' said Rothhals; 'will any fellow say he saw nothing there. '

While all heads, including Werner's, were directed to the aperture whichsurveyed them, Rothhals tossed his knife to the Goshawk unperceived. 

This time answers came to his challenge, but not in confirmation. TheBaron spoke with a gasping gentleness. 

'So you trifle with me? I'm dangerous for that game. Mind you ofBlass-Gesell? I made a better beast of him by sending him three-quartersof the road to hell for trial. ' Bellowing, 'Take that!' he discharged abroad blade, hitherto concealed in his right hand, straight at Rothhals. It fixed in his cheek and jaw, wringing an awful breath of pain from himas he fell against the wall. 

'There's a lesson for you not to cross me, children!' said Werner, striding his stumpy legs up and down the crashing board, and puffinghis monstrous girth of chest and midriff. 'Let him stop there awhile, toshow what comes of thwarting Werner!--Fire-devils! before the baroness, too!--Something unholy is there? Something unholy in his jaw, Ithink!--Leave it sticking! He's against meat last, is he? I'll teach youwho he's for!--Who speaks?'

All hung silent. These men were animals dominated by a mightier brute. 

He clasped his throat, and shook the board with a jump, as he squeaked, rather than called, a second time 'Who spoke?'

He had not again to ask. In this pause, as the Baron glared for hisvictim, a song, so softly sung that it sounded remote, but of whichevery syllable was clearly rounded, swelled into his ears, and froze himin his angry posture. 

 'The blood of the barons shall turn to ice, And their castle fall to wreck, When a true lover dips in the water thrice, That runs round Werner's Eck. 

 'Round Werner's Eck the water runs; The hazels shiver and shake: The walls that have blotted such happy suns, Are seized with the ruin-quake. 

 'And quake with the ruin, and quake with rue, Thou last of Werner's race! The hearts of the barons were cold that knew The Water-Dame's embrace. 

 'For a sin was done, and a shame was wrought, That water went to hide: And those who thought to make it nought, They did but spread it wide. 

 'Hold ready, hold ready to pay the price, And keep thy bridal cheer: A hand has dipped in the water thrice, And the Water-Dame is here. '

THE RESCUE

The Goshawk was on his feet. 'Now, lass, ' said he to Margarita, 'nowis the time!' He took her hand, and led her to the door. Schwartz Thierclosed up behind her. Not a man in the hall interposed. Werner's headmoved round after them, like a dog on the watch; but he was dumb. Thedoor opened, and Farina entered. He bore a sheaf of weapons under hisarm. The familiar sight relieved Werner's senses from the charm. Heshouted to bar the prisoners' passage. His men were ranged like statuesin the hall. There was a start among them, as if that terrible noisecommunicated an instinct of obedience, but no more. They glanced at eachother, and remained quiet. 

The Goshawk had his eye on Werner. 'Stand back, lass!' he said toMargarita. She took a sword from Farina, and answered, with white lipsand flashing eyes, 'I can fight, Goshawk!'

'And shall, if need be; but leave it to me now, returned Guy. 

His eye never left the Baron. Suddenly a shriek of steel rang. All fellaside, and the combatants stood opposed on clear ground. Farina, tookMargarita's left hand, and placed her against the wall between the Thierand himself. Werner's men were well content to let their master fightit out. The words spoken by Henker Rothhals, that the Devil had forsakenhim, seemed in their minds confirmed by the weird song which every onepresent could swear he heard with his ears. 'Let him take his chance, and try his own luck, ' they said, and shrugged. The battle was betweenGuy, as Margarita's champion, and Werner. 

In Schwartz Thier's judgement, the two were well matched, and heestimated their diverse qualities from sharp experience. 'For short workthe Baron, and my new mate for tough standing to 't!' Farina's summaryin favour of the Goshawk was, 'A stouter heart, harder sinews, and agood cause. The combat was generally regarded with a professional eye, and few prayers. Margarita solely there asked aid from above, and kneltto the Virgin; but her, too, the clash of arms and dire earnest ofmortal fight aroused to eager eyes. She had not dallied with heroes inher dreams. She was as ready to second Siegfried on the crimson field astend him in the silken chamber. 

It was well that a woman's heart was there to mark the grace and gloryof manhood in upright foot-to-foot encounter. For the others, it was amere calculation of lucky hits. Even Farina, in his anxiety for her, saw but the brightening and darkening of the prospect of escape in everyattitude and hard-ringing blow. Margarita was possessed with a painfulexaltation. In her eyes the bestial Baron now took a nobler form andcountenance; but the Goshawk assumed the sovereign aspect of old heroes, who, whether persecuted or favoured of heaven, still maintained theirstand, remembering of what stuff they were, and who made them. 

'Never, ' say the old writers, with a fervour honourable to theirknowledge of the elements that compose our being, 'never may this brightprivilege of fair fight depart from us, nor advantage of it fail to betaken! Man against man, or beast, singly keeping his ground, is as finerapture to the breast as Beauty in her softest hour affordeth. For ifwoman taketh loveliness to her when she languisheth, so surely doth manin these fierce moods, when steel and iron sparkle opposed, and theirbreath is fire, and their lips white with the lock of resolution; alltheir faculties knotted to a point, and their energies alive as thedaylight to prove themselves superior, according to the laws and underthe blessing of chivalry. '

'For all, ' they go on to improve the comparison, 'may admire and delightin fair blossoming dales under the blue dome of peace; but 'tis therare lofty heart alone comprehendeth, and is heightened by, terrificsplendours of tempest, when cloud meets cloud in skies black as thesepulchre, and Glory sits like a flame on the helm of Ruin'

For a while the combatants aired their dexterity, contenting themselveswith cunning cuts and flicks of the sword-edge, in which Werner firstdrew blood by a keen sweep along the forehead of the Goshawk. Guy hadallowed him to keep his position on the board, and still fought at hisface and neck. He now jerked back his body from the hip, and swung around stroke at Werner's knee, sending him in retreat with a snort ofpain. Before the Baron could make good his ground, Guy was level withhim on the board. 

Werner turned an upbraiding howl at his men. They were not disposed tosecond him yet. They one and all approved his personal battle withFate, and never more admired him and felt his power; but the affair wasexciting, and they were not the pillars to prop a falling house. 

Werner clenched his two hands to his ponderous glaive, and fell uponGuy with heavier fury. He was becoming not unworth the little womanlyappreciation Margarita was brought to bestow on him. The voice of theWater-Lady whispered at her heart that the Baron warred on his destiny, and that ennobles all living souls. 

Bare-headed the combatants engaged, and the headpiece was the chiefpoint of attack. No swerving from blows was possible for either: ward, or take; a false step would have ensured defeat. This also inducedcaution. Many a double stamp of the foot was heard, as each had toretire in turn. 

'Not at his head so much, he'll bear battering there all night long, 'said Henker Rothhals in a breathing interval. Knocks had been prettyequally exchanged, but the Baron's head certainly looked the leastvulnerable, whereas Guy exhibited several dints that streamed freely. Yet he looked, eye and bearing, as fresh as when they began, and thecalm, regular heave of his chest contrasted with Werner's quick gasps. His smile, too, renewed each time the Baron paused for breath, gaveMargarita heart. It was not a taunting smile, but one of entireconfidence, and told all the more on his adversary. As Werner led offagain, and the choice was always left him, every expression of theGoshawk's face passed to full light in his broad eyes. 

The Baron's play was a reckless fury. There was nothing to study in it. Guy became the chief object of speculation. He was evidently trying towind his man. 

He struck wildly, some thought. Others judged that he was a randomhitter, and had no mortal point in aim. Schwartz Thier's opinion wasfrequently vented. 'Too round a stroke--down on him! Chop-not slice!'

Guy persevered in his own fashion. According to Schwartz Thier, hebrought down by his wilfulness the blow that took him on the leftshoulder, and nigh broke him. It was a weighty blow, followed by a thumpof sound. The sword-edge swerved on his shoulder-blade, or he must havebeen disabled. But Werner's crow was short, and he had no time to pushsuccess. One of the Goshawk's swooping under-hits half severed his rightwrist, and the blood spirted across the board. He gasped and seemedto succumb, but held to it still, though with slackened force. Guy nowattacked. Holding to his round strokes, he accustomed Werner to guardthe body, and stood to it so briskly right and left, that Werner grewbewildered, lost his caution, and gave ground. Suddenly the Goshawk'sglaive flashed in air, and chopped sheer down on Werner's head. Soshrewd a blow it was against a half-formed defence, that the Barondropped without a word right on the edge of the board, and there hung, feebly grasping with his fingers. 

'Who bars the way now?' sang out Guy. 

No one accepted the challenge. Success clothed him with terrors, andgave him giant size. 

'Then fare you well, my merry men all, ' said Guy. 'Bear me no ill-willfor this. A little doctoring will right the bold Baron. '

He strode jauntily to the verge of the board, and held his finger forMargarita to follow. She stepped forward. The men put their beardstogether, muttering. She could not advance. Farina doubled his elbow, and presented sword-point. Three of the ruffians now disputed the waywith bare steel. Margarita looked at the Goshawk. He was smiling calmlycurious as he leaned over his sword, and gave her an encouraging nod. She made another step in defiance. One fellow stretched his hand toarrest her. All her maidenly pride stood up at once. 'What a gloriousgirl!' murmured the Goshawk, as he saw her face suddenly flash, andshe retreated a pace and swung a sharp cut across the knuckles ofher assailant, daring him, or one of them, with hard, bright eyes, beautifully vindictive, to lay hand on a pure maiden. 

'You have it, Barenleib!' cried the others, and then to Margarita:'Look, young mistress! we are poor fellows, and ask a trifle of ransom, and then part friends. '

'Not an ace!' the Goshawk pronounced from his post. 

'Two to one, remember. '

'The odds are ours, ' replied the Goshawk confidently. 

They ranged themselves in front of the hall-door. Instead of acceptingthis challenge, Guy stepped to Werner, and laid his moaning foelength-wise in an easier posture. He then lifted Margarita on the board, and summoned them with cry of 'Free passage!' They answered by a sullenshrug and taunt. 

'Schwartz Thier! Rothhals! Farina! buckle up, and make ready then, ' sangGuy. 

He measured the length, of his sword, and raised it. The Goshawk had notunderrated his enemies. He was tempted to despise them when he markedtheir gradually lengthening chaps and eyeballs. 

Not one of them moved. All gazed at him as if their marrows werefreezing with horror. 

'What's this?' cried Guy. 

They knew as little as he, but a force was behind them irresistibleagainst their efforts. The groaning oak slipped open, pushing themforward, and an apparition glided past, soft as the pallid silver ofthe moon. She slid to the Baron, and put her arms about him, and sangto him. Had the Water-Lady laid an iron hand on all those ruffians, shecould not have held them faster bound than did the fear of her presence. The Goshawk drew his fair charge through them, followed by Farina, theThier, and Rothhals. A last glimpse of the hall showed them still asold cathedral sculpture staring at white light on a fluted pillar of thewall. 

THE PASSAGE OF THE RHINE

Low among the swarthy sandhills behind the Abbey of Laach dropped theround red moon. Soft lengths of misty yellow stole through the glens ofRhineland. The nightingales still sang. Closer and closer the moon cameinto the hushed valleys. 

There is a dell behind Hammerstein Castle, a ring of basking sward, girdled by a silver slate-brook, and guarded by four high-peaked hillsthat slope down four long wooded corners to the grassy base. Here, it issaid, the elves and earthmen play, dancing in circles with laughing feetthat fatten the mushroom. They would have been fulfilling the traditionnow, but that the place was occupied by a sturdy group of mortals, armedwith staves. The intruders were sleepy, and lay about on the inclines. Now and then two got up, and there rang hard echoes of oak. Again allwere calm as cud-chewing cattle, and the white water ran pleased withquiet. 

It may be that the elves brewed mischief among them; for the oaken blowswere becoming more frequent. One complained of a kick: another demandedsatisfaction for a pinch. 'Go to, ' drawled the accused drowsily in bothcases, 'too much beer last night!' Within three minutes, the companycounted a pair of broken heads. The East was winning on the West inheaven, and the dusk was thinning. They began to mark, each, whom hehad cudgelled. A noise of something swiftly in motion made them alert. A roebuck rushed down one of the hills, and scampered across the sward. The fine beast went stretching so rapidly away as to be hardly distinct. 

'Sathanas once more!' they murmured, and drew together. 

The name passed through them like a watchword. 

'Not he this time, ' cried the two new-comers, emerging from the foliage. 'He's safe under Cologne--the worse for all good men who live there! Butcome! follow to the Rhine! there 's work for us on the yonder side, andsharp work. '

'Why, ' answered several, 'we 've our challenge with the lads ofLeutesdorf and Wied to-day. '

'D' ye see this?' said the foremost of the others, pointing to a carvedivory white rose in his cap. 

'Brothers!' he swelled his voice, 'follow with a will, for the WhiteRose is in danger!'

Immediately they ranked, and followed zealously through the budsof young bushes, and over heaps of damp dead leaves, a half-hour'sscramble, when they defiled under Hammerstein, and stood before theRhine. Their leader led up the river, and after a hasty walk, stopped, loosened his hood, and stripped. 

'Now, ' said he, strapping the bundle to his back, 'let me know the houndthat refuses to follow his leader when the White Rose is in danger. '

'Long live Dietrich!' they shouted. He dropped from the bank, and wadedin. He was soon supported by the remainder of the striplings, and allstruck out boldly into mid-stream. 

Never heard history of a nobler Passage of the Rhine than this madebetween Andernach and Hammerstein by members of the White Rose Club, bundle on back, to relieve the White Rose of Germany from thrall andshame!

They were taken far down by the rapid current, and arrived panting toland. The dressing done, they marched up the pass of Tonnistein, andtook a deep draught at the spring of pleasant waters there open towayfarers. Arrived at the skirts of Laach, they beheld two farmerpeasants lashed back to back against a hazel. They released them, butcould gain no word of information, as the fellows, after a yawn and awink, started off, all heels, to make sure of liberty. On the shores ofthe lake the brotherhood descried a body of youths, whom they hailed, and were welcomed to companionship. 

'Where's Berthold?' asked Dietrich. 

He was not present. 

'The more glory for us, then, ' Dietrich said. 

It was here seriously put to the captain, whether they should not haltat the abbey, and reflect, seeing that great work was in prospect. 

'Truly, ' quoth Dietrich, 'dying on an empty stomach is heathenish, andcold blood makes a green wound gape. Kaiser Conrad should be hospitable, and the monks honour numbers. Here be we, thirty and nine; let us go!'

The West was dark blue with fallen light. The lakewaters were growinggrey with twilight. The abbey stood muffled in shadows. Already theyouths had commenced battering at the convent doors, when they weresummoned by the voice of the Goshawk on horseback. To their confusionthey beheld the White Rose herself on his right hand. ChapfallenDietrich bowed to his sweet mistress. 

'We were coming to the rescue, ' he stammered. 

A laugh broke from the Goshawk. 'You thought the lady was locked up inthe ghostly larder; eh!'

Dietrich seized his sword, and tightened his belt. 

'The Club allows no jesting with the White Rose, Sir Stranger. '

Margarita made peace. 'I thank you all, good friends. But quarrel not, Ipray you, with them that save me at the risk of their lives. '

'Our service is equal, ' said the Goshawk, flourishing, 'Only we happento be beforehand with the Club, for which Farina and myself heartily begpardon of the entire brotherhood. '

'Farina!' exclaimed Dietrich. 'Then we make a prisoner instead ofuncaging a captive. '

'What 's this?' said Guy. 

'So much, ' responded Dietrich. 'Yonder's a runaway from two masters: thelaw of Cologne, and the conqueror of Satan; and all good citizens areempowered to bring him back, dead or alive. '

'Dietrich! Dietrich! dare you talk thus of the man who saved me?' criedMargarita. 

Dietrich sullenly persisted. 

'Then, look!' said the White Rose, reddening under the pale dawn; 'heshall not, he shall not go with you. '

One of the Club was here on the point of speaking to the White Rose, --abreach of the captain's privilege. Dietrich felled him unresisting toearth, and resumed:

'It must be done, Beauty of Cologne! the monk, Father Gregory, is nowenduring shame and scorn for lack of this truant witness. '

'Enough! I go!' said Farina. 

'You leave me?' Margarita looked tender reproach. Weariness and fierceexcitement had given a liquid flame to her eyes and an endearingdarkness round their circles that matched strangely with her plumpyouth. Her features had a soft white flush. She was less radiant, butnever looked so bewitching. An aspect of sweet human languor caught atthe heart of love, and raised tumults. 

'It is a duty, ' said Farina. 

'Then go, ' she beckoned, and held her hand for him to kiss. He raised itto his lips. This was seen of all the Club. 

As they were departing with Farina, and Guy prepared to demandadmittance into the convent, Dietrich chanced to ask how fared DameLisbeth. Schwartz Thier was by, and answered, with a laugh, that he hadquite forgotten the little lady. 

'We took her in mistake for you, mistress! She was a one to scream! Themoment she was kissed--mum as a cloister. We kissed her, all of us, for the fun of it. No harm--no harm! We should have dropped her when wefound we had the old bird 'stead of the young one, but reckoned ransom, ye see. She's at the Eck, rattling, I's wager, like last year's nut inthe shell!'

'Lisbeth! Lisbeth! poor Lisbeth; we will return to her. Instantly, 'cried Margarita. 

'Not you, ' said Guy. 

'Yes! I!'

'No!' said Guy. 

'Gallant Goshawk! best of birds, let me go!'

'Without me or Farina, never! I see I shall have no chance with my lordnow. Come, then, come, fair Irresistible! come, lads. Farina can journeyback alone. You shall have the renown of rescuing Dame Lisbeth. '

'Farina! forget not to comfort my father, ' said Margarita. 

Between Margarita's society and Farina's, there was little dispute inthe captain's mind which choice to make. Farina was allowed to travelsingle to Cologne; and Dietrich, petted by Margarita, and gently jeeredby Guy, headed the Club from Laach waters to the castle of the RobberBaron. 

THE BACK-BLOWS OF SATHANAS

Monk Gregory was pacing the high road between the Imperial camp andsuffering Cologne. The sun had risen through interminable distancesof cloud that held him remote in a succession of receding mounds andthinner veils, realm beyond realm, till he showed fireless, like aphantom king in a phantom land. The lark was in the breast of morning. The field-mouse ran along the furrows. Dews hung red and grey on theweedy banks and wayside trees. At times the nostril of the goodfather was lifted, and he beat his breast, relapsing into sorrowfulcontemplation. Passed-any citizen of Cologne, the ghostly head sunk intoits cowl. 'There's a black raven!' said many. Monk Gregory heard them, and murmured, 'Thou hast me, Evil one! thou hast me!'

It was noon when Farina came clattering down from the camp. 

'Father, ' said he, 'I have sought thee. '

'My son!' exclaimed Monk Gregory with silencing hand, 'thou didst notwell to leave me contending against the tongues of doubt. Answer menot. The maiden! and what weighed she in such a scale?--No more! I ampunished. Well speaks the ancient proverb:

 "Beware the back-blows of Sathanas!"

I, that thought to have vanquished him! Vanity has wrecked me, in thisworld and the next. I am the victim of self-incense. I hear the demonsshouting their chorus--"Here comes Monk Gregory, who called himselfConqueror of Darkness!" In the camp I am discredited and a scoff; inthe city I am spat upon, abhorred. Satan, my son, fights not with hisfore-claws. 'Tis with his tail he fights, O Farina!--Listen, my son! heentered to his kingdom below through Cologne, even under the stonesof the Cathedral Square, and the stench of him abominably remaineth, challenging the nostrils of holy and unholy alike. The Kaiser cannotapproach for him; the citizens are outraged. Oh! had I held my peace inhumbleness, I had truly conquered him. But he gave me easy victory, toinflate me. I shall not last. Now this only is left, my son; that thoubear living testimony to the truth of my statement, as I bear it to thefolly!'

Farina promised, in the face of all, he would proclaim and witness tohis victory on Drachenfels. 

'That I may not be ranked an impostor!' continued the Monk. 'And howgreat must be the virtue of them that encounter that dark spirit! Valouravaileth nought. But if virtue be not in' ye, soon will ye be puffed tobursting with that devil's poison, self-incense. Surely, my son, thouart faithful; and for this service I can reward thee. Follow me yetagain. '

On the road they met Gottlieb Groschen, hastening to the camp. Dismayrumpled the old merchant's honest jowl. Farina drew rein before him. 

'Your daughter is safe, worthy Master Groschen, ' said he. 

'Safe?' cried Gottlieb; 'where is she, my Grete?'

Farina briefly explained. Gottlieb spread out his arms, and was goingto thank the youth. He saw Father Gregory, and his whole frame narrowedwith disgust. 

'Are you in company with that pestilent animal, that curse of Cologne!'

'The good Monk--, ' said Farina. 

'You are leagued with him, then, sirrah! Expect no thanks from me. Cologne, I say, is cursed! Meddling wretches! could ye not leave Satanalone? He hurt us not. We were free of him. Cologne, I say, is cursed!The enemy of mankind is brought by you to be the deadly foe of Cologne. '

So saying, Gottlieb departed. 

'Seest thou, my son, ' quoth the Monk, 'they reason not!'

Farina was dejected. Willingly would he, for his part, have left thesoul of Evil a loose rover for the sake of some brighter horizon to hishope. 

No twinge of remorse accompanied Gottlieb. The Kaiser had allotted himan encampment and a guard of honour for his household while the foulnessraged, and there Gottlieb welcomed back Margarita and Aunt Lisbeth onthe noon after his meeting with Farina. The White Rose had rested atLaach, and was blooming again. She and the Goshawk came trotting inadvance of the Club through the woods of Laach, startling the deerwith laughter, and sending the hare with her ears laid back all acrosscountry. In vain Dietrich menaced Guy with the terrors of the Club: AuntLisbeth begged of Margarita not to leave her with the footmen in vain. The joyous couple galloped over the country, and sprang the ditches, andleapt the dykes, up and down the banks, glad as morning hawks, enteringAndernach at a round pace; where they rested at a hostel as capable ofproducing good Rhine and Mosel wine then as now. Here they had mid-day'smeal laid out in the garden for the angry Club, and somewhat appeasedthem on their arrival with bumpers of the best Scharzhofberger. After arefreshing halt, three boats were hired. On their passage to the river, they encountered a procession of monks headed by the Archbishop ofAndernach, bearing a small figure of Christ carved in blackthorn andvarnished: said to work miracles, and a present to the good town fromtwo Hungarian pilgrims. 

'Are ye for Cologne?' the monks inquired of them. 

'Direct down stream!' they answered. 

'Send, then, hither to us Gregory, the conqueror of Darkness, that hemay know there is gratitude on earth and gratulation for great deeds, 'said the monks. 

So with genuflexions the travellers proceeded, and entered the boatsby the Archbishop's White Tower. Hammerstein Castle and Rheineckthey floated under; Salzig and the Ahr confluence; Rolandseck andNonnenwerth; Drachenfels and Bonn; hills green with young vines; dellswaving fresh foliage. Margarita sang as they floated. Ancient balladsshe sang that made the Goshawk sigh for home, and affected the Club withdelirious love for the grand old water that was speeding them onward. Aunt Lisbeth was not to be moved. She alone held down her head. She looked not Gottlieb in the face as he embraced her. Nor to anyquestioning would she vouchsafe reply. From that time forth, she wascharity to woman; and the exuberant cheerfulness and familiarity ofthe men toward her soon grew kindly and respectful. The dragon in AuntLisbeth was destroyed. She objected no more to Margarita's cameo. 

The Goshawk quickly made peace with his lord, and enjoyed thecommendation of the Kaiser. Dietrich Schill thought of challenginghim; but the Club had graver business: and this was to pass sentenceon Berthold Schmidt for the crime of betraying the White Rose into thehands of Werner. They had found Berthold at the Eck, and there consentedto let him remain until ransom was paid for his traitorous body. Berthold in his mad passion was tricked by Werner, and on his release, by payment of the ransom, submitted to the judgement of the Club, whichcondemned him to fight them all in turn, and then endure banishmentfrom Rhineland; the Goshawk, for his sister's sake, interceding before aharsher tribunal. 

THE ENTRY INTO COLOGNE

Seven days Kaiser Heinrich remained camped outside Cologne. Six timesin six successive days the Kaiser attempted to enter the city, and wasfoiled. 

'Beard of Barbarossa!' said the Kaiser, 'this is the first strongholdthat ever resisted me. '

The warrior bishops, electors, pfalzgrafs, and knights of the Empire, all swore it was no shame not to be a match for the Demon. 

'If, ' said the reflective Kaiser, 'we are to suffer below what poorCologne is doomed to undergo now, let us, by all that is savoury, reformand do penance. '

The wind just then setting on them dead from Cologne made the courtiersserious. Many thought of their souls for the first time. 

This is recorded to the honour of Monk Gregory. 

On the seventh morning, the Kaiser announced his determination to make alast trial. 

It was dawn, and a youth stood before the Kaiser's tent, praying anaudience. 

Conducted into the presence of the Kaiser, the youth, they say, succeeded in arousing him from his depression, for, brave as he was, Kaiser Heinrich dreaded the issue. Forthwith order was given forthe cavalcade to set out according to the rescript, Kaiser Heinrichretaining the youth at his right hand. But the youth had found occasionto visit Gottlieb and Margarita, each of whom he furnished with a flash, [flask?] curiously shaped, and charged with a distillation. 

As the head of the procession reached the gates of Cologne, symptoms ofwavering were manifest. 

Kaiser Heinrich commanded an advance, at all cost. 

Pfalzgraf Nase, as the old chronicles call him in their humour, butassuredly a great noble, led the van, and pushed across the draw-bridge. 

Hesitation and signs of horror were manifest in the assemblage round theKaiser's person. The Kaiser and the youth at his right hand were cheery. Not a whit drooped they! Several of the heroic knights begged theKaiser's permission to fall back. 

'Follow Pfalzgraf Nase!' the Kaiser is reported to have said. 

Great was the wonderment of the people of Cologne to behold KaiserHeinrich riding in perfect stateliness up the main street towardthe Cathedral, while right and left of him bishops and electors weredropping incapable. 

The Kaiser advanced till by his side the youth rode sole. 

'Thy name?' said the Kaiser. 

He answered: 'A poor youth, unconquerable Kaiser! Farina I am called. '

'Thy recompense?' said the Kaiser. 

He answered: 'The hand of a maiden of Cologne, most gracious Kaiser andmaster!'

'She is thine!' said the Kaiser. 

Kaiser Heinrich looked behind him, and among a host grasping the pommelsof their saddles, and reeling vanquished, were but two erect, a maidenand an old man. 

'That is she, unconquerable Kaiser!' Farina continued, bowing low. 

'It shall be arranged on the spot, ' said the Kaiser. 

A word from Kaiser Heinrich sealed Gottlieb's compliance. 

Said he: 'Gracious Kaiser and master! though such a youth could ofhimself never have aspired to the possession of a Groschen, yet when theKaiser pleads for him, objection is as the rock of Moses, and streamsconsent. Truly he has done Cologne good service, and if Margarita, mydaughter, can be persuaded--'

The Kaiser addressed her with his blazing brows. 

Margarita blushed a ready autumn of rosy-ripe acquiescence. 

'A marriage registered yonder!' said the Kaiser, pointing upward. 

'I am thine, murmured Margarita, as Farina drew near her. 

'Seal it! seal it!' quoth the Kaiser, in hearty good humour; 'take noconsent from man or maid without a seal. '

Farina tossed the contents of a flask in air, and saluted his beloved onthe lips. 

This scene took place near the charred round of earth where the Foulestdescended to his kingdom below. 

Men now pervaded Cologne with flasks, purifying the atmosphere. Itbecame possible to breathe freely. 

'We Germans, ' said Kaiser Heinrich, when he was again surrounded by hiscourtiers, 'may go wrong if we always follow Pfalzgraf Nase; but thistime we have been well led. ' Whereat there was obsequious laughter. 

The Pfalzgraf pleaded a susceptible nostril. 

'Thou art, I fear, but a timid mortal, ' said the Kaiser. 

'Never have I been found so on the German Field, Imperial Majesty!'returned the Pfalzgraf. 'I take glory to myself that this Nether reekovercomes me. '

'Even that we must combat, you see!' exclaimed Kaiser Heinrich; 'butcome all to a marriage this night, and take brides as soon as you will, all of you. Increase, and give us loyal subjects in plenty. I countprosperity by the number of marriages in my empire!'

The White Rose Club were invited by Gottlieb to the wedding, and took itin vast wrath until they saw the Kaiser, and such excellent stout Germanfare present, when immediately a battle raged as to who should do theevent most honour, and was in dispute till dawn: Dietrich Schill beingthe man, he having consumed wurst the length of his arm, and winesufficient to have floated a St. Goar salmon; which was long proudlychronicled in his family, and is now unearthed from among the ancienthonourable records of Cologne. 

The Goshawk was Farina's bridesman, and a very spiriting bridesman washe! Aunt Lisbeth sat in a corner, faintly smiling. 

'Child!' said the little lady to Margarita when they kissed at parting, 'your courage amazes me. Do you think? Do you know? Poor, sweet bird, delivered over hand and foot!'

'I love him! I love him, aunty! that's all I know, ' said Margarita:'love, love, love him!'

'Heaven help you!' ejaculated Aunt Lisbeth. 

'Pray with me, ' said Margarita. 

The two knelt at the foot of the bride-bed, and prayed very differentprayers, but to the same end. That done, Aunt Lisbeth helped undress theWhite Rose, and trembled, and told a sad nuptial anecdote of the Castle, and put her little shrivelled hand on Margarita's heart, and shrieked. 

'Child! it gallops!' she cried. 

''Tis happiness, ' said Margarita, standing in her hair. 

'May it last only!' exclaimed Aunt Lisbeth. 

'It will, aunty! I am humble: I am true'; and the fair girl gathered thefrill of her nightgown. 

'Look not in the glass, ' said Lisbeth; 'not to-night! Look, if you can, to-morrow. '

She smoothed the White Rose in her bed, tucked her up, and kissed her, leaving her as a bud that waits for sunshine. 

CONCLUSION

The shadow of Monk Gregory was seen no more in Cologne. He entered theCalendar, and ranks next St. Anthony. For three successive centuries thetowns of Rhineland boasted his visits in the flesh, and the conqueror ofDarkness caused dire Rhenish feuds. 

The Tailed Infernal repeated his famous Back-blow on Farina. The youthawoke one morning and beheld warehouses the exact pattern of his own, displaying flasks shaped even as his own, and a Farina to right andleft of him. In a week, they were doubled. A month quadrupled them. Theyincreased. 

'Fame and Fortune, ' mused Farina, 'come from man and the world: Loveis from heaven. We may be worthy, and lose the first. We lose not loveunless unworthy. Would ye know the true Farina? Look for him who walksunder the seal of bliss; whose darling is for ever his young sweetbride, leading him from snares, priming his soul with celestialfreshness. There is no hypocrisy can ape that aspect. Least of all, thecreatures of the Damned! By this I may be known. '

Seven years after, when the Goshawk came into Cologne to see oldfriends, and drink some of Gottlieb's oldest Rudesheimer, he was waylaidby false Farinas; and only discovered the true one at last, by chance, in the music-gardens near the Rhine, where Farina sat, having on onehand Margarita, and at his feet three boys and one girl, over whom bothbent lovingly, like the parent vine fondling its grape bunches in summerlight. 

 ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS:

 A generous enemy is a friend on the wrong side All are friends who sit at table Be what you seem, my little one Bed was a rock of refuge and fortified defence Civil tongue and rosy smiles sweeten even sour wine Dangerous things are uttered after the third glass Everywhere the badge of subjection is a poor stomach Face betokening the perpetual smack of lemon Gratitude never was a woman's gift It was harder to be near and not close Loving in this land: they all go mad, straight off Never reckon on womankind for a wise act Self-incense Sign that the evil had reached from pricks to pokes So are great deeds judged when the danger's past (as easy) Soft slumber of a strength never yet called forth Suspicion was her best witness Sweet treasure before which lies a dragon sleeping We like well whatso we have done good work for Weak reeds who are easily vanquished and never overcome Weak stomach is certainly more carnally virtuous than a full one Wins everywhere back a reflection of its own kindliness

THE CASE OF GENERAL OPLE AND LADY CAMPER

By George Meredith

CHAPTER I

An excursion beyond the immediate suburbs of London, projected longbefore his pony-carriage was hired to conduct him, in fact ever sincehis retirement from active service, led General Ople across a famouscommon, with which he fell in love at once, to a lofty highway alongthe borders of a park, for which he promptly exchanged his heart, andso gradually within a stone's-throw or so of the river-side, where hedetermined not solely to bestow his affections but to settle for life. It may be seen that he was of an adventurous temperament, though he hadthought fit to loosen his sword-belt. The pony-carriage, however, hadbeen hired for the very special purpose of helping him to pass in reviewthe lines of what he called country houses, cottages, or even sites forbuilding, not too remote from sweet London: and as when Coelebs goesforth intending to pursue and obtain, there is no doubt of his bringinghome a wife, the circumstance that there stood a house to let, in anairy situation, at a certain distance in hail of the metropolis heworshipped, was enough to kindle the General's enthusiasm. He wouldhave taken the first he saw, had it not been for his daughter, whoaccompanied him, and at the age of eighteen was about to undertakethe management of his house. Fortune, under Elizabeth Ople's guidingrestraint, directed him to an epitome of the comforts. The place he fellupon is only to be described in the tongue of auctioneers, and forthe first week after taking it he modestly followed them by termingit bijou. In time, when his own imagination, instigated by a state ofsomething more than mere contentment, had been at work on it, he chosethe happy phrase, 'a gentlemanly residence. ' For it was, he declared, a small estate. There was a lodge to it, resembling two sentry-boxesforced into union, where in one half an old couple sat bent, in theother half lay compressed; there was a backdrive to discoverablestables; there was a bit of grass that would have appeared a meadow ifmagnified; and there was a wall round the kitchen-garden and a stripof wood round the flower-garden. The prying of the outside world wasimpossible. Comfort, fortification; and gentlemanliness made the place, as the General said, an ideal English home. 

The compass of the estate was half an acre, and perhaps a perch or two, just the size for the hugging love General Ople was happiest in giving. He wisely decided to retain the old couple at the lodge, whose memberswere used to restriction, and also not to purchase a cow, that wouldhave wanted pasture. With the old man, while the old woman attended tothe bell at the handsome front entrance with its gilt-spiked gates, heundertook to do the gardening; a business he delighted in, so long as hecould perform it in a gentlemanly manner, that is to say, so long as hewas not overlooked. He was perfectly concealed from the road. Only onehouse, and curiously indeed, only one window of the house, and furtherto show the protection extended to Douro Lodge, that window an attic, overlooked him. And the house was empty. 

The house (for who can hope, and who should desire a commodious house, with conservatories, aviaries, pond and boat-shed, and other joys ofwealth, to remain unoccupied) was taken two seasons later by a lady, of whom Fame, rolling like a dust-cloud from the place she had left, reported that she was eccentric. The word is uninstructive: it does notfrighten. In a lady of a certain age, it is rather a characteristic ofaristocracy in retirement. And at least it implies wealth. 

General Ople was very anxious to see her. He had the sentiment of humblerespectfulness toward aristocracy, and there was that in riches whicharoused his admiration. London, for instance, he was not afraid to sayhe thought the wonder of the world. He remarked, in addition, that thesacking of London would suffice to make every common soldier of theforeign army of occupation an independent gentleman for the term of hisnatural days. But this is a nightmare! said he, startling himself withan abhorrent dream of envy of those enriched invading officers: forBooty is the one lovely thing which the military mind can contemplatein the abstract. His habit was to go off in an explosion of heavy sighswhen he had delivered himself so far, like a man at war with himself. 

The lady arrived in time: she received the cards of the neighbourhood, and signalized her eccentricity by paying no attention to them, excepting the card of a Mrs. Baerens, who had audience of her at once. By express arrangement, the card of General Wilson Ople, as her nearestneighbour, followed the card of the rector, the social head of thedistrict; and the rector was granted an interview, but Lady Camper wasnot at home to General Ople. She is of superior station to me, and maynot wish to associate with me, the General modestly said. Neverthelesshe was wounded: for in spite of himself, and without the slightest wishto obtrude his own person, as he explained the meaning that he had inhim, his rank in the British army forced him to be the representativeof it, in the absence of any one of a superior rank. So that he wasprofessionally hurt, and his heart being in his profession, it may behonestly stated that he was wounded in his feelings, though he said no, and insisted on the distinction. Once a day his walk for constitutionalexercise compelled him to pass before Lady Camper's windows, which werenot bashfully withdrawn, as he said humorously of Douro Lodge, in theseclusion of half-pay, but bowed out imperiously, militarily, like ageneralissimo on horseback, and had full command of the road and levelsup to the swelling park-foliage. He went by at a smart stride, with adelicate depression of his upright bearing, as though hastening to greeta friend in view, whose hand was getting ready for the shake. This muchwould have been observed by a housemaid; and considering his fine figureand the peculiar shining silveriness of his hair, the acceleration ofhis gait was noticeable. When he drove by, the pony's right ear wasflicked, to the extreme indignation of a mettlesome little animal. Itensued in consequence that the General was borne flying under the eyesof Lady Camper, and such pace displeasing him, he reduced it invariablyat a step or two beyond the corner of her grounds. 

But neither he nor his daughter Elizabeth attached importance to sotrivial a circumstance. The General punctiliously avoided glancing atthe windows during the passage past them, whether in his wild careeror on foot. Elizabeth took a side-shot, as one looks at a wayside tree. Their speech concerning Lady Camper was an exchange of commonplaces overher loneliness: and this condition of hers was the more perplexing toGeneral Ople on his hearing from his daughter that the lady was veryfine-looking, and not so very old, as he had fancied eccentric ladiesmust be. The rector's account of her, too, excited the mind. She hadinformed him bluntly, that she now and then went to church to saveappearances, but was not a church-goer, finding it impossible to supportthe length of the service; might, however, be reckoned in subscriptionsfor all the charities, and left her pew open to poor people, and nonebut the poor. She had travelled over Europe, and knew the East. Sketchesin watercolours of the scenes she had visited adorned her walls, anda pair of pistols, that she had found useful, she affirmed, lay on thewriting-desk in her drawing-room. General Ople gathered from the rectorthat she had a great contempt for men: yet it was curiously varied withlamentations over the weakness of women. 'Really she cannot possibly bean example of that, ' said the General, thinking of the pistols. 

Now, we learn from those who have studied women on the chess-board, andknow what ebony or ivory will do along particular lines, or hopping, that men much talked about will take possession of their thoughts; andcertainly the fact may be accepted for one of their moves. But the wholefabric of our knowledge of them, which we are taught to build on thisoriginally acute perception, is shattered when we hear, that it isexactly the same, in the same degree, in proportion to the amount ofwork they have to do, exactly the same with men and their thoughts inthe case of women much talked about. So it was with General Ople, andnothing is left for me to say except, that there is broader groundthan the chessboard. I am earnest in protesting the similarity of thesingular couples on common earth, because otherwise the General is inperil of the accusation that he is a feminine character; and not simplywas he a gallant officer, and a veteran in gunpowder strife, he wasalso (and it is an extraordinary thing that a genuine humility did notprevent it, and did survive it) a lord and conqueror of the sex. He haddone his pretty bit of mischief, all in the way of honour, of course, but hearts had knocked. And now, with his bright white hair, hisclose-brushed white whiskers on a face burnt brown, his clear-cutfeatures, and a winning droop of his eyelids, there was powder in himstill, if not shot. 

There was a lamentable susceptibility to ladies' charms. On the otherhand, for the protection of the sex, a remainder of shyness kepthim from active enterprise and in the state of suffering, so long asindications of encouragement were wanting. He had killed the soft ones, who came to him, attracted by the softness in him, to be killed: butclever women alarmed and paralyzed him. Their aptness to question andrequire immediate sparkling answers; their demand for fresh wit, of akind that is not furnished by publications which strike it into headswith a hammer, and supply it wholesale; their various reading; theirpower of ridicule too; made them awful in his contemplation. 

Supposing (for the inflammable officer was now thinking, and deeplythinking, of a clever woman), supposing that Lady Camper's pistols wereneeded in her defence one night: at the first report proclaiming herextremity, valour might gain an introduction to her upon easy terms, and would not be expected to be witty. She would, perhaps, after theexcitement, admit his masculine superiority, in the beautiful oldfashion, by fainting in his arms. Such was the reverie he passinglyindulged, and only so could he venture to hope for an acquaintance withthe formidable lady who was his next neighbour. But the proud society ofthe burglarious denied him opportunity. 

Meanwhile, he learnt that Lady Camper had a nephew, and the younggentleman was in a cavalry regiment. General Ople met him outside hisgates, received and returned a polite salute, liked his appearance andmanners and talked of him to Elizabeth, asking her if by chance shehad seen him. She replied that she believed she had, and praised hishorsemanship. The General discovered that he was an excellent sculler. His daughter was rowing him up the river when the young gentlemanshot by, with a splendid stroke, in an outrigger, backed, and floatingalongside presumed to enter into conversation, during which he managedto express regrets at his aunt's turn for solitariness. As they belongedto sister branches of the same Service, the General and Mr. ReginaldRoller had a theme in common, and a passion. Elizabeth told her fatherthat nothing afforded her so much pleasure as to hear him talk with Mr. Roller on military matters. General Ople assured her that it pleasedhim likewise. He began to spy about for Mr. Roller, and it sometimesoccurred that they conversed across the wall; it could hardly beavoided. A hint or two, an undefinable flying allusion, gave the Generalto understand that Lady Camper had not been happy in her marriage. Hewas pained to think of her misfortune; but as she was not over forty, the disaster was, perhaps, not irremediable; that is to say, if shecould be taught to extend her forgiveness to men, and abandon hersolitude. 'If, ' he said to his daughter, 'Lady Camper should by anychance be induced to contract a second alliance, she would, one mightexpect, be humanized, and we should have highly agreeable neighbours. 'Elizabeth artlessly hoped for such an event to take place. 

She rarely differed with her father, up to whom, taking example from theworld around him, she looked as the pattern of a man of wise conduct. 

And he was one; and though modest, he was in good humour with himself, approved himself, and could say, that without boasting of success, hewas a satisfied man, until he met his touchstone in Lady Camper. 

CHAPTER II

This is the pathetic matter of my story, and it requires pointing out, because he never could explain what it was that seemed to him socruel in it, for he was no brilliant son of fortune, he was no greatpretender, none of those who are logically displaced from the heightsthey have been raised to, manifestly created to show the moral inProvidence. He was modest, retiring, humbly contented; a gentlemanlyresidence appeased his ambition. Popular, he could own that he was, butnot meteorically; rather by reason of his willingness to receive lightthan his desire to shed it. Why, then, was the terrible test broughtto bear upon him, of all men? He was one of us; no worse, and notstrikingly or perilously better; and he could not but feel, in thebitterness of his reflections upon an inexplicable destiny, that thepunishment befalling him, unmerited as it was, looked like absence ofDesign in the scheme of things, Above. It looked as if the blow had beendealt him by reckless chance. And to believe that, was for the mind ofGeneral Ople the having to return to his alphabet and recommence theascent of the laborious mountain of understanding. 

To proceed, the General's introduction to Lady Camper was owing to amessage she sent him by her gardener, with a request that he would cutdown a branch of a wychelm, obscuring her view across his grounds towardthe river. The General consulted with his daughter, and came to theconclusion, that as he could hardly despatch a written reply to a verbalmessage, yet greatly wished to subscribe to the wishes of Lady Camper, the best thing for him to do was to apply for an interview. He sentword that he would wait on Lady Camper immediately, and betook himselfforthwith to his toilette. She was the niece of an earl. 

Elizabeth commended his appearance, 'passed him, ' as he would havesaid; and well she might, for his hat, surtout, trousers and boots, wereworthy of an introduction to Royalty. A touch of scarlet silk round theneck gave him bloom, and better than that, the blooming consciousness ofit. 

'You are not to be nervous, papa, ' Elizabeth said. 

'Not at all, ' replied the General. 'I say, not at all, my dear, ' herepeated, and so betrayed that he had fallen into the nervous mood. 'Iwas saying, I have known worse mornings than this. ' He turned to her andsmiled brightly, nodded, and set his face to meet the future. 

He was absent an hour and a half. 

He came back with his radiance a little subdued, by no means eclipsed;as, when experience has afforded us matter for thought, we cease toshine dazzlingly, yet are not clouded; the rays have merely grownserener. The sum of his impressions was conveyed in the reflectiveutterance--'It only shows, my dear, how different the reality is fromour anticipation of it!'

Lady Camper had been charming; full of condescension, neighbourly, friendly, willing to be satisfied with the sacrifice of the smallestbranch of the wych-elm, and only requiring that much for complimentaryreasons. 

Elizabeth wished to hear what they were, and she thought the requestrather singular; but the General begged her to bear in mind, that theywere dealing with a very extraordinary woman; 'highly accomplished, really exceedingly handsome, ' he said to himself, aloud. 

The reasons were, her liking for air and view, and desire to see intoher neighbour's grounds without having to mount to the attic. 

Elizabeth gave a slight exclamation, and blushed. 

'So, my dear, we are objects of interest to her ladyship, ' said theGeneral. 

He assured her that Lady Camper's manners were delightful. Strange totell, she knew a great deal of his antecedent history, things he hadnot supposed were known; 'little matters, ' he remarked, by which hisdaughter faintly conceived a reference to the conquests of his dashingdays. Lady Camper had deigned to impart some of her own, incidentally;that she was of Welsh blood, and born among the mountains. 'She has aromantic look, ' was the General's comment; and that her husband had beenan insatiable traveller before he became an invalid, and had never caredfor Art. 'Quite an extraordinary circumstance, with such a wife!' theGeneral said. 

He fell upon the wych-elm with his own hands, under cover of theleafage, and the next day he paid his respects to Lady Camper, toinquire if her ladyship saw any further obstruction to the view. 

'None, ' she replied. 'And now we shall see what the two birds will do. '

Apparently, then, she entertained an animosity to a pair of birds in thetree. 

'Yes, yes; I say they chirp early in the morning, ' said General Ople. 

'At all hours. '

'The song of birds... ?' he pleaded softly for nature. 

'If the nest is provided for them; but I don't like vagabond chirping. '

The General perfectly acquiesced. This, in an engagement with a cleverwoman, is what you should do, or else you are likely to find yourselfplanted unawares in a high wind, your hat blown off, and yourcoat-tails anywhere; in other words, you will stand ridiculous in yourbewilderment; and General Ople ever footed with the utmost cautionto avoid that quagmire of the ridiculous. The extremer quags he hadhitherto escaped; the smaller, into which he fell in his agile evasionsof the big, he had hitherto been blest in finding none to notice. 

He requested her ladyship's permission to present his daughter. LadyCamper sent in her card. 

Elizabeth Ople beheld a tall, handsomely-mannered lady, with goodfeatures and penetrating dark eyes, an easy carriage of her person andan agreeable voice, but (the vision of her age flashed out under thecompelling eyes of youth) fifty if a day. The rich colouring confessedto it. But she was very pleasing, and Elizabeth's perception dwelt on itonly because her father's manly chivalry had defended the lady againstone year more than forty. 

The richness of the colouring, Elizabeth feared, was artificial, andit caused her ingenuous young blood a shudder. For we are so devoted tonature when the dame is flattering us with her gifts, that we loathe thesubstitute omitting to think how much less it is an imposition than aform of practical adoration of the genuine. 

Our young detective, however, concealed her emotion of childish horror. 

Lady Camper remarked of her, 'She seems honest, and that is the most wecan hope of girls. '

'She is a jewel for an honest man, ' the General sighed, 'some day!'

'Let us hope it will be a distant day. '

'Yet, ' said the General, 'girls expect to marry. '

Lady Camper fixed her black eyes on him, but did not speak. 

He told Elizabeth that her ladyship's eyes were exceedingly searching:'Only, ' said he, 'as I have nothing to hide, I am able to submit toinspection'; and he laughed slightly up to an arresting cough, and madethe mantelpiece ornaments pass muster. 

General Ople was the hero to champion a lady whose airs of haughtinesscaused her to be somewhat backbitten. He assured everybody, that LadyCamper was much misunderstood; she was a most remarkable woman; she wasa most affable and highly intelligent lady. Building up her attributeson a splendid climax, he declared she was pious, charitable, witty, and really an extraordinary artist. He laid particular stress onher artistic qualities, describing her power with the brush, herwater-colour sketches, and also some immensely clever caricatures. As hetalked of no one else, his friends heard enough of Lady Camper, who wasanything but a favourite. The Pollingtons, the Wilders, the Wardens, theBaerens, the Goslings, and others of his acquaintance, talked of LadyCamper and General Ople rather maliciously. They were all City people, and they admired the General, but mourned that he should so abjectlyhave fallen at the feet of a lady as red with rouge as a railwaybill. His not seeing it showed the state he was in. The sister of Mrs. Pollington, an amiable widow, relict of a large City warehouse, namedBarcop, was chilled by a falling off in his attentions. His apology fornot appearing at garden parties was, that he was engaged to wait on LadyCamper. 

And at one time, her not condescending to exchange visits with theobsequious General was a topic fertile in irony. But she did condescend. Lady Camper came to his gate unexpectedly, rang the bell, and was letin like an ordinary visitor. It happened that the General wasgardening--not the pretty occupation of pruning--he was digging--and ofnecessity his coat was off, and he was hot, dusty, unpresentable. From adoring earth as the mother of roses, you may pass into a lady'spresence without purification; you cannot (or so the General thought)when you are caught in the act of adoring the mother of cabbages. Andthough he himself loved the cabbage equally with the rose, in his heartrespected the vegetable yet more than he esteemed the flower, for hegloried in his kitchen garden, this was not a secret for the world toknow, and he almost heeled over on his beam ends when word was broughtof the extreme honour Lady Camper had done him. He worked his armshurriedly into his fatigue jacket, trusting to get away to the house andspend a couple of minutes on his adornment; and with any other visitorit might have been accomplished, but Lady Camper disliked sitting alonein a room. She was on the square of lawn as the General stole along thewalk. Had she kept her back to him, he might have rounded her like theshadow of a dial, undetected. She was frightfully acute of hearing. Sheturned while he was in the agony of hesitation, in a queer attitude, oneleg on the march, projected by a frenzied tip-toe of the hinder leg, the very fatallest moment she could possibly have selected for unveilinghim. 

Of course there was no choice but to surrender on the spot. 

He began to squander his dizzy wits in profuse apologies. Lady Campersimply spoke of the nice little nest of a garden, smelt the flowers, accepted a Niel rose and a Rohan, a Cline, a Falcot, and La France. 

'A beautiful rose indeed, ' she said of the latter, 'only it smells ofmacassar oil. '

'Really, it never struck me, I say it never struck me before, ' rejoinedthe General, smelling it as at a pinch of snuff. 'I was saying, I always.... ' And he tacitly, with the absurdest of smiles, begged permission toleave unterminated a sentence not in itself particularly difficult

'I have a nose, ' observed Lady Camper. 

Like the nobly-bred person she was, according to General Ople'sversion of the interview on his estate, when he stood before her in hisgardening costume, she put him at his ease, or she exerted herself todo so; and if he underwent considerable anguish, it was the fault of hisexcessive scrupulousness regarding dress, propriety, appearance. 

He conducted her at her request to the kitchen garden and the handful ofpaddock, the stables and coach-house, then back to the lawn. 

'It is the home for a young couple, ' she said. 

'I am no longer young, ' the General bowed, with the sigh peculiar tothis confession. 'I say, I am no longer young, but I call the place agentlemanly residence. I was saying, I... '

'Yes, yes!' Lady Camper tossed her head, half closing her eyes, with acontraction of the brows, as if in pain. 

He perceived a similar expression whenever he spoke of his residence. 

Perhaps it recalled happier days to enter such a nest. Perhaps it hadbeen such a home for a young couple that she had entered on her marriagewith Sir Scrope Camper, before he inherited his title and estates. 

The General was at a loss to conceive what it was. 

It recurred at another mention of his idea of the nature of theresidence. It was almost a paroxysm. He determined not to vex herreminiscences again; and as this resolution directed his mind to hisresidence, thinking it pre-eminently gentlemanly, his tongue committedthe error of repeating it, with 'gentleman-like' for a variation. 

Elizabeth was out--he knew not where. The housemaid informed him, thatMiss Elizabeth was out rowing on the water. 

'Is she alone?' Lady Camper inquired of him. 

'I fancy so, ' the General replied. 

'The poor child has no mother. '

'It has been a sad loss to us both, Lady Camper. '

'No doubt. She is too pretty to go out alone. '

'I can trust her. '

'Girls!'

'She has the spirit of a man. '

'That is well. She has a spirit; it will be tried. '

The General modestly furnished an instance or two of her spiritedness. 

Lady Camper seemed to like this theme; she looked graciously interested. 

'Still, you should not suffer her to go out alone, ' she said. 

'I place implicit confidence in her, ' said the General; and Lady Campergave it up. 

She proposed to walk down the lanes to the river-side, to meet Elizabethreturning. 

The General manifested alacrity checked by reluctance. Lady Camper hadtold him she objected to sit in a strange room by herself; after that, he could hardly leave her to dash upstairs to change his clothes; yethow, attired as he was, in a fatigue jacket, that warned him not toimagine his back view, and held him constantly a little to the rear ofLady Camper, lest she should be troubled by it;--and he knew the habitof the second rank to criticise the front--how consent to face the outerworld in such style side by side with the lady he admired?

'Come, ' said she; and he shot forward a step, looking as if he hadmissed fire. 

'Are you not coming, General?'

He advanced mechanically. 

Not a soul met them down the lanes, except a little one, to whom LadyCamper gave a small silver-piece, because she was a picture. 

The act of charity sank into the General's heart, as any prettyperformance will do upon a warm waxen bed. 

Lady Camper surprised him by answering his thoughts. 'No; it's for myown pleasure. '

Presently she said, 'Here they are. '

General Ople beheld his daughter by the river-side at the end of thelane, under escort of Mr. Reginald Rolles. 

It was another picture, and a pleasing one. The young lady and theyoung gentleman wore boating hats, and were both dressed in white, andstanding by or just turning from the outrigger and light skiff they wereabout to leave in charge of a waterman. Elizabeth stretched a finger atarm's-length, issuing directions, which Mr. Rolles took up and wordedfurther to the man, for the sake of emphasis; and he, rather thanElizabeth, was guilty of the half-start at sight of the persons who wereapproaching. 

'My nephew, you should know, is intended for a working soldier, ' saidLady Camper; 'I like that sort of soldier best. '

General Ople drooped his shoulders at the personal compliment. 

She resumed. 'His pay is a matter of importance to him. You are aware ofthe smallness of a subaltern's pay. 

'I, ' said the General, 'I say I feel my poor half-pay, having alwaysbeen a working soldier myself, very important, I was saying, veryimportant to me!'

'Why did you retire?'

Her interest in him seemed promising. He replied conscientiously, 'Beyond the duties of General of Brigade, I could not, I say I couldnot, dare to aspire; I can accept and execute orders; I shrink fromresponsibility!'

'It is a pity, ' said she, 'that you were not, like my nephew Reginald, entirely dependent on your profession. '

She laid such stress on her remark, that the General, who had justexpressed a very modest estimate of his abilities, was unable toreject the flattery of her assuming him to be a man of some fortune. Hecoughed, and said, 'Very little. ' The thought came to him that he mighthave to make a statement to her in time, and he emphasized, 'Very littleindeed. Sufficient, ' he assured her, 'for a gentlemanly appearance. '

'I have given you your warning, ' was her inscrutable rejoinder, utteredwithin earshot of the young people, to whom, especially to Elizabeth, she was gracious. The damsel's boating uniform was praised, and hersunny flush of exercise and exposure. 

Lady Camper regretted that she could not abandon her parasol: 'I freckleso easily. '

The General, puzzling over her strange words about a warning, gazed atthe red rose of art on her cheek with an air of profound abstraction. 

'I freckle so easily, ' she repeated, dropping her parasol to defend herface from the calculating scrutiny. 

'I burn brown, ' said Elizabeth. 

Lady Camper laid the bud of a Falcot rose against the young girl'scheek, but fetched streams of colour, that overwhelmed the momentarycomparison of the sunswarthed skin with the rich dusky yellow of therose in its deepening inward to soft brown. 

Reginald stretched his hand for the privileged flower, and she let himtake it; then she looked at the General; but the General was looking, with his usual air of satisfaction, nowhere. 

CHAPTER III

'Lady Camper is no common enigma, ' General Ople observed to hisdaughter. 

Elizabeth inclined to be pleased with her, for at her suggestion theGeneral had bought a couple of horses, that she might ride in the park, accompanied by her father or the little groom. Still, the great ladywas hard to read. She tested the resources of his income by all sorts ofinstigation to expenditure, which his gallantry could not withstand; sheencouraged him to talk of his deeds in arms; she was friendly, almostaffectionate, and most bountiful in the presents of fruit, peaches, nectarines, grapes, and hot-house wonders, that she showered on histable; but she was an enigma in her evident dissatisfaction with him forsomething he seemed to have left unsaid. And what could that be?

At their last interview she had asked him, 'Are you sure, General, youhave nothing more to tell me?'

And as he remarked, when relating it to Elizabeth, 'One might really betempted to misapprehend her ladyship's... I say one might commit oneselfbeyond recovery. Now, my dear, what do you think she intended?'

Elizabeth was 'burning brown, ' or darkly blushing, as her manner was. 

She answered, 'I am certain you know of nothing that would interest her;nothing, unless... '

'Well?' the General urged her. 

'How can I speak it, papa?'

'You really can't mean... '

'Papa, what could I mean?'

'If I were fool enough!' he murmured. 'No, no, I am an old man. I wassaying, I am past the age of folly. '

One day Elizabeth came home from her ride in a thoughtful mood. She hadnot, further than has been mentioned, incited her father to think of theage of folly; but voluntarily or not, Lady Camper had, by an excessof graciousness amounting to downright invitation; as thus, 'Will youpersist in withholding your confidence from me, General?' She added, 'Iam not so difficult a person. ' These prompting speeches occurred on themorning of the day when Elizabeth sat at his table, after a long rideinto the country, profoundly meditative. 

A note was handed to General Ople, with the request that he would stepin to speak with Lady Camper in the course of the evening, or nextmorning. Elizabeth waited till his hat was on, then said, 'Papa, on myride to-day, I met Mr. Rolles. '

'I am glad you had an agreeable escort, my dear. '

'I could not refuse his company. '

'Certainly not. And where did you ride?'

'To a beautiful valley; and there we met.... '

'Her ladyship?'

'Yes. '

'She always admires you on horseback. '

'So you know it, papa, if she should speak of it. '

'And I am bound to tell you, my child, ' said the General, 'that thismorning Lady Camper's manner to me was... If I were a fool... I say, this morning I beat a retreat, but apparently she... I see no way out ofit, supposing she... '

'I am sure she esteems you, dear papa, ' said Elizabeth. 'You take toher, my dear?' the General inquired anxiously; 'a little?--a littleafraid of her?'

'A little, ' Elizabeth replied, 'only a little. '

'Don't be agitated about me. '

'No, papa; you are sure to do right. '

'But you are trembling. '

'Oh! no. I wish you success. '

General Ople was overjoyed to be reinforced by his daughter's goodwishes. He kissed her to thank her. He turned back to her to kiss heragain. She had greatly lightened the difficulty at least of a delicateposition. 

It was just like the imperious nature of Lady Camper to summon himin the evening to terminate the conversation of the morning, from thevisible pitfall of which he had beaten a rather precipitate retreat. Butif his daughter cordially wished him success, and Lady Camper offeredhim the crown of it, why then he had only to pluck up spirit, like agood commander who has to pass a fordable river in the enemy'spresence; a dash, a splash, a rattling volley or two, and you are over, established on the opposite bank. But you must be positive of victory, otherwise, with the river behind you, your new position is likely tobe ticklish. So the General entered Lady Camper's drawing-room warily, watching the fair enemy. He knew he was captivating, his old conquestswhispered in his ears, and her reception of him all but pointed to afootstool at her feet. He might have fallen there at once, had he notremembered a hint that Mr. Reginald Rolles had dropped concerning LadyCamper's amazing variability. 

Lady Camper began. 

'General, you ran away from me this morning. Let me speak. And, by theway, I must reproach you; you should not have left it to me. Things havenow gone so far that I cannot pretend to be blind. I know your feelingsas a father. Your daughter's happiness... '

'My lady, ' the General interposed, 'I have her distinct assurance thatit is, I say it is wrapt up in mine. '

'Let me speak. Young people will say anything. Well, they have a certainexcuse for selfishness; we have not. I am in some degree bound to mynephew; he is my sister's son. '

'Assuredly, my lady. I would not stand in his light, be quite assured. If I am, I was saying if I am not mistaken, I... And he is, or hasthe making of an excellent soldier in him, and is likely to be adistinguished cavalry officer. '

'He has to carve his own way in the world, General. '

'All good soldiers have, my lady. And if my position is not, after aconsiderable term of service, I say if... '

'To continue, ' said Lady Camper: 'I never have liked early marriages. I was married in my teens before I knew men. Now I do know them, andnow.... '

The General plunged forward: 'The honour you do us now:--a matureexperience is worth:--my dear Lady Camper, I have admired you:--and yourobjection to early marriages cannot apply to... Indeed, madam, vigour, they say... Though youth, of course... Yet young people, as youobserve... And I have, though perhaps my reputation is against it, I wassaying I have a natural timidity with your sex, and I am grey-headed, white-headed, but happily without a single malady. '

Lady Camper's brows showed a trifling bewilderment. 'I am speaking ofthese young people, General Ople. '

'I consent to everything beforehand, my dear lady. He should be, I sayMr. Rolles should be provided for. '

'So should she, General, so should Elizabeth. '

'She shall be, she will, dear madam. What I have, with your permission, if--good heaven! Lady Camper, I scarcely know where I am. She would.... I shall not like to lose her: you would not wish it. In time shewill.... She has every quality of a good wife. '

'There, stay there, and be intelligible, ' said Lady Camper. 'She hasevery quality. Money should be one of them. Has she money?'

'Oh! my lady, ' the General exclaimed, 'we shall not come upon your pursewhen her time comes. '

'Has she ten thousand pounds?'

'Elizabeth? She will have, at her father's death... But as for myincome, it is moderate, and only sufficient to maintain a gentlemanlyappearance in proper self-respect. I make no show. I say I make no show. A wealthy marriage is the last thing on earth I should have aimed at. I prefer quiet and retirement. Personally, I mean. That is my personaltaste. But if the lady... I say if it should happen that the lady ... And indeed I am not one to press a suit: but if she who distinguishesand honours me should chance to be wealthy, all I can do is to leave herwealth at her disposal, and that I do: I do that unreservedly. I feelI am very confused, alarmingly confused. Your ladyship merits asuperior... I trust I have not... I am entirely at your ladyship'smercy. '

'Are you prepared, if your daughter is asked in marriage, to settle tenthousand pounds on her, General Ople?'

The General collected himself. In his heart he thoroughly appreciatedthe moral beauty of Lady Camper's extreme solicitude on behalf of hisdaughter's provision; but he would have desired a postponement of thatand other material questions belonging to a distant future until his ownfate was decided. 

So he said: 'Your ladyship's generosity is very marked. I say it is verymarked. '

'How, my good General Ople! how is it marked in any degree?' cried LadyCamper. 'I am not generous. I don't pretend to be; and certainly I don'twant the young people to think me so. I want to be just. I have assumedthat you intend to be the same. Then will you do me the favour to replyto me?'

The General smiled winningly and intently, to show her that he prizedher, and would not let her escape his eulogies. 

'Marked, in this way, dear madam, that you think of my daughter's futuremore than I. I say, more than her father himself does. I know I oughtto speak more warmly, I feel warmly. I was never an eloquent man, and ifyou take me as a soldier, I am, as, I have ever been in the service, Iwas saying I am Wilson Ople, of the grade of General, to be relied onfor executing orders; and, madam, you are Lady Camper, and you commandme. I cannot be more precise. In fact, it is the feeling of thenecessity for keeping close to the business that destroys what I wouldsay. I am in fact lamentably incompetent to conduct my own case. '

Lady Camper left her chair. 

'Dear me, this is very strange, unless I am singularly in error, ' shesaid. 

The General now faintly guessed that he might be in error, for his part. 

But he had burned his ships, blown up his bridges; retreat could not bethought of. 

He stood, his head bent and appealing to her sideface, like onepleadingly in pursuit, and very deferentially, with a courteousvehemence, he entreated first her ladyship's pardon for his presumption, and then the gift of her ladyship's hand. 

As for his language, it was the tongue of General Ople. But his bearingwas fine. If his clipped white silken hair spoke of age, his figurebreathed manliness. He was a picture, and she loved pictures. 

For his own sake, she begged him to cease. She dreaded to hear ofsomething 'gentlemanly. '

'This is a new idea to me, my dear General, ' she said. 'You must give metime. People at our age have to think of fitness. Of course, in a sense, we are both free to do as we like. Perhaps I may be of some aid to you. My preference is for absolute independence. And I wished to talk of adifferent affair. Come to me tomorrow. Do not be hurt if I decide thatwe had better remain as we are. '

The General bowed. His efforts, and the wavering of the fair enemy'sflag, had inspired him with a positive re-awakening of masculine passionto gain this fortress. He said well: 'I have, then, the happiness, madam, of being allowed to hope until to-morrrow?'

She replied, 'I would not deprive you of a moment of happiness. Bringgood sense with you when you do come. '

The General asked eagerly, 'I have your ladyship's permission to comeearly?'

'Consult your happiness, ' she answered; and if to his mind she seemedreturning to the state of enigma, it was on the whole deliciously. Sherestored him his youth. He told Elizabeth that night; he really mustbegin to think of marrying her to some worthy young fellow. 'Though, 'said he, with an air of frank intoxication, 'my opinion is, the youngones are not so lively as the old in these days, or I should have beenbesieged before now. '

The exact substance of the interview he forbore to relate to hisinquisitive daughter, with a very honourable discretion. 

CHAPTER IV

Elizabeth came riding home to breakfast from a gallop round the park, and passing Lady Camper's gates, received the salutation of her parasol. Lady Camper talked with her through the bars. There was not a sign totell of a change or twist in her neighbourly affability. She remarkedsimply enough, that it was her nephew's habit to take early gallops, andpossibly Elizabeth might have seen him, for his quarters were proximate;but she did not demand an answer. She had passed a rather restlessnight, she said. 'How is the General?'

'Papa must have slept soundly, for he usually calls to me through hisdoor when he hears I am up, ' said Elizabeth. 

Lady Camper nodded kindly and walked on. 

Early in the morning General Ople was ready for battle. His forceswere, the anticipation of victory, a carefully arranged toilet, and anunaccustomed spirit of enterprise in the realms of speech; for he was nolonger in such awe of Lady Camper. 

'You have slept well?' she inquired. 

'Excellently, my lady:

'Yes, your daughter tells me she heard you, as she went by your doorin the morning for a ride to meet my nephew. You are, I shall assume, prepared for business. '

'Elizabeth?... To meet... ?' General Ople's impression of anythingextraneous to his emotion was feeble and passed instantly. 'Prepared!Oh, certainly'; and he struck in a compliment on her ladyship's freshmorning bloom. 

'It can hardly be visible, ' she responded; 'I have not painted yet. '

'Does your ladyship proceed to your painting in the very early morning?'

'Rouge. I rouge. '

'Dear me! I should not have supposed it. '

'You have speculated on it very openly, General. I remember yourtrying to see a freckle through the rouge; but the truth is, I am ofa supernatural paleness if I do not rouge, so I do. You understand, therefore, I have a false complexion. Now to business. '

'If your ladyship insists on calling it business. I have little tooffer--myself!'

'You have a gentlemanly residence. '

'It is, my lady, it is. It is a bijou. '

'Ah!' Lady Camper sighed dejectedly. 

'It is a perfect bijou!'

'Oblige me, General, by not pronouncing the French word as if you wereswearing by something in English, like a trooper. '

General Ople started, admitted that the word was French, and apologizedfor his pronunciation. Her variability was now visible over a corner ofthe battlefield like a thunder-cloud. 

'The business we have to discuss concerns the young people, General. '

'Yes, ' brightened by this, he assented: 'Yes, dear Lady Camper; it is apart of the business; it is a secondary part; it has to be discussed; Isay I subscribe beforehand. I may say, that honouring, esteeming you asI do, and hoping ardently for your consent.... 

'They must have a home and an income, General. '

'I presume, dearest lady, that Elizabeth will be welcome in your home. Icertainly shall never chase Reginald out of mine. '

Lady Camper threw back her head. 'Then you are not yet awake, or youpractice the art of sleeping with open eyes! Now listen to me. I rouge, I have told you. I like colour, and I do not like to see wrinkles orhave them seen. Therefore I rouge. I do not expect to deceive the worldso flagrantly as to my age, and you I would not deceive for a moment. Iam seventy. '

The effect of this noble frankness on the General, was to raise him fromhis chair in a sitting posture as if he had been blown up. 

Her countenance was inexorably imperturbable under his alternateblinking and gazing that drew her close and shot her distant, like amysterious toy. 

'But, ' said she, 'I am an artist; I dislike the look of extreme age, so I conceal it as well as I can. You are very kind to fall in with thedeception: an innocent and, I think, a proper one, before the world, though not to the gentleman who does me the honour to propose to mefor my hand. You desire to settle our business first. You esteem me; Isuppose you mean as much as young people mean when they say they love. Do you? Let us come to an understanding. '

'I can, ' the melancholy General gasped, 'I say I can--I cannot--I cannotcredit your ladyship's... '

'You are at liberty to call me Angela. '

'Ange... ' he tried it, and in shame relapsed. 'Madam, yes. Thanks. '

'Ah, ' cried Lady Camper, 'do not use these vulgar contractions ofdecent speech in my presence. I abhor the word "thanks. " It is fit forfribbles. '

'Dear me, I have used it all my life, ' groaned the General. 

'Then, for the remainder, be it understood that you renounce it. Tocontinue, my age is... '

'Oh, impossible, impossible, ' the General almost wailed; there wasreally a crack in his voice. 

'Advancing to seventy. But, like you, I am happy to say I have nota malady. I bring no invalid frame to a union that necessitates theleaving of the front door open day and night to the doctor. My beliefis, I could follow my husband still on a campaign, if he were a warriorinstead of a pensioner. '

General Ople winced. 

He was about to say humbly, 'As General of Brigade... '

'Yes, yes, you want a commanding officer, and that I have seen, and thathas caused me to meditate on your proposal, ' she interrupted him; whilehe, studying her countenance hard, with the painful aspect of a youthwho lashes a donkey memory in an examination by word of mouth, attemptedto marshal her signs of younger years against her awful confession ofthe extremely ancient, the witheringly ancient. But for the manifestrouge, manifest in spite of her declaration that she had not yet thatmorning proceeded to her paintbrush, he would have thrown down his gloveto challenge her on the subject of her age. She had actually charms. Hermouth had a charm; her eyes were lively; her figure, mature if you like, was at least full and good; she stood upright, she had a queenly seat. His mental ejaculation was, 'What a wonderful constitution!'

By a lapse of politeness, he repeated it to himself half aloud; he wasshockingly nervous. 

'Yes, I have finer health than many a younger woman, ' she said. 'Anordinary calculation would give me twenty good years to come. I am awidow, as you know. And, by the way, you have a leaning for widows. Haveyou not? I thought I had heard of a widow Barcop in this parish. Do notprotest. I assure you I am a stranger to jealousy. My income... '

The General raised his hands. 

'Well, then, ' said the cool and self-contained lady, 'before I gofarther, I may ask you, knowing what you have forced me to confess, areyou still of the same mind as to marriage? And one moment, General. Ipromise you most sincerely that your withdrawing a step shall not, asfar as it touches me, affect my neighbourly and friendly sentiments; notin any degree. Shall we be as we were?'

Lady Camper extended her delicate hand to him. 

He took it respectfully, inspected the aristocratic and unshrunkenfingers, and kissing them, said, 'I never withdraw from a position, unless I am beaten back. Lady Camper, I... '

'My name is Angela. '

The General tried again: he could not utter the name. 

To call a lady of seventy Angela is difficult in itself. It is, itseems, thrice difficult in the way of courtship. 

'Angela!' said she. 

'Yes. I say, there is not a more beautiful female name, dear LadyCamper. '

'Spare me that word "female" as long as you live. Address me by thatname, if you please. '

The General smiled. The smile was meant for propitiation and sweetness. It became a brazen smile. 

'Unless you wish to step back, ' said she. 

'Indeed, no. I am happy, Lady Camper. My life is yours. I say, my lifeis devoted to you, dear madam. '

'Angela!'

General Ople was blushingly delivered of the name. 

'That will do, ' said she. 'And as I think it possible one may be admiredtoo much as an artist, I must request you to keep my number of years asecret. '

'To the death, madam, ' said the General. 

'And now we will take a turn in the garden, Wilson Ople. And beware ofone thing, for a commencement, for you are full of weeds, and I meanto pluck out a few: never call any place a gentlemanly residence in myhearing, nor let it come to my ears that you have been using the phraseelsewhere. Don't express astonishment. At present it is enough that Idislike it. But this only, ' Lady Camper added, 'this only if it is notyour intention to withdraw from your position. '

'Madam, my lady, I was saying--hem!--Angela, I could not wish towithdraw. '

Lady Camper leaned with some pressure on his arm, observing, 'You have acurious attachment to antiquities. '

'My dear lady, it is your mind; I say, it is your mind: I was saying, Iam in love with your mind, ' the General endeavoured to assure her, andhimself too. 

'Or is it my powers as an artist?'

'Your mind, your extraordinary powers of mind. '

'Well, ' said Lady Camper, 'a veteran General of Brigade is as good acrutch as a childless old grannam can have. '

And as a crutch, General Ople, parading her grounds with the aged woman, found himself used and treated. 

The accuracy of his perceptions might be questioned. He was like a manstunned by some great tropical fruit, which responds to the longingof his eyes by falling on his head; but it appeared to him, that sheincreased in bitterness at every step they took, as if determined tomake him realize her wrinkles. 

He was even so inconsequent, or so little recognized his position, as toobject in his heart to hear himself called Wilson. 

It is true that she uttered Wilsonople as if the names formed one word. And on a second occasion (when he inclined to feel hurt) she remarked, 'I fear me, Wilsonople, if we are to speak plainly, thou art but afool. ' He, perhaps, naturally objected to that. He was, however, giddy, and barely knew. 

Yet once more the magical woman changed. All semblance of harshness, andharridan-like spike-tonguedness vanished when she said adieu. 

The astronomer, looking at the crusty jag and scoria of the magnifiedmoon through his telescope, and again with naked eyes atthe soft-beaming moon, when the crater-ridges are faint aseyebrow-pencillings, has a similar sharp alternation of prospect to thatwhich mystified General Ople. 

But between watching an orb that is only variable at our caprice, andcontemplating a woman who shifts and quivers ever with her own, how vastthe difference!

And consider that this woman is about to be one's wife! He could havebelieved (if he had not known full surely that such things are not) hewas in the hands of a witch. 

Lady Camper's 'adieu' was perfectly beautiful--a kind, cordial, intimate, above all, to satisfy his present craving, it was a lady-likeadieu--the adieu of a delicate and elegant woman, who had hardly lefther anchorage by forty to sail into the fifties. 

Alas! he had her word for it, that she was not less than seventy. And, worse, she had betrayed most melancholy signs of sourness and agednessas soon as he had sworn himself to her fast and fixed. 

'The road is open to you to retreat, ' were her last words. 

'My road, ' he answered gallantly, 'is forward. '

He was drawing backward as he said it, and something provoked her tosmile. 

CHAPTER V

It is a noble thing to say that your road is forward, and it befits aman of battles. General Ople was too loyal a gentleman to think of anyother road. Still, albeit not gifted with imagination, he could notavoid the feeling that he had set his face to Winter. He found himselfsuddenly walking straight into the heart of Winter, and a nippingWinter. For her ladyship had proved acutely nipping. His littlecustomary phrases, to which Lady Camper objected, he could see no harmin whatever. Conversing with her in the privacy of domestic life wouldnever be the flowing business that it is for other men. It would demandperpetual vigilance, hop, skip, jump, flounderings, and apologies. 

This was not a pleasing prospect. 

On the other hand, she was the niece of an earl. She was wealthy. Shemight be an excellent friend to Elizabeth; and she could be, when sheliked, both commandingly and bewitchingly ladylike. 

Good! But he was a General Officer of not more than fifty-five, in hisfull vigour, and she a woman of seventy!

The prospect was bleak. It resembled an outlook on the steppes. Inpoint of the discipline he was to expect, he might be compared to a rawrecruit, and in his own home!

However, she was a woman of mind. One would be proud of her. 

But did he know the worst of her? A dreadful presentiment, that he didnot know the worst of her, rolled an ocean of gloom upon General Ople, striking out one solitary thought in the obscurity, namely, that he wasabout to receive punishment for retiring from active service to a lifeof ease at a comparatively early age, when still in marching trim. Andthe shadow of the thought was, that he deserved the punishment!

He was in his garden with the dawn. Hard exercise is the best of opiatesfor dismal reflections. The General discomposed his daughter by offeringto accompany her on her morning ride before breakfast. She consideredthat it would fatigue him. 'I am not a man of eighty!' he cried. Hecould have wished he had been. 

He led the way to the park, where they soon had sight of young Rolles, who checked his horse and spied them like a vedette, but, perceivingthat he had been seen, came cantering, and hailing the General withhearty wonderment. 

'And what's this the world says, General?' said he. 'But we all applaudyour taste. My aunt Angela was the handsomest woman of her time. '

The General murmured in confusion, 'Dear me!' and looked at the youngman, thinking that he could not have known the time. 

'Is all arranged, my dear General?'

'Nothing is arranged, and I beg--I say I beg... I came out for fresh airand pace. '.. 

The General rode frantically. 

In spite of the fresh air, he was unable to eat at breakfast. He wasbound, of course, to present himself to Lady Camper, in common civility, immediately after it. 

And first, what were the phrases he had to avoid uttering in herpresence? He could remember only the 'gentlemanly residence. ' And it wasa gentlemanly residence, he thought as he took leave of it. It was one, neatly named to fit the place. Lady Camper is indeed a most eccentricperson! he decided from his experience of her. 

He was rather astonished that young Rolles should have spoken so coollyof his aunt's leaning to matrimony; but perhaps her exact age wasunknown to the younger members of her family. 

This idea refreshed him by suggesting the extremely honourable nature ofLady Camper's uncomfortable confession. 

He himself had an uncomfortable confession to make. He would have tospeak of his income. He was living up to the edges of it. 

She is an upright woman, and I must be the same! he said, fortunatelynot in her hearing. 

The subject was disagreeable to a man sensitive on the topic of money, and feeling that his prudence had recently been misled to keep upappearances. 

Lady Camper was in her garden, reclining under her parasol. A chair wasbeside her, to which, acknowledging the salutation of her suitor, shewaved him. 

'You have met my nephew Reginald this morning, General?'

'Curiously, in the park, this morning, before breakfast, I did, yes. Hem! I, I say I did meet him. Has your ladyship seen him?'

'No. The park is very pretty in the early morning. '

'Sweetly pretty. '

Lady Camper raised her head, and with the mildness of assureddictatorship, pronounced: 'Never say that before me. '

'I submit, my lady, ' said the poor scourged man. 

'Why, naturally you do. Vulgar phrases have to be endured, except whenour intimates are guilty, and then we are not merely offended, we arecompromised by them. You are still of the mind in which you left meyesterday? You are one day older. But I warn you, so am I. '

'Yes, my lady, we cannot, I say we cannot check time. Decidedly of thesame mind. Quite so. '

'Oblige me by never saying "Quite so. " My lawyer says it. It reeks ofthe City of London. And do not look so miserable. '

'I, madam? my dear lady!' the General flashed out in a radiance thatdulled instantly. 

'Well, ' said she cheerfully, 'and you're for the old woman?'

'For Lady Camper. '

'You are seductive in your flatteries, General. Well, then, we have tospeak of business. '

'My affairs----' General Ople was beginning, with perturbed forehead;but Lady Camper held up her finger. 

'We will touch on your affairs incidentally. Now listen to me, and donot exclaim until I have finished. You know that these two young oneshave been whispering over the wall for some months. They have beenmeeting on the river and in the park habitually, apparently with yourconsent. '

'My lady!'

'I did not say with your connivance. '

'You mean my daughter Elizabeth?'

'And my nephew Reginald. We have named them, if that advances us. Now, the end of such meetings is marriage, and the sooner the better, if theyare to continue. I would rather they should not; I do not hold it goodfor young soldiers to marry. But if they do, it is very certain thattheir pay will not support a family; and in a marriage of two healthyyoung people, we have to assume the existence of the family. You haveallowed matters to go so far that the boy is hot in love; I suppose thegirl is, too. She is a nice girl. I do not object to her personally. ButI insist that a settlement be made on her before I give my nephew onepenny. Hear me out, for I am not fond of business, and shall be glad tohave done with these explanations. Reginald has nothing of his own. Heis my sister's son, and I loved her, and rather like the boy. He has atpresent four hundred a year from me. I will double it, on the conditionthat you at once make over ten thousand--not less; and let it be yes orno!--to be settled on your daughter and go to her children, independentof the husband--cela va sans dire. Now you may speak, General. '

The General spoke, with breath fetched from the deeps:

'Ten thousand pounds! Hem! Ten! Hem, frankly--ten, my lady! One'sincome--I am quite taken by surprise. I say Elizabeth's conduct--though, poor child! it is natural to her to seek a mate, I mean, to accept amate and an establishment, and Reginald is a very hopeful fellow--Iwas saying, they jump on me out of an ambush, and I wish them everyhappiness. And she is an ardent soldier, and a soldier she must marry. But ten thousand!'

'It is to secure the happiness of your daughter, General. '

'Pounds! my lady. It would rather cripple me. '

'You would have my house, General; you would have the moiety, as thelawyers say, of my purse; you would have horses, carriages, servants; Ido not divine what more you would wish to have. '

'But, madam--a pensioner on the Government! I can look back on pastservices, I say old services, and I accept my position. But, madam, apensioner on my wife, bringing next to nothing to the common estate! Ifear my self-respect would, I say would... '

'Well, and what would it do, General Ople?'

'I was saying, my self-respect as my wife's pensioner, my lady. I couldnot come to her empty-handed. '

'Do you expect that I should be the person to settle money on yourdaughter, to save her from mischances? A rakish husband, for example;for Reginald is young, and no one can guess what will be made of him. '

'Undoubtedly your ladyship is correct. We might try absence for the poorgirl. I have no female relation, but I could send her to the sea-side toa lady-friend. '

'General Ople, I forbid you, as you value my esteem, ever--and I repeat, I forbid you ever--to afflict my ears with that phrase, "lady-friend!"'

The General blinked in a state of insurgent humility. 

These incessant whippings could not but sting the humblest of men; and'lady-friend, ' he was sure, was a very common term, used, he was sure, in the very best society. He had never heard Her Majesty speak at leveesof a lady-friend, but he was quite sure that she had one; and if so, what could be the objection to her subjects mentioning it as a term tosuit their own circumstances?

He was harassed and perplexed by old Lady Camper's treatment of him, andhe resolved not to call her Angela even upon supplication--not that day, at least. 

She said, 'You will not need to bring property of any kind to the commonestate; I neither look for it nor desire it. The generous thing for youto do would be to give your daughter all you have, and come to me. '

'But, Lady Camper, if I denude myself or curtail my income--a man at hiswife's discretion, I was saying a man at his wife's mercy... !'

General Ople was really forced, by his manly dignity, to make thisprotest on its behalf. He did not see how he could have escaped doingso; he was more an agent than a principal. 'My wife's mercy, ' he saidagain, but simply as a herald proclaiming superior orders. 

Lady Camper's brows were wrathful. A deep blood-crimson overcame therouge, and gave her a terrible stormy look. 

'The congress now ceases to sit, and the treaty is not concluded, ' wasall she said. 

She rose, bowed to him, 'Good morning, General, ' and turned her back. 

He sighed. He was a free man. But this could not be denied--whateverthe lady's age, she was a grand woman in her carriage, and when lookingangry, she had a queenlike aspect that raised her out of the reckoningof time. 

So now he knew there was a worse behind what he had previously known. Hewas precipitate in calling it the worst. 'Now, ' said he to himself, 'Iknow the worst!'

No man should ever say it. Least of all, one who has entered intorelations with an eccentric lady. 

CHAPTER VI

Politeness required that General Ople should not appear to rejoice inhis dismissal as a suitor, and should at least make some show of holdinghimself at the beck of a reconsidering mind. He was guilty of running upto London early next day, and remaining absent until nightfall; and hedid the same on the two following days. When he presented himselfat Lady Camper's lodge-gates, the astonishing intelligence, that herladyship had departed for the Continent and Egypt gave him qualms ofremorse, which assumed a more definite shape in something like awe ofher triumphant constitution. He forbore to mention her age, for hewas the most honourable of men, but a habit of tea-table talkativenessimpelled him to say and repeat an idea that had visited him, to theeffect, that Lady Camper was one of those wonderful women who arecomparable to brilliant generals, and defend themselves from thesiege of Time by various aggressive movements. Fearful of not beingunderstood, owing to the rarity of the occasions when the squat plainsquad of honest Saxon regulars at his command were called upon toexplain an idea, he re-cast the sentence. But, as it happened that theregulars of his vocabulary were not numerous, and not accustomed to workupon thoughts and images, his repetitions rather succeeded in exposingthe piece of knowledge he had recently acquired than in making hismeaning plainer. So we need not marvel that his acquaintances shouldsuppose him to be secretly aware of an extreme degree in which LadyCamper was a veteran. 

General Ople entered into the gaieties of the neighbourhood once more, and passed through the Winter cheerfully. In justice to him, however, itshould be said that to the intent dwelling of his mind upon Lady Camper, and not to the festive life he led, was due his entire ignorance ofhis daughter's unhappiness. She lived with him, and yet it was in otherhouses he learnt that she was unhappy. After his last interview withLady Camper, he had informed Elizabeth of the ruinous and preposterousamount of money demanded of him for a settlement upon her and Elizabeth, like the girl of good sense that she was, had replied immediately, 'Itcould not be thought of, papa. '

He had spoken to Reginald likewise. The young man fell into a dramatictearing-of-hair and long-stride fury, not ill becoming an enamoureddragoon. But he maintained that his aunt, though an eccentric, was acordially kind woman. He seemed to feel, if he did not partly hint, thatthe General might have accepted Lady Camper's terms. The young officercould no longer be welcome at Douro Lodge, so the General paid hima morning call at his quarters, and was distressed to find himbreakfasting very late, tapping eggs that he forgot to open--one of thesurest signs of a young man downright and deep in love, as the Generalknew from experience--and surrounded by uncut sporting journals ofpast weeks, which dated from the day when his blow had struck him, asaccurately as the watch of the drowned man marks his minute. Lady Camperhad gone to Italy, and was in communication with her nephew: Reginaldwas not further explicit. His legs were very prominent in hisdespair, and his fingers frequently performed the part of blunt combs;consequently the General was impressed by his passion for Elizabeth. Thegirl who, if she was often meditative, always met his eyes with a smile, and quietly said 'Yes, papa, ' and 'No, papa, ' gave him little concernas to the state of her feelings. Yet everybody said now that she wasunhappy. Mrs. Barcop, the widow, raised her voice above the rest. Soattentive was she to Elizabeth that the General had it kindly suggestedto him, that some one was courting him through his daughter. He gazedat the widow. Now she was not much past thirty; and it was reallysingular--he could have laughed--thinking of Mrs. Barcop set himpersistently thinking of Lady Camper. That is to say, his mad fancyreverted from the lady of perhaps thirty-five to the lady of seventy. 

Such, thought he, is genius in a woman! Of his neighbours generally, Mrs. Baerens, the wife of a German merchant, an exquisite player on thepianoforte, was the most inclined to lead him to speak of Lady Camper. She was a kind prattling woman, and was known to have been a governessbefore her charms withdrew the gastronomic Gottfried Baerens from hisdevotion to the well-served City club, where, as he exclaimed (everturning fondly to his wife as he vocalized the compliment), he had foundevery necessity, every luxury, in life, 'as you cannot have dem outof London--all save de female!' Mrs. Baerens, a lady of Teutonicextraction, was distinguishable as of that sex; at least, she was notmasculine. She spoke with great respect of Lady Camper and herfamily, and seemed to agree in the General's eulogies of Lady Camper'sconstitution. Still he thought she eyed him strangely. 

One April morning the General received a letter with the Italianpostmark. Opening it with his usual calm and happy curiosity, heperceived that it was composed of pen-and-ink drawings. And suddenlyhis heart sank like a scuttled ship. He saw himself the victim of acaricature. 

The first sketch had merely seemed picturesque, and he supposed it aclever play of fancy by some travelling friend, or perhaps an actualscene slightly exaggerated. Even on reading, 'A distant view of the cityof Wilsonople, ' he was only slightly enlightened. His heart beatstill with befitting regularity. But the second and the third sketchesbetrayed the terrible hand. The distant view of the city of Wilsonoplewas fair with glittering domes, which, in the succeeding near view, proved to have been soap-bubbles, for a place of extreme flatness, begirt with crazy old-fashioned fortifications, was shown; and inthe third view, representing the interior, stood for sole place ofhabitation, a sentry-box. 

Most minutely drawn, and, alas! with fearful accuracy, a militarygentleman in undress occupied the box. Not a doubt could exist as to theperson it was meant to be. 

The General tried hard to remain incredulous. He remembered too well whohad called him Wilsonople. 

But here was the extraordinary thing that sent him over theneighbourhood canvassing for exclamations: on the fourth page was theoutline of a lovely feminine hand, holding a pen, as in the act ofshading, and under it these words: 'What I say is, I say I think itexceedingly unladylike. '

Now consider the General's feelings when, turning to this fourth page, having these very words in his mouth, as the accurate expression of histhoughts, he discovered them written!

An enemy who anticipates the actions of our mind, has a quality of themalignant divine that may well inspire terror. The senses of GeneralOple were struck by the aspect of a lurid Goddess, who penetrated him, read him through, and had both power and will to expose and make himridiculous for ever. 

The loveliness of the hand, too, in a perplexing manner contested hisdenunciation of her conduct. It was ladylike eminently, and it involvedhim in a confused mixture of the moral and material, as great as youngpeople are known to feel when they make the attempt to separate them, inone of their frenzies. 

With a petty bitter laugh he folded the letter, put it in hisbreast-pocket, and sallied forth for a walk, chiefly to talk to himselfabout it. But as it absorbed him entirely, he showed it to the rector, whom he met, and what the rector said is of no consequence, for GeneralOple listened to no remarks, calling in succession on the Pollingtons, the Goslings, the Baerens, and others, early though it was, andthe lords of those houses absent amassing hoards; and to the ladieseverywhere he displayed the sketches he had received, observing, thatWilsonople meant himself; and there he was, he said, pointing at thecapped fellow in the sentry-box, done unmistakably. The likeness indeedwas remarkable. 'She is a woman of genius, ' he ejaculated, with uttermelancholy. Mrs. Baerens, by the aid of a magnifying glass, assistedhim to read a line under the sentry-box, that he had taken for a meretrembling dash; it ran, A gentlemanly residence. 

'What eyes she has!' the General exclaimed; 'I say it is miraculous whateyes she has at her time of... I was saying, I should never have knownit was writing. '

He sighed heavily. His shuddering sensitiveness to caricature wasincreased by a certain evident dread of the hand which struck; theknowing that he was absolutely bare to this woman, defenceless, open toexposure in his little whims, foibles, tricks, incompetencies, in whatlay in his heart, and the words that would come to his tongue. He feltlike a man haunted. 

So deeply did he feel the blow, that people asked how it was that hecould be so foolish as to dance about assisting Lady Camper in herefforts to make him ridiculous; he acted the parts of publisher andagent for the fearful caricaturist. In truth, there was a strangelydouble reason for his conduct; he danced about for sympathy, he had theintensest craving for sympathy, but more than this, or quite as much, hedesired to have the powers of his enemy widely appreciated; in the firstplace, that he might be excused to himself for wincing under them, andsecondly, because an awful admiration of her, that should be deepenedby a corresponding sentiment around him, helped him to enjoy luxuriousrecollections of an hour when he was near making her his own--his own, in the holy abstract contemplation of marriage, without realizing theirprobable relative conditions after the ceremony. 

'I say, that is the very image of her ladyship's hand, ' he wasespecially fond of remarking, 'I say it is a beautiful hand. '

He carried the letter in his pocket-book; and beginning to fancy thatshe had done her worst, for he could not imagine an inventive malignitycapable of pursuing the theme, he spoke of her treatment of him withcompassionate regret, not badly assumed from being partly sincere. 

Two letters dated in France, the one Dijon, the other Fontainebleau, arrived together; and as the General knew Lady Camper to be returning toEngland, he expected that she was anxious to excuse herself to him. Hisfingers were not so confident, for he tore one of the letters to openit. 

The City of Wilsonople was recognizable immediately. So likewise was thesole inhabitant. 

General Ople's petty bitter laugh recurred, like a weak-chestedpatient's cough in the shifting of our winds eastward. 

A faceless woman's shadow kneels on the ground near the sentry-box, weeping. A faceless shadow of a young man on horseback is beheldgalloping toward a gulf. The sole inhabitant contemplates his largelysubstantial full fleshed face and figure in a glass. 

Next, we see the standard of Great Britain furled; next, unfurled andborne by a troop of shadows to the sentry-box. The officer withinsays, 'I say I should be very happy to carry it, but I cannot quit thisgentlemanly residence. '

Next, the standard is shown assailed by popguns. Several of the shadowsare prostrate. 'I was saying, I assure you that nothing but thisgentlemanly residence prevents me from heading you, ' says the gallantofficer. 

General Ople trembled with protestant indignation when he saw himselfreclining in a magnified sentry-box, while detachments of shadows hurryto him to show him the standard of his country trailing in the dust; andhe is maliciously made to say, 'I dislike responsibility. I say I ama fervent patriot, and very fond of my comforts, but I shunresponsibility. '

The second letter contained scenes between Wilsonople and the Moon. 

He addresses her as his neighbour, and tells her of his triumphs overthe sex. 

He requests her to inform him whether she is a 'female, ' that she may betriumphed over. 

He hastens past her window on foot, with his head bent, just as theGeneral had been in the habit of walking. 

He drives a mouse-pony furiously by. 

He cuts down a tree, that she may peep through. 

Then, from the Moon's point of view, Wilsonople, a Silenus, is discernedin an arm-chair winking at a couple too plainly pouting their lips for adoubt of their intentions to be entertained. 

A fourth letter arrived, bearing date of Paris. This one illustratedWilsonople's courtship of the Moon, and ended with his 'saying, ' in hispeculiar manner, 'In spite of her paint I could not have conceived herage to be so enormous. '

How break off his engagement with the Lady Moon? Consent to none of herterms!

Little used as he was to read behind a veil, acuteness of sufferingsharpened the General's intelligence to a degree that sustained himin animated dialogue with each succeeding sketch, or poisoned arrowwhirring at him from the moment his eyes rested on it; and here are afew samples:

'Wilsonople informs the Moon that she is "sweetly pretty. "

'He thanks her with "thanks" for a handsome piece of lunar green cheese. 

'He points to her, apparently telling some one, "my lady-friend. "

'He sneezes "Bijou! bijou! bijou!"'

They were trifles, but they attacked his habits of speech; and he beganto grow more and more alarmingly absurd in each fresh caricature of hisperson. 

He looked at himself as the malicious woman's hand had shaped him. Itwas unjust; it was no resemblance--and yet it was! There was a cornerof likeness left that leavened the lump; henceforth he must walk abroadwith this distressing image of himself before his eyes, instead of thesatisfactory reflex of the man who had, and was happy in thinking thathe had, done mischief in his time. Such an end for a conquering man wastoo pathetic. 

The General surprised himself talking to himself in something louderthan a hum at neighbours' dinner-tables. He looked about and noticedthat people were silently watching him. 

CHAPTER VII

Lady Camper's return was the subject of speculation in theneighbourhood, for most people thought she would cease to persecute theGeneral with her preposterous and unwarrantable pen-and-ink sketcheswhen living so closely proximate; and how he would behave was thequestion. Those who made a hero of him were sure he would treat herwith disdain. Others were uncertain. He had been so severely hit that itseemed possible he would not show much spirit. 

He, for his part, had come to entertain such dread of the post, thatLady Camper's return relieved him of his morning apprehensions; and hewould have forgiven her, though he feared to see her, if only she hadpromised to leave him in peace for the future. He feared to seeher, because of the too probable furnishing of fresh matter for herladyship's hand. Of course he could not avoid being seen by her, andthat was a particular misery. A gentlemanly humility, or demurenessof aspect, when seen, would, he hoped, disarm his enemy. It should, he thought. He had borne unheard-of things. No one of his friends andacquaintances knew, they could not know, what he had endured. It hascaused him fits of stammering. It had destroyed the composure of hisgait. Elizabeth had informed him that he talked to himself incessantly, and aloud. She, poor child, looked pale too. She was evidently anxiousabout him. 

Young Rolles, whom he had met now and then, persisted in praising hisaunt's good heart. So, perhaps, having satiated her revenge, she mightnow be inclined for peace, on the terms of distant civility. 

'Yes! poor Elizabeth!' sighed the General, in pity of the poor girl'sdisappointment; 'poor Elizabeth! she little guesses what her father hasgone through. Poor child! I say, she hasn't an idea of my sufferings. '

General Ople delivered his card at Lady Camper's lodgegates and escapedto his residence in a state of prickly heat that required the brushingof his hair with hard brushes for several minutes to comfort andre-establish him. 

He had fallen to working in his garden, when Lady Camper's card wasbrought to him an hour after the delivery of his own; a pleasingpromptitude, showing signs of repentance, and suggesting to the Generalinstantly some sharp sarcasms upon women, which he had come uponin quotations in the papers and the pulpit, his two main sources ofinformation. 

Instead of handing back the card to the maid, he stuck it in his hat andwent on digging. 

The first of a series of letters containing shameless realisticcaricatures was handed to him the afternoon following. They came fastand thick. Not a day's interval of grace was allowed. Niobe under theshafts of Diana was hardly less violently and mortally assailed. Thedeadliness of the attack lay in the ridicule of the daily habits of oneof the most sensitive of men, as to his personal appearance, and theopinion of the world. He might have concealed the sketches, but he couldnot have concealed the bruises, and people were perpetually asking theunhappy General what he was saying, for he spoke to himself as if hewere repeating something to them for the tenth time. 

'I say, ' said he, 'I say that for a lady, really an educated lady, tosit, as she must--I was saying, she must have sat in an attic to havethe right view of me. And there you see--this is what she has done. This is the last, this is the afternoon's delivery. Her ladyship hasme correctly as to costume, but I could not exhibit such a sketch toladies. '

A back view of the General was displayed in his act of digging. 

'I say I could not allow ladies to see it, ' he informed the gentlemen, who were suffered to inspect it freely. 

'But you see, I have no means of escape; I am at her mercy from morningto night, ' the General said, with a quivering tongue, 'unless I stay athome inside the house; and that is death to me, or unless I abandon theplace, and my lease; and I shall--I say, I shall find nowhere in Englandfor anything like the money or conveniences such a gent--a residenceyou would call fit for a gentleman. I call it a bi... It is, in short, agem. But I shall have to go. '

Young Rolles offered to expostulate with his aunt Angela. 

The General said, 'Tha... I thank you very much. I would not have herladyship suppose I am so susceptible. I hardly know, ' he confessedpitiably, 'what it is right to say, and what not--what not. I-I-I neverknow when I am not looking a fool. I hurry from tree to tree to shun thelight. I am seriously affected in my appetite. I say, I shall have togo. '

Reginald gave him to understand that if he flew, the shafts would followhim, for Lady Camper would never forgive his running away, and was quiteequal to publishing a book of the adventures of Wilsonople. 

Sunday afternoon, walking in the park with his daughter on his arm, General Ople met Mr. Rolles. He saw that the young man and Elizabethwere mortally pale, and as the very idea of wretchedness directed hisattention to himself, he addressed them conjointly on the subject of hispersecution, giving neither of them a chance of speaking until they wereconstrained to part. 

A sketch was the consequence, in which a withered Cupid and a fadingPsyche were seen divided by Wilsonople, who keeps them forcibly asunderwith policeman's fists, while courteously and elegantly entreatingthem to hear him. 'Meet, ' he tells them, 'as often as you like, in mycompany, so long as you listen to me'; and the pathos of his aspectmakes hungry demand for a sympathetic audience. 

Now, this, and not the series representing the martyrdom of the oldcouple at Douro Lodge Gates, whose rigid frames bore witness to theclose packing of a gentlemanly residence, this was the sketch GeneralOple, in his madness from the pursuing bite of the gadfly, handed aboutat Mrs. Pollington's lawn-party. Some have said, that he should not havebetrayed his daughter; but it is reasonable to suppose he had no idea ofhis daughter's being the Psyche. Or if he had, it was indistinct, owingto the violence of his personal emotion. Assuming this to have been thevery sketch; he handed it to two or three ladies in turn, and was heardto deliver himself at intervals in the following snatches: 'As you like, my lady, as you like; strike, I say strike; I bear it; I say I bear it.... If her ladyship is unforgiving, I say I am enduring.... I may go, I was saying I may go mad, but while I have my reason I walk upright, Iwalk upright. '

Mr. Pollington and certain City gentlemen hearing the poor General'srenewed soliloquies, were seized with disgust of Lady Camper's conduct, and stoutly advised an application to the Law Courts. 

He gave ear to them abstractedly, but after pulling out the wholechapter of the caricatures (which it seemed that he kept in a case ofmorocco leather in his breast-pocket), showing them, with comments onthem, and observing, 'There will be more, there must be more, I say I amsure there are things I do that her ladyship will discover and expose, 'he declined to seek redress or simple protection; and the miserablespectacle was exhibited soon after of this courtly man listening to Mrs. Barcop on the weather, and replying in acquiescence: 'It is hot. --Ifyour ladyship will only abstain from colours. Very hot as you say, madam, --I do not complain of pen and ink, but I would rather escapecolours. And I dare say you find it hot too?'

Mrs. Barcop shut her eyes and sighed over the wreck of a handsomemilitary officer. 

She asked him: 'What is your objection to colours?'

His hand was at his breast-pocket immediately, as he said: 'Have you notseen?'--though but a few minutes back he had shown her the contents ofthe packet, including a hurried glance of the famous digging scene. 

By this time the entire district was in fervid sympathy with GeneralOple. The ladies did not, as their lords did, proclaim astonishment thata man should suffer a woman to goad him to a state of semi-lunacy;but one or two confessed to their husbands, that it required agreat admiration of General Ople not to despise him, both for hissusceptibility and his patience. As for the men, they knew him tohave faced the balls in bellowing battle-strife; they knew him tohave endured privation, not only cold but downright want of food anddrink--an almost unimaginable horror to these brave daily feasters; sothey could not quite look on him in contempt; but his want of sense wasoffensive, and still more so his submission to a scourging by a woman. Not one of them would have deigned to feel it. Would they have allowedher to see that she could sting them? They would have laughed at her. Orthey would have dragged her before a magistrate. 

It was a Sunday in early Summer when General Ople walked to morningservice, unaccompanied by Elizabeth, who was unwell. The church was ofthe considerate old-fashioned order, with deaf square pews, permittingthe mind to abstract itself from the sermon, or wrestle at leisure withthe difficulties presented by the preacher, as General Ople oftendid, feeling not a little in love with his sincere attentiveness forgrappling with the knotty point and partially allowing the struggle tobe seen. 

The Church was, besides, a sanctuary for him. Hither his enemy did notcome. He had this one place of refuge, and he almost looked a happy managain. 

He had passed into his hat and out of it, which he habitually didstanding, when who should walk up to within a couple of yards of himbut Lady Camper. Her pew was full of poor people, who made signs ofretiring. She signified to them that they were to sit, then quietly tookher seat among them, fronting the General across the aisle. 

During the sermon a low voice, sharp in contradistinction to themonotone of the preacher's, was heard to repeat these words: 'I say I amnot sure I shall survive it. ' Considerable muttering in the same quarterwas heard besides. 

After the customary ceremonious game, when all were free to move, ofnobody liking to move first, Lady Camper and a charity boy were thepersons who took the lead. But Lady Camper could not quit her pew, owingto the sticking of the door. She smiled as with her pretty hand shetwice or thrice essayed to shake it open. General Ople strode to heraid. He pulled the door, gave the shadow of a respectful bow, and nodoubt he would have withdrawn, had not Lady Camper, while acknowledgingthe civility, placed her prayer-book in his hands to carry at her heels. There was no choice for him. He made a sort of slipping dance back forhis hat, and followed her ladyship. All present being eager to witnessthe spectacle, the passage of Lady Camper dragging the victim Generalbehind her was observed without a stir of the well-dressed members ofthe congregation, until a desire overcame them to see how Lady Camperwould behave to her fish when she had him outside the sacred edifice. 

None could have imagined such a scene. Lady Camper was in her carriage;General Ople was holding her prayer-book, hat in hand, at the carriagestep, and he looked as if he were toasting before the bars of a furnace;for while he stood there, Lady Camper was rapidly pencilling outlines ina small pocket sketchbook. There are dogs whose shyness is put to it toendure human observation and a direct address to them, even on the partof their masters; and these dear simple dogs wag tail and turn theirheads aside waveringly, as though to entreat you not to eye them andtalk to them so. General Ople, in the presence of the sketchbook, wasmuch like the nervous animal. He would fain have run away. He glanced atit, and round about, and again at it, and at the heavens. Her ladyship'scruelty, and his inexplicable submission to it, were witnessed of themultitude. 

The General's friends walked very slowly. Lady Camper's carriage whirledby, and the General came up with them, accosting them and himselfalternately. They asked him where Elizabeth was, and he replied, 'Poor child, yes! I am told she is pale, but I cannot, believe I am soperfectly, I say so perfectly ridiculous, when I join the responses. 'He drew forth half a dozen sheets, and showed them sketches that LadyCamper had taken in church, caricaturing him in the sitting down and thestanding up. She had torn them out of the book, and presented them tohim when driving off. 'I was saying, worship in the ordinary sense willbe interdicted to me if her ladyship... , ' said the General, woefullyshuffling the sketch-paper sheets in which he figured. 

He made the following odd confession to Mr. And Mrs. Gosling on theroad:--that he had gone to his chest, and taken out his sword-beltto measure his girth, and found himself thinner than when he left theservice, which had not been the case before his attendance at the lastlevee of the foregoing season. So the deduction was obvious, thatLady Camper had reduced him. She had reduced him as effectually as aharassing siege. 

'But why do you pay attention to her? Why... !' exclaimed Mr. Gosling, agentleman of the City, whose roundness would have turned a rifle-shot. 

'To allow her to wound you so seriously!' exclaimed Mrs. Gosling. 

'Madam, if she were my wife, ' the General explained, 'I should feelit. I say it is the fact of it; I feel it, if I appear so extremelyridiculous to a human eye, to any one eye. '

'To Lady Camper's eye. '

He admitted it might be that. He had not thought of ascribing theacuteness of his pain to the miserable image he presented in thisparticular lady's eye. No; it really was true, curiously true: anotherlady's eye might have transformed him to a pumpkin shape, exaggeratedall his foibles fifty-fold, and he, though not liking it, of course not, would yet have preserved a certain manly equanimity. How was it LadyCamper had such power over him?--a lady concealing seventy years with arouge-box or paint-pot! It was witchcraft in its worst character. He hadfor six months at her bidding been actually living the life of a beast, degraded in his own esteem; scorched by every laugh he heard; running, pursued, overtaken, and as it were scored or branded, and then let gofor the process to be repeated. 

CHAPTER VIII

Our young barbarians have it all their own way with us when they fallinto love-liking; they lead us whither they please, and interest usin their wishings, their weepings, and that fine performance, theirkissings. But when we see our veterans tottering to their fall, wescarcely consent to their having a wish; as for a kiss, we halloo atthem if we discover them on a byway to the sacred grove where suchthings are supposed to be done by the venerable. And this piece of rankinjustice, not to say impoliteness, is entirely because of an unsoundopinion that Nature is not in it, as though it were our esteem forNature which caused us to disrespect them. They, in truth, show her tous discreet, civilized, in a decent moral aspect: vistas of real life, views of the mind's eye, are opened by their touching little emotions;whereas those bully youngsters who come bellowing at us and catch us bythe senses plainly prove either that we are no better than they, or thatwe give our attention to Nature only when she makes us afraid of her. If we cared for her, we should be up and after her reverentially in hersedater steps, deeply studying her in her slower paces. She teachesthem nothing when they are whirling. Our closest instructors, the truephilosophers--the story-tellers, in short-will learn in time that Natureis not of necessity always roaring, and as soon as they do, the worldmay be said to be enlightened. Meantime, in the contemplation of a pairof white whiskers fluttering round a pair of manifestly painted cheeks, be assured that Nature is in it: not that hectoring wanton--but let theyoung have their fun. Let the superior interest of the passions of theaged be conceded, and not a word shall be said against the young. 

If, then, Nature is in it, how has she been made active? The reasonof her launch upon this last adventure is, that she has perceivedthe person who can supply the virtue known to her by experience to bewanting. Thus, in the broader instance, many who have journeyed far downthe road, turn back to the worship of youth, which they have lost. Someare for the graceful worldliness of wit, of which they have just shareenough to admire it. Some are captivated by hands that can wield therod, which in earlier days they escaped to their cost. In the caseof General Ople, it was partly her whippings of him, partly herpenetration; her ability, that sat so finely on a wealthy woman, herindifference to conventional manners, that so well beseemed a nobly-bornone, and more than all, her correction of his little weaknesses andincompetencies, in spite of his dislike of it, won him. He began to feela sort of nibbling pleasure in her grotesque sketches of his person; atendency to recur to the old ones while dreading the arrival of new. Youhear old gentlemen speak fondly of the swish; and they are not attachedto pain, but the instrument revives their feeling of youth; and GeneralOple half enjoyed, while shrinking, Lady Camper's foregone outlines ofhim. For in the distance, the whip's-end may look like a clinging caressinstead of a stinging flick. But this craven melting in his heart wasrebuked by a very worthy pride, that flew for support to the injury shehad done to his devotions, and the offence to the sacred edifice. Afterthinking over it, he decided that he must quit his residence; and asit appeared to him in the light of duty, he, with an unspoken anguish, commissioned the house-agent of his town to sell his lease or let thehouse furnished, without further parley. 

From the house-agent's shop he turned into the chemist's, for a tonic--afoolish proceeding, for he had received bracing enough in the blow hehad just dealt himself, but he had been cogitating on tonics recently, imagining certain valiant effects of them, with visions of a formercareless happiness that they were likely to restore. So he requested tohave the tonic strong, and he took one glass of it over the counter. 

Fifteen minutes after the draught, he came in sight of his house, andbeholding it, he could have called it a gentlemanly residence aloudunder Lady Camper's windows, his insurgency was of such violence. Hetalked of it incessantly, but forbore to tell Elizabeth, as she waslooking pale, the reason why its modest merits touched him so. He longedfor the hour of his next dose, and for a caricature to follow, that hemight drink and defy it. A caricature was really due to him, he thought;otherwise why had he abandoned his bijou dwelling? Lady Camper, however, sent none. He had to wait a fortnight before one came, and that wasrather a likeness, and a handsome likeness, except as regarded a certaindisorderliness in his dress, which he knew to be very unlike him. Stillit despatched him to the looking-glass, to bring that verifier offacts in evidence against the sketch. While sitting there he heard thehousemaid's knock at the door, and the strange intelligence that hisdaughter was with Lady Camper, and had left word that she hoped he wouldnot forget his engagement to go to Mrs. Baerens' lawn-party. 

The General jumped away from the glass, shouting at the absent Elizabethin a fit of wrath so foreign to him, that he returned hurriedly to haveanother look at himself, and exclaimed at the pitch of his voice, 'Isay I attribute it to an indigestion of that tonic. Do you hear?' Thehousemaid faintly answered outside the door that she did, alarming him, for there seemed to be confusion somewhere. His hope was that no onewould mention Lady Camper's name, for the mere thought of her caused arush to his head. 'I believe I am in for a touch of apoplexy, ' hesaid to the rector, who greeted him, in advance of the ladies, on Mr. Baerens' lawn. He said it smilingly, but wanting some show of sympathy, instead of the whisper and meaningless hand at his clerical band, withwhich the rector responded, he cried, 'Apoplexy, ' and his friend seemedthen to understand, and disappeared among the ladies. 

Several of them surrounded the General, and one inquired whether theseries was being continued. He drew forth his pocket-book, handedher the latest, and remarked on the gross injustice of it; for, as herequested them to take note, her ladyship now sketched him as a personinattentive to his dress, and he begged them to observe that she haddrawn him with his necktie hanging loose. 'And that, I say that hasnever been known of me since I first entered society. '

The ladies exchanged looks of profound concern; for the fact was, theGeneral had come without any necktie and any collar, and he appeared tobe unaware of the circumstance. The rector had told them, that inanswer to a hint he had dropped on the subject of neckties, General Opleexpressed a slight apprehension of apoplexy; but his careless or merelypartial observance of the laws of buttonment could have nothing to dowith such fears. They signified rather a disorder of the intelligence. Elizabeth was condemned for leaving him to go about alone. The situationwas really most painful, for a word to so sensitive a man would drivehim away in shame and for good; and still, to let him parade the groundin the state, compared with his natural self, of scarecrow, and withthe dreadful habit of talking to himself quite rageing, was a horriblealternative. Mrs. Baerens at last directed her husband upon the General, trembling as though she watched for the operations of a fish torpedo;and other ladies shared her excessive anxiousness, for Mr. Baerens hadthe manner and the look of artillery, and on this occasion carried asurcharge of powder. 

The General bent his ear to Mr. Baerens, whose German-English andrepeated remark, 'I am to do it wid delicassy, ' did not assist hiscomprehension; and when he might have been enlightened, he was petrifiedby seeing Lady Camper walk on the lawn with Elizabeth. The great ladystood a moment beside Mrs. Baerens; she came straight over to him, contemplating him in silence. 

Then she said, 'Your arm, General Ople, ' and she made one circuit of thelawn with him, barely speaking. 

At her request, he conducted her to her carriage. He took a seat besideher, obediently. He felt that he was being sketched, and comportedhimself like a child's flat man, that jumps at the pulling of a string. 

'Where have you left your girl, General?'

Before he could rally his wits to answer the question, he was asked:

'And what have you done with your necktie and collar?'

He touched his throat. 

'I am rather nervous to-day, I forgot Elizabeth, ' he said, sending hisfingers in a dotting run of wonderment round his neck. 

Lady Camper smiled with a triumphing humour on her close-drawn lips. 

The verified absence of necktie and collar seemed to be choking him. 

'Never mind, you have been abroad without them, ' said Lady Camper, 'andthat is a victory for me. And you thought of Elizabeth first when I drewyour attention to it, and that is a victory for you. It is a verygreat victory. Pray, do not be dismayed, General. You have a handsomecampaigning air. And no apologies, if you please; I like you well enoughas you are. There is my hand. '

General Ople understood her last remark. He pressed the lady's hand insilence, very nervously. 

'But do not shrug your head into your shoulders as if there were anypossibility of concealing the thunderingly evident, ' said Lady Camper, electrifying him, what with her cordial squeeze, her kind eyes, and hersingular language. 'You have omitted the collar. Well? The collar isthe fatal finishing touch in men's dress; it would make Apollo lookbourgeois. '

Her hand was in his: and watching the play of her features, a sparkentered General Ople's brain, causing him, in forgetfulness of collarand caricatures, to ejaculate, 'Seventy? Did your ladyship say seventy?Utterly impossible! You trifle with me. '

'We will talk when we are free of this accompaniment of carriage-wheels, General, ' said Lady Camper. 

'I will beg permission to go and fetch Elizabeth, madam. '

'Rightly thought of. Fetch her in my carriage. And, by the way, Mrs. Baerens was my old music-mistress, and is, I think, one year older thanI. She can tell you on which side of seventy I am. '

'I shall not require to ask, my lady, ' he said, sighing. 

'Then we will send the carriage for Elizabeth, and have it outtogether at once. I am impatient; yes, General, impatient: forwhat?--forgiveness. '

'Of me, my lady?' The General breathed profoundly. 

'Of whom else? Do you know what it is?-I don't think you do. You Englishhave the smallest experience of humanity. I mean this: to strike so hardthat, in the end, you soften your heart to the victim. Well, that is myweakness. And we of our blood put no restraint on the blows we strikewhen we think them wanted, so we are always overdoing it. '

General Ople assisted Lady Camper to alight from the carriage, which wasforthwith despatched for Elizabeth. 

He prepared to listen to her with a disconnected smile of acuteattentiveness. 

She had changed. She spoke of money. Ten thousand pounds must be settledon his daughter. 'And now, ' said she, 'you will remember that you arewanting a collar. '

He acquiesced. He craved permission to retire for ten minutes. 

'Simplest of men! what will cover you?' she exclaimed, and peremptorilybidding him sit down in the drawing-room, she took one of the famouspair of pistols in her hand, and said, 'If I put myself in a similarposition, and make myself decodletee too, will that satisfy you? You seethese murderous weapons. Well, I am a coward. I dread fire-arms. Theyare laid there to impose on the world, and I believe they do. They haveimposed on you. Now, you would never think of pretending to a moralquality you do not possess. But, silly, simple man that you are! You cangive yourself the airs of wealth, buy horses to conceal your nakedness, and when you are taken upon the standard of your apparent income, youwould rather seem to be beating a miserly retreat than behave franklyand honestly. I have a little overstated it, but I am near the mark. '

'Your ladyship wanting courage!' cried the General. 

'Refresh yourself by meditating on it, ' said she. 'And to prove it toyou, I was glad to take this house when I knew I was to have a gallantgentleman for a neighbour. No visitors will be admitted, General Ople, so you are bare-throated only to me: sit quietly. One day you speculatedon the paint in my cheeks for the space of a minute and a half:--I hadsaid that I freckled easily. Your look signified that you really couldnot detect a single freckle for the paint. I forgave you, or I did not. But when I found you, on closer acquaintance, as indifferent to yourdaughter's happiness as you had been to her reputation... '

'My daughter! her reputation! her happiness!'

General Ople raised his eyes under a wave, half uttering the outcries. 

'So indifferent to her reputation, that you allowed a young man to talkwith her over the wall, and meet her by appointment: so reckless of thegirl's happiness, that when I tried to bring you to a treaty, on herbehalf, you could not be dragged from thinking of yourself and your ownaffair. When I found that, perhaps I was predisposed to give you some ofwhat my sisters used to call my spice. You would not honestly state theproportions of your income, and you affected to be faithful to the womanof seventy. Most preposterous! Could any caricature of mine exceed ingrotesqueness your sketch of yourself? You are a brave and a generousman all the same: and I suspect it is more hoodwinking than egotism--orextreme egotism--that blinds you. A certain amount you must have to bea man. You did not like my paint, still less did you like my sincerity;you were annoyed by my corrections of your habits of speech; you werehorrified by the age of seventy, and you were credulous--GeneralOple, listen to me, and remember that you have no collar on--you werecredulous of my statement of my great age, or you chose to be so, orchose to seem so, because I had brushed your cat's coat against the fur. And then, full of yourself, not thinking of Elizabeth, but to withdrawin the chivalrous attitude of the man true to his word to the old woman, only stickling to bring a certain independence to the common stock, because--I quote you! and you have no collar on, mind--"you could notbe at your wife's mercy, " you broke from your proposal on the moneyquestion. Where was your consideration for Elizabeth then?

'Well, General, you were fond of thinking of yourself, and I thought Iwould assist you. I gave you plenty of subject matter. I will not sayI meant to work a homoeopathic cure. But if I drive you to forget yourcollar, is it or is it not a triumph?

'No, ' added Lady Camper, 'it is no triumph for me, but it is one foryou, if you like to make the most of it. Your fault has been to quitactive service, General, and love your ease too well. It is the faultof your countrymen. You must get a militia regiment, or inspectorship ofmilitia. You are ten times the man in exercise. Why, do you mean to tellme that you would have cared for those drawings of mine when marching?'

'I think so, I say I think so, ' remarked the General seriously. 

'I doubt it, ' said she. 'But to the point; here comes Elizabeth. Ifyou have not much money to spare for her, according to your prudentcalculation, reflect how this money has enfeebled you and reduced you tothe level of the people round about us here--who are, what? Inhabitantsof gentlemanly residences, yes! But what kind of creature? They haveno mental standard, no moral aim, no native chivalry. You were rapidlybecoming one of them, only, fortunately for you, you were sensitive toridicule. '

'Elizabeth shall have half my money settled on her, ' said the General;'though I fear it is not much. And if I can find occupation, my lady... '

'Something worthier than that, ' said Lady Camper, pencilling outlinesrapidly on the margin of a book, and he saw himself lashing a pony; 'orthat, ' and he was plucking at a cabbage; 'or that, ' and he was bowing tothree petticoated posts. 

'The likeness is exact, ' General Ople groaned. 

'So you may suppose I have studied you, ' said she. 'But there is noreal likeness. Slight exaggerations do more harm to truth than recklessviolations of it. 

You would not have cared one bit for a caricature, if you had not nursedthe absurd idea of being one of our conquerors. It is the very tragedyof modesty for a man like you to have such notions, my poor dear goodfriend. The modest are the most easily intoxicated when they sip atvanity. And reflect whether you have not been intoxicated, for theseyoung people have been wretched, and you have not observed it, thoughone of them was living with you, and is the child you love. There, Ihave done. Pray show a good face to Elizabeth. '

The General obeyed as well as he could. He felt very like a sheep thathas come from a shearing, and when released he wished to run away. Buthardly had he escaped before he had a desire for the renewal of theoperation. 'She sees me through, she sees me through, ' he was heardsaying to himself, and in the end he taught himself, to say it with asecret exultation, for as it was on her part an extraordinary pieceof insight to see him through, it struck him that in acknowledging thetruth of it, he made a discovery of new powers in human nature. 

General Ople studied Lady Camper diligently for fresh proofs of herpenetration of the mysteries in his bosom; by which means, as ithappened that she was diligently observing the two betrothed young ones, he began to watch them likewise, and took a pleasure in the sight. Theirmeetings, their partings, their rides out and home furnished him themesof converse. He soon had enough to talk of, and previously, as heremembered, he had never sustained a conversation of any length withcomposure and the beneficent sense of fulness. Five thousand pounds, towhich sum Lady Camper reduced her stipulation for Elizabeth's dowry, hesigned over to his dear girl gladly, and came out with the confession toher ladyship that a well-invested twelve thousand comprised his fortune. She shrugged she had left off pulling him this way and that, so hischains were enjoyable, and he said to himself: 'If ever she shouldin the dead of night want a man to defend her!' He mentioned it toReginald, who had been the repository of Elizabeth's lamentations abouther father being left alone, forsaken, and the young man conceived ascheme for causing his aunt's great bell to be rung at midnight, which would certainly have led to a dramatic issue and the happyre-establishment of our masculine ascendancy at the close of thishistory. But he forgot it in his bridegroom's delight, until he wasmaking his miserable official speech at the wedding-breakfast, and setElizabeth winking over a tear. As she stood in the hall ready to depart, a great van was observed in the road at the gates of Douro Lodge; andthis, the men in custody declared to contain the goods and knick-knacksof the people who had taken the house furnished for a year, and werecoming in that very afternoon. 

'I remember, I say now I remember, I had a notice, ' the General saidcheerily to his troubled daughter. 

'But where are you to go, papa?' the poor girl cried, close on sobbing. 

'I shall get employment of some sort, ' said he. 'I was saying I want it, I need it, I require it. '

'You are saying three times what once would have sufficed for, ' saidLady Camper, and she asked him a few questions, frowned with a smile, and offered him a lodgement in his neighbour's house. 

'Really, dearest Aunt Angela?' said Elizabeth. 

'What else can I do, child? I have, it seems, driven him out of agentlemanly residence, and I must give him a ladylike one. True, I wouldrather have had him at call, but as I have always wished for a policemanin the house, I may as well be satisfied with a soldier. '

'But if you lose your character, my lady?' said Reginald. 

'Then I must look to the General to restore it. '

General Ople immediately bowed his head over Lady Camper's fingers. 

'An odd thing to happen to a woman of forty-one!' she said to her greatpeople, and they submitted with the best grace in the world, while theGeneral's ears tingled till he felt younger than Reginald. This, hisreflections ran, or it would be more correct to say waltzed, this is theresult of painting!--that you can believe a woman to be any age when hercheeks are tinted!

As for Lady Camper, she had been floated accidentally over the ridiculeof the bruit of a marriage at a time of life as terrible to her as herfiction of seventy had been to General Ople; she resigned herself tolet things go with the tide. She had not been blissful in her firstmarriage, she had abandoned the chase of an ideal man, and she had foundone who was tunable so as not to offend her ears, likely ever to be afund of amusement for her humour, good, impressible, and above all, verypicturesque. There is the secret of her, and of how it came to passthat a simple man and a complex woman fell to union after the strangestdivision. 

 ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS:

 Can believe a woman to be any age when her cheeks are tinted Modest are the most easily intoxicated when they sip at vanity Nature is not of necessity always roaring Only to be described in the tongue of auctioneers Respected the vegetable yet more than he esteemed the flower She seems honest, and that is the most we can hope of girls Spare me that word "female" as long as you live The mildness of assured dictatorship When we see our veterans tottering to their fall

THE TALE OF CHLOE AN EPISODE IN THE HISTORY OF BEAU BEAMISH

By George Meredith

 'Fair Chloe, we toasted of old, As the Queen of our festival meeting; Now Chloe is lifeless and cold; You must go to the grave for her greeting. Her beauty and talents were framed To enkindle the proudest to win her; Then let not the mem'ry be blamed Of the purest that e'er was a sinner!'

 Captain Chanter's Collection. 

CHAPTER I

A proper tenderness for the Peerage will continue to pass current theillustrious gentleman who was inflamed by Cupid's darts to espouse themilkmaid, or dairymaid, under his ballad title of Duke of Dewlap: norwas it the smallest of the services rendered him by Beau Beamish, thathe clapped the name upon her rustic Grace, the young duchess, the veryfirst day of her arrival at the Wells. This happy inspiration of a witnever failing at a pinch has rescued one of our princeliest houses fromthe assaults of the vulgar, who are ever too rejoiced to bespatter anddisfigure a brilliant coat-of-arms; insomuch that the ballad, to whichwe are indebted for the narrative of the meeting and marriage of theducal pair, speaks of Dewlap in good faith--

 O the ninth Duke of Dewlap I am, Susie dear!

without a hint of a domino title. So likewise the pictorial historian ismerry over 'Dewlap alliances' in his description of the society of thatperiod. He has read the ballad, but disregarded the memoirs of the beau. Writers of pretension would seem to have an animus against individualsof the character of Mr. Beamish. They will treat of the habits andmanners of highwaymen, and quote obscure broadsheets and songs of thepeople to colour their story, yet decline to bestow more than a passingremark upon our domestic kings: because they are not hereditary, wemay suppose. The ballad of 'The Duke and the Dairymaid, ' ascribed withquestionable authority to the pen of Mr. Beamish himself in a freakof his gaiety, was once popular enough to provoke the moralist toanimadversions upon an order of composition that 'tempted every bouncingcountry lass to sidle an eye in a blowsy cheek' in expectation of acoronet for her pains--and a wet ditch as the result! We may doubt it tohave been such an occasion of mischief. But that mischief may have beendone by it to a nobility-loving people, even to the love of our nobilityamong the people, must be granted; and for the particular reason, that the hero of the ballad behaved so handsomely. We perceive asusceptibility to adulteration in their worship at the sight of one oftheir number, a young maid, suddenly snatched up to the gaping heightsof Luxury and Fashion through sheer good looks. Remembering that theyare accustomed to a totally reverse effect from that possession, it isvery perceptible how a breach in their reverence may come of the change. 

Otherwise the ballad is innocent; certainly it is innocent in design. A fresher national song of a beautiful incident of our country life hasnever been written. The sentiments are natural, the imagery is apt andredolent of the soil, the music of the verse appeals to the dullest ear. It has no smell of the lamp, nothing foreign and far-fetched about it, but is just what it pretends to be, the carol of the native bird. Asample will show, for the ballad is much too long to be given entire:

 Sweet Susie she tripped on a shiny May morn, As blithe as the lark from the green-springing corn, When, hard by a stile, 'twas her luck to behold A wonderful gentleman covered with gold!

 There was gold on his breeches and gold on his coat, His shirt-frill was grand as a fifty-pound note; The diamonds glittered all up him so bright, She thought him the Milky Way clothing a Sprite!

 'Fear not, pretty maiden, ' he said with a smile; 'And, pray, let me help you in crossing the stile. She bobbed him a curtsey so lovely and smart, It shot like an arrow and fixed in his heart. 

 As light as a robin she hopped to the stone, But fast was her hand in the gentleman's own; And guess how she stared, nor her senses could trust, When this creamy gentleman knelt in the dust!

With a rhapsody upon her beauty, he informs her of his rank, for aflourish to the proposal of honourable and immediate marriage. Hecannot wait. This is the fatal condition of his love: apparently acharacteristic of amorous dukes. We read them in the signs extendedto us. The minds of these august and solitary men have not yet beensounded; they are too distant. Standing upon their lofty pinnacles, theyare as legible to the rabble below as a line of cuneiform writing ina page of old copybook roundhand. By their deeds we know them, asheathendom knows of its gods; and it is repeatedly on record that themoment they have taken fire they must wed, though the lady's fingerbe circled with nothing closer fitting than a ring of the bed-curtain. Vainly, as becomes a candid country lass, blue-eyed Susan tells him thatshe is but a poor dairymaid. He has been a student of women at Courts, in which furnace the sex becomes a transparency, so he recounts to herthe catalogue of material advantages he has to offer. Finally, afterhis assurances that she is to be married by the parson, really by theparson, and a real parson--

 Sweet Susie is off for her parents' consent, And long must the old folk debate what it meant. She left them the eve of that happy May morn, To shine like the blossom that hangs from the thorn!

Apart from its historical value, the ballad is an example to poetsof our day, who fly to mythological Greece, or a fanciful and morbidmediaevalism, or--save the mark!--abstract ideas, for themes of song, of what may be done to make our English life poetically interesting, ifthey would but pluck the treasures presented them by the wayside;and Nature being now as then the passport to popularity, they havethemselves to thank for their little hold on the heart of the people. Aliving native duke is worth fifty Phoebus Apollos to Englishmen, anda buxom young lass of the fields mounting from a pair of pails to theestate of duchess, a more romantic object than troops of your visionaryYseults and Guineveres. 

CHAPTER II

A certain time after the marriage, his Grace alighted at the Wells, and did himself the honour to call on Mr. Beamish. Addressing thatgentleman, to whom he was no stranger, he communicated the purport ofhis visit. 

'Sir, and my very good friend, ' he said, 'first let me beg you to abatethe severity of your countenance, for if I am here in breach of yourprohibition, I shall presently depart in compliance with it. I couldindeed deplore the loss of the passion for play of which you effectuallycured me. I was then armed against a crueller, that allows of nointerval for a man to make his vow to recover!'

'The disease which is all crisis, I apprehend, ' Mr. Beamish remarked. 

'Which, sir, when it takes hold of dry wood, burns to the last splinter. It is now'--the duke fetched a tender groan--'three years ago that I hada caprice to marry a grandchild!'

'Of Adam's, ' Mr. Beamish said cheerfully. 'There was no legitimate barto the union. '

'Unhappily none. Yet you are not to suppose I regret it. A mostadmirable creature, Mr. Beamish, a real divinity! And the better known, the more adored. There is the misfortune. At my season of life, when thegreater and the minor organs are in a conspiracy to tell me I am mortal, the passion of love must be welcomed as a calamity, though one would notbe free of it for the renewal of youth. You are to understand, that witha little awakening taste for dissipation, she is the most innocent ofangels. Hitherto we have lived... To her it has been a new world. Butshe is beginning to find it a narrow one. No, no, she is not tired of mysociety. Very far from that. But in her present station an inclinationfor such gatherings as you have here, for example, is like a desire totake the air: and the healthy habits of my duchess have not accustomedher to be immured. And in fine, devote ourselves as we will, a termapproaches when the enthusiasm for serving as your wife's playfellow allday, running round tables and flying along corridors before a knottedhandkerchief, is mightily relaxed. Yet the dread of a separation fromher has kept me at these pastimes for a considerable period beyond myrelish of them. Not that I acknowledge fatigue. I have, it seems, ataste for reflection; I am now much disposed to read and meditate, whichcannot be done without repose. I settle myself, and I receive a worstedball in my face, and I am expected to return it. I comply; and then youwould say a nursery in arms. It would else be the deplorable spectacleof a beautiful young woman yawning. '

'Earthquake and saltpetre threaten us less terribly, ' said Mr. Beamish. 

'In fine, she has extracted a promise that 'this summer she shall visitthe Wells for a month, and I fear I cannot break my pledge of my word; Ifear I cannot. '

'Very certainly I would not, ' said Mr. Beamish. 

The duke heaved a sigh. 'There are reasons, family reasons, why mycompany and protection must be denied to her here. I have no wish... Indeed my name, for the present, until such time as she shall havefound her feet... And there is ever a penalty to pay for that. Ah, Mr. Beamish, pictures are ours, when we have bought them and hung them up;but who insures us possession of a beautiful work of Nature? I havelatterly betaken me to reflect much and seriously. I am tempted to sidewith the Divines in the sermons I have read; the flesh is the habitationof a rebellious devil. '

'To whom we object in proportion as we ourselves become quit of him, 'Mr. Beamish acquiesced. 

'But this mania of young people for pleasure, eternal pleasure, is oneof the wonders. It does not pall on them; they are insatiate. '

'There is the cataract, and there is the cliff. Potentate to potentate, duke--so long as you are on my territory, be it understood. Upon my wayto a place of worship once, I passed a Puritan, who was complaining ofa butterfly that fluttered prettily abroad in desecration of the Day ofRest. "Friend, " said I to him, "conclusively you prove to me that youare not a butterfly. " Surly did no more than favour me with the anathemaof his countenance. '

'Cousin Beamish, my complaint of these young people is, that they misstheir pleasure in pursuing it. I have lectured my duchess--'

'Ha!'

'Foolish, I own, ' said the duke. 'But suppose, now, you had caught yourbutterfly, and you could neither let it go nor consent to follow itsvagaries. That poses you. '

'Young people, ' said Mr. Beamish, 'come under my observation in thispoor realm of mine--young and old. I find them prodigiously alike intheir love of pleasure, differing mainly in their capacity to satisfyit. That is no uncommon observation. The young, have an edge which theyare desirous of blunting; the old contrariwise. The cry of the young forpleasure is actually--I have studied their language--a cry for burdens. Curious! And the old ones cry for having too many on their shoulders:which is not astonishing. Between them they make an agreeable concertboth to charm the ears and guide the steps of the philosopher, whosewisdom it is to avoid their tracks. '

'Good. But I have asked you for practical advice, and you give me anessay. '

'For the reason, duke, that you propose a case that suggests hanging. You mention two things impossible to be done. The alternative is, agarter and the bedpost. When we have come upon crossways, and we candecide neither to take the right hand nor the left, neither forward norback, the index of the board which would direct us points to itself, andemphatically says, Gallows. '

'Beamish, I am distracted. If I refuse her the visit, I foreseedissensions, tears, games at ball, romps, not one day of rest remainingto me. I could be of a mind with your Puritan, positively. If I allowit, so innocent a creature in the atmosphere of a place like this mustsuffer some corruption. You should know that the station I took her fromwas ... It was modest. She was absolutely a buttercup of the fields. Shehas had various masters. She dances... She dances prettily, I could saybewitchingly. And so she is now for airing her accomplishments: such arewomen!'

'Have you heard of Chloe?' said Mr. Beamish. 'There you have an exampleof a young lady uncorrupted by this place--of which I would only remarkthat it is best unvisited, but better tasted than longed for. '

'Chloe? A lady who squandered her fortune to redeem some ill-requitingrascal: I remember to have heard of her. She is here still? And ruined, of course?'

'In purse. '

'That cannot be without the loss of reputation. '

'Chloe's champion will grant that she is exposed to the evils ofimprovidence. The more brightly shine her native purity, her goodnessof heart, her trustfulness. She is a lady whose exaltation glows in herabasement. '

'She has, I see, preserved her comeliness, ' observed the duke, with asmile. 

'Despite the flying of the roses, which had not her heart's patience. 'Tis now the lily that reigns. So, then, Chloe shall be attached to theduchess during her stay, and unless the devil himself should interfere, I guarantee her Grace against any worse harm than experience; and that, 'Mr. Beamish added, as the duke raised his arms at the fearful word, 'that shall be mild. Play she will; she is sure to play. Put it downat a thousand. We map her out a course of permissible follies, and sheplays to lose the thousand by degrees, with as telling an effect upon aconnubial conscience as we can produce. '

'A thousand, ' said the duke, 'will be cheap indeed. I think now I havehad a description of this fair Chloe, and from an enthusiast; a brune?elegantly mannered and of a good landed family; though she has thoughtproper to conceal her name. And that will be our difficulty, cousinBeamish. '

'She was, under my dominion, Miss Martinsward, ' Mr. Beamish pursued. 'She came here very young, and at once her suitors were legion. In theway of women, she chose the worst among them; and for the fellow Caseldyshe sacrificed the fortune she had inherited of a maternal uncle. Torelease him from prison, she paid all his debts; a mountain of bills, with the lawyers piled above--Pelion upon Ossa, to quote our poets. In fact, obeying the dictates of a soul steeped in generosity, shecommitted the indiscretion to strip herself, scandalizing propriety. This was immediately on her coming of age; and it was the death-blow toher relations with her family. Since then, honoured even by rakes, shehas lived impoverished at the Wells. I dubbed her Chloe, and manor woman disrespectful to Chloe packs. From being the victim of hergenerous disposition, I could not save her; I can protect her from theshafts of malice. '

'She has no passion for play?' inquired the duke. 

'She nourishes a passion for the man for whom she bled, to the exclusionof the other passions. She lives, and I believe I may say that it is themotive of her rising and dressing daily, in expectation of his advent. '

'He may be dead. '

'The dog is alive. And he has not ceased to be Handsome Caseldy, theysay. Between ourselves, duke, there is matter to break her heart. He hasbeen the Count Caseldy of Continental gaming tables, and he is recentlySir Martin Caseldy, settled on the estate she made him free to take upintact on his father's decease. '

'Pah! a villain!'

'With a blacker brand upon him every morning that he looks forth acrosshis property, and leaves her to languish! She still--I say it to theredemption of our sex--has offers. Her incomparable attractions of mindand person exercise the natural empire of beauty. But she will none ofthem. I call her the Fair Suicide. She has died for love; and she is aghost, a good ghost, and a pleasing ghost, but an apparition, a taper. 

The duke fidgeted, and expressed a hope to hear that she was not ofmelancholy conversation; and again, that the subject of her discoursewas not confined to love and lovers, happy or unhappy. He wished hisduchess, he said, to be entertained upon gayer topics: love beinga theme he desired to reserve to himself. 'This month!' he said, prognostically shaking and moaning. 'I would this month were over, andthat we were well purged of it. '

Mr. Beamish reassured him. The wit and sprightliness of Chloe were sofamous as to be considered medical, he affirmed; she was besieged forher company; she composed and sang impromptu verses, she played harp andharpsichord divinely, and touched the guitar, and danced, danced likethe silvery moon on the waters of the mill pool. He concluded by sayingthat she was both humane and wise, humble-minded and amusing, virtuousyet not a Tartar; the best of companions for her Grace the youngduchess. Moreover, he boldly engaged to carry the duchess through theterm of her visit under a name that should be as good as a masqueradefor concealing his Grace's, while giving her all the honours due to herrank. 

'You strictly interpret my wishes, ' said the duke; 'all honours, theforemost place, and my wrath upon man or woman gainsaying them!'

'Mine! if you please, duke, ' said Mr. Beamish. 

'A thousand pardons! I leave it to you, cousin. I could not be in saferhands. I am heartily bounders to you. Chloe, then. By the way, she has adecent respect for age?'

'She is reverentially inclined. '

'Not that. She is, I would ask, no wanton prattler of the charms andadvantages of youth?'

'She has a young adorer that I have dubbed Alonzo, whom she scarcenotices. '

'Nothing could be better. Alonzo: h'm! A faithful swain?'

'Life is his tree, upon which unceasingly he carves his mistress'sinitials. '

'She should not be too cruel. I recollect myself formerly: I was... Young men will, when long slighted, transfer their affections, and bewarmer to the second flame than to the first. I put you on your guard. He follows her much? These lovers' paintings and puffings in theneighbourhood of the most innocent of women are contagious. '

'Her Grace will be running home all the sooner. '

'Or off!--may she forgive me! I am like a King John's Jew, forced tolend his treasure without security. What a world is ours! Nothing, Beamish, nothing desirable will you have which is not coveted! Catch aprize, and you will find you are at war with your species. You haveto be on the defensive from that moment. There is no such thing aspeaceable procession on earth. Let it be a beautiful young woman!--Ah!'

Mr. Beamish replied bracingly, 'The champion wrestler challenges allcomers while he wears the belt. '

The duke dejectedly assented. 'True; or he is challenged, say. Is thereany tale we could tell her of this Alonzo? You could deport him for themonth, my dear Beamish. '

'I commit no injustice unless with sufficient reason. It is an estimableyouth, as shown by his devotion to a peerless woman. To endow her withhis name and fortune is his only thought. '

'I perceive; an excellent young fellow! I have an incipient likingfor this young Alonzo. You must not permit my duchess to laugh at him. Encourage her rather to advance his suit. The silliness of a young manwill be no bad spectacle. Chloe, then. You have set my mind at rest, Beamish, and it is but another obligation added to the heap; so, if Ido not speak of payment, the reason is that I know you would not have mebankrupt. '

The remainder of the colloquy of the duke and Mr. Beamish referred tothe date of her Grace's coming to the Wells, the lodgement she wasto receive, and other minor arrangements bearing upon her state andcomfort; the duke perpetually observing, 'But I leave it all to you, Beamish, ' when he had laid down precise instructions in these respects, even to the specification of the shopkeepers, the confectioner and theapothecary, who were to balance or cancel one another in the oppositenature of their supplies, and the haberdasher and the jeweller, withwhom she was to make her purchases. For the duke had a recollection ofgiddy shops, and of giddy shopmen too; and it was by serving as one fora day that a certain great nobleman came to victory with a jealouslyguarded dame beautiful as Venus. 'I would have challenged the goddess!'he cried, and subsided from his enthusiasm plaintively, like a weak windinstrument. 'So there you see the prudence of a choice of shops. ButI leave it to you, Beamish. ' Similarly the great military commander, having done whatsoever a careful prevision may suggest to insure himvictory, casts himself upon Providence, with the hope of propitiatingthe unanticipated and darkly possible. 

CHAPTER III

The splendid equipage of a coach and six, with footmen in scarlet andgreen, carried Beau Beamish five miles along the road on a sunny day tomeet the young duchess at the boundary of his territory, and conducther in state to the Wells. Chloe sat beside him, receiving counsel withregard to her prospective duties. He was this day the consummate beau, suave, but monarchical, and his manner of speech partook of hisexternal grandeur. 'Spy me the horizon, and apprise me if somewhere youdistinguish a chariot, ' he said, as they drew up on the rise of a hillof long descent, where the dusty roadway sank between its brown hedges, and crawled mounting from dry rush-spotted hollows to corn fields ona companion height directly facing them, at a remove of aboutthree-quarters of a mile. Chloe looked forth, while the beau passinglyraised his hat for coolness, and murmured, with a glance down the sultrytrack: 'It sweats the eye to see!'

Presently Chloe said, 'Now a dust blows. Something approaches. Now Idiscern horses, now a vehicle; and it is a chariot!'

Orders were issued to the outriders for horns to be sounded. 

Both Chloe and Beau Beamish wrinkled their foreheads at the disorderlynotes of triple horns, whose pealing made an acid in the air instead ofsweetness. 

'You would say, kennel dogs that bay the moon!' said the wincing beau. 'Yet, as you know, these fellows have been exercised. I have had themout in a meadow for hours, baked and drenched, to get them rid of theirnative cacophony. But they love it, as they love bacon and beans. Themusical taste of our people is in the stage of the primitive appetitefor noise, and for that they are gluttons. '

'It will be pleasant to hear in the distance, ' Chloe replied. 

'Ay, the extremer the distance, the pleasanter to hear. Are theyadvancing?'

'They stop. There is a cavalier at the window. Now he doffs his hat. '

'Sweepingly?'

Chloe described a semicircle in the grand manner. 

The beau's eyebrows rose. 'Powers divine!' he muttered. 'She is letloose from hand to hand, and midway comes a cavalier. We did not counton the hawks. So I have to deal with a cavalier! It signifies, my dearChloe, that I must incontinently affect the passion if I am to be hismatch: nothing less. '

'He has flown, ' said Chloe. 

'Whom she encounters after meeting me, I care not, ' quoth the beau, snapping a finger. 'But there has been an interval for damage with alady innocent as Eve. Is she advancing?'

'The chariot is trotting down the hill. He has ridden back. She has noattendant horseman. '

'They were dismissed at my injunction ten miles off particularly tothe benefit of the cavaliering horde, it would appear. In the case of awoman, Chloe, one blink of the eyelids is an omission of watchfulness. '

'That is an axiom fit for the harem of the Grand Signior. '

'The Grand Signior might give us profitable lessons for dealing with thesex. '

'Distrust us, and it is a declaration of war!'

'Trust you, and the stopper is out of the smelling-bottle. '

'Mr. Beamish, we are women, but we have souls. '

'The pip in the apple whose ruddy cheek allures little Tommy to rob theorchard is as good a preservative. '

'You admit that men are our enemies?'

'I maintain that they carry the banner of virtue. '

'Oh, Mr. Beamish, I shall expire. '

'I forbid it in my lifetime, Chloe, for I wish to die believing in onewoman. '

'No flattery for me at the expense of my sisters!'

'Then fly to a hermitage; for all flattery is at somebody's expense, child. 'Tis an essence-extract of humanity! To live on it, in thefashion of some people, is bad--it is downright cannibal. But we maysprinkle our handkerchiefs with it, and we should, if we would caressour noses with an air. Society, my Chloe, is a recommencement upon anupper level of the savage system; we must have our sacrifices. As, forinstance, what say you of myself beside our booted bumpkin squires?'

'Hundreds of them, Mr. Beamish!'

'That is a holocaust of squires reduced to make an incense for me, though you have not performed Druid rites and packed them in giganticosier ribs. Be philosophical, but accept your personal dues. Grant usours too. I have a serious intention to preserve this young duchess, andI expect my task to be severe. I carry the banner aforesaid; verily andpenitentially I do. It is an error of the vulgar to suppose that all isdragon in the dragon's jaws. '

'Men are his fangs and claws. '

'Ay, but the passion for his fiery breath is in woman. She will take herleap and have her jump, will and will! And at the point where she willand she won't, the dragon gulps and down she goes! However, the businessis to keep our buttercup duchess from that same point. Is she near?'

'I can see her, ' said Chloe. 

Beau Beamish requested a sketch of her, and Chloe began: 'She isravishing. '

Upon which he commented, 'Every woman is ravishing at forty paces, andstill more so in imagination. '

'Beautiful auburn hair, and a dazzling red and white complexion, set ina blue coif. '

'Her eyes?'

'Melting blue. '

''Tis an English witch!' exclaimed the beau, and he compassionatelyinvoked her absent lord. 

Chloe's optics were no longer tasked to discern the fair lady'slineaments, for the chariot windows came flush with those of the beauon the broad plateau of the hill. His coach door was opened. He satupright, levelling his privileged stare at Duchess Susan until sheblushed. 

'Ay, madam, ' quoth he, 'I am not the first. '

'La, sir!' said she; 'who are you?'

The beau deliberately raised his hat and bowed. 'He, madam, of whoseapproach the gentleman who took his leave of you on yonder elevationinformed you. '

She looked artlessly over her shoulder, and at the beau alighting fromhis carriage. 'A gentleman?'

'On horseback. '

The duchess popped her head through the window on an impulse to measurethe distance between the two hills. 

'Never!' she cried. 

'Why, madam, did he deliver no message to announce me?' said the beau, ruffling. 

'Goodness gracious! You must be Mr. Beamish, ' she replied. 

He laid his hat on his bosom, and invited her to quit her carriage fora seat beside him. She stipulated, 'If you are really Mr. Beamish?'He frowned, and raised his head to convince her; but she would not beimpressed, and he applied to Chloe to establish his identity. HearingChloe's name, the duchess called out, 'Oh! there, now, that's enough, for Chloe's my maid here, and I know she's a lady born, and we're goingto be friends. Hand me to Chloe. And you are Chloe?' she said, after afrank stride from step to step of the carriages. 'And don't mind beingmy maid? You do look a nice, kind creature. And I see you're a ladyborn; I know in a minute. You're dark, I'm fair; we shall suit. And tellme--hush!--what dreadful long eyes he has! I shall ask you presentlywhat you think of me. I was never at the Wells before. Dear me! thecoach has turned. How far off shall we hear the bells to say I'm coming?I know I'm to have bells. Mr. Beamish, Mr. Beamish! I must have achatter with a woman, and I'm in awe of you, sir, that I am, but men andmen I see to talk to for a lift of my finger, by the dozen, in my duke'spalace--though they're old ones, that's true--but a woman who's a lady, and kind enough to be my maid, I haven't met yet since I had the rightto wear a coronet. There, I'll hold Chloe's hand, and that'll do. Youwould tell me at once, Chloe, if I was not dressed to your taste; now, wouldn't you? As for talkative, that's a sign with me of my likingpeople. I really don't know what to say to my duke sometimes. I sit andthink it so funny to be having a duke instead of a husband. You're off!'

The duchess laughed at Chloe's laughter. Chloe excused herself, but wasinformed by her mistress that it was what she liked. 

'For the first two years, ' she resumed, 'I could hardly speak asyllable. I stammered, I reddened, I longed to be up in my room brushingand curling my hair, and was ready to curtsey to everybody. Now I'mquite at home, for I've plenty of courage--except about death, and I'mworse about death than I was when I was a simple body with a gawk's"lawks!" in her round eyes and mouth for an egg. I wonder why that is?But isn't death horrible? And skeletons!' The duchess shuddered. 

'It depends upon the skeleton, ' said Beau Beamish, who had joined theconversation. 'Yours, madam, I would rather not meet, because she wouldprecipitate me into transports of regret for the loss of the flesh. Ihave, however, met mine own and had reason for satisfaction with theinterview. '

'Your own skeleton, sir!' said the duchess wonderingly and appalled. 

'Unmistakably mine. I will call you to witness by an account of him. '

Duchess Susan gaped, and, 'Oh, don't!' she cried out; but added, 'It's broad day, and I've got some one to sleep anigh me after dark'; withwhich she smiled on Chloe, who promised her there was no matter foralarm. 

'I encountered my gentleman as I was proceeding to my room at night, 'said the beau, 'along a narrow corridor, where it was imperative thatone of us should yield the 'pas;' and, I must confess it, we are all soamazingly alike in our bones, that I stood prepared to demand place ofhim. For indubitably the fellow was an obstruction, and at the firstglance repulsive. I took him for anybody's skeleton, Death'sensign, with his cachinnatory skull, and the numbered ribs, andthe extraordinary splay feet--in fact, the whole ungainly and shakyhobbledehoy which man is built on, and by whose image in his weakermoments he is haunted. I had, to be frank, been dancing on a supper withcertain of our choicest Wits and Beauties. It is a recipe for conjuringapparitions. Now, then, thinks I, my fine fellow, I will bounce you; andwithout a salutation I pressed forward. Madam, I give you my word, hebehaved to the full pitch as I myself should have done under similarcircumstances. Retiring upon an inclination of his structure, he drawsup and fetches me a bow of the exact middle nick between dignityand service. I advance, he withdraws, and again the bow, devoid ofobsequiousness, majestically condescending. These, thinks I, be royalmanners. I could have taken him for the Sable King in person, strippedof his mantle. On my soul, he put me to the blush. '

'And is that all?' asked the duchess, relieving herself with a sigh. 

'Why, madam, ' quoth the beau, 'do you not see that he could have beennone other than mine own, who could comport himself with that grand airand gracefulness when wounded by his closest relative? Upon his openingmy door for me, and accepting the 'pas, ' which I now right heartilyaccorded him, I recognized at once both him and the reproof he haddesignedly dealt me--or the wine supper I had danced on, perhapsI should say' and I protest that by such a display of supreme goodbreeding he managed to convey the highest compliment ever received byman, namely the assurance, that after the withering away of this mortalgarb, I shall still be noted for urbanity and elegancy. Nay, and more, immortally, without the slip I was guilty of when I carried the bag ofwine. '

Duchess Susan fanned herself to assist her digestion of the anecdote. 

'Well, it's not so frightful a story, and I know you are the great Mr. Beamish;' she said. 

He questioned her whether the gentleman had signalled him to her on thehill. 

'What can he mean about a gentleman?' she turned to Chloe. 'My duke toldme you would meet me, sir. And you are to protect me. And if anythinghappens, it is to be your fault. '

'Entirely, ' said the beau. 'I shall therefore maintain a vigilantguard. '

'Except leaving me free. Oof! I've been boxed up so long. I declare, Chloe, I feel like a best dress out for a holiday, and a bit afraid ofspoiling. I'm a real child, more than I was when my duke married me. Iseemed to go in and grow up again, after I was raised to fortune. Andnobody to tell of it! Fancy that! For you can't talk to old gentlemenabout what's going on in your heart. '

'How of young gentlemen?' she was asked by the beau. 

And she replied, 'They find it out. '

'Not if you do not assist them, ' said he. 

Duchess Susan let her eyelids and her underlie half drop, as she lookedat him with the simple shyness of one of nature's thoughts in her headat peep on the pastures of the world. The melting blue eyes and thecherry lip made an exceedingly quickening picture. 'Now, I wonder ifthat is true?' she transferred her slyness to speech. 

'Beware the middle-aged!' he exclaimed. 

She appealed to Chloe. 'And I'm sure they're the nicest. '

Chloe agreed that they were. 

The duchess measured Chloe and the beau together, with a mind swift inapprehending all that it hungered for. 

She would have pursued the pleasing theme had she not been directed togaze below upon the towers and roofs of the Wells, shining sleepily in asiesta of afternoon Summer sunlight. 

With a spread of her silken robe, she touched the edifice of her hair, murmuring to Chloe, 'I can't abide that powder. You shall see me walkin a hoop. I can. I've done it to slow music till my duke clapped hands. I'm nothing sitting to what I am on my feet. That's because I haven'tgot fine language yet. I shall. It seems to come last. So, there 's theplace. And whereabouts do all the great people meet and prommy--?'

'They promenade where you see the trees, madam, ' said Chloe. 

'And where is it where the ladies sit and eat jam tarts with whippedcream on 'em, while the gentlemen stand and pay compliments?'

Chloe said it was at a shop near the pump room. 

Duchess Susan looked out over the house-tops, beyond the dusty hedges. 

'Oh, and that powder!' she cried. 'I hate to be out of the fashion and aspectacle. But I do love my own hair, and I have such a lot, and I likethe colour, and so does my duke. Only, don't let me be fingered at. If once I begin to blush before people, my courage is gone; my singinginside me is choked; and I've a real lark going on in me all day long, rain or sunshine--hush, all about love and amusement. '

Chloe smiled, and Duchess Susan said, 'Just like a bird, for I don'tknow what it is. '

She looked for Chloe to say that she did. 

At the moment a pair of mounted squires rode up, and the coach stopped, while Beau Beamish gave orders for the church bells to be set ringing, and the band to meet and precede his equipage at the head of the bathavenue: 'in honour of the arrival of her Grace the Duchess of Dewlap. '

He delivered these words loudly to his men, and turned an effulgent gazeupon the duchess, so that for a minute she was fascinated and did notconsult her hearing; but presently she fell into an uneasiness; thesigns increased, she bit her lip, and after breathing short once ortwice, 'Was it meaning me, Mr. Beamish?' she said. 

'You, madam, are the person whom we 'delight to honour, ' he replied. 

'Duchess of what?' she screwed uneasy features to hear. 

'Duchess of Dewlap, ' said he. 

'It's not my title, sir. '

'It is your title on my territory, madam. '

She made her pretty nose and upper lip ugly with a sneer of 'Dew--!And enter that town before all those people as Duchess of... Oh, no, I won't; I just won't! Call back those men now, please; now, if youplease. Pray, Mr. Beamish! You'll offend me, sir. I'm not going to be amock. You'll offend my duke, sir. He'd die rather than have my feelingshurt. Here's all my pleasure spoilt. I won't and I sha'n't enter thetown as duchess of that stupid name, so call 'em back, call 'em backthis instant. I know who I am and what I am, and I know what's due tome, I do. '

Beau Beamish rejoined, 'I too. Chloe will tell you I am lord here. '

'Then I'll go home, I will. I won't be laughed at for a great ladyninny. I'm a real lady of high rank, and such I'll appear. What 's aDuchess of Dewlap? One might as well be Duchess of Cowstail, Duchess ofMopsend. And those people! But I won't be that. I won't be played with. I see them staring! No, I can make up my mind, and I beg you to callback your men, or I'll go back home. ' She muttered, 'Be made funof--made a fool of!'

'Your Grace's chariot is behind, ' said the beau. 

His despotic coolness provoked her to an outcry and weeping: sherepeated, 'Dewlap! Dewlap!' in sobs; she shook her shoulders and hid herface. 

'You are proud of your title, are you, madam?' said he. 

'I am. ' She came out of her hands to answer him proudly. 'That I am!'she meant for a stronger affirmation. 

'Then mark me, ' he said impressively; 'I am your duke's friend, and youare under my charge here. I am your guardian and you are my ward, andyou can enter the town only on the condition of obedience to me. Now, mark me, madam; no one can rob you of your real name and title savingyourself. But you are entering a place where you will encounter athousand temptations to tarnish, and haply forfeit it. Be warned donothing that will. '

'Then I'm to have my own title?' said she, clearing up. 

'For the month of your visit you are Duchess of Dewlap. '

'I say I sha'n't!'

'You shall. '

'Never, sir!'

'I command it. '

She flung herself forward, with a wail, upon Chloe's bosom. 'Can't youdo something for me?' she whimpered. 

'It is impossible to move Mr. Beamish, ' Chloe said. 

Out of a pause, composed of sobs and sighs, the duchess let loose in abroken voice: 'Then I 'm sure I think--I think I'd rather have met--havemet his skeleton!'

Her sincerity was equal to wit. 

Beau Beamish shouted. He cordially applauded her, and in the genuinekindness of an admiration that surprised him, he permitted himselfthe liberty of taking and saluting her fingers. She fancied there wasanother chance for her, but he frowned at the mention of it. 

Upon these proceedings the exhilarating sound of the band was heard;simultaneously a festival peal of bells burst forth; and an admonishmentof the necessity for concealing her chagrin and exhibiting both stationand a countenance to the people, combined with the excitement of thenew scenes and the marching music to banish the acuter sense ofdisappointment from Duchess Susan's mind; so she very soon held herselferect, and wore a face open to every wonder, impressionable as the bluelake-surface, crisped here and there by fitful breezes against a levelsun. 

CHAPTER IV

It was an axiom with Mr. Beamish, our first, if not our onlyphilosophical beau and a gentleman of some thoughtfulness, that thesocial English require tyrannical government as much as the politicalare able to dispense with it: and this he explained by an exposition ofthe character of a race possessed of the eminent virtue of individualself-assertion, which causes them to insist on good elbowroom whereverthey gather together. Society, however, not being tolerable where thesmoothness of intercourse is disturbed by a perpetual punching of sides, the merits of the free citizen in them become their demerits when afraternal circle is established, and they who have shown an example ofcivilization too notable in one sphere to call for eulogy, are often tobe seen elbowing on the ragged edge of barbarism in the other. They musttherefore be reduced to accept laws not of their own making, and of anextreme rigidity. 

Here too is a further peril; for the gallant spirits distinguishing themin the state of independence may (he foresaw the melancholy experienceof a later age) abandon them utterly in subjection, and the gloriousboisterousness befitting the village green forsake them even in theirhaunts of liberal association, should they once be thoroughly tamedby authority. Our 'merrie England' will then be long-faced England, anEngland of fallen chaps, like a boar's head, bearing for speech a lemonin the mouth: good to feast on, mayhap; not with!

Mr. Beamish would actually seem to have foreseen the danger of atransition that he could watch over only in his time; and, as he said, 'I go, as I came, on a flash'; he had neither ancestry nor descendants:he was a genius, he knew himself a solitary, therefore, in spite of hisefforts to create his like. Within his district he did effect something, enough to give him fame as one of the princely fathers of our domesticcivilization, though we now appear to have lost by it more than formerlywe gained. The chasing of the natural is ever fraught with dubioushazards. If it gallops back, according to the proverb, it will do so atthe charge: commonly it gallops off, quite off; and then for any kind ofanimation our precarious dependence is upon brains: we have to live onour wits, which are ordinarily less productive than land, and cannot beremitted in entail. 

Rightly or wrongly (there are differences of opinion about it) Mr. Beamish repressed the chthonic natural with a rod of iron beneath hisrule. The hoyden and the bumpkin had no peace until they had givenpublic imitations of the lady and the gentleman; nor were the lady andthe gentleman privileged to be what he called 'free flags. ' He could becharitable to the passion, but he bellowed the very word itself (hauledup smoking from the brimstone lake) against them that pretended to beshamelessly guilty of the peccadilloes of gallantry. His famous accostof a lady threatening to sink, and already performing like a vessel inthat situation: 'So, madam, I hear you are preparing to enrol yourselfin the very ancient order?'... (he named it) was a piece of insolencethat involved him in some discord with the lady's husband and 'therascal steward, ' as he chose to term the third party in these affairs:yet it is reputed to have saved the lady. 

Furthermore, he attacked the vulgarity of persons of quality, and he hastold a fashionable dame who was indulging herself in a marked sneer ofdisdain, not improving to her features, 'that he would be pleasedto have her assurance it was her face she presented to mankind': athing--thanks perhaps to him chiefly--no longer possible of utterance. One of the sex asking him why he addressed his persecutions particularlyto women: 'Because I fight your battles, ' says he, 'and I find you inthe ranks of the enemy. ' He treated them as traitors. 

He was nevertheless well supported by a sex that compensates for dislikeof its friend before a certain age by a cordial recognition of him whenit has touched the period. A phalanx of great dames gave him the terrorsof Olympus for all except the natively audacious, the truculent and theinsufferably obtuse; and from the midst of them he launched decree andbolt to good effect: not, of course, without receiving return missiles, and not without subsequent question whether the work of that man wasbeneficial to the country, who indeed tamed the bumpkin squire and hisbrood, but at the cost of their animal spirits and their gift of speech;viz. By making petrifactions of them. In the surgical operation oftracheotomy, a successful treatment of the patient hangs, we believe, onthe promptness and skill of the introduction of the artificial windpipe;and it may be that our unhappy countrymen when cut off from the sourceof their breath were not neatly handled; or else that there is aphysical opposition in them to anything artificial, and it must benature or nothing. The dispute shall be left where it stands. 

Now, to venture upon parading a beautiful young Duchess of Dewlap, withan odour of the shepherdess about her notwithstanding her acquired artof stepping conformably in a hoop, and to demand full homage of respectfor a lady bearing such a title, who had the intoxicating attractionsof the ruddy orchard apple on the tree next the roadside wall, when theowner is absent, was bold in Mr. Beamish, passing temerity; nor wouldeven he have attempted it had he not been assured of the support of hisphalanx of great ladies. They indeed, after being taken into thesecret, had stipulated that first they must have an inspection of thetransformed dairymaid; and the review was not unfavourable. DuchessSusan came out of it more scatheless than her duke. She was tongue-tied, and her tutored walking and really admirable stature helped her toappease, the critics of her sex; by whom her too readily blushfulinnocence was praised, with a reserve, expressed in the remark, that shewas a monstrous fine toy for a duke's second childhood, and should neverhave been let fly from his nursery. Her milliner was approved. The dukewas a notorious connoisseur of female charms, and would see, of course, to the decorous adornment of her person by the best of modistes. Hersmiling was pretty, her eyes were soft; she might turn out good, if wellguarded for a time; but these merits of the woman are not those of thegreat lady, and her title was too strong a beam on her character to giveit a fair chance with her critics. They one and all recommendedpowder for her hair and cheeks. That odour of the shepherdess could beexorcised by no other means, they declared. Her blushing was indecent. 

Truly the critics of the foeman sex behaved in a way to cause theblushes to swarm rosy as the troops of young Loves round Cytherea in hersea-birth, when, some soaring, and sinking some, they flutter like herloosened zone, and breast the air thick as flower petals on the summer'sbreath, weaving her net for the world. Duchess Susan might protesther inability to keep her blushes down; that the wrong was done by theinsolent eyes, and not by her artless cheeks. Ay, but nature, if weare to tame these men, must be swathed and concealed, partly stifled, absolutely stifled upon occasion. The natural woman does not move afoot without striking earth to conjure up the horrid apparition of thenatural man, who is not as she, but a cannibal savage. To be the lightwhich leads, it is her business to don the misty vesture of an idea, that she may dwell as an idea in men's minds, very dim, very powerful, but abstruse, unseizable. Much wisdom was imparted to her on thesubject, and she understood a little, and echoed hollow to theremainder, willing to show entire docility as far as her intelligenceconsented to be awake. She was in that stage of the dainty, faintlytinged innocence of the amorousness of themselves when beautiful youngwomen who have not been caught for schooling in infancy deem it adefilement to be made to appear other than the blessed nature has madethem, which has made them beautiful, and surely therefore deserves to beworshipped. The lectures of the great ladies and Chloe's counsels failedto persuade her to use the powder puff-ball. Perhaps too, as timidityquitted her, she enjoyed her distinctiveness in their midst. 

But the distinctiveness of a Duchess of Dewlap with the hair and cheeksof our native fields, was fraught with troubles outrunning Mr. Beamish'scalculations. He had perceived that she would be attractive; he hadnot reckoned on the homogeneousness of her particular English charms. A beauty in red, white, and blue is our goddess Venus with the appleof Paris in her hand; and after two visits to the Pump Room, and onepromenade in the walks about the Assembly House, she had as completelydivided the ordinary guests of the Wells into male and female in opinionas her mother Nature had done in it sex. And the men would not besilenced; they had gazed on their divinest, and it was for the womento succumb to that unwholesome state, so full of thunder. Knights andsquires, military and rural, threw up their allegiance right and leftto devote themselves to this robust new vision, and in their peculiarmanner, with a general View-halloo, and Yoicks, Tally-ho, and away wego, pelt ahead! Unexampled as it is in England for Beauty to kindle theardours of the scent of the fox, Duchess Susan did more--she turned allher followers into hounds; they were madmen: within a very few days ofher entrance bets raged about her, and there were brawls, jolly flingsat her character in the form of lusty encomium, givings of the lie, andupon one occasion a knock-down blow in public, as though the place hadnever known the polishing touch of Mr. Beamish. 

He was thrown into great perplexity by that blow. Discountenancing theduel as much as he could, an affair of the sword was nevertheless moretolerable than the brutal fist: and of all men to be guilty of it, whowould have anticipated the young Alonzo, Chloe's quiet, modest lover!He it was. The case came before Mr. Beamish for his decision; he hadto pronounce an impartial judgement, and for some time, during theexamination of evidence, he suffered, as he assures us in his Memoirs, aroyal agony. To have to strike with the glaive of Justice them whom theymost esteem, is the greatest affliction known to kings. He wouldhave done it: he deserved to reign. Happily the evidence against thegentleman who was tumbled, Mr. Ralph Shepster, excused Mr. AugustusCamwell, otherwise Alonzo, for dealing with him promptly to shut hismouth. 

This Shepster, a raw young squire, 'reeking, ' Beau Beamish writes ofhim, 'one half of the soil, and t' other half of the town, ' had involvedChloe in his familiar remarks upon the Duchess of Dewlap; and thepersonal respect entertained by Mr. Beamish for Chloe so stronglyapproved Alonzo's championship of her, that in giving judgement helaid stress on young Alonzo's passion for Chloe, to prove at once thedisinterestedness of the assailant, and the judicial nature of thesentence: which was, that Mr. Ralph Shepster should undergo banishment, and had the right to demand reparation. The latter part of this decreeassisted in effecting the execution of the former. Shepster declinedcold steel, calling it murder, and was effusive of nature's logic on thesubject. 

'Because a man comes and knocks me down, I'm to go up to him and ask himto run me through!'

His shake of the head signified that he was not such a noodle. Volubleand prolific of illustration, as is no one so much as a son of natureinspired to speak her words of wisdom, he defied the mandate, andrefused himself satisfaction, until in the strangest manner possibleflights of white feathers beset him, and he became a mark forpersecution too trying for the friendship of his friends. He fled, repeating his tale, that he had seen 'Beamish's Duchess, ' and Chloeattending her, at an assignation in the South Grove, where a gentleman, unknown to the Wells, presented himself to the adventurous ladies, andthey walked together--a tale ending with nods. 

Shepster's banishment was one of those victories of justice upon whichmankind might be congratulated if they left no commotion behind. But, as when a boy has been horsed before his comrades, dread may visit them, yet is there likewise devilry in the school; and everywhere over eartha summary punishment that does not sweep the place clear is likely toinfect whom it leaves remaining. The great law-givers, Lycurgus, Draco, Solon, Beamish, sorrowfully acknowledge that they have had recourseto infernal agents, after they have thus purified their circle of anoffender. Doctors confess to the same of their physic. The expellingagency has next to be expelled, and it is a subtle poison, affecting ourspirits. Duchess Susan had now the incense of a victim to heighten hercharms; like the treasure-laden Spanish galleon for whom, on her voyagehome from South American waters, our enterprising light-craft privateerslay in wait, she had the double attraction of being desirable and anenemy. To watch above her conscientiously was a harassing business. 

Mr. Beamish sent for Chloe, and she came to him at once. Her lookwas curious; he studied it while they conversed. So looks one who iswatching the sure flight of an arrow, or the happy combinations of anintrigue. Saying, 'I am no inquisitor, child, ' he ventured upon two orthree modest inquisitions with regard to her mistress. The title hehad disguised Duchess Susan in, he confessed to rueing as the principalcause of the agitation of his principality. 'She is courted, ' he said, 'less like a citadel waving a flag than a hostelry where the demand isfor sitting room and a tankard! These be our manners. Yet, I must own, a Duchess of Dewlap is a provocation, and my exclusive desire to protectthe name of my lord stands corrected by the perils environing his lady. She is other than I supposed her; she is, we will hope, an excellentgood creature, but too attractive for most and drawbridge and thecustomary defences to be neglected. 

Chloe met his interrogatory with a ready report of the young duchess'sinnocence and good nature that pacified Mr. Beamish. 

'And you?' said he. 

She smiled for answer. 

That smile was not the common smile; it was one of an eagerexultingness, producing as he gazed the twitch of an inquisitivereflection of it on his lips. Such a smile bids us guess and quickens usto guess, warns us we burn and speeds our burning, and so, like an angelwafting us to some heaven-feasting promontory, lifts us out of ourselvesto see in the universe of colour what the mouth has but pallid speechto tell. That is the very heart's language; the years are in a look, asmount and vale of the dark land spring up in lightning. 

He checked himself: he scarce dared to say it. 

She nodded. 

'You have seen the man, Chloe?'

Her smiling broke up in the hard lines of an ecstasy neighbouring pain. 'He has come; he is here; he is faithful; he has not forgotten me. I wasright. I knew! I knew!'

'Caseldy has come?'

'He has come. Do not ask. To have him! to see him! Mr. Beamish, he ishere. '

'At last!'

'Cruel!'

'Well, Caseldy has come, then! But now, friend Chloe, you should be madeaware that the man--'

She stopped her ears. As she did so, Mr. Beamish observed a thick silkenskein dangling from one hand. Part of it was plaited, and at the upperend there was a knot. It resembled the commencement of her manufactoryof a whip: she swayed it to and fro, allowing him to catch and lift thethreads on his fingers for the purpose of examining her work. There wasno special compliment to pay, so he dropped it without remark. 

Their faces had expressed her wish to hear nothing from him of Caseldyand his submission to say nothing. Her happiness was too big; sheappeared to beg to lie down with it on her bosom, in the manner of anoutworn, young mother who has now first received her infant in her armsfrom the nurse. 

CHAPTER V

Humouring Chloe with his usual considerateness, Mr. Beamish forbore tocast a shadow on her new-born joy, and even within himself to doubt thesecurity of its foundation. Caseldy's return to the Wells was at leastsome assurance of his constancy, seeing that here they appointed tomeet when he and Chloe last parted. All might be well, though it wasunexplained why he had not presented himself earlier. To the lightestinquiry Chloe's reply was a shiver of happiness. 

Moreover, Mr. Beamish calculated that Caseldy would be a serviceableally in commanding a proper respect for her Grace the Duchess of Dewlap. So he betook himself cheerfully to Caseldy's lodgings to deliver amessage of welcome, meeting, on his way thither, Mr. Augustus Camwell, with whom he had a short conversation, greatly to his admiration of theenamoured young gentleman's goodness and self-compression in speaking ofCaseldy and Chloe's better fortune. Mr. Camwell seemed hurried. 

Caseldy was not at home, and Mr. Beamish proceeded to the lodgings ofthe duchess. Chloe had found her absent. The two consulted. Mr. Beamishput on a serious air, until Chloe mentioned the pastrycook's shop, forDuchess Susan had a sweet tooth; she loved a visit to the pastrycook's, whose jam tarts were dearer to her than his more famous hot mutton pies. The pastry cook informed Mr. Beamish that her Grace had been inhis shop, earlier than usual, as it happened, and accompanied by aforeign-looking gentleman wearing moustachois. Her Grace, the pastrycooksaid, had partaken of several tarts, in common with the gentleman, whocomplimented him upon his excelling the Continental confectioner. Mr. Beamish glanced at Chloe. He pursued his researches down at the PumpRoom, while she looked round the ladies' coffee house. Encounteringagain, they walked back to the duchess's lodgings, where a band stoodplaying in the road, by order of her Grace; but the duchess was away, and had not been seen since her morning's departure. 

'What sort of character would you give mistress Susan of Dewlap, fromyour personal acquaintance with it?' said Mr. Beamish to Chloe, as theystepped from the door. 

Chloe mused and said, 'I would add "good" to the unkindest comparisonyou could find for her. '

'But accepting the comparison!' Mr. Beamish nodded, and revolved uponthe circumstance of their being very much in nature's hands with DuchessSusan, of whom it might be said that her character was good, yet allthe more alive to the temptations besetting the Spring season. He alliedChloe's adjective to a number of epithets equally applicable to natureand to women, according to current ideas, concluding: 'Count, they callyour Caseldy at his lodgings. "The Count he is out for an airing. " He iscounted out. Ah! you will make him drop that "Count" when he takes youfrom here. '

'Do not speak of the time beyond the month, ' said Chloe, so urgently ona rapid breath as to cause Mr. Beamish to cast an inquiring look at her. 

She answered it, 'Is not one month of brightness as much as we can askfor?'

The beau clapped his elbows complacently to his sides in philosophicalconcord with her sentiment. 

In the afternoon, on the parade, they were joined by Mr. Camwell, amonggroups of fashionable ladies and their escorts, pacing serenely, bymedical prescription, for an appetite. As he did not comment on theabsence of the duchess, Mr. Beamish alluded to it; whereupon he wasinformed that she was about the meadows, and had been there for somehours. 

'Not unguarded, ' he replied to Mr. Beamish. 

'Aha!' quoth the latter; 'we have an Argus!' and as the duchess was noton the heights, and the sun's rays were mild in cloud, he agreed tohis young friend's proposal that they should advance to meet her. Chloewalked with them, but her face was disdainful; at the stiles she gaveher hand to Mr. Beamish; she did not address a word to Mr. Camwell, and he knew the reason. Nevertheless he maintained his air of soldierlyresignation to the performance of duty, and held his head like agentleman unable to conceive the ignominy of having played spy. Chloeshrank from him. 

Duchess Susan was distinguished coming across a broad uncut meadow, tirra-lirraing beneath a lark, Caseldy in attendance on her. She stoppedshort and spoke to him; then came forward, crying ingenuously. 'Oh, Mr. Beamish, isn't this just what you wanted me to do?'

'No, madam, ' said he, 'you had my injunctions to the contrary. '

'La!' she exclaimed, 'I thought I was to run about in the fields now andthen to preserve my simplicity. I know I was told so, and who told me!'

Mr. Beamish bowed effusively to the introduction of Caseldy, whosefingers he touched in sign of the renewal of acquaintance, and with alaugh addressed the duchess:

'Madam, you remind me of a tale of my infancy. I had a juvenile comradeof the tenderest age, by name Tommy Plumston, and he enjoyed theprivilege of intimacy with a component urchin yclept Jimmy Clungeon, with which adventurous roamer, in defiance of his mother's interdictagainst his leaving the house for a minute during her absence fromhome, he departed on a tour of the district, resulting, perhaps as aconsequence of its completeness, in this, that at a distance computed atfour miles from the maternal mansion, he perceived his beloved mama withsufficient clearness to feel sure that she likewise had seen him. Tommy consulted with Jimmy, and then he sprang forward on a run to hisfrowning mama, and delivered himself in these artless words, which Irepeat as they were uttered, to give you the flavour of the innocentbabe: he said, "I frink I frought I hear you call me, ma! and JimmyClungeon, he frought he frink so too!" So, you see, the pair of themwere under the impression that they were doing right. There is adelicate distinction in the tenses of each frinking where the otherfrought, enough in itself to stamp sincerity upon the statement. '

Caseldy said, 'The veracity of a boy possessing a friend named Clungeonis beyond contest. '

Duchess Susan opened her eyes. 'Four miles from home! And what did hismother do to him?'

'Tommy's mama, ' said Mr. Beamish, and with the resplendent licence ofthe period which continued still upon tolerable terms with nature underthe compromise of decorous 'Oh-fie!' flatly declared the thing she did. 

'I fancy, sir, that I caught sight of your figure on the hill yonderabout an hour or so earlier, ' said Caseldy to Mr. Camwell. 

'If it was at the time when you were issuing from that wood, sir, yoursurmise is correct, ' said the young gentleman. 

'You are long-sighted, sir!'

'I am, sir. '

'And so am I. '

'And I, ' said Chloe. 

'Our Chloe will distinguish you accurately at a mile, and has done it, 'observed Mr. Beamish. 

'One guesses tiptoe on a suspicion, and if one is wrong it passes, andif one is right it is a miracle, ' she said, and raised her voice on asong to quit the subject. 

'Ay, ay, Chloe; so then you had a suspicion, you rogue, the day we hadthe pleasure of meeting the duchess, had you?' Mr. Beamish persisted. 

Duchess Susan interposed. 'Such a pretty song! and you to stop her, sir!'

Caseldy took up the air. 

'Oh, you two together!' she cried. 'I do love hearing music in thefields; it is heavenly. Bands in the town and voices in the greenfields, I say! Couldn't you join Chloe, Mr.... Count, sir, before wecome among the people, here where it 's all so nice and still. Music!and my heart does begin so to pit-a-pat. Do you sing, Mr. Alonzo?'

'Poorly, ' the young gentleman replied. 

'But the Count can sing, and Chloe's a real angel when she sings;and won't you, dear?' she implored Chloe, to whom Caseldy addressed aprelude with a bow and a flourish of the hand. 

Chloe's voice flew forth. Caseldy's rich masculine matched it. The songwas gay; he snapped his finger at intervals in foreign style, singingbig-chested, with full notes and a fine abandonment, and the quickestsusceptibility to his fair companion's cunning modulations, and an eyefor Duchess Susan's rapture. 

Mr. Beamish and Mr. Camwell applauded them. 

'I never can tell what to say when I'm brimming'; the duchess let falla sigh. 'And he can play the flute, Mr. Beamish. He promised me hewould go into the orchestra and play a bit at one of your nice eveningdelicious concerts, and that will be nice--Oh!'

'He promised you, madam, did he so?' said the beau. 'Was it on your wayto the Wells that he promised you?'

'On my way to the Wells!' she exclaimed softly. 'Why, how could anybodypromise me a thing before ever he saw me? I call that a strange thing toask a person. No, to-day, while we were promenading; and I should hearhim sing, he said. He does admire his Chloe so. Why, no wonder, is it, now? She can do everything; knit, sew, sing, dance--and talk! She'snever uneasy for a word. She makes whole scenes of things go round you, like a picture peep-show, I tell her. And always cheerful. She hasn'ta minute of grumps; and I'm sometimes a dish of stale milk fit only forpigs. 

With your late hours here, I'm sure I want tickling in the morning, andChloe carols me one of her songs, and I say, "There's my bird!"'

Mr. Beamish added, 'And you will remember she has a heart. '

'I should think so!' said the duchess. 

'A heart, madam!'

'Why, what else?'

Nothing other, the beau, by his aspect, was constrained to admit. 

He appeared puzzled by this daughter of nature in a coronet; and more onher remarking, 'You know about her heart, Mr. Beamish. '

He acquiesced, for of course he knew of her life-long devotion toCaseldy; but there was archness in her tone. However, he did not expecta woman of her education to have the tone perfectly concordant withthe circumstances. Speaking tentatively of Caseldy's handsome face andfigure, he was pleased to hear the duchess say, 'So I tell Chloe. '

'Well, ' said he, 'we must consider them united; they are one. '

Duchess Susan replied, 'That's what I tell him; she will do anything youwish. '

He repeated these words with an interjection, and decided in his mindthat they were merely silly. She was a real shepherdess by birth andnature, requiring a strong guard over her attractions on account of hersimplicity; such was his reading of the problem; he had conceived it atthe first sight of her, and always recurred to it under the influenceof her artless eyes, though his theories upon men and women were astute, and that cavalier perceived by long-sighted Chloe at Duchess Susan'scoach window perturbed him at whiles. Habitually to be anticipating thesimpleton in a particular person is the sure way of being sometimesthe dupe, as he would not have been the last to warn a neophyte; butabstract wisdom is in need of an unappeased suspicion of much keennessof edge, if we would have it alive to cope with artless eyes and ourprepossessed fancy of their artlessness. 

'You talk of Chloe to him?' he said. 

She answered. 'Yes, that I do. And he does love her! I like to hear him. He is one of the gentlemen who don't make me feel timid with them. '

She received a short lecture on the virtues of timidity in preservingthe sex from danger; after which, considering that the lady who does notfeel timid with a particular cavalier has had no sentiment awakened, herelinquished his place to Mr. Camwell, and proceeded to administer theprobe to Caseldy. 

That gentleman was communicatively candid. Chloe had left him, and herelated how, summoned home to England and compelled to settle a disputethreatening a lawsuit, he had regretfully to abstain from visitingthe Wells for a season, not because of any fear of the attractions ofplay--he had subdued the frailty of the desire to play--but becausehe deemed it due to his Chloe to bring her an untroubled face, and hewished first to be the better of the serious annoyances besetting him. For some similar reason he had not written; he wished to feast on hersurprise. 'And I had my reward, ' he said, as if he had been the personprincipally to suffer through that abstinence. 'I found--I may say it toyou, Mr. Beamish love in her eyes. Divine by nature, she is one of theimmortals, both in appearance and in steadfastness. '

They referred to Duchess Susan. Caseldy reluctantly owned that it wouldbe an unkindness to remove Chloe from attendance on her during the shortremaining term of her stay at the Wells; and so he had not proposed it, he said, for the duchess was a child, an innocent, not stupid by anymeans; but, of course, her transplanting from an inferior to an exaltedposition put her under disadvantages. 

Mr. Beamish spoke of the difficulties of his post as guardian, and alsoof the strange cavalier seen at her carriage window by Chloe. 

Caseldy smiled and said, 'If there was one--and Chloe is ratherlong--sighted--we can hardly expect her to confess it. '

'Why not, sir, if she be this piece of innocence?' Mr. Beamish was ledto inquire. 

'She fears you, sir, ' Caseldy answered. 'You have inspired her with anextraordinary fear of you. '

'I have?' said the beau: it had been his endeavour to inspire it, and heswelled somewhat, rather with relief at the thought of his possessing apower to control his delicate charge, than with our vanity; yet wouldit be audacious to say that there was not a dose of the latter. He was avery human man; and he had, as we have seen, his ideas of the effect ofthe impression of fear upon the hearts of women. Something, in any case, caused him to forget the cavalier. 

They were drawn to the three preceding them, by a lively dissensionbetween Chloe and Mr. Camwell. 

Duchess Susan explained it in her blunt style: 'She wants him to go awayhome, and he says he will, if she'll give him that double skein of silkshe swings about, and she says she won't, let him ask as long as hepleases; so he says he sha'n't go, and I'm sure I don't see why heshould; and she says he may stay, but he sha'n't have her necklace, shecalls it. So Mr. Camwell snatches, and Chloe fires up. Gracious, can'tshe frown!--at him. She never frowns at anybody but him. '

Caseldy attempted persuasion on Mr. Camwell's behalf. With his mouth atChloe's ear, he said, 'Give it; let the poor fellow have his memento;despatch him with it. '

'I can hear! and that is really kind, ' exclaimed Duchess Susan. 

'Rather a missy-missy schoolgirl sort of necklace, ' Mr. Beamishobserved; 'but he might have it, without the dismissal, for I cannotconsent to lose Alonzo. No, madam, ' he nodded at the duchess. 

Caseldy continued his whisper: 'You can't think of wearing a thing likethat about your neck?'

'Indeed, ' said Chloe, 'I think of it. '

'Why, what fashion have you over here?'

'It is not yet a fashion, ' she said. 

'A silken circlet will not well become any precious pendant that I knowof. '

'A bag of dust is not a very precious pendant, ' she said. 

'Oh, a memento mori!' cried he. 

And she answered, 'Yes. '

He rallied her for her superstition, pursuing, 'Surely, my love, 'tis acheap riddance of a pestilent, intrusive jaloux. Whip it into his handsfor a mittimus. '

'Does his presence distress you?' she asked. 

'I will own that to be always having the fellow dogging us, with hisdejected leer, is not agreeable. He watches us now, because my lips areclose by your cheek. He should be absent; he is one too many. Speed himon his voyage with the souvenir he asks for. '

'I keep it for a journey of my own, which I may have to take, ' saidChloe. 

'With me?'

'You will follow; you cannot help following me, Caseldy. '

He speculated on her front. She was tenderly smiling. 'You are happy, Chloe?'

'I have never known such happiness, ' she said. The brilliancy of hereyes confirmed it. 

He glanced over at Duchess Susan, who was like a sunflower in the sun. His glance lingered a moment. Her abundant and glowing young charms werethe richest fascination an eye like his could dwell on. 'That is right, 'said he. 'We will be perfectly happy till the month ends. And after it?But get us rid of Monsieur le Jeune; toss him that trifle; I spare himthat. 'Twill be bliss to him, at the cost of a bit of silk thread to us. Besides, if we keep him to cure him of his passion here, might it notbe--these boys veer suddenly, like the winds of Albion, from one fairobject to t' other--at the cost of the precious and simple lady youare guarding? I merely hint. These two affect one another, as thoughit could be. She speaks of him. It shall be as you please, but a triflelike that, my Chloe, to be rid of a green eye!'

'You much wish him gone?' she said. 

He shrugged. 'The fellow is in our way. '

'You think him a little perilous for my innocent lady?'

'Candidly, I do. '

She stretched the half-plaited silken rope in her two hands to try thestrength of it, made a second knot, and consigned it to her pocket. 

At once she wore her liveliest playfellow air, in which character no onewas so enchanting as Chloe could be, for she became the comrade of menwithout forfeit of her station among sage sweet ladies, and was like awell-mannered sparkling boy, to whom his admiring seniors have given thelead in sallies, whims, and fights; but pleasanter than a boy, the softhues of her sex toned her frolic spirit; she seemed her sex's deputy, totell the coarser where they could meet, as on a bridge above the torrentseparating them, gaily for interchange of the best of either, unfiredand untempted by fire, yet with all the elements which make fire burn toanimate their hearts. 

'Lucky the man who wins for himself that life-long cordial!' Mr. Beamishsaid to Duchess Susan. 

She had small comprehension of metaphorical phrases, but she was quickat reading faces; and comparing the enthusiasm on the face of the beauwith Caseldy's look of troubled wonderment and regret, she pitiedthe lover conscious of not having the larger share of his mistress'saffections. When presently he looked at her, the tender-hearted womancould have cried for very compassion, so sensible did he show himself ofChloe's preference of the other. 

CHAPTER VI

That evening Duchess Susan played at the Pharaoh table and lost eighthundred pounds, through desperation at the loss of twenty. Afterencouraging her to proceed to this extremity, Caseldy checked her. Hewas conducting her out of the Play room when a couple of young squiresof the Shepster order, and primed with wine, intercepted her to presenttheir condolences, which they performed with exaggerated gestures, intended for broad mimicry of the courtliness imported from theContinent, and a very dulcet harping on the popular variations of herChristian name, not forgetting her singular title, 'my lovely, lovelyDewlap!'

She was excited and stunned by her immediate experience in the transferof money, and she said, 'I 'm sure I don't know what you want. '

'Yes!' cried they, striking their bosoms as guitars, and attempting theposture of the thrummer on the instrument; 'she knows. She does know. Handsome Susie knows what we want. ' And one ejaculated, mellifluously, 'Oh!' and the other 'Ah!' in flagrant derision of the foreign ways theyproduced in boorish burlesque--a self-consolatory and a common trick ofthe boor. 

Caseldy was behind. He pushed forward and bowed to them. 'Sirs, will youmention to me what you want?'

He said it with a look that meant steel. It cooled them sufficiently tolet him place the duchess under the protectorship of Mr. Beamish, thenentering from another room with Chloe; whereupon the pair of rusticbucks retired to reinvigorate their valiant blood. 

Mr. Beamish had seen that there was cause for gratitude to Caseldy, towhom he said, 'She has lost?' and he seemed satisfied on hearing theamount of the loss, and commissioned Caseldy to escort the ladies totheir lodgings at once, observing, 'Adieu, Count!'

'You will find my foreign title of use to you here, after a bout ortwo, ' was the reply. 

'No bouts, if possibly to be avoided; though I perceive how the flavourof your countship may spread a wholesome alarm among our rurals, whowill readily have at you with fists, but relish not the tricky coldweapon. '

Mr. Beamish haughtily bowed the duchess away. 

Caseldy seized the opportunity while handing her into her sedan to say, 'We will try the fortune-teller for a lucky day to have our revenge. '

She answered: 'Oh, don't talk to me about playing again ever; I'm nighon a clean pocket, and never knew such a sinful place as this. I feelI've tumbled into a ditch. And there's Mr. Beamish, all top when he bowsto me. You're keeping Chloe waiting, sir. '

'Where was she while we were at the table?'

'Sure she was with Mr. Beamish. '

'Ah!' he groaned. 

'The poor soul is in despair over her losses to-night, ' he turned fromthe boxed-up duchess to remark to Chloe. 'Give her a comfortable cry anda few moral maxims. '

'I will, ' she said. 'You love me, Caseldy?'

'Love you? I? Your own? What assurance would you have?'

'None, dear friend. '

Here was a woman easily deceived. 

In the hearts of certain men, owing to an intellectual contempt of easydupes, compunction in deceiving is diminished by the lightness of theirtask; and that soft confidence which will often, if but passingly, bidbetrayers reconsider the charms of the fair soul they are abandoning, commends these armoured knights to pursue with redoubled earnest thefruitful ways of treachery. Their feelings are warm for their prey, moreover; and choosing to judge their victim by the present warmth oftheir feelings, they can at will be hurt, even to being scandalized, by a coldness that does not waken one suspicion of them. Jealousy wouldhave a chance of arresting, for it is not impossible to tease them backto avowed allegiance; but sheer indifference also has a stronger hold onthem than a, dull, blind trustfulness. They hate the burden it imposes;the blind aspect is only touching enough to remind them of the burden, and they hate if for that, and for the enormous presumption of thebelief that they are everlastingly bound to such an imbecile. She walksabout with her eyes shut, expecting not to stumble, and when she does, am I to blame? The injured man asks it in the course of his reasoning. 

He recurs to his victim's merits, but only compassionately, and thecompassion is chilled by the thought that she may in the end startacross his path to thwart him. Thereat he is drawn to think of the prizeshe may rob him of; and when one woman is an obstacle, the other shinesdesirable as life beyond death; he must have her; he sees her in thehue of his desire for her, and the obstacle in that of his repulsion. Cruelty is no more than the man's effort to win the wished object. 

She should not leave it to his imagination to conceive that in the endthe blind may awaken to thwart him. Better for her to cast him hence, or let him know that she will do battle to keep him. But the pride of alove that has hardened in the faithfulness of love cannot always be wiseon trial. 

Caseldy walked considerably in the rear of the couple of chairs. He sawon his way what was coming. His two young squires were posted at DuchessSusan's door when she arrived, and he received a blow from one of themin clearing a way for her. She plucked at his hand. 'Have they hurtyou?' she asked. 

'Think of me to-night thanking them and heaven for this, my darling, ' hereplied, with a pressure that lit the flying moment to kindle the afterhours. 

Chloe had taken help of one of her bearers to jump out. She stretcheda finger at the unruly intruders, crying sternly, 'There is blood onyou--come not nigh me!' The loftiest harangue would not have been socunning to touch their wits. They stared at one another in the clearmoonlight. Which of them had blood on him? As they had not been forblood, but for rough fun, and something to boast of next day, theygesticulated according to the first instructions of the dancing master, by way of gallantry, and were out of Caseldy's path when he placedhimself at his liege lady's service. 'Take no notice of them, dear, ' shesaid. 

'No, no, ' said he; and 'What is it?' and his hoarse accent and shakingclasp of her arm sickened her to the sensation of approaching death. 

Upstairs Duchess Susan made a show of embracing her. Both weretrembling. The duchess ascribed her condition to those dreadful men. 'What makes them be at me so?' she said. 

And Chloe said, 'Because you are beautiful. '

'Am I?'

'You are. '

'I am?'

'Very beautiful; young and beautiful; beautiful in the bud. You willlearn to excuse them, madam. '

'But, Chloe--' The duchess shut her mouth. Out of a languid reverie, shesighed: 'I suppose I must be! My duke--oh, don't talk of him. Dear man!he's in bed and fast asleep long before this. I wonder how he came tolet me come here. 

I did bother him, I know. Am I very, very beautiful, Chloe, so that mencan't help themselves?'

'Very, madam. '

'There, good-night. I want to be in bed, and I can't kiss you becauseyou keep calling me madam, and freeze me to icicles; but I do love you, Chloe. '

'I am sure you do. '

'I'm quite certain I do. I know I never mean harm. But how are we womenexpected to behave, then? Oh, I'm unhappy, I am. '

'You must abstain from playing. '

'It's that! I've lost my money--I forgot. And I shall have to confess itto my duke, though he warned me. Old men hold their fingers up--so!One finger: and you never forget the sight of it, never. It's a roundfinger, like the handle of a jug, and won't point at you when they'relecturing, and the skin's like an old coat on gaffer's shoulders--or, Chloe! just like, when you look at the nail, a rumpled counterpane up tothe face of a corpse. I declare, it's just like! I feel as if I didn'ta bit mind talking of corpses tonight. And my money's gone, and I don'tmuch mind. I'm a wild girl again, handsomer than when that----he isa dear, kind, good old nobleman, with his funny old finger: "Susan!Susan!" I'm no worse than others. Everybody plays here; everybodysuperior. Why, you have played, Chloe. '

'Never!'

'I've heard you say you played once, and a bigger stake it was, yousaid, than anybody ever did play. '

'Not money. '

'What then?'

'My life. '

'Goodness--yes! I understand. I understand everything to-night-men too. So you did!--They're not so shamefully wicked, Chloe. Because I can'tsee the wrong of human nature--if we're discreet, I mean. Now and then acountry dance and a game, and home to bed and dreams. There's no harmin that, I vow. And that's why you stayed at this place. You like it, Chloe?'

'I am used to it. '

'But when you're married to Count Caseldy you'll go?'

'Yes, then. '

She uttered it so joylessly that Duchess Susan added, with intenseaffectionateness, 'You're not obliged to marry him, dear Chloe. '

'Nor he me, madam. '

The duchess caught at her impulsively to kiss her, and said she wouldundress herself, as she wished to be alone. 

From that night she was a creature inflamed. 

CHAPTER VII

The total disappearance of the pair of heroes who had been the latestin the conspiracy to vex his delicate charge, gave Mr. Beamish a highopinion of Caseldy as an assistant in such an office as he held. Theyhad gone, and nothing more was heard of them. Caseldy confined hisobservations on the subject to the remark that he had employed the bestmeans to be rid of that kind of worthies; and whether their souls hadfled, or only their bodies, was unknown. But the duchess had quietpromenades with Caseldy to guard her, while Mr. Beamish counted theremaining days of her visit with the impatience of a man having cause tocast eye on a clock. For Duchess Susan was not very manageable now; shehad fits of insurgency, and plainly said that her time was short, andshe meant to do as she liked, go where she liked, play when she liked, and be an independent woman--if she was so soon to be taken away andboxed in a castle that was only a bigger sedan. 

Caseldy protested he was as helpless as the beau. He described theannoyance of his incessant running about at her heels in all directionsamusingly, and suggested that she must be beating the district torecover her 'strange cavalier, ' of whom, or of one that had riddenbeside her carriage half a day on her journey to the Wells, he said shehad dropped a sort of hint. He complained of the impossibility of hisgetting an hour in privacy with his Chloe. 

'And I, accustomed to consult with her, see too little of her, ' said Mr. Beamish. 'I shall presently be seeing nothing, and already I am sensibleof my loss. '

He represented his case to Duchess Susan:--that she was for ever drivingout long distances and taking Chloe from him, when his occupationprecluded his accompanying them; and as Chloe soon was to be lost to himfor good, he deeply felt her absence. 

The duchess flung him enigmatical rejoinders: 'You can change all that, Mr. Beamish, if you like, and you know you can. Oh, yes, you can. Butyou like being a butterfly, and when you've made ladies pale you'rehappy: and there they're to stick and wither for you. Never!--I've thatpride. I may be worried, but I'll never sink to green and melancholy fora man. '

She bridled at herself in a mirror, wherein not a sign of paleness wasreflected. 

Mr. Beamish meditated, and he thought it prudent to speak to Caseldymanfully of her childish suspicions, lest she should perchance in likemanner perturb the lover's mind. 

'Oh, make your mind easy, my dear sir, as far as I am concerned, ' saidCaseldy. 'But, to tell you the truth, I think I can interpret her creamyladyship's innuendos a little differently and quite as clearly. Formy part, I prefer the pale to the blowsy, and I stake my right handon Chloe's fidelity. Whatever harm I may have the senselesscruelty--misfortune, I may rather call it--to do that heavenly-mindedwoman in our days to come, none shall say of me that I was ever for aninstant guilty of the baseness of doubting her purity and constancy. And, sir, I will add that I could perfectly rely also on your honour. '

Mr. Beamish bowed. 'You do but do me justice. But, say, whatinterpretation?'

'She began by fearing you, ' said Caseldy, creating a stare that wasfollowed by a frown. 'She fancies you neglect her. Perhaps she has awoman's suspicion that you do it to try her. '

Mr. Beamish frenetically cited his many occupations. 'How can I be everdancing attendance on her?' Then he said, 'Pooh, ' and tenderly fingeredthe ruffles of his wrist. 'Tush, tush, ' said he, 'no, no: though ifit came to a struggle between us, I might in the interests of my oldfriend, her lord, whom I have reasons for esteeming, interpose aninfluence that would make the exercise of my authority agreeable. Hitherto I have seen no actual need of it, and I watch keenly. Her eyehas been on Colonel Poltermore once or twice his on her. The woman isa rose in June, sir, and I forgive the whole world for looking--and forlonging too. But I have observed nothing serious. '

'He is of our party to the beacon-head to-morrow, ' said Caseldy. 'Sheinsisted that she would have him; and at least it will grant me furloughfor an hour. '

'Do me the service to report to me, ' said Mr. Beamish. 

In this fashion he engaged Caseldy to supply him with inventions, andprepared himself to swallow them. It was Poltermore and Poltermore, theColonel here, the Colonel there until the chase grew so hot that Mr. Beamish could no longer listen to young Mr. Camwell's fatiguing droneupon his one theme of the double-dealing of Chloe's betrothed. He becameof her way of thinking, and treated the young gentleman almost as coldlyas she. In time he was ready to guess of his own acuteness that the'strange cavalier' could have been no other than Colonel Poltermore. When Caseldy hinted it, Mr. Beamish said, 'I have marked him. ' He added, in highly self-satisfied style, 'With all your foreign training, myfriend, you will learn that we English are not so far behind you in theart of unravelling an intrigue in the dark. ' To which Caseldy replied, that the Continental world had little to teach Mr. Beamish. 

Poor Colonel Poltermore, as he came to be called, was clearly a victimof the sudden affability of Duchess Susan. The transformation of a stiffmilitary officer into a nimble Puck, a runner of errands and a sprightlyattendant, could not pass without notice. The first effect of herdiscriminating condescension on this unfortunate gentleman was to makehim the champion of her claims to breeding. She had it by nature, shewas Nature's great lady, he would protest to the noble dames of thecircle he moved in; and they admitted that she was different in everyway from a bourgeoise elevated by marriage to lofty rank: she was notvulgar. But they remained doubtful of the perfect simplicity of a youngwoman who worked such changes in men as to render one of the famousconquerors of the day her agitated humble servant. By rapid degrees theColonel had fallen to that. When not by her side, he was ever marchingwith sharp strides, hurrying through rooms and down alleys and grovesuntil he had discovered and attached himself to her skirts. And, curiously, the object of his jealousy was the devoted Alonzo! Mr. Beamish laughed when he heard of it. The lady's excitement and giddymien, however, accused Poltermore of a stage of success requiring to becombated immediately. There was mention of Duchess Susan's mighty wishto pay a visit to the popular fortune-teller of the hut on the heath, and Mr. Beamish put his veto on the expedition. She had obeyed him byabstaining from play of late, so he fully expected, that his interdictwould be obeyed; and besides the fortune-teller was a rogue of a shamastrologer known to have foretold to certain tender ladies thingsthey were only too desirous to imagine predestined by an extraordinaryindication of the course of planets through the zodiac, thus causingthem to sin by the example of celestial conjunctions--a piece of wantonimpiety. The beau took high ground in his objections to the adventure. Nevertheless, Duchess Susan did go. She drove to the heath at an earlyhour of the morning, attended by Chloe, Colonel Poltermore, and Caseldy. They subsequently breakfasted at an inn where gipsy repasts wereoccasionally served to the fashion, and they were back at the wells assoon as the world was abroad. Their surprise then was prodigious whenMr. Beamish, accosting them full in assembly, inquired whether theywere satisfied with the report of their fortunes, and yet more when hepositively proved himself acquainted with the fortunes which had beenrecounted to each of them in privacy. 

'You, Colonel Poltermore, are to be in luck's way up to the tenthmilestone, --where your chariot will overset and you will be lamed forlife. '

'Not quite so bad, ' said the Colonel cheerfully, he having been informedof much better. 

'And you, Count Caseldy, are to have it all your own way with goodluck, after committing a deed of slaughter, with the solitary penalty ofundergoing a visit every night from the corpse. '

'Ghost, ' Caseldy smilingly corrected him. 

'And Chloe would not have her fortune told, because she knew it!' Mr. Beamish cast a paternal glance at her. 'And you, madam, ' he bent hisbrows on the duchess, 'received the communication that "All for Love"will sink you as it raised you, put you down as it took you up, furnishthe feast to the raven gentleman which belongs of right to the goldeneagle?'

'Nothing of the sort! And I don't believe in any of their stories, 'cried the duchess, with a burning face. 

'You deny it, madam?'

'I do. There was never a word of a raven or an eagle, that I'll swear, now. '

'You deny that there was ever a word of "All for Love"? Speak, madam. '

'Their conjuror's rigmarole!' she murmured, huffing. 'As if I listenedto their nonsense!'

'Does the Duchess of Dewlap dare to give me the lie?' said Mr. Beamish. 

'That's not my title, and you know it, ' she retorted. 

'What's this?' the angry beau sang out. 'What stuff is this you wear?'He towered and laid hand on a border of lace of her morning dress, toreit furiously and swung a length of it round him: and while the duchesspanted and trembled at an outrage that won for her the sympathy of everylady present as well as the championship of the gentlemen, he tossed thelace to the floor and trampled on it, making his big voice intelligibleover the uproar: 'Hear what she does! 'Tis a felony! She wears the stuffwith Betty Worcester's yellow starch on it for mock antique! And letwho else wears it strip it off before the town shall say we aredisgraced--when I tell you that Betty Worcester was hanged at Tyburnyesterday morning for murder!'

There were shrieks. 

Hardly had he finished speaking before the assembly began to melt; hestood in the centre like a pole unwinding streamers, amid a confusion ofhurrying dresses, the sound and whirl and drift whereof was as that ofthe autumnal strewn leaves on a wind rising in November. The troops ofladies were off to bereave themselves of their fashionable imitationold lace adornment, which denounced them in some sort abettors andassociates of the sanguinary loathed wretch, Mrs. Elizabeth Worcester, their benefactress of the previous day, now hanged and dangling on thegallows-tree. 

Those ladies who wore not imitation lace or any lace in the morning, were scarcely displeased with the beau for his exposure of them thatdid. The gentlemen were confounded by his exhibition of audacious power. The two gentlemen nighest upon violently resenting his brutality toDuchess Susan, led her from the room in company with Chloe. 

'The woman shall fear me to good purpose, ' Mr. Beamish said to himself. 

CHAPTER VIII

Mr. Camwell was in the ante-room as Chloe passed out behind the twoincensed supporters of Duchess Susan. 

'I shall be by the fir-trees on the Mount at eight this evening, ' shesaid. 

'I will be there, ' he replied. 

'Drive Mr. Beamish into the country, that these gentlemen may have timeto cool. '

He promised her it should be done. 

Close on the hour of her appointment, he stood under the fir-trees, admiring the sunset along the western line of hills, and when Chloejoined him he spoke of the beauty of the scene. 

'Though nothing seems more eloquently to say farewell, ' he added, with asinking voice. 

'We could say it now, and be friends, ' she answered. 

'Later than now, you think it unlikely that you could forgive me, Chloe. '

'In truth, sir, you are making it hard for me. '

'I have stayed here to keep watch; for no pleasure of my own, ' said he. 

'Mr. Beamish is an excellent protector of the duchess. '

'Excellent; and he is cleverly taught to suppose she fears him greatly;and when she offends him, he makes a display of his Jupiter's awfulness, with the effect on woman of natural spirit which you have seen, andothers had foreseen, that she is exasperated and grows reckless. Tieanother knot in your string, Chloe. '

She looked away, saying, 'Were you not the cause? You were in collusionwith that charlatan of the heath, who told them their fortunes thismorning. I see far, both in the dark and in the light. '

'But not through a curtain. I was present. '

'Hateful, hateful business of the spy! You have worked a great mischiefMr. Camwell. And how can you reconcile it to, your conscience that youshould play so base a part?'

'I have but performed my duty, dear madam. '

'You pretend that it is your devotion to me! I might be flattered if Isaw not so abject a figure in my service. Now have I but four days ofmy month of happiness remaining, and my request to you is, leave me toenjoy them. I beseech you to go. Very humbly, most earnestly, I beg yourdeparture. Grant it to me, and do not stay to poison my last days here. Leave us to-morrow. I will admit your good intentions. I give you myhand in gratitude. Adieu, Mr. Camwell. '

He took her hand. 'Adieu. I foresee an early separation, and this dearhand is mine while I have it in mine. Adieu. It is a word to be repeatedat a parting like ours. We do not blow out our light with one breath: welet it fade gradually, like yonder sunset. '

'Speak so, ' said she. 

'Ah, Chloe, to give one's life! And it is your happiness I have soughtmore than your favor. '

'I believe it; but I have not liked the means. You leave us to-morrow?'

'It seems to me that to-morrow is the term. '

Her face clouded. 'That tells me a very uncertain promise. '

'You looked forth to a month of happiness--meaning a month of delusion. The delusion expires to-night. You will awaken to see your end of it inthe morning. You have never looked beyond the month since the day of hisarrival. '

'Let him not be named, I supplicate you. '

'Then you consent that another shall be sacrificed for you to enjoy yourstate of deception an hour longer?'

'I am not deceived, sir. I wish for peace, and crave it, and that is allI would have. '

'And you make her your peace-offering, whom you have engaged to serve!Too surely your eyes have been open as well as mine. Knot by knot--Ihave watched you--where is it?--you have marked the points in thatsilken string where the confirmation of a just suspicion was too strongfor you. '

'I did it, and still I continued merry?' She subsided from herscornfulness on an involuntary 'Ah!' that was a shudder. 

'You acted Light Heart, madam, and too well to hoodwink me. Meanwhileyou allowed that mischief to proceed, rather than have your crazylullaby disturbed. '

'Indeed, Mr. Camwell, you presume. '

'The time, and my knowledge of what it is fraught with, demand it andexcuse it. You and I, my dear and one only love on earth, stand outsideof ordinary rules. We are between life and death. '

'We are so always. '

'Listen further to the preacher: We have them close on us, with thequestion, Which it shall be to-morrow. You are for sleeping on, but Isay no; nor shall that iniquity of double treachery be committed becauseof your desire to be rocked in a cradle. Hear me out. The drug youhave swallowed to cheat yourself will not bear the shock awaiting youtomorrow with the first light. Hear these birds! When next they sing, you will be broad awake, and of me, and the worship and service I wouldhave dedicated to you, I do not... It is a spectral sunset of a daythat was never to be!--awake, and looking on what? Back from a monstrousvillainy to the forlorn wretch who winked at it with knots in a string. Count them then, and where will be your answer to heaven? I begged it ofyou, to save you from those blows of remorse; yes, terrible!'

'Oh, no!'

'Terrible, I say!'

'You are mistaken, Mr. Camwell. It is my soother. I tell my beads onit. '

'See how a persistent residence in this place has made a Pagan of thepurest soul among us! Had you... But that day was not to lighten me!More adorable in your errors that you are than others by their virtues, you have sinned through excess of the qualities men prize. Oh, you havea boundless generosity, unhappily enwound with a pride as great. Thereis your fault, that is the cause of your misery. Too generous! tooproud! You have trusted, and you will not cease to trust; you have vowedyourself to love, never to remonstrate, never to seem to doubt; itis too much your religion, rare verily. But bethink you of thatinexperienced and most silly good creature who is on the rapids to herdestruction. Is she not--you will cry it aloud to-morrow--your victim?You hear it within you now. '

'Friend, my dear, true friend, ' Chloe said in her deeper voice ofmelody, 'set your mind at ease about to-morrow and her. Her safety isassured. I stake my life on it. She shall not be a victim. At the worstshe will but have learnt a lesson. So, then, adieu! The West hangs likea garland of unwatered flowers, neglected by the mistress they adorned. Remember the scene, and that here we parted, and that Chloe wished youthe happiness it was out of her power to bestow, because she was ofanother world, with her history written out to the last red streakbefore ever you knew her. Adieu; this time adieu for good!

Mr. Camwell stood in her path. 'Blind eyes, if you like, ' he said, 'butyou shall not hear blind language. I forfeit the poor considerationfor me that I have treasured; hate me; better hated by you than shun myduty! Your duchess is away at the first dawn this next morning; it hascome to that. I speak with full knowledge. Question her. '

Chloe threw a faltering scorn of him into her voice, as much as herheart's sharp throbs would allow. 'I question you, sir, how you came tothis full knowledge you boast of?'

'I have it; let that suffice. Nay, I will be particular; his coach isordered for the time I name to you; her maid is already at a station onthe road of the flight. '

'You have their servants in your pay?'

'For the mine--the countermine. We must grub dirt to match deceivers. You, madam, have chosen to be delicate to excess, and have thrown itupon me to be gross, and if you please, abominable, in my means ofdefending you. It is not too late for you to save the lady, nor too lateto bring him to the sense of honour. '

'I cannot think Colonel Poltermore so dishonourable. '

'Poor Colonel Poltermore! The office he is made to fill is an old one. Are you not ashamed, Chloe?'

'I have listened too long, ' she replied. 

'Then, if it is your pleasure, depart. '

He made way for her. She passed him. Taking two hurried steps in thegloom of the twilight, she stopped, held at her heart, and painfullyturning to him, threw her arms out, and let herself be seized andkissed. 

On his asking pardon of her, which his long habit of respect forced himto do in the thick of rapture and repetitions, she said, 'You rob noone. '

'Oh, ' he cried, 'there is a reward, then, for faithful love. But am Ithe man I was a minute back? I have you; I embrace you; and I doubt thatI am I. Or is it Chloe's ghost?'

'She has died and visits you. '

'And will again?'

Chloe could not speak for languor. 

The intensity of the happiness she gave by resting mutely where she was, charmed her senses. But so long had the frost been on them that theirawakening to warmth was haunted by speculations on the sweet taste ofthis reward of faithfulness to him, and the strange taste of her ownunfaithfulness to her. And reflecting on the cold act of speculationwhile strong arm and glowing mouth were pressing her, she thought hersenses might really be dead, and she a ghost visiting the good youth forhis comfort. So feel ghosts, she thought, and what we call happinessin love is a match between ecstasy and compliance. Another thought flewthrough her like a mortal shot: 'Not so with those two! with them itwill be ecstasy meeting ecstasy; they will take and give happiness inequal portions. ' A pang of jealousy traversed her frame. She made theshrewdness of it help to nerve her fervour in a last strain of him toher bosom, and gently releasing herself, she said, 'No one is robbed. And now, dear friend, promise me that you will not disturb Mr. Beamish. '

'Chloe, ' said he, 'have you bribed me?'

'I do not wish him to be troubled. '

'The duchess, I have told you--'

'I know. But you have Chloe's word that she will watch over the duchessand die to save her. It is an oath. You have heard of some arrangements. I say they shall lead to nothing: it shall not take place. Indeed, myfriend, I am awake; I see as much as you see. And those... After beingwhere I have been, can you suppose I have a regret? But she is my dearand peculiar charge, and if she runs a risk, trust to me that thereshall be no catastrophe; I swear it; so, now, adieu. We sup in companyto-night. They will be expecting some of Chloe's verses, and she mustsing to herself for a few minutes to stir the bed her songs take wingfrom; therefore, we will part, and for her sake avoid her; do not bepresent at our table, or in the room, or anywhere there. Yes, you robno one, ' she said, in a voice that curled through him deliciously bywavering; but I think I may blush at recollections, and I would ratherhave you absent. Adieu! I will not ask for obedience from you beyondto-night. Your word?'

He gave it in a stupor of felicity, and she fled. 

CHAPTER IX

Chloe drew the silken string from her bosom, as she descended the dimpathway through the furies, and set her fingers travelling along it forthe number of the knots. 'I have no right to be living, ' she said. Sevenwas the number; seven years she had awaited her lover's return; shecounted her age and completed it in sevens. Fatalism had sustained herduring her lover's absence; it had fast hold of her now. Thereby hadshe been enabled to say, 'He will come'; and saying, 'He has come, 'her touch rested on the first knot in the string. She had no powerto displace her fingers, and the cause of the tying of the knot stoodacross her brain marked in dull red characters, legible neither to hereye nor to her understanding, but a reviving of the hour that brought iton her spirit with human distinctness, except of the light of day: shehad a sense of having forfeited light, and seeing perhaps more clearly. Everything assured her that she saw more clearly than others; she sawtoo when it was good to cease to live. 

Hers was the unhappy lot of one gifted with poet-imagination to throbwith the woman supplanting her and share the fascination of the man whodeceived. At their first meeting, in her presence, she had seen thatthey were not strangers; she pitied them for speaking falsely, and whenshe vowed to thwart this course of evil it to save a younger creature ofher sex, not in rivalry. She treated them both with a proud generositysurpassing gentleness. All that there was of selfishness in her bosomresolved to the enjoyment of her one month of strongly willed delusion. 

The kiss she had sunk to robbed no one, not even her body's purity, forwhen this knot was tied she consigned herself to her end, and had becomea bag of dust. The other knots in the string pointed to verifications;this first one was a suspicion, and it was the more precious, she feltit to be more a certainty; it had come from the dark world beyond us, where all is known. Her belief that it had come thence was nourishedby testimony, the space of blackness wherein she had lived since, exhausting her last vitality in a simulation of infantile happiness, which was nothing other than the carrying on of her emotion of themoment of sharp sour sweet--such as it may be, the doomed below attainfor their knowledge of joy--when, at the first meeting with her lover, the perception of his treachery to the soul confiding in him, told hershe had lived, and opened out the cherishable kingdom of insensibilityto her for her heritage. 

She made her tragic humility speak thankfully to the wound that slewher. 'Had it not been so, I should not have seen him, ' she said:--Herlover would not have come to her but for his pursuit of another woman. 

She pardoned him for being attracted by that beautiful transplant of thefields: pardoned her likewise. 'He when I saw him first was as beautifulto me. For him I might have done as much. '

Far away in a lighted hall of the West, her family raised hands ofreproach. They were minute objects, keenly discerned as diminishedfigures cut in steel. Feeling could not be very warm for them, they wereso small, and a sea that had drowned her ran between; and lookingthat way she had scarce any warmth of feeling save for a white rhaiadrleaping out of broken cloud through branched rocks, where she hadclimbed and dreamed when a child. The dream was then of the coloureddays to come; now she was more infant in her mind, and she watched thescattered water broaden, and tasted the spray, sat there drinking thescene, untroubled by hopes as a lamb, different only from an infant inknowing that she had thrown off life to travel back to her home and berefreshed. She heard her people talk; they were unending babblers in thewaterfall. Truth was with them, and wisdom. How, then, could she pretendto any right to live? Already she had no name; she was less living thana tombstone. For who was Chloe? Her family might pass the grave of Chloewithout weeping, without moralizing. They had foreseen her ruin, theyhad foretold it, they noised it in the waters, and on they sped to theplains, telling the world of their prophecy, and making what was untoldas yet a lighter thing to do. 

The lamps in an irregularly dotted line underneath the hill beckoned herto her task of appearing as the gayest of them that draw their breathfor the day and have pulses for the morrow. 

CHAPTER X

At midnight the great supper party to celebrate the reconciliation ofMr. Beamish and Duchess Susan broke up, and beneath a soft fair sky theladies, with their silvery chatter of gratitude for amusement, caughtChloe in their arms to kiss her, rendering it natural for theircavaliers to exclaim that Chloe was blest above mortals. The duchesspreferred to walk. Her spirits were excited, and her language smelt ofher origin, but the superb fleshly beauty of the woman was aglow, andcrying, 'I declare I should burst in one of those boxes--just as ifyou'd stalled me!' she fanned a wind on her face, and sumptuously spreadher spherical skirts, attended by the vanquished and captive ColonelPoltermore, a gentleman manifestly bent on insinuating sly slips ofspeech to serve for here a pinch of powder, there a match. 'Am I?' shewas heard to say. She blew prodigious deep-chested sighs of a coquettethat has taken to roaring. 

Presently her voice tossed out: 'As if I would!' These vividilluminations of the Colonel's proceedings were a pasture to therearward groups, composed of two very grand ladies, Caseldy, Mr. Beamish, a lord, and Chloe. 

'You man! Oh!' sprang from the duchess. 'What do I hear? I won't listen;I can't, I mustn't, I oughtn't. '

So she said, but her head careened, she gave him her coy reluctant ear, with total abandonment to the seductions of his whispers, and the lordlet fly a peal of laughter. It had been a supper of copious wine, andthe songs which rise from wine. Nature was excused by our midnightnaturalists. 

The two great dames, admonished by the violence of the nobleman'slaughter, laid claim on Mr. Beamish to accompany them at their partingwith Chloe and Duchess Susan. 

In the momentary shuffling of couples incident to adieux among acompany, the duchess murmured to Caseldy:

'Have I done it well. '

He praised her for perfection in her acting. 'I am at your door atthree, remember. '

'My heart's in my mouth, ' said she. 

Colonel Poltermore still had the privilege of conducting her the fewfarther steps to her lodgings. 

Caseldy walked beside Chloe, and silently, until he said, 'If I have notyet mentioned the subject--'

'If it is an allusion to money let me not hear it to-night, ' shereplied. 

'I can only say that my lawyers have instructions. But my lawyers cannotpay you in gratitude. Do not think me in your hardest review of mymisconduct ungrateful. I have ever esteemed you above all women; I do, and I shall; you are too much above me. I am afraid I am a compositionof bad stuff; I did not win a very particularly good name on theContinent; I begin to know myself, and in comparison with you, dearCatherine----'

'You speak to Chloe, ' she said. 'Catherine is a buried person. She diedwithout pain. She is by this time dust. '

The man heaved his breast. 'Women have not an idea of our temptations. '

'You are excused by me for all your errors, Caseldy. Always rememberthat. '

He sighed profoundly. 'Ay, you have a Christian's heart. '

She answered, 'I have come to the conclusion that it is a Pagan's. '

'As for me, ' he rejoined, 'I am a fatalist. Through life I have seen mydestiny. What is to be, will be; we can do nothing. '

'I have heard of one who expired of a surfeit that he anticipated, nayproclaimed, when indulging in the last desired morsel, ' said Chloe. 

'He was driven to it. '

'From within. '

Caseldy acquiesced; his wits were clouded, and an illustration evencoarser and more grotesque would have won a serious nod and a sigh fromhim. 'Yes, we are moved by other hands!'

'It is pleasant to think so: and think it of me tomorrow. Will you!'said Chloe. 

He promised it heartily, to induce her to think the same of him. 

Their separation was in no way remarkable. The pretty formalities wereexecuted at the door, and the pair of gentlemen departed. 

'It's quite dark still, ' Duchess Susan said, looking up at the sky, andshe ran upstairs, and sank, complaining of the weakness of her legs, ina chair of the ante-chamber of her bedroom, where Chloe slept. Then sheasked the time of the night. She could not suppress her hushed 'Oh!'of heavy throbbing from minute to minute. Suddenly she started off ata quick stride to her own room, saying that it must be sleepiness whichaffected her so. 

Her bedroom had a door to the sitting-room, and thence, as also fromChloe's room, the landing on the stairs was reached, for the room ranparallel with both bed-chambers. She walked in it and threw the windowopen, but closed it immediately; opened and shut the door, and returnedand called for Chloe. She wanted to be read to. Chloe named certaincomposing books. The duchess chose a book of sermons. 'But we're allsuch dreadful sinners, it's better not to bother ourselves late atnight. ' She dismissed that suggestion. Chloe proposed books of poetry. 'Only I don't understand them except about larks, and buttercups, andhayfields, and that's no comfort to a woman burning, ' was the answer. 

'Are you feverish, madam?' said Chloe. And the duchess was sharp on her:'Yes, madam, I am. '

She reproved herself in a change of tone: 'No, Chloe, not feverish, onlythis air of yours here is such an exciting air, as the doctor says; andthey made me drink wine, and I played before supper--Oh! my money; Iused to say I could get more, but now!' she sighed--'but there's betterin the world than money. You know that, don't you, you dear? Tell me. And I want you to be happy; that you'll find. I do wish we could allbe!' She wept, and spoke of requiring a little music to compose her. 

Chloe stretched a hand for her guitar. Duchess Susan listened to somenotes, and cried that it went to her heart and hurt her. 'Everything welike a lot has a fence and a board against trespassers, because of sucha lot of people in the world, ' she moaned. 'Don't play, put down thatthing, please, dear. You're the cleverest creature anybody has ever met;they all say so. I wish I----Lovely women catch men, and clever womenkeep them: I've heard that said in this wretched place, and it 's a niceprospect for me, next door to a fool! I know I am. '

'The duke adores you, madam. '

'Poor duke! Do let him be--sleeping so woebegone with his mouth so, and that chin of a baby, like as if he dreamed of a penny whistle. Heshouldn't have let me come here. Talk of Mr. Beamish. How he will missyou, Chloe!'

'He will, ' Chloe said sadly. 

'If you go, dear. '

'I am going. '

'Why should you leave him, Chloe?'

'I must. '

'And there, the thought of it makes you miserable!'

'It does. '

'You needn't, I'm sure. '

Chloe looked at her. 

The duchess turned her head. 'Why can't you be gay, as you were at thesupper-table, Chloe? You're out to him like a flower when the sun jumpsover the hill; you're up like a lark in the dews; as I used to be when Ithought of nothing. Oh, the early morning; and I'm sleepy. What a beastI feel, with my grandeur, and the time in an hour or two for the birdsto sing, and me ready to drop. I must go and undress. '

She rushed on Chloe, kissed her hastily, declaring that she was quitedead of fatigue, and dismissed her. 'I don't want help, I can undressmyself. As if Susan Barley couldn't do that for herself! and you mayshut your door, I sha'n't have any frights to-night, I'm so tired out. '

'Another kiss, ' Chloe said tenderly. 

'Yes, take it'--the duchess leaned her cheek--'but I'm so tired I don'tknow what I'm doing. '

'It will not be on your conscience, ' Chloe answered, kissing her warmly. 

Will those words she withdrew, and the duchess closed the door. She rana bolt in it immediately. 

'I'm too tired to know anything I'm doing, ' she said to herself, and stood with shut eyes to hug certain thoughts which set her bosomheaving. 

There was the bed, there was the clock. She had the option of lying downand floating quietly into the day, all peril past. It seemed sweet for aminute. But it soon seemed an old, a worn, an end-of-autumn life, chill, without aim, like a something that was hungry and toothless. The bedproposing innocent sleep repelled her and drove her to the clock. Theclock was awful: the hand at the hour, the finger following the minute, commanded her to stir actively, and drove her to gentle meditations onthe bed. She lay down dressed, after setting her light beside the clock, that she might see it at will, and considering it necessary for the bedto appear to have been lain on. Considering also that she ought to beheard moving about in the process of undressing, she rose from the bedto make sure of her reading of the guilty clock. An hour and twentyminutes! she had no more time than that: and it was not enough for hervarious preparations, though it was true that her maid had packed andtaken a box of the things chiefly needful; but the duchess had to changeher shoes and her dress, and run at bo-peep with the changes ofher mind, a sedative preface to any fatal step among women of hercomplexion, for so they invite indecision to exhaust their scruples, andthey let the blood have its way. Having so short a space of time, shethought the matter decided, and with some relief she flung despairing onthe bed, and lay down for good with her duke. In a little while her headwas at work reviewing him sternly, estimating him not less accuratelythan the male moralist charitable to her sex would do. She quitted thebed, with a spring to escape her imagined lord; and as if she hadfelt him to be there, she lay down no more. A quiet life like that wasflatter to her idea than a handsomely bound big book without any printon the pages, and without a picture. Her contemplation of it, contrastedwith the life waved to her view by the timepiece, set her whole systemrageing; she burned to fly. Providently, nevertheless, she thumped apillow, and threw the bedclothes into proper disorder, to inform theworld that her limbs had warmed them, and that all had been impulse withher. She then proceeded to disrobe, murmuring to herself that she couldstop now, and could stop now, at each stage of the advance to a freshdressing of her person, and moralizing on her singular fate, in themouth of an observer. 'She was shot up suddenly over everybody's head, and suddenly down she went. ' Susan whispered to herself: 'But it wasfor love!' Possessed by the rosiness of love, she finished her business, with an attention to everything needed that was equal to perfectserenity of mind. After which there was nothing to do, save to sithumped in a chair, cover her face and count the clock-tickings, thatsaid, Yes--no; do--don't; fly--stay; fly--fly! It seemed to her sheheard a moving. Well she might with that dreadful heart of hers!

Chloe was asleep, at peace by this time, she thought; and how she enviedChloe! She might be as happy, if she pleased. Why not? But what kind ofhappiness was it? She likened it to that of the corpse underground, andshrank distastefully. 

Susan stood at her glass to have a look at the creature about whom therewas all this disturbance, and she threw up her arms high for a languid, not unlovely yawn, that closed in blissful shuddering with the sensationof her lover's arms having wormed round her waist and taken her whileshe was defenceless. For surely they would. She took a jewelled ring, his gift, from her purse, and kissed it, and drew it on and off herfinger, leaving it on. Now she might wear it without fear of inquiriesand virtuous eyebrows. O heavenly now--if only it were an hour hence;and going behind galloping horses!

The clock was at the terrible moment. She hesitated internally andhastened; once her feet stuck fast, and firmly she said, 'No'; but theclock was her lord. The clock was her lover and her lord; and obeyingit, she managed to get into the sitting-room, on the pretext that shemerely wished to see through the front window whether daylight wascoming. 

How well she knew that half-light of the ebb of the wave of darkness. 

Strange enough it was to see it showing houses regaining their solidityof the foregone day, instead of still fields, black hedges, familiarshapes of trees. The houses had no wakefulness, they were but seen tostand, and the light was a revelation of emptiness. Susan's heart wascunning to reproach her duke for the difference of the scene she beheldfrom that of the innocent open-breasted land. Yes, it was dawn in awicked place that she never should have been allowed to visit. But wherewas he whom she looked for? There! The cloaked figure of a man was atthe corner of the street. It was he. Her heart froze; but her limbswere strung to throw off the house, and reach air, breathe, and (as herthoughts ran) swoon, well-protected. To her senses the house was a houseon fire, and crying to her to escape. 

Yet she stepped deliberately, to be sure-footed in a dusky room; shetouched along the wall and came to the door, where a foot-stool nearlytripped her. Here her touch was at fault, for though she knew she mustbe close by the door, she was met by an obstruction unlike wood, andthe door seemed neither shut nor open. She could not find the handle;something hung over it. Thinking coolly, she fancied the thing must be agown or dressing-gown; it hung heavily. Her fingers were sensible of thetouch of silk; she distinguished a depending bulk, and she felt at itvery carefully and mechanically, saying within herself, in her anxietyto pass it without noise, 'If I should awake poor Chloe, of all people!'Her alarm was that the door might creak. Before any other alarm hadstruck her brain, the hand she felt with was in a palsy, her mouthgaped, her throat thickened, the dust-ball rose in her throat, and theeffort to swallow it down and get breath kept her from acute speculationwhile she felt again, pinched, plucked at the thing, ready to laugh, ready to shriek. Above her head, all on one side, the thing had a roundwhite top. Could it be a hand that her touch had slid across? An armtoo! this was an arm! She clutched it, imagining that it clung to her. She pulled it to release herself from it, desperately she pulled, and alump descended, and a flash of all the torn nerves of her body told herthat a dead human body was upon her. 

At a quarter to four o'clock of a midsummer morning, as Mr. Beamishrelates of his last share in the Tale of Chloe, a woman's voice, inpiercing notes of anguish, rang out three shrieks consecutively, whichwere heard by him at the instant of his quitting his front doorstep, in obedience to the summons of young Mr. Camwell, delivered ten minutespreviously, with great urgency, by that gentleman's lacquey. Onhis reaching the street of the house inhabited by Duchess Susan, heperceived many night-capped heads at windows, and one window of thehouse in question lifted but vacant. His first impression accused thepair of gentlemen, whom he saw bearing drawn swords in no friendlyattitude of an ugly brawl that had probably affrighted her Grace, orher personal attendant, a woman capable of screaming, for he was wellassured that it could not have been Chloe, the least likely of her sexto abandon herself to the use of their weapons either in terror or injeopardy. The antagonists were Mr. Camwell and Count Caseldy. On hisapproaching them, Mr. Camwell sheathed his sword, saying that his workwas done. Caseldy was convulsed with wrath, to such a degree as to makethe part of an intermediary perilous. There had been passes betweenthem, and Caseldy cried aloud that he would have his enemy's blood. The night-watch was nowhere. Soon, however, certain shopmen and theirapprentices assisted Mr. Beamish to preserve the peace, despite thefury of Caseldy and the provocations--'not easy to withstand, ' saysthe chronicler--offered by him to young Camwell. The latter said to Mr. Beamish: 'I knew I should be no match, so I sent for you, ' causing hisfriend astonishment, inasmuch as he was assured of the youth's naturalvalour. 

Mr. Beamish was about to deliver an allocution of reproof to them inequal shares, being entirely unsuspicious of any other reason for thealarum than this palpable outbreak of a rivalry that he would haveinclined to attribute to the charms of Chloe, when the house-door swungwide for them to enter, and the landlady of the house, holding claspedhands at full stretch, implored them to run up to the poor lady: 'Oh, she's dead; she's dead, dead!'

Caseldy rushed past her. 

'How, dead! good woman?' Mr. Beamish questioned her most incredulously, half-smiling. 

She answered among her moans: 'Dead by the neck; off the door--Oh!'

Young Camwell pressed his forehead, with a call on his Maker's name. Asthey reached the landing upstairs, Caseldy came out of the sitting-room. 

'Which?' said Camwell to the speaking of his face. 

'She!' said the other. 

'The duchess?' Mr. Beamish exclaimed. 

But Camwell walked into the room. He had nothing to ask after thatreply. 

The figure stretched along the floor was covered with a sheet. The youngman fell at his length beside it, and his face was downward. 

Mr. Beamish relates: 'To this day, when I write at an interval offifteen years, I have the tragic ague of that hour in my blood, and Ibehold the shrouded form of the most admirable of women, whose heart wasbroken by a faithless man ere she devoted her wreck of life to arrestone weaker than herself on the descent to perdition. Therein it wasbeneficently granted her to be of the service she prayed to bethrough her death. She died to save. In a last letter, found upon herpincushion, addressed to me under seal of secrecy toward the partiesprincipally concerned, she anticipates the whole confession of theunhappy duchess. Nay, she prophesies: "The duchess will tell you trulyshe has had enough of love!" Those actual words were reiterated to meby the poor lady daily until her lord arrived to head the funeralprocession, and assist in nursing back the shattered health of his wifeto a state that should fit her for travelling. To me, at least, she wasconstant in repeating, "No more of love!" By her behaviour to her duke, I can judge her to have been sincere. She spoke of feeling Chloe's eyesgo through her with every word of hers that she recollected. Nor was theend of Chloe less effective upon the traitor. He was in the processionto her grave. He spoke to none. There is a line of the verse bearingthe superscription, "My Reasons for Dying, " that shows her to have beenapprehensive to secure the safety of Mr. Camwell:

 I die because my heart is dead To warn a soul from sin I die: I die that blood may not be shed, etc. 

She feared he would be somewhere on the road to mar the fugitives, andshe knew him, as indeed he knew himself, no match for one trained in theforeign tricks of steel, ready though he was to dispute the traitor'sway. She remembers Mr. Camwell's petition for the knotted silken stringin her request that it shall be cut from her throat and given to him. '

Mr. Beamish indulges in verses above the grave of Chloe. They are of acharacter to cool emotion. But when we find a man, who is commonly ofthe quickest susceptibility to ridicule as well as to what is befitting, careless of exposure, we may reflect on the truthfulness of feeling bywhich he is drawn to pass his own guard and come forth in his nakedness;something of the poet's tongue may breathe to us through his mortalstammering, even if we have to acknowledge that a quotation wouldscatter pathos. 

 ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS:

 All flattery is at somebody's expense Be philosophical, but accept your personal dues But I leave it to you Distrust us, and it is a declaration of war Happiness in love is a match between ecstasy and compliance If I do not speak of payment Intellectual contempt of easy dupes Invite indecision to exhaust their scruples Is not one month of brightness as much as we can ask for? No flattery for me at the expense of my sisters Nothing desirable will you have which is not coveted Primitive appetite for noise She might turn out good, if well guarded for a time The alternative is, a garter and the bedpost They miss their pleasure in pursuing it This mania of young people for pleasure, eternal pleasure Wits, which are ordinarily less productive than land

THE HOUSE ON THE BEACH

By George Meredith A REALISTIC TALE

CHAPTER I

The experience of great officials who have laid down their dignitiesbefore death, or have had the philosophic mind to review themselveswhile still wielding the deputy sceptre, teaches them that in theexercise of authority over men an eccentric behaviour in trifles hasmost exposed them to hostile criticism and gone farthest to jeopardizetheir popularity. It is their Achilles' heel; the place wheretheir mother Nature holds them as she dips them in our waters. Theeccentricity of common persons is the entertainment of the multitude, and the maternal hand is perceived for a cherishing and endearing signupon them; but rarely can this be found suitable for the august instation; only, indeed, when their sceptre is no more fearful than agrandmother's birch; and these must learn from it sooner or later thatthey are uncomfortably mortal. 

When herrings are at auction on a beach, for example, the man of chiefdistinction in the town should not step in among a poor fraternity totake advantage of an occasion of cheapness, though it be done, as hemay protest, to relieve the fishermen of a burden; nor should sucha dignitary as the bailiff of a Cinque Port carry home the spoil ofvictorious bargaining on his arm in a basket. It is not that hisconduct is in itself objectionable, so much as that it causes him to bepopularly weighed; and during life, until the best of all advocates canplead before our fellow Englishmen that we are out of their way, it isprudent to avoid the process. 

Mr. Tinman, however, this high-stepping person in question, happened tohave come of a marketing mother. She had started him from a small shopto a big one. He, by the practice of her virtues, had been enabled tostart himself as a gentleman. He was a man of this ambition, and prouderbehind it. But having started himself precipitately, he took rank amongindependent incomes, as they are called, only to take fright at theperils of starvation besetting one who has been tempted to abandon thesource of fifty per cent. So, if noble imagery were allowable in ourtime in prose, might alarms and partial regrets be assumed to animatethe splendid pumpkin cut loose from the suckers. Deprived of thatprodigious nourishment of the shop in the fashionable seaport ofHelmstone, he retired upon his native town, the Cinque Port ofCrikswich, where he rented the cheapest residence he could discover forhis habitation, the House on the Beach, and lived imposingly, though notin total disaccord with his old mother's principles. His income, as heobserved to his widowed sister and solitary companion almost daily intheir privacy, was respectable. The descent from an altitude of fiftyto five per cent. Cannot but be felt. Nevertheless it was a comfortingmidnight bolster reflection for a man, turning over to the other sidebetween a dream and a wink, that he was making no bad debts, and onemust pay to be addressed as esquire. Once an esquire, you are off theground in England and on the ladder. An esquire can offer his handin marriage to a lady in her own right; plain esquires have marriedduchesses; they marry baronets' daughters every day of the week. 

Thoughts of this kind were as the rise and fall of waves in the bosom ofthe new esquire. How often in his Helmstone shop had he not heard titledladies disdaining to talk a whit more prettily than ordinary women; andhe had been a match for the subtlety of their pride--he understood it. He knew well that at the hint of a proposal from him they would havespoken out in a manner very different to that of ordinary women. Thelightning, only to be warded by an esquire, was in them. He quittedbusiness at the age of forty, that he might pretend to espousals with aborn lady; or at least it was one of the ideas in his mind. 

And here, I think, is the moment for the epitaph of anticipation overhim, and the exclamation, alas! I would not be premature, but it isnecessary to create some interest in him, and no one but a foreignercould feel it at present for the Englishman who is bursting merely to dolike the rest of his countrymen, and rise above them to shake them classby class as the dust from his heels. Alas! then an--undertaker's pathosis better than none at all--he was not a single-minded aspirant to oursocial honours. The old marketing mother; to whom he owed his fortunes, was in his blood to confound his ambition; and so contradictory was theman's nature, that in revenge for disappointments, there were times whenhe turned against the saving spirit of parsimony. Readers deep in Greekdramatic writings will see the fatal Sisters behind the chair of a manwho gives frequent and bigger dinners, that he may become important inhis neighbourhood, while decreasing the price he pays for his wine, thathe may miserably indemnify himself for the outlay. A sip of his winefetched the breath, as when men are in the presence of the tremendouselements of nature. It sounded the constitution more darkly-awful, andwith a profounder testimony to stubborn health, than the physician'sinstruments. Most of the guests at Mr. Tinman's table were soconstructed that they admired him for its powerful quality the more athis announcement of the price of it; the combined strength and cheapnessprobably flattering them, as by another mystic instance of the nationalenergy. It must have been so, since his townsmen rejoiced to hail him ashead of their town. Here and there a solitary esquire, fished out of thebathing season to dine at the house on the beach, was guilty of raisingone of those clamours concerning subsequent headaches, which spreadan evil reputation as a pall. A resident esquire or two, in whom areminiscence of Tinman's table may be likened to the hook which some oldtrout has borne away from the angler as the most vivid of warnings tohim to beware for the future, caught up the black report and propagatedit. 

The Lieutenant of the Coastguard, hearing the latest conscious victim, or hearing of him, would nod his head and say he had never dined atTinman's table without a headache ensuing and a visit to the chemist'sshop; which, he was assured, was good for trade, and he acquiesced, asit was right to do in a man devoted to his country. He dined with Tinmanagain. We try our best to be social. For eight months in our year hehad little choice but to dine with Tinman or be a hermit attached to atelescope. 

"Where are you going, Lieutenant?" His frank reply to the questionwas, "I am going to be killed;" and it grew notorious that this meantTinman's table. We get on together as well as we can. Perhaps if wewere an acutely calculating people we should find it preferable both fortrade and our physical prosperity to turn and kill Tinman, in contemptof consequences. But we are not, and so he does the business graduallyfor us. A generous people we must be, for Tinman was not detested. Therecollection of "next morning" caused him to be dimly feared. 

Tinman, meanwhile, was awake only to the Circumstance that he made noprogress as an esquire, except on the envelopes of letters, and in hisown esteem. That broad region he began to occupy to the exclusion ofother inhabitants; and the result of such a state of princely isolationwas a plunge of his whole being into deep thoughts. From the hour of hisinvestiture as the town's chief man, thoughts which were long shots tookpossession of him. He had his wits about him; he was alive to ridicule;he knew he was not popular below, or on easy terms with people abovehim, and he meditated a surpassing stroke as one of the Band of Esq. , that had nothing original about it to perplex and annoy the native mind, yet was dazzling. Few members of the privileged Band dare even imaginethe thing. 

It will hardly be believed, but it is historical fact, that in the actof carrying fresh herrings home on his arm, he entertained the idea ofa visit to the First Person and Head of the realm, and was indulging inpleasing visions of the charms of a personal acquaintance. Nay, he hadalready consulted with brother jurats. For you must know that one ofthe princesses had recently suffered betrothal in the newspapers, andsupposing her to deign to ratify the engagement, what so reasonableon the part of a Cinque Port chieftain as to congratulate his liegemistress, her illustrious mother? These are thoughts and these are deeds>which give emotional warmth and colour to the ejecter members of apopulation wretchedly befogged. They are our sunlight, and our brightertheme of conversation. They are necessary to the climate and the Saxonmind; and it would be foolish to put them away, as it is foolish not todo our utmost to be intimate with terrestrial splendours while we havethem--as it may be said of wardens, mayors, and bailiffs-at command. Tinman was quite of this opinion. They are there to relieve our dulness. We have them in the place of heavenly; and he would have argued that wehave a right to bother them too. He had a notion, up in the clouds, ofa Sailors' Convalescent Hospital at Crikswich to seduce a prince with, hand him the trowel, make him "lay the stone, " and then poor prince!refresh him at table. But that was a matter for by and by. 

His purchase of herrings completed, Mr. Tinman walked across the moundof shingle to the house on the beach. He was rather a fresh-faced man, of the Saxon colouring, and at a distance looking good-humoured. Thathe should have been able to make such an appearance while doing dailybattle with his wine, was a proof of great physical vigour. His pacewas leisurely, as it must needs be over pebbles, where half a step issubtracted from each whole one in passing; and, besides, he was aware ofa general breath at his departure that betokened a censorious assembly. Why should he not market for himself? He threw dignity into hisretreating figure in response to the internal interrogation. The moment>was one when conscious rectitude =pliers man should have a tail forits just display. Philosophers have drawn attention to the power of thehuman face to express pure virtue, but no sooner has it passed onthan the spirit erect within would seem helpless. The breadth of ourshoulders is apparently presented for our critics to write on. Poor dutyis done by the simple sense of moral worth, to supplant that absence offeature in the plain flat back. We are below the animals in this. Howcharged with language behind him is a dog! Everybody has noticed it. Leta dog turn away from a hostile circle, and his crisp and wary tail notmerely defends him, it menaces; it is a weapon. Man has no choice but tosurge and boil, or stiffen preposterously. Knowing the popular sentimentabout his marketing--for men can see behind their backs, though they mayhave nothing to speak with--Tinman resembled those persons ofprinciple who decline to pay for a "Bless your honour!" from a volublebeggar-woman, and obtain the reverse of it after they have gone by. Hewas sufficiently sensitive to feel that his back was chalked as on aslate. The only remark following him was, "There he goes!"

He went to the seaward gate of the house on the beach, made practicablein a low flint wall, where he was met by his sister Martha, to whomhe handed the basket. Apparently he named the cost of his purchase perdozen. She touched the fish and pressed the bellies of the topmost, it might be to question them tenderly concerning their roes. Then thecouple passed out of sight. Herrings were soon after this despatchingtheir odours through the chimneys of all Crikswich, and there was thatmuch of concord and festive union among the inhabitants. 

The house on the beach had been posted where it stood, one supposes, forthe sake of the sea-view, from which it turned right about to face thetown across a patch of grass and salt scurf, looking like a square andscornful corporal engaged in the perpetual review of an awkward squad ofrecruits. Sea delighted it not, nor land either. Marine Parade frontingit to the left, shaded sickly eyes, under a worn green verandah, froma sun that rarely appeared, as the traducers of spinsters pretend thosevirgins are ever keenly on their guard against him that cometh not. Belle Vue Terrace stared out of lank glass panes without reserve, unashamed of its yellow complexion. A gaping public-house, callingitself newly Hotel, fell backward a step. Villas with the titles ofroyalty and bloody battles claimed five feet of garden, and swelled inbowwindows beside other villas which drew up firmly, commending to theattention a decent straightness and unintrusive decorum in preference. On an elevated meadow to the right was the Crouch. The Hall of Elbanestled among weather-beaten dwarf woods further toward the cliff. Shavenness, featurelessness, emptiness, clamminess scurfiness, formedthe outward expression of a town to which people were reasonably glad tocome from London in summer-time, for there was nothing in Crikswichto distract the naked pursuit of health. The sea tossed its renovatingbrine to the determinedly sniffing animal, who went to his meals with anappetite that rendered him cordially eulogistic of the place, in spiteof certain frank whiffs of sewerage coming off an open deposit on thecommon to mingle with the brine. Tradition told of a French lady andgentleman entering the town to take lodgings for a month, and thaton the morrow they took a boat from the shore, saying in their faintEnglish to a sailor veteran of the coastguard, whom they had consultedabout the weather, "It is better zis zan zat, " as they shrugged betweenrough sea and corpselike land. And they were not seen again. Theirmeaning none knew. Having paid their bill at the lodging-house, theirconduct was ascribed to systematic madness. English people came toCrikswich for the pure salt sea air, and they did not expect it to becooked and dressed and decorated for them. If these things are done tonature, it is nature no longer that you have, but something Frenchified. Those French are for trimming Neptune's beard! Only wait, and you aresure to find variety in nature, more than you may like. You will find itin Neptune. What say you to a breach of the sea-wall, and an inundationof the aromatic grass-flat extending from the house on the beach to thetottering terraces, villas, cottages: and public-house transformed byits ensign to Hotel, along the frontage of the town? Such an eventhad occurred of old, and had given the house on the beach the seriousshaking great Neptune in his wrath alone can give. But many years hadintervened. Groynes had been run down to intercept him and divert him. He generally did his winter mischief on a mill and salt marshes lowerwestward. Mr. Tinman had always been extremely zealous in promoting theexpenditure of what moneys the town had to spare upon the protection ofthe shore, as it were for the propitiation or defiance of the sea-god. There was a kindly joke against him an that subject among brotherjurats. He retorted with the joke, that the first thing for Englishmento look to were England's defences. 

But it will not do to be dwelling too fondly on our eras of peace, forwhich we make such splendid sacrifices. Peace, saving for the advent ofa German band, which troubled the repose of the town at intervals, had imparted to the inhabitants of Crikswich, within and without, thelikeness to its most perfect image, together, it must be confessed, witha degree of nervousness that invested common events with some of theterrors of the Last Trump, when one night, just upon the passing of thevernal equinox, something happened. 

CHAPTER II

A carriage Stopped short in the ray of candlelight that was fitfullyand feebly capering on the windy blackness outside the open workshop ofCrickledon, the carpenter, fronting the sea-beach. Mr. Tinnnan's housewas inquired for. Crickledon left off planing; at half-sprawl over theboard, he bawled out, "Turn to the right; right ahead; can't mistakeit. " He nodded to one of the cronies intent on watching his labours:"Not unless they mean to be bait for whiting-pout. Who's that forTinman, I wonder?" The speculations of Crickledon's friends were lost inthe scream of the plane. 

One cast an eye through the door and observed that the carriage wasthere still. "Gentleman's got out and walked, " said Crickledon. He wasinformed that somebody was visible inside. "Gentleman's wife, mayhap, "he said. His friends indulged in their privilege of thinking whatthey liked, and there was the usual silence of tongues in the shop. Hefurnished them sound and motion for their amusement, and now and then ascrap of conversation; and the sedater spirits dwelling in his immediateneighbourhood were accustomed to step in and see him work up tosupper-time, instead of resorting to the more turbid and costlyexcitement of the public-house. 

Crickledon looked up from the measurement of a thumb-line. In thedoorway stood a bearded gentleman, who announced himself with thestartling exclamation, "Here's a pretty pickle!" and bustled to make wayfor a man well known to them as Ned Crummins, the upholsterer's man, onwhose back hung an article of furniture, the condition of which, with acondensed brevity of humour worthy of literary admiration, he displayedby mutely turning himself about as he entered. 

"Smashed!" was the general outcry. 

"I ran slap into him, " said the gentleman. "Who the deuce!--no bonesbroken, that's one thing. The fellow--there, look at him: he's like aglass tortoise. "

"It's a chiwal glass, " Crickledon remarked, and laid finger on the starin the centre. 

"Gentleman ran slap into me, " said Crummins, depositing the frame on thefloor of the shop. 

"Never had such a shock in my life, " continued the gentleman. "Upon mysoul, I took him for a door: I did indeed. A kind of light flashed fromone of your houses here, and in the pitch dark I thought I was at thedoor of old Mart Tinman's house, and dash me if I did n't go in--crash!But what the deuce do you do, carrying that great big looking-glass atnight, man? And, look here tell me; how was it you happened to be goingglass foremost when you'd got the glass on your back?"

"Well, 't ain't my fault, I knows that, " rejoined Crummins. "I camealong as careful as a man could. I was just going to bawl out to MasterTinman, 'I knows the way, never fear me'; for I thinks I hears him callfrom his house, 'Do ye see the way?' and into me this gentleman runs allhis might, and smash goes the glass. I was just ten steps from MasterTinman's gate, and that careful, I reckoned every foot I put down, thatI was; I knows I did, though. "

"Why, it was me calling, 'I'm sure I can't see the way. '

"You heard me, you donkey!" retorted the bearded gentleman. "What wasthe good of your turning that glass against me in the very nick when Idashed on you?"

"Well, 't ain't my fault, I swear, " said Crummins. "The wind catchesvoices so on a pitch dark night, you never can tell whether they be onone shoulder or the other. And if I'm to go and lose my place through nofault of mine----"

"Have n't I told you, sir, I'm going to pay the damage? Here, " said thegentleman, fumbling at his waistcoat, "here, take this card. Read it. "

For the first time during the scene in the carpenter's shop, a certainpomposity swelled the gentleman's tone. His delivery of the cardappeared to act on him like the flourish of a trumpet before great men. 

"Van Diemen Smith, " he proclaimed himself for the assistance of NedCrummins in his task; the latter's look of sad concern on receiving thecard seeming to declare an unscholarly conscience. 

An anxious feminine voice was heard close beside Mr. Van Diemen Smith. 

"Oh, papa, has there been an accident? Are you hurt?"

"Not a bit, Netty; not a bit. Walked into a big looking-glass in thedark, that's all. A matter of eight or ten pound, and that won't stumpus. But these are what I call queer doings in Old England, when youcan't take a step in the dark, on the seashore without plunging banginto a glass. And it looks like bad luck to my visit to old MartTinman. "

"Can you, " he addressed the company, "tell me of a clean, wholesomelodging-house? I was thinking of flinging myself, body and baggage, onyour mayor, or whatever he is--my old schoolmate; but I don't so muchlike this beginning. A couple of bed-rooms and sitting-room; cleansheets, well aired; good food, well cooked; payment per week inadvance. "

The pebble dropped into deep water speaks of its depth by the tardyarrival of bubbles on the surface, and, in like manner, the very simplequestion put by Mr. Van Diemen Smith pursued its course of penetrationin the assembled mind in the carpenter's shop for a considerable period, with no sign to show that it had reached the bottom. 

"Surely, papa, we can go to an inn? There must be some hotel, " said hisdaughter. 

"There's good accommodation at the Cliff Hotel hard by, " saidCrickledon. 

"But, " said one of his friends, "if you don't want to go so far, sir, there's Master Crickledon's own house next door, and his wife letslodgings, and there's not a better cook along this coast. "

"Then why did n't the man mention it? Is he afraid of having me?"asked Mr. Smith, a little thunderingly. "I may n't be known much yetin England; but I'll tell you, you inquire the route to Mr. Van DiemenSmith over there in Australia. "

"Yes, papa, " interrupted his daughter, "only you must consider that itmay not be convenient to take us in at this hour--so late. "

"It's not that, miss, begging your pardon, " said Crickledon. "I make apoint of never recommending my own house. That's where it is. Otherwiseyou're welcome to try us. "

"I was thinking of falling bounce on my old schoolmate, and putting OldEnglish hospitality to the proof, " Mr. Smith meditated. "But it's late. Yes, and that confounded glass! No, we'll bide with you, Mr. Carpenter. I'll send my card across to Mart Tinman to-morrow, and set him agog athis breakfast. "

Mr. Van Diemen Smith waved his hand for Crickledon to lead the way. 

Hereupon Ned Crummins looked up from the card he had been turning overand over, more and more like one arriving at a condemnatory judgment ofa fish. 

"I can't go and give my master a card instead of his glass, " heremarked. 

"Yes, that reminds me; and I should like to know what you meant bybringing that glass away from Mr. Tinman's house at night, " said Mr. Smith. "If I'm to pay for it, I've a right to know. What's the meaningof moving it at night? Eh, let's hear. Night's not the time for movingbig glasses like that. I'm not so sure I haven't got a case. "

"If you'll step round to my master along o' me, sir, " said Crummins, "perhaps he'll explain. "

Crummins was requested to state who his master was, and he replied, "Phippun and Company;" but Mr. Smith positively refused to go with him. 

"But here, " said he, "is a crown for you, for you're a civil fellow. You'll know where to find me in the morning; and mind, I shall expectPhippun and Company to give me a very good account of their reason formoving a big looking-glass on a night like this. There, be off. "

The crown-piece in his hand effected a genial change in Crummins'disposition to communicate. Crickledon spoke to him about the glass; twoor three of the others present jogged him. "What did Mr. Tinman wantby having the glass moved so late in the day, Ned? Your master wasn'tnervous about his property, was he?"

"Not he, " said Crummins, and began to suck down his upper lip andagitate his eyelids and stand uneasily, glimmering signs of the settingin of the tide of narration. 

He caught the eye of Mr. Smith, then looked abashed at Miss. 

Crickledon saw his dilemma. "Say what's uppermost, Ned; never mind howyou says it. English is English. Mr. Tinman sent for you to take theglass away, now, did n't he?"

"He did, " said Crummins. 

"And you went to him. "

"Ay, that I did. "

"And he fastened the chiwal glass upon your back"

"He did that. "

"That's all plain sailing. Had he bought the glass?"

"No, he had n't bought it. He'd hired it. "

As when upon an enforced visit to the dentist, people have had onetooth out, the remaining offenders are more willingly submitted to theoperation, insomuch that a poetical licence might hazard the statementthat they shed them like leaves of the tree, so Crummins, who had shrunkfrom speech, now volunteered whole sentences in succession, and howimportant they were deemed by his fellow-townsman, Mr. Smith, andespecially Miss Annette Smith, could perceive in their ejaculations, before they themselves were drawn into the strong current of interest. 

And this was the matter: Tinman had hired the glass for three days. Latish, on the very first day of the hiring, close upon dark, he haddespatched imperative orders to Phippun and Company to take the glassout of his house on the spot. And why? Because, as he maintained, therewas a fault in the glass causing an incongruous and absurd reflection;and he was at that moment awaiting the arrival of another chiwal-glass. 

"Cut along, Ned, " said Crickledon. 

"What the deuce does he want with a chiwal-glass at all?" cried Mr. Smith, endangering the flow of the story by suggesting to the narratorthat he must "hark back, " which to him was equivalent to the jumping ofa chasm hindward. Happily his brain had seized a picture:

"Mr. Tinman, he's a-standin' in his best Court suit. "

Mr. Tinmau's old schoolmate gave a jump; and no wonder. 

"Standing?" he cried; and as the act of standing was really notextraordinary, he fixed upon the suit: "Court?"

"So Mrs. Cavely told me, it was what he was standin' in, and as I found'm I left 'm, " said Crummins. 

"He's standing in it now?" said Mr. Van Diemen Smith, with a great gape. 

Crummins doggedly repeated the statement. Many would have ornamented itin the repetition, but he was for bare flat truth. 

"He must be precious proud of having a Court suit, " said Mr. Smith, and gazed at his daughter so glassily that she smiled, though she wasimpatient to proceed to Mrs. Crickledon's lodgings. 

"Oh! there's where it is?" interjected the carpenter, with a funnyfrown at a low word from Ned Crummins. "Practicing, is he? Mr. Tinman'spracticing before the glass preparatory to his going to the palace inLondon. "

"He gave me a shillin', " said Crummins. 

Crickledon comprehended him immediately. "We sha'n't speak about it, Ned. "

What did you see? was thus cautiously suggested. 

The shilling was on Crummins' tongue to check his betrayal of the secretscene. But remembering that he had only witnessed it by accident, andthat Mr. Tinman had not completely taken him into his confidence, hethrust his hand down his pocket to finger the crown-piece lying infellowship with the coin it multiplied five times, and was inspired tothink himself at liberty to say: "All I saw was when the door opened. Not the house-door. It was the parlour-door. I saw him walk up to theglass, and walk back from the glass. And when he'd got up to the glasshe bowed, he did, and he went back'ards just so. "

Doubtless the presence of a lady was the active agent that preventedCrummins from doubling his body entirely, and giving more than a rapidindication of the posture of Mr. Tinman in his retreat before the glass. But it was a glimpse of broad burlesque, and though it was received withbecoming sobriety by the men in the carpenter's shop, Annette plucked ather father's arm. 

She could not get him to depart. That picture of his old schoolmateMartin Tinman practicing before a chiwal glass to present himself at thepalace in his Court suit, seemed to stupefy his Australian intelligence. 

"What right has he got to go to Court?" Mr. Van Diemen Smith inquired, like the foreigner he had become through exile. 

"Mr. Tinman's bailiff of the town, " said Crickledon. 

"And what was his objection to that glass I smashed?"

"He's rather an irritable gentleman, " Crickledon murmured, and turned toCrummins. 

Crummins growled: "He said it was misty, and gave him a twist. "

"What a big fool he must be! eh?" Mr. Smith glanced at Crickledon andthe other faces for the verdict of Tinman's townsmen upon his character. 

They had grounds for thinking differently of Tinman. 

"He's no fool, " said Crickledon. 

Another shook his head. "Sharp at a bargain. "

"That he be, " said the chorus. 

Mr. Smith was informed that Mr. Tinman would probably end by buying uphalf the town. 

"Then, " said Mr. Smith, "he can afford to pay half the money for thatglass, and pay he shall. "

A serious view of the recent catastrophe was presented by hisdeclaration. 

In the midst of a colloquy regarding the cost of the glass, duringwhich it began to be seen by Mr. Tinman's townsmen that there waslaughing-stuff for a year or so in the scene witnessed by Crummins, if they postponed a bit their right to the laugh and took it in doses, Annette induced her father to signal to Crickledon his readiness to goand see the lodgings. No sooner had he done it than he said, "Whaton earth made us wait all this time here? I'm hungry, my dear; I wantsupper. "

"That is because you have had a disappointment. I know you, papa, " saidAnnette. 

"Yes, it's rather a damper about old Mart Tinman, " her father assented. "Or else I have n't recovered the shock of smashing that glass, andvisit it on him. But, upon my honour, he's my only friend in England, I have n't a single relative that I know of, and to come and find youronly friend making a donkey of himself, is enough to make a man think ofeating and drinking. "

Annette murmured reproachfully: "We can hardly say he is our only friendin England, papa, can we?"

"Do you mean that young fellow? You'll take my appetite away if you talkof him. He's a stranger. I don't believe he's worth a penny. He ownshe's what he calls a journalist. "

These latter remarks were hurriedly exchanged at the threshold ofCrickledon's house. 

"It don't look promising, " said Mr. Smith. 

"I didn't recommend it, " said Crickledon. 

"Why the deuce do you let your lodgings, then?"

"People who have come once come again. "

"Oh! I am in England, " Annette sighed joyfully, feeling at home in sometrait she had detected in Crickledon. 

CHAPTER III

The story of the shattered chiwal-glass and the visit of Tinman's oldschoolmate fresh from Australia, was at many a breakfast-table before. Tinman heard a word of it, and when he did he had no time to spare forsuch incidents, for he was reading to his widowed sister Martha, inan impressive tone, at a tolerably high pitch of the voice, and with asuppressed excitement that shook away all things external from his mindas violently as it agitated his body. Not the waves without but theengine within it is which gives the shock and tremor to the crazysteamer, forcing it to cut through the waves and scatter them to spray;and so did Martin Tinman make light of the external attack of the cardof VAN DIEMEN SMITH, and its pencilled line: "An old chum of yours, eh, matey?" Even the communication of Phippun & Co. Concerning thechiwal-glass, failed to divert him from his particular task. It wasindeed a public duty; and the chiwal-glass, though pertaining to it, wasa private business. He that has broken the glass, let that man pay forit, he pronounced--no doubt in simpler fashion, being at his ease in hishome, but with the serenity of one uplifted. As to the name VAN DIEMENSMITH, he knew it not, and so he said to himself while accuratelyrecollecting the identity of the old chum who alone of men would havethought of writing eh, matey?

Mr. Van Diemen Smith did not present the card in person. "AtCrickledon's, " he wrote, apparently expecting the bailiff of the town torush over to him before knowing who he was. 

Tinman was far too busy. Anybody can read plain penmanship or print, butask anybody not a Cabinet Minister or a Lord-in-Waiting to read out loudand clear in a Palace, before a Throne. Oh! the nature of reading isdistorted in a trice, and as Tinman said to his worthy sister: "I can doit, but I must lose no time in preparing myself. " Again, at a reperusal, he informed her: "I must habituate myself. " For this purpose he had puton the suit overnight. 

The articulation of faultless English was his object. His sister Marthasat vice-regally to receive his loyal congratulations on the illustriousmarriage, and she was pensive, less nervous than her brother from nothaving to speak continuously, yet somewhat perturbed. She also had hertask, and it was to avoid thinking herself the Person addressed by hersuppliant brother, while at the same time she took possession ofthe scholarly training and perfect knowledge of diction and rules ofpronunciation which would infallibly be brought to bear on him in theterrible hour of the delivery of the Address. It was no small taskmoreover to be compelled to listen right through to the end of theAddress, before the very gentlest word of criticism was allowed. She didnot exactly complain of the renewal of the rehearsal: a fatigue can beendured when it is a joy. What vexed her was her failing memory for thepoints of objection, as in her imagined High Seat she conceived them;for, in painful truth, the instant her brother had finished she entirelylost her acuteness of ear, and with that her recollection: so therewas nothing to do but to say: "Excellent! Quite unobjectionable, dearMartin, quite:" so she said, and emphatically; but the addition of theword "only" was printed on her contracted brow, and every facultyof Tinman's mind and nature being at strain just then, he asked hertestily: "What now? what's the fault now?" She assured him with languorthat there was not a fault. "It's not your way of talking, " said he, andwhat he said was true. His discernment was extraordinary; generally henoticed nothing. 

Not only were his perceptions quickened by the preparations for theday of great splendour: day of a great furnace to be passed throughlikewise!--he, was learning English at an astonishing rate into thebargain. A pronouncing Dictionary lay open on his table. To this he flewat a hint of a contrary method, and disputes, verifications and triumphson one side and the other ensued between brother and sister. In hisheart the agitated man believed his sister to be a misleading guide. He dared not say it, he thought it, and previous to his African travelthrough the Dictionary he had thought his sister infallible on thesepoints. He dared not say it, because he knew no one else before whom hecould practice, and as it was confidence that he chiefly wanted--aboveall things, confidence and confidence comes of practice, he preferredthe going on with his practice to an absolute certainty as tocorrectness. 

At midday came another card from Mr. Van Diemen Smith bearing thesuperscription: alias Phil R. 

"Can it be possible, " Tinman asked his sister, "that Philip Ribstone hashad the audacity to return to this country? I think, " he added, "I amright in treating whoever sends me this card as a counterfeit. "

Martha's advice was, that he should take no notice of the card. 

"I am seriously engaged, " said Tinman. With a "Now then, dear, " heresumed his labours. 

Messages had passed between Tinman and Phippun; and in the afternoonPhippun appeared to broach the question of payment for the chiwal-glass. He had seen Mr. Van Diemen Smith, had found him very strange, ratherimpracticable. He was obliged to tell Tinman that he must hold himresponsible for the glass; nor could he send a second until payment wasmade for the first. It really seemed as if Tinman would be compelled, bythe force of circumstances, to go and shake his old friend by the hand. Otherwise one could clearly see the man might be off: he might be offat any minute, leaving a legal contention behind him. On the other hand, supposing he had come to Crikswich for assistance in money? Friendshipis a good thing, and so is hospitality, which is an essentially Englishthing, and consequently one that it behoves an Englishman to think ithis duty to perform, but we do not extend it to paupers. But should apauper get so close to us as to lay hold of us, vowing he was once ourfriend, how shake him loose? Tinman foresaw that it might be a matter offive pounds thrown to the dogs, perhaps ten, counting the glass. Heput on his hat, full of melancholy presentiments; and it was exactlyhalf-past five o'clock of the spring afternoon when he knocked atCrickledon's door. 

Had he looked into Crickledon's shop as he went by, he would haveperceived Van Diemen Smith astride a piece of timber, smoking a pipe. Van Diemen saw Tinman. His eyes cocked and watered. It is a disgracefulfact to record of him without periphrasis. In truth, the bearded fellowwas almost a woman at heart, and had come from the Antipodes throbbingto slap Martin Tinman on the back, squeeze his hand, run over Englandwith him, treat him, and talk of old times in the presence of a trottingregiment of champagne. That affair of the chiwal-glass had temporarilydamped his enthusiasm. The absence of a reply to his double transmissionof cards had wounded him; and something in the look of Tinman disgustedhis rough taste. But the well-known features recalled the days ofyouth. Tinman was his one living link to the country he admired as theconqueror of the world, and imaginatively delighted in as the seat ofpleasures, and he could not discard the feeling of some love for Tinmanwithout losing his grasp of the reason why, he had longed so ferventlyand travelled so breathlessly to return hither. In the days of theiryouth, Van Diemen had been Tinman's cordial spirit, at whom he sippedfor cheerful visions of life, and a good honest glow of emotion now andthen. Whether it was odd or not that the sipper should be oblivious, andthe cordial spirit heartily reminiscent of those times, we will not stayto inquire. 

Their meeting took place in Crickledon's shop. Tinman was led in by Mrs. Crickledon. His voice made a sound of metal in his throat, and his airwas that of a man buttoned up to the palate, as he read from the card, glancing over his eyelids, "Mr. Van Diemen Smith, I believe. "

"Phil Ribstone, if you like, " said the other, without rising. 

"Oh, ah, indeed!" Tinman temperately coughed. 

"Yes, dear me. So it is. It strikes you as odd?"

"The change of name, " said Tinman. 

"Not nature, though!"

"Ah! Have you been long in England?"

"Time to run to Helmstone, and on here. You've been lucky in business, Ihear. "

"Thank you; as things go. Do you think of remaining in England?"

"I've got to settle about a glass I broke last night. "

"Ah! I have heard of it. Yes, I fear there will have to be asettlement. "

"I shall pay half of the damage. You'll have to stump up your part. "

Van Diemen smiled roguishly. 

"We must discuss that, " said Tinman, smiling too, as a patient in bedmay smile at a doctor's joke; for he was, as Crickledon had said ofhim, no fool on practical points, and Van Diemen's mention of thehalf-payment reassured him as to his old friend's position in the world, and softly thawed him. "Will you dine with me to-day?"

"I don't mind if I do. I've a girl. You remember little Netty? She'swalking out on the beach with a young fellow named Fellingham, whoseacquaintance we made on the voyage, and has n't left us long toourselves. Will you have her as well? And I suppose you must ask him. He's a newspaper man; been round the world; seen a lot. "

Tinman hesitated. An electrical idea of putting sherry at fifteenshillings per dozen on his table instead of the ceremonial wine attwenty-five shillings, assisted him to say hospitably, "Oh! ah! yes; anyfriend of yours. "

"And now perhaps you'll shake my fist, " said Van Diemen. 

"With pleasure, " said Tinman. "It was your change of name, you know, Philip. "

"Look here, Martin. Van Diemen Smith was a convict, and my benefactor. Why the deuce he was so fond of that name, I can't tell you; buthis dying wish was for me to take it and carry it on. He left me hisfortune, for Van Diemen Smith to enjoy life, as he never did, poorfellow, when he was alive. The money was got honestly, by hard labourat a store. He did evil once, and repented after. But, by Heaven!"--VanDiemen jumped up and thundered out of a broad chest--"the man was one ofthe finest hearts that ever beat. He was! and I'm proud of him. When hedied, I turned my thoughts home to Old England and you, Martin. "

"Oh!" said Tinman; and reminded by Van Diemen's way of speaking, thatcordiality was expected of him, he shook his limbs to some briskness, and continued, "Well, yes, we must all die in our native land if we can. I hope you're comfortable in your lodgings?"

"I'll give you one of Mrs. Crickledon's dinners to try. You're as goodas mayor of this town, I hear?"

"I am the bailiff of the town, " said Mr. Tinman. 

"You're going to Court, I'm told. "

"The appointment, " replied Mr. Tinman, "will soon be made. I have notyet an appointed day. "

On the great highroad of life there is Expectation, and there isAttainment, and also there is Envy. Mr. Tinman's posture stood forAttainment shadowing Expectation, and sunning itself in the glassof Envy, as he spoke of the appointed day. It was involuntary, andnaturally evanescent, a momentary view of the spirit. 

He unbent, and begged to be excused for the present, that he might goand apprise his sister of guests coming. 

"All right. I daresay we shall see, enough of one another, " said VanDiemen. And almost before the creak of Tinman's heels was deadened onthe road outside the shop, he put the funny question to Crickledon, "Doyou box?"

"I make 'em, " Crickledon replied. 

"Because I should like to have a go in at something, my friend. "

Van Diemen stretched and yawned. 

Crickledon recommended the taking of a walk. 

"I think I will, " said the other, and turned back abruptly. "How long doyou work in the day?"

"Generally, all the hours of light, " Crickledon replied; "and always upto supper-time. "

"You're healthy and happy?"

"Nothing to complain of. "

"Good appetite?"

"Pretty regular. "

"You never take a holiday?"

"Except Sundays. "

"You'd like to be working then?"

"I won't say that. "

"But you're glad to be up Monday morning?"

"It feels cheerfuller in the shop. "

"And carpentering's your joy?"

"I think I may say so. "

Van Diemen slapped his thigh. "There's life in Old England yet!"

Crickledon eyed him as he walked away to the beach to look for hisdaughter, and conceived that there was a touch of the soldier in him. 

CHAPTER IV

Annette Smith's delight in her native England made her see beauty andkindness everywhere around her; it put a halo about the house on thebeach, and thrilled her at Tinman's table when she heard the thunder ofthe waves hard by. She fancied it had been a most agreeable dinner toher father and Mr. Herbert Fellingham--especially to the latter, who hadlaughed very much; and she was astonished to hear them at breakfast bothcomplaining of their evening. In answer to which, she exclaimed, "Oh, Ithink the situation of the house is so romantic!"

"The situation of the host is exceedingly so, " said Mr. Fellingham; "butI think his wine the most unromantic liquid I have ever tasted. "

"It must be that!" cried Van Diemen, puzzled by novel pains in the head. "Old Martin woke up a little like his old self after dinner. "

"He drank sparingly, " said Mr. Fellingham. 

"I am sure you were satirical last night, " Annette said reproachfully. 

"On the contrary, I told him I thought he was in a romantic situation. "

"But I have had a French mademoiselle for my governess and an Oxfordgentleman for my tutor; and I know you accepted French and English fromMr. Tinman and his sister that I should not have approved. "

"Netty, " said Van Diemen, "has had the best instruction money couldprocure; and if she says you were satirical, you may depend on it youwere. "

"Oh, in that case, of course!" Mr. Fellingham rejoined. "Who could helpit?"

He thought himself warranted in giving the rein to his wicked satiricalspirit, and talked lightly of the accidental character of the letter Hin Tinman's pronunciation; of how, like somebody else's hat in a highwind, it descended on somebody else's head, and of how his words walkedabout asking one another who they were and what they were doing, dancedtogether madly, snapping their fingers at signification; and so forth. He was flippant. 

Annette glanced at her father, and dropped her eyelids. 

Mr. Fellingham perceived that he was enjoined to be on his guard. 

He went one step farther in his fun; upon which Van Diemen said, with afrown, "If you please!"

Nothing could withstand that. 

"Hang old Mart Tinman's wine!" Van Diemen burst out in the dead pause. "My head's a bullet. I'm in a shocking bad temper. I can hardly see. I'mbilious. "

Mr. Fellingham counselled his lying down for an hour, and he wentgrumbling, complaining of Mart Tinman's incredulity about the toweringbeauty of a place in Australia called Gippsland. 

Annette confided to Mr. Fellingham, as soon as they were alone, the chivalrous nature of her father in his friendships, and hisindisposition to hear a satirical remark upon his old schoolmate, themoment he understood it to be satire. 

Fellingham pleaded: "The man's a perfect burlesque. He's as distinctlymade to be laughed at as a mask in a pantomime. "

"Papa will not think so, " said Annette; "and papa has been told that heis not to be laughed at as a man of business. "

"Do you prize him for that?"

"I am no judge. I am too happy to be in England to be a judge ofanything. "

"You did not touch his wine!"

"You men attach so much importance to wine!"

"They do say that powders is a good thing after Mr. Tinman's wine, "observed Mrs. Crickledon, who had come into the sitting-room to takeaway the breakfast things. 

Mr. Fellingham gave a peal of laughter; but Mrs Crickledon bade him behushed, for Mr. Van Diemen Smith had gone to lay down his poor achinghead on his pillow. Annette ran upstairs to speak to her father about adoctor. 

During her absence, Mr. Fellingham received the popular portrait of Mr. Tinman from the lips of Mrs. Crickledon. He subsequently strolled to thecarpenter's shop, and endeavoured to get a confirmation of it. 

"My wife talks too much, " said Crickledon. 

When questioned by a gentleman, however, he was naturally bound toanswer to the extent of his knowledge. 

"What a funny old country it is!" Mr. Fellingham said to Annette, ontheir walk to the beach. 

She implored him not to laugh at anything English. 

"I don't, I assure you, " said he. "I love the country, too. But whenone comes back from abroad, and plunges into their daily life, it'sdifficult to retain the real figure of the old country seen fromoutside, and one has to remember half a dozen great names to rightoneself. And Englishmen are so funny! Your father comes here to see hisold friend, and begins boasting of the Gippsland he has left behind. Tinman immediately brags of Helvellyn, and they fling mountains at oneanother till, on their first evening together, there's earthquake andrupture--they were nearly at fisticuffs at one time. "

"Oh! surely no, " said Annette. "I did not hear them. They were goodfriends when you came to the drawingroom. Perhaps the wine did affectpoor papa, if it was bad wine. I wish men would never drink any. Howmuch happier they would be. "

"But then there would cease to be social meetings in England. Whatshould we do?"

"I know that is a sneer; and you were nearly as enthusiastic as I was onboard the vessel, " Annette said, sadly. 

"Quite true. I was. But see what quaint creatures we have about us!Tinman practicing in his Court suit before the chiwal-glass! And thatgood fellow, the carpenter, Crickledon, who has lived with the seafronting him all his life, and has never been in a boat, and heconfesses he has only once gone inland, and has never seen an acorn!"

"I wish I could see one--of a real English oak, " said Annette. 

"And after being in England a few months you will be sighing for theContinent. "

"Never!"

"You think you will be quite contented here?"

"I am sure I shall be. May papa and I never be exiles again! I did notfeel it when I was three years old, going out to Australia; but it wouldbe like death to me now. Oh!" Annette shivered, as with the exile'schill. 

"On my honour, " said Mr. Fellingham, as softly as he could with the windin his teeth, "I love the old country ten times more from your love ofit. "

"That is not how I want England to be loved, " returned Annette. 

"The love is in your hands. "

She seemed indifferent on hearing it. 

He should have seen that the way to woo her was to humour herprepossession by another passion. He could feel that it ennobled her inthe abstract, but a latent spite at Tinman on account of his wine, towhich he continued angrily to attribute as unwonted dizziness of thehead and slight irascibility, made him urgent in his desire that sheshould separate herself from Tinman and his sister by the sharp divisionof derision. 

Annette declined to laugh at the most risible caricatures of Tinman. Inher antagonism she forced her simplicity so far as to say that she didnot think him absurd. And supposing Mr. Tinman to have proposed to thetitled widow, Lady Ray, as she had heard, and to other ladies young andmiddle-aged in the neighbourhood, why should he not, if he wished tomarry? If he was economical, surely he had a right to manage his ownaffairs. Her dread was lest Mr. Tinman and her father should quarrelover the payment for the broken chiwal-glass: that she honestlyadmitted, and Fellingham was so indiscreet as to roar aloud, not so verycordially. 

Annette thought him unkindly satirical; and his thoughts of her reducedher to the condition of a commonplace girl with expressive eyes. 

She had to return to her father. Mr. Fellingham took a walk on thespringy turf along the cliffs; and "certainly she is a commonplacegirl, " he began by reflecting; with a side eye at the fact that hismeditations were excited by Tinman's poisoning of his bile. "A girlwho can't see the absurdity of Tinman must be destitute of commonintelligence. " After a while he sniffed the fine sharp air of mingledearth and sea delightedly, and he strode back to the town late in theafternoon, laughing at himself in scorn of his wretched susceptibilityto bilious impressions, and really all but hating Tinman as the causeof his weakness--in the manner of the criminal hating the detective, perhaps. He cast it altogether on Tinman that Annette's complexionof character had become discoloured to his mind; for, in spite ofthe physical freshness with which he returned to her society, he wasincapable of throwing off the idea of her being commonplace; and itwas with regret that he acknowledged he had gained from his walk only ahigher opinion of himself. 

Her father was the victim of a sick headache, [Migraine--D. W. ]and lay, a groaning man, on his bed, ministered to by Mrs. Crickledon chiefly. Annette had to conduct the business with Mr. Phippun and Mr. Tinman asto payment for the chiwal-glass. She was commissioned to offer half theprice for the glass on her father's part; more he would not pay. Tinmanand Phippun sat with her in Crickledon's cottage, and Mrs. Crickledonbrought down two messages from her invalid, each positive, to the effectthat he would fight with all the arms of English law rather than yieldhis point. 

Tinman declared it to be quite out of the question that he should paya penny. Phippun vowed that from one or the other of them he would havethe money. 

Annette naturally was in deep distress, and Fellingham postponed thediscussion to the morrow. 

Even after such a taste of Tinman as that, Annette could not be inducedto join in deriding him privately. She looked pained by Mr. Fellingham'scruel jests. It was monstrous, Fellingham considered, that he shoulddraw on himself a second reprimand from Van Diemen Smith, while theywere consulting in entire agreement upon the case of the chiwal-glass. 

"I must tell you this, mister sir, " said Van Diemen, "I like you, butI'll be straightforward and truthful, or I'm not worthy the name ofEnglishman; and I do like you, or I should n't have given you leave tocome down here after us two. You must respect my friend if you care formy respect. That's it. There it is. Now you know my conditions. "

"I 'm afraid I can't sign the treaty, " said Fellingham. 

"Here's more, " said Van Diemen. "I'm a chilly man myself if I hear alaugh and think I know the aim of it. I'll meet what you like exceptscorn. I can't stand contempt. So I feel for another. And now you know. "

"It puts a stopper on the play of fancy, and checks the throwing off ofsteam, " Fellingham remonstrated. "I promise to do my best, but of allthe men I've ever met in my life--Tinman!--the ridiculous! Pray pardonme; but the donkey and his looking-glass! The glass was misty! He--asparticular about his reflection in the glass as a poet with his verses!Advance, retire, bow; and such murder of the Queen's English in the verypresence! If I thought he was going to take his wine with him, I'd havehim arrested for high treason. "

"You've chosen, and you know what you best like, " said Van Diemen, pointing his accents--by which is produced the awkward pause, thepitfall of conversation, and sometimes of amity. 

Thus it happened that Mr. Herbert Fellingham journeyed back to Londona day earlier than he had intended, and without saying what he meant tosay. 

CHAPTER V

A month later, after a night of sharp frost on the verge of the warmerdays of spring, Mr. Fellingham entered Crikswich under a sky of perfectblue that was in brilliant harmony with the green downs, the whitecliffs and sparkling sea, and no doubt it was the beauty before hiseyes which persuaded him of his delusion in having taken Annette fora commonplace girl. He had come in a merely curious mood to discoverwhether she was one or not. Who but a commonplace girl would care toreside in Crikswich, he had asked himself; and now he was full sure thatno commonplace girl would ever have had the idea. Exquisitely simple, she certainly was; but that may well be a distinction in a young ladywhose eyes are expressive. 

The sound of sawing attracted him to Crickledon's shop, and theindustrious carpenter soon put him on the tide of affairs. 

Crickledon pointed to the house on the beach as the place where Mr. VanDiemen Smith and his daughter were staying. 

"Dear me! and how does he look?" said Fellingham. 

"Our town seems to agree with him, sir. "

"Well, I must not say any more, I suppose. " Fellingham checked histongue. "How have they settled that dispute about the chiwal-glass?"

"Mr. Tinman had to give way. "

"Really. "

"But, " Crickledon stopped work, "Mr. Tinman sold him a meadow. "

"I see. "

"Mr. Smith has been buying a goodish bit of ground here. They tell mehe's about purchasing Elba. He has bought the Crouch. He and Mr. Tinmanare always out together. They're over at Helmstone now. They've been toLondon. "

"Are they likely to be back to-day?"

"Certain, I should think. Mr. Tinman has to be in London to-morrow. "

Crickledon looked. He was not the man to look artful, but there was alighted corner in his look that revived Fellingham's recollections, andthe latter burst out:

"The Address? I 'd half forgotten it. That's not over yet? Has he beenpracticing much?"

"No more glasses ha' been broken. "

"And how is your wife, Crickledon?"

"She's at home, sir, ready for a talk, if you've a mind to try her. "

Mrs. Crickledon proved to be very ready. "That Tinman, " was her theme. He had taken away her lodgers, and she knew his objects. Mr. Smithrepented of leaving her, she knew, though he dared not say it in plainwords. She knew Miss Smith was tired to death of constant companionshipwith Mrs. Cavely, Tinman's sister. She generally came once in the dayjust to escape from Mrs. Cavely, who would not, bless you! step intoa cottager's house where she was not allowed to patronize. FortunatelyMiss Smith had induced her father to get his own wine from themerchants. 

"A happy resolution, " said Fellingham; "and a saving one. "

He heard further that Mr. Smith would take possession of the Crouch nextmonth, and that Mrs. Cavely hung over Miss Smith like a kite. 

"And that old Tinman, old enough to be her father!" said Mrs. Crickledon. 

She dealt in the flashes which connect ideas. Fellingham, though a man, and an Englishman, was nervously wakeful enough to see the connection. 

"They'll have to consult the young lady first, ma'am. "

"If it's her father's nod she'll bow to it; now mark me, " Mrs. Crickledon said, with emphasis. "She's a young lady who thinks forherself, but she takes her start from her father where it's feeling. Andhe's gone stone-blind over that Tinman. "

While they were speaking, Annette appeared. 

"I saw you, " she said to Fellingham; gladly and openly, in the mostcommonplace manner. 

"Are you going to give me a walk along the beach?" said he. 

She proposed the country behind the town, and that was quite as much tohis taste. But it was not a happy walk. He had decided that he admiredher, and the notion of having Tinman for a rival annoyed him. Heoverflowed with ridicule of Tinman, and this was distressing to Annette, because not only did she see that he would not control himself beforeher father, but he kindled her own satirical spirit in opposition to herfather's friendly sentiments toward his old schoolmate. 

"Mr. Tinman has been extremely hospitable to us, " she said, a littlecoldly. 

"May I ask you, has he consented to receive instruction in deportmentand pronunciation?"

Annette did not answer. 

"If practice makes perfect, he must be near the mark by this time. "

She continued silent. 

"I dare say, in domestic life, he's as amiable as he is hospitable, andit must be a daily gratification to see him in his Court suit. "

"I have not seen him in his Court suit. "

"That is his coyness. "

"People talk of those things. "

"The common people scandalize the great, about whom they know nothing, you mean! I am sure that is true, and living in Courts one must bekeenly aware of it. But what a splendid sky and-sea!"

"Is it not?"

Annette echoed his false rapture with a candour that melted him. 

He was preparing to make up for lost time, when the wild waving of aparasol down a road to the right, coming from the town, caused Annetteto stop and say, "I think that must be Mrs. Cavely. We ought to meether. "

Fellingham asked why. 

"She is so fond of walks, " Anisette replied, with a tooth on her lip

Fellingham thought she seemed fond of runs. 

Mrs. Cavely joined them, breathless. "My dear! the pace you go at!" sheshouted. "I saw you starting. I followed, I ran, I tore along. I fearedI never should catch you. And to lose such a morning of English scenery!

"Is it not heavenly?"

"One can't say more, " Fellingham observed, bowing. 

"I am sure I am very glad to see you again, sir. You enjoy Crikswich?"

"Once visited, always desired, like Venice, ma'am. May I venture toinquire whether Mr. Tinman has presented his Address?"

"The day after to-morrow. The appointment is made with him, " said Mrs. Cavely, more officially in manner, "for the day after to-morrow. He isexcited, as you may well believe. But Mr. Smith is an immense reliefto him--the very distraction he wanted. We have become one family, youknow. "

"Indeed, ma'am, I did not know it, " said Fellingham. 

The communication imparted such satiric venom to his further remarks, that Annette resolved to break her walk and dismiss him for the day. 

He called at the house on the beach after the dinner-hour, to seeMr. Van Diemen Smith, when there was literally a duel between him andTinman; for Van Diemen's contribution to the table was champagne, andthat had been drunk, but Tinman's sherry remained. Tinman would insiston Fellingham's taking a glass. Fellingham parried him with a sedategravity of irony that was painfully perceptible to Anisette. VanDiemen at last backed Tinman's hospitable intent, and, to Fellingham'sastonishment, he found that he had been supposed by these two men to bebashfully retreating from a seductive offer all the time that his tricksof fence and transpiercings of one of them had been marvels of skill. 

Tinman pushed the glass into his hand. 

"You have spilt some, " said Fellingham. 

"It won't hurt the carpet, " said Tinman. 

"Won't it?" Fellingham gazed at the carpet, as if expecting a flame toarise. 

He then related the tale of the magnanimous Alexander drinking off thepotion, in scorn of the slanderer, to show faith in his friend. 

"Alexander--Who was that?" said Tinman, foiled in his historicalrecollections by the absence of the surname. 

"General Alexander, " said Fellingham. "Alexander Philipson, or hedeclared it was Joveson; and very fond of wine. But his sherry did forhim at last. "

"Ah! he drank too much, then, " said Tinman. 

"Of his own!"

Anisette admonished the vindictive young gentleman by saying, "How longdo you stay in Crikswich, Mr. Fellingham?"

He had grossly misconducted himself. But an adversary at once offensiveand helpless provokes brutality. Anisette prudently avoided letting herfather understand that satire was in the air; and neither he nor Tinmanwas conscious of it exactly: yet both shrank within themselves under thesensation of a devilish blast blowing. Fellingham accompanied them andcertain jurats to London next day. 

Yes, if you like: when a mayor visits Majesty, it is an importantcircumstance, and you are at liberty to argue at length that it meansmore than a desire on his part to show his writing power and his readingpower: it is full of comfort the people, as an exhibition of theirmajesty likewise; and it is an encouragement to men to strive tobecome mayors, bailiffs, or prime men of any sort; but a stress in thereporting of it--the making it appear too important a circumstance--willsurely breathe the intimation to a politically-minded people that satireis in the air, and however dearly they cherish the privilege of knockingat the first door of the kingdom, and walking ceremoniously in to readtheir writings, they will, if they are not in one of their moods forprostration, laugh. They will laugh at the report. 

All the greater reason is it that we should not indulge them at suchperiods; and I say woe's me for any brother of the pen, and one in someesteem, who dressed the report of that presentation of the Address ofcongratulation by Mr. Bailiff Tinman, of Crikswich! Herbert Fellinghamwreaked his personal spite on Tinman. He should have bethought him thatit involved another than Tinman that is to say, an office--which thefitful beast rejoices to paw and play with contemptuously now and then, one may think, as a solace to his pride, and an indemnification forthose caprices of abject worship so strongly recalling the days we seethrough Mr. Darwin's glasses. 

He should not have written the report. It sent a titter over England. He was so unwise as to despatch a copy of the newspaper containing itto Van Diemen Smith. Van Diemen perused it with satisfaction. So didTinman. Both of these praised the able young writer. But they handed thepaper to the Coastguard Lieutenant, who asked Tinman how he liked it;and visitors were beginning to drop in to Crikswich, who made a point ofasking for a sight of the chief man; and then came a comic publication, all in the Republican tone of the time, with Man's Dignity for thestandpoint, and the wheezy laughter residing in old puns to back it, ineulogy of the satiric report of the famous Address of congratulation ofthe Bailiff of Crikswich. 

"Annette, " Van Diemen said to his daughter, "you'll not encourage thatnewspaper fellow to come down here any more. He had his warning. "

CHAPTER VI

One of the most difficult lessons for spirited young men to learn is, that good jokes are not always good policy. They have to be paid for, like good dinners, though dinner and joke shall seem to have been atsomebody else's expense. Young Fellingham was treated rudely by VanDiemen Smith, and with some cold reserve by Annette: in consequence ofwhich he thought her more than ever commonplace. He wrote her aletter of playful remonstrance, followed by one that appealed to hersentiments. 

But she replied to neither of them. So his visits to Crikswich came toan end. 

Shall a girl who has no appreciation of fun affect us? Her expressiveeyes, and her quaint simplicity, and her enthusiasm for England, hauntedMr. Fellingham; being conjured up by contrast with what he met abouthim. But shall a girl who would impose upon us the task of holdingin our laughter at Tinman be much regretted? There could be nocompanionship between us, Fellingham thought. 

On an excursion to the English Lakes he saw the name of Van DiemenSmith in a visitors' book, and changed his ideas on the subject ofcompanionship. Among mountains, or on the sea, or reading history, Annette was one in a thousand. He happened to be at a public ballat Helmstone in the Winter season, and who but Annette herself camewhirling before him on the arm of an officer! Fellingham did not misshis chance of talking to her. She greeted him gaily, and speaking withthe excitement of the dance upon her, appeared a stranger to the seriousemotions he was willing to cherish. She had been to the Lakes and toScotland. Next summer she was going to Wales. All her experiences weredelicious. She was insatiable, but satisfied. 

"I wish I had been with you, " said Fellingham. 

"I wish you had, " said she. 

Mrs. Cavely was her chaperon at the ball, and he was not permitted toenjoy a lengthened conversation sitting with Annette. What was he tothink of a girl who could be submissive to Mrs. Cavely, and danced withany number of officers, and had no idea save of running incessantlyover England in the pursuit of pleasure? Her tone of saying, "I wishyou had, " was that of the most ordinary of wishes, distinctly, if notdesignedly different from his own melodious depth. 

She granted him one waltz, and he talked of her father and his whimsicalvagrancies and feeling he had a positive liking for Van Diemen, and hesagaciously said so. 

Annette's eyes brightened. "Then why do you never go to see him? He hasbought Elba. We move into the Hall after Christmas. We are at the Crouchat present. Papa will be sure to make you welcome. Do you not know thathe never forgets a friend or breaks a friendship?"

"I do, and I love him for it, " said Fellingham. 

If he was not greatly mistaken a gentle pressure on the fingers of hisleft hand rewarded him. 

This determined him. It should here be observed that he was by birth thesuperior of Annette's parentage, and such is the sentiment of a betterblood that the flattery of her warm touch was needed for him to overlookthe distinction. 

Two of his visits to Crikswich resulted simply in interviews andconversations with Mrs. Crickledon. Van Diemen and his daughter were inLondon with Tinman and Mrs. Cavely, purchasing furniture for Elba Hall. Mrs. Crickledon had no scruple in saying, that Mrs. Cavely meant herbrother to inhabit the Hall, though Mr. Smith had outbid him in thepurchase. According to her, Tinman and Mr. Smith had their differences;for Mr. Smith was a very outspoken gentleman, and had been known to callTinman names that no man of spirit would bear if he was not scheming. 

Fellingham returned to London, where he roamed the streets famous forfurniture warehouses, in the vain hope of encountering the new owner ofElba. 

Failing in this endeavour, he wrote a love-letter to Annette. 

It was her first. She had liked him. Her manner of thinking she mightlove him was through the reflection that no one stood in the way. Theletter opened a world to her, broader than Great Britain. 

Fellingham begged her, if she thought favourably of him, to prepare herfather for the purport of his visit. If otherwise, she was to interdictthe visit with as little delay as possible and cut him adrift. 

A decided line of conduct was imperative. Yet you have seen that she wasnot in love. She was only not unwilling to be in love. And Fellinghamwas just a trifle warmed. Now mark what events will do to light thefires. 

Van Diemen and Tinman, old chums re-united, and both successful inlife, had nevertheless, as Mrs. Crickledon said, their differences. Theycommenced with an opposition to Tinman's views regarding the expenditureof town moneys. Tinman was ever for devoting them to the patrioticdefence of "our shores;" whereas Van Diemen, pointing in detestationof the town sewerage reeking across the common under the beach, loudlycalled on him to preserve our lives, by way of commencement. Then VanDiemen precipitately purchased Elba at a high valuation, and Tinman hadexpected by waiting to buy it at his own valuation, and sell it outof friendly consideration to his friend afterwards, for a friendlyconsideration. Van Diemen had joined the hunt. Tinman could not mounta horse. They had not quarrelled, but they had snapped about these andother affairs. Van Diemen fancied Tinman was jealous of his wealth. Tinman shrewdly suspected Van Diemen to be contemptuous of his dignity. He suffered a loss in a loan of money; and instead of pitying him, VanDiemen had laughed him to scorn for expecting security for investmentsat ten per cent. The bitterness of the pinch to Tinman made himfrightfully sensitive to strictures on his discretion. In his anguish hetold his sister he was ruined, and she advised him to marry before thecrash. She was aware that he exaggerated, but she repeated her advice. She went so far as to name the person. This is known, because shewas overheard by her housemaid, a gossip of Mrs. Crickledon's, thesubsequently famous "Little Jane. "

Now, Annette had shyly intimated to her father the nature of HerbertFellingham's letter, at the same time professing a perfect readiness tosubmit to his directions; and her father's perplexity was very great, for Annette had rather fervently dramatized the young man's words at theball at Helmstone, which had pleasantly tickled him, and, besides, he liked the young man. On the other hand, he did not at all like theprospect of losing his daughter; and he would have desired her to be alady of title. He hinted at her right to claim a high position. Annetteshrank from the prospect, saying, "Never let me marry one who might beashamed of my father!"

"I shouldn't stomach that, " said Van Diemen, more disposed in favour ofthe present suitor. 

Annette was now in a tremor. She had a lover; he was coming. And if hedid not come, did it matter? Not so very much, except to her pride. Andif he did, what was she to say to him? She felt like an actress who mayin a few minutes be called on the stage, without knowing her part. Thiswas painfully unlike love, and the poor girl feared it would be herconscientious duty to dismiss him--most gently, of course; and perhaps, should he be impetuous and picturesque, relent enough to let him hope, and so bring about a happy postponement of the question. Her father hadbeen to a neighbouring town on business with Mr. Tinman. He knocked ather door at midnight; and she, in dread of she knew not what--chieflythat the Hour of the Scene had somehow struck--stepped out to himtrembling. He was alone. She thought herself the most childish ofmortals in supposing that she could have been summoned at midnight todeclare her sentiments, and hardly noticed his gloomy depression. Heasked her to give him five minutes; then asked her for a kiss, and toldher to go to bed and sleep. But Annette had seen that a great presentaffliction was on him, and she would not be sent to sleep. She promisedto listen patiently, to bear anything, to be brave. "Is it bad news fromhome?" she said, speaking of the old home where she had not left herheart, and where his money was invested. 

"It's this, my dear Netty, " said Van Diemen, suffering her to lead himinto her sitting-room; "we shall have to leave the shores of England. "

"Then we are ruined. "

"We're not; the rascal can't do that. We might be off to the Continent, or we might go to America; we've money. But we can't stay here. I'll notlive at any man's mercy. "

"The Continent! America!" exclaimed the enthusiast for England. "Oh, papa, you love living in England so!"

"Not so much as all that, my dear. You do, that I know. But I don't seehow it's to be managed. Mart Tinman and I have been at tooth and clawto-day and half the night; and he has thrown off the mask, or he'sdashed something from my sight, I don't know which. I knocked him down. "

"Papa!"

"I picked him up. "

"Oh, " cried Annette, "has Mr. Tinman been hurt?"

"He called me a Deserter!"

Anisette shuddered. 

She did not know what this thing was, but the name of it opened acabinet of horrors, and she touched her father timidly, to assure him ofher constant love, and a little to reassure herself of his substantialidentity. 

"And I am one, " Van Diemen made the confession at the pitch of hisvoice. "I am a Deserter; I'm liable to be branded on the back. And it'sin Mart Tinman's power to have me marched away to-morrow morning in thesight of Crikswich, and all I can say for myself, as a man and a Briton, is, I did not desert before the enemy. That I swear I never would havedone. Death, if death's in front; but your poor mother was a handsomewoman, my child, and there--I could not go on living in barracks andleaving her unprotected. I can't tell a young woman the tale. A hundredpounds came on me for a legacy, as plump in my hands out of openheaven, and your poor mother and I saw our chance; we consulted, and wedetermined to risk it, and I got on board with her and you, and over theseas we went, first to shipwreck, ultimately to fortune. "

Van Diemen laughed miserably. "They noticed in the hunting-field here Ihad a soldier-like seat. A soldier-like seat it'll be, with a brandon it. I sha'n't be asked to take a soldier-like seat at any of theirtables again. I may at Mart Tinman's, out of pity, after I've undergonemy punishment. There's a year still to run out of the twenty of my termof service due. He knows it; he's been reckoning; he has me. But theworst cat-o'-nine-tails for me is the disgrace. To have myself pointedat, 'There goes the Deserter' He was a private in the Carbineers, andhe deserted. ' No one'll say, 'Ay, but he clung to the idea of his oldschoolmate when abroad, and came back loving him, and trusted him, andwas deceived. "

Van Diemen produced a spasmodic cough with a blow on his chest. Anisettewas weeping. 

"There, now go to bed, " said he. "I wish you might have known no morethan you did of our flight when I got you on board the ship with yourpoor mother; but you're a young woman now, and you must help me to thinkof another cut and run, and what baggage we can scrape together in ajiffy, for I won't live here at Mart Tinman's mercy. "

Drying her eyes to weep again, Annette said, when she could speak: "Willnothing quiet him? I was going to bother you with all sorts of sillyquestions, poor dear papa; but I see I can understand if I try. Willnothing--Is he so very angry? Can we not do something to pacify him? Heis fond of money. He--oh, the thought of leaving England! Papa, it willkill you; you set your whole heart on England. We could--I could--couldI not, do you not think?--step between you as a peacemaker. Mr. Tinmanis always very courteous to me. "

At these words of Annette's, Van Diemen burst into a short snap ofsavage laughter. "But that's far away in the background, Mr. MartTinman!" he said. "You stick to your game, I know that; but you'll findme flown, though I leave a name to stink like your common behindme. And, " he added, as a chill reminder, "that name the name of mybenefactor. Poor old Van Diemen! He thought it a safe bequest to make. "

"It was; it is! We will stay; we will not be exiled, " said Annette. "Iwill do anything. What was the quarrel about, papa?"

"The fact is, my dear, I just wanted to show him--and take down hispride--I'm by my Australian education a shrewder hand than his oldcountry. I bought the house on the beach while he was chaffering, andthen I sold it him at a rise when the town was looking up--only to makehim see. Then he burst up about something I said of Australia. I willhave the common clean. Let him live at the Crouch as my tenant if hefinds the house on the beach in danger. "

"Papa, I am sure, " Annette repeated--"sure I have influence with Mr. Tinman. "

"There are those lips of yours shutting tight, " said her father. "Justlisten, and they make a big O. The donkey! He owns you've got influence, and he offers he'll be silent if you'll pledge your word to marry him. I'm not sure he didn't say, within the year. I told him to look sharpnot to be knocked down again. Mart Tinman for my son-in-law! That'san upside down of my expectations, as good as being at the antipodeswithout a second voyage back! I let him know you were engaged. "

Annette gazed at her father open-mouthed, as he had predicted; now witha little chilly dimple at one corner of the mouth, now at another--as abreeze curves the leaden winter lake here and there. She could notget his meaning into her sight, and she sought, by looking hard, tounderstand it better; much as when some solitary maiden lady, passinginto her bedchamber in the hours of darkness, beholds--tradition tellingus she has absolutely beheld foot of burglar under bed; and lo! shestares, and, cunningly to moderate her horror, doubts, yet cannot butbelieve that there is a leg, and a trunk, and a head, and two terriblearms, bearing pistols, to follow. Sick, she palpitates; she compressesher trepidation; she coughs, perchance she sings a bar or two of anaria. Glancing down again, thrice horrible to her is it to discover thatthere is no foot! For had it remained, it might have been imagined aharmless, empty boot. But the withdrawal has a deadly significance ofanimal life.... 

In like manner our stricken Annette perceived the object; so did shegradually apprehend the fact of her being asked for Tinman's bride, andshe could not think it credible. She half scented, she devised herplan of escape from another single mention of it. But on her father'sremarking, with a shuffle, frightened by her countenance, "Don't listento what I said, Netty. I won't paint him blacker than he is"--thenAnnette was sure she had been proposed for by Mr. Tinman, and shefancied her father might have revolved it in his mind that therewas this means of keeping Tinman silent, silent for ever, in his owninterests. 

"It was not true, when you told Mr. Tinman I was engaged, papa, " shesaid. 

"No, I know that. Mart Tinman only half-kind of hinted. Come, I say!Where's the unmarried man wouldn't like to have a girl like you, Netty!They say he's been rejected all round a circuit of fifteen miles; andhe's not bad-looking, neither--he looks fresh and fair. But I thoughtit as well to let him know he might get me at a disadvantage, but hecouldn't you. Now, don't think about it, my love. "

"Not if it is not necessary, papa, " said Annette; and employed herfamiliar sweetness in persuading him to go to bed, as though he were theafflicted one requiring to be petted. 

CHAPTER VII

Round under the cliffs by the sea, facing South, are warm seats inwinter. The sun that shines there on a day of frost wraps you as ina mantle. Here it was that Mr. Herbert Fellingham found Annette, achalk-block for her chair, and a mound of chalk-rubble defending herfrom the keen-tipped breath of the east, now and then shadowing thesmooth blue water, faintly, like reflections of a flight of gulls. 

Infants are said to have their ideas, and why not young ladies? Thosewho write of their perplexities in descriptions comical in their lengthare unkind to them, by making them appear the simplest of the creaturesof fiction; and most of us, I am sure, would incline to believe inthem if they were only some bit more lightly touched. Those troubledsentiments of our young lady of the comfortable classes are quite worthyof mention. Her poor little eye poring as little fishlike as possibleupon the intricate, which she takes for the infinite, has its place inour history, nor should we any of us miss the pathos of it were it notthat so large a space is claimed for the exposure. As it is, one hasalmost to fight a battle to persuade the world that she has downrightthoughts and feelings, and really a superhuman delicacy is requiredin presenting her that she may be credible. Even then--so much beingaccomplished the thousands accustomed to chapters of her when she is inthe situation of Annette will be disappointed by short sentences, justas of old the Continental eater of oysters would have been offended atthe offer of an exchange of two live for two dozen dead ones. Annettewas in the grand crucial position of English imaginative prose. Irecognize it, and that to this the streamlets flow, thence pours theflood. But what was the plain truth? She had brought herself to thinkshe ought to sacrifice herself to Tinman, and her evasions with Herbert, manifested in tricks of coldness alternating with tones of regret, ended, as they had commenced, in a mysterious half-sullenness. She hadhardly a word to say. Let me step in again to observe that she had atthe moment no pointed intention of marrying Tinman. To her mind thecircumstances compelled her to embark on the idea of doing so, andshe saw the extremity in an extreme distance, as those who are takingvoyages may see death by drowning. Still she had embarked. 

"At all events, I have your word for it that you don't dislike me?" saidHerbert. 

"Oh! no, " she sighed. She liked him as emigrants the land they areleaving. 

"And you have not promised your hand?"

"No, " she said, but sighed in thinking that if she could be induced topromise it, there would not be a word of leaving England. 

"Then, as you are not engaged, and don't hate me, I have a chance?" hesaid, in the semi-wailful interrogative of an organ making a mere windyconclusion. 

Ocean sent up a tiny wave at their feet. 

"A day like this in winter is rarer than a summer day, " Herbert resumedencouragingly. 

Annette was replying, "People abuse our climate--"

But the thought of having to go out away from this climate in thedarkness of exile, with her father to suffer under it worse thanherself, overwhelmed her, and fetched the reality of her sorrow inthe form of Tinman swimming before her soul with the velocity of atelegraph-pole to the window of the flying train. It was past as soon asseen, but it gave her a desperate sensation of speed. 

She began to feel that this was life in earnest. 

And Herbert should have been more resolute, fierier. She needed a strongwill. 

But he was not on the rapids of the masterful passion. For though goingat a certain pace, it was by his own impulsion; and I am afraid I must, with many apologies, compare him to the skater--to the skater on easy, slippery ice, be it understood; but he could perform gyrations as hewent, and he rather sailed along than dashed; he was careful of hisfiguring. Some lovers, right honest lovers, never get beyond thisquaint skating-stage; and some ladies, a right goodly number in a foggyclimate, deceived by their occasional runs ahead, take them for vesselson the very torrent of love. Let them take them, and let the racecontinue. Only we perceive that they are skating; they are careeringover a smooth icy floor, and they can stop at a signal, with justhalf-a-yard of grating on the heel at the outside. Ice, and not fire norfalling water, has been their medium of progression. 

Whether a man should unveil his own sex is quite another question. Ifwe are detected, not solely are we done for, but our love-tales too. However, there is not much ground for anxiety on that head. Each memberof the other party is blind on her own account. 

To Annette the figuring of Herbert was graceful, but it did not catchher up and carry her; it hardly touched her: He spoke well enough tomake her sorry for him, and not warmly enough to make her forget hersorrow for herself. 

Herbert could obtain no explanation of the singularity of her conductfrom Annette, and he went straight to her father, who was nearly asinexplicable for a time. At last he said:

"If you are ready to quit the country with us, you may have my consent. "

"Why quit the country?" Herbert asked, in natural amazement. 

Van Diemen declined to tell him. 

But seeing the young man look stupefied and wretched he took a turnabout the room, and said: "I have n't robbed, " and after more turns, "I have n't murdered. " He growled in his menagerie trot within the fourwalls. "But I'm, in a man's power. Will that satisfy you? You'll tellme, because I'm rich, to snap my fingers. I can't. I've got feelings. I'm in his power to hurt me and disgrace me. It's the disgrace--to mydisgrace I say it--I dread most. You'd be up to my reason if you hadever served in a regiment. I mean, discipline--if ever you'd knowndiscipline--in the police if you like--anything--anywhere where there'swhat we used to call spiny de cor. I mean, at school. And I'm, " saidVan Diemen, "a rank idiot double D. Dolt, and flat as a pancake, andtransparent as a pane of glass. You see through me. Anybody could. Ican't talk of my botheration without betraying myself. What good am Iamong you sharp fellows in England?"

Language of this kind, by virtue of its unintelligibility, set Mr. Herbert Fellingham's acute speculations at work. He was obliged to leanon Van Diemen's assertion, that he had not robbed and had not murdered, to be comforted by the belief that he was not once a notoriousbushranger, or a defaulting manager of mines, or any other thing that isnaughtily Australian and kangarooly. 

He sat at the dinner-table at Elba, eating like the rest of mankind, andlooking like a starved beggarman all the while. 

Annette, in pity of his bewilderment, would have had her father take himinto their confidence. She suggested it covertly, and next she spoke ofit to him as a prudent measure, seeing that Mr. Fellingham might findout his exact degree of liability. Van Diemen shouted; he betrayedhimself in his weakness as she could not have imagined him. He was readyto go, he said--go on the spot, give up Elba, fly from Old England: whathe could not do was to let his countrymen know what he was, and liveamong them afterwards. He declared that the fact had eternally beenpresent to his mind, devouring him; and Annette remembered his kindnessto the artillerymen posted along the shore westward of Crikswich, thoughshe could recall no sign of remorse. Van Diemen said: "We have to dowith Martin Tinman; that's one who has a hold on me, and one's enough. Leak out my secret to a second fellow, you double my risks. " He wouldnot be taught to see how the second might counteract the first. Thesingularity of the action of his character on her position was, thatthough she knew not a soul to whom she could unburden her wretchedness, and stood far more isolated than in her Australian home, fever and chillstruck her blood in contemplation of the necessity of quitting England. 

Deep, then, was her gratitude to dear good Mrs. Cavely for steppingin to mediate between her father and Mr. Tinman. And well might she beamazed to hear the origin of their recent dispute. 

"It was, " Mrs. Cavely said, "that Gippsland. "

Annette cried: "What?"

"That Gippsland of yours, my dear. Your father will praise Gippslandwhenever my Martin asks him to admire the beauties of our neighbourhood. Many a time has Martin come home to me complaining of it. We have nodoubt on earth that Gippsland is a very fine place; but my brother hashis idea's of dignity, you must know, and I only wish he had been moreused to contradiction, you may believe me. He is a lamb by nature. And, as he says, 'Why underrate one's own country?' He cannot bear to hearboasting. Well! I put it to you, dear Annette, is he so unimportant aperson? He asks to be respected, and especially by his dearest friend. From that to blows! It's the way with men. They begin about trifles, they drink, they quarrel, and one does what he is sorry for, and onesays more than he means. All my Martin desires is to shake your dearfather's hand, forgive and forget. To win your esteem, darling Annette, he would humble himself in the dust. Will you not help me to bring thesetwo dear old friends together once more? It is unreasonable of your dearpapa to go on boasting of Gippsland if he is so fond of England, now isit not? My brother is the offended party in the eye of the law. That isquite certain. Do you suppose he dreams of taking advantage of it? Heis waiting at home to be told he may call on your father. Rank, dignity, wounded feelings, is nothing to him in comparison with friendship. "

Annette thought of the blow which had felled him, and spoke the truth ofher heart in saying, "He is very generous. "

"You understand him. " Mrs. Cavely pressed her hand. "We will both go toyour dear father. He may, " she added, not without a gleam of femininearchness, "praise Gippsland above the Himalayas to me. What my Martinso much objected to was, the speaking of Gippsland at all when there wasmention of our Lake scenery. As for me, I know how men love to boast ofthings nobody else has seen. "

The two ladies went in company to Van Diemen, who allowed himself tobe melted. He was reserved nevertheless. His reception of Mr. Tinmandispleased his daughter. Annette attached the blackest importance toa blow of the fist. In her mind it blazed fiendlike, and the man whoforgave it rose a step or two on the sublime. Especially did he doso considering that he had it in his power to dismiss her father andherself from bright beaming England before she had looked on all thecathedrals and churches, the sea-shores and spots named in printedpoetry, to say nothing of the nobility. 

"Papa, you were not so kind to Mr. Tinman as I could have hoped, " saidAnnette. 

"Mart Tinman has me at his mercy, and he'll make me know it, " her fatherreturned gloomily. "He may let me off with the Commander-in-chief. He'llblast my reputation some day, though. I shall be hanging my head insociety, through him. "

Van Diemen imitated the disconsolate appearance of a gallows body, inone of those rapid flashes of spontaneous veri-similitude which springof an inborn horror painting itself on the outside. 

"A Deserter!" he moaned. 

He succeeded in impressing the terrible nature of the stigma uponAnnette's imagination. 

The guest at Elba was busy in adding up the sum of his own impressions, and dividing it by this and that new circumstance; for he was totallyin the dark. He was attracted by the mysterious interview of Mrs. Cavely and Annette. Tinman's calling and departing set him uponnew calculations. Annette grew cold and visibly distressed by herconsciousness of it. 

She endeavoured to account for this variation of mood. "We have beeninvited to dine at the house on the beach to-morrow. I would not haveaccepted, but papa... We seemed to think it a duty. Of course theinvitation extends to you. We fancy you do not greatly enjoy diningthere. The table will be laid for you here, if you prefer. "

Herbert preferred to try the skill of Mrs. Crickledon. 

Now, for positive penetration the head prepossessed by a suspicion isunmatched; for where there is no daylight; this one at least goes aboutwith a lantern. Herbert begged Mrs. Crickledon to cook a dinner for him, and then to give the right colour to his absence from the table of Mr. Tinman, he started for a winter day's walk over the downs as sharpeninga business as any young fellow, blunt or keen, may undertake;excellent for men of the pen, whether they be creative, and produce, orslaughtering, and review; good, then, for the silly sheep of letters andthe butchers. He sat down to Mrs. Crickledon's table at half-past six. She was, as she had previously informed him, a forty-pound-a-year cookat the period of her courting by Crickledon. That zealous and devotedhusband had made his first excursion inland to drop over the downs tothe great house, and fetch her away as his bride, on the death of hermaster, Sir Alfred Pooney, who never would have parted with her in life;and every day of that man's life he dirtied thirteen plates at dinner, nor more, nor less, but exactly that number, as if he believed therewas luck in it. And as Crickledon said, it was odd. But it was always apleasure to cook for him. Mrs. Crickledon could not abide cooking fora mean eater. And when Crickledon said he had never seen an acorn, hemight have seen one had he looked about him in the great park, under theoaks, on the day when he came to be married. 

"Then it's a standing compliment to you, Mrs. Crickledon, that he didnot, " said Herbert. 

He remarked with the sententiousness of enforced philosophy, that nowine was better than bad wine. 

Mrs. Crickledon spoke of a bottle left by her summer lodgers, whohad indeed left two, calling the wine invalid's wine; and she and herhusband had opened one on the anniversary of their marriage day inOctober. It had the taste of doctor's shop, they both agreed; and asno friend of theirs could be tempted beyond a sip, they were advised, because it was called a tonic, to mix it with the pig-wash, so that itshould not be entirely lost, but benefit the constitution of the pig. Herbert sipped at the remaining bottle, and finding himself in thesuperior society of an old Manzanilla, refilled his glass. 

"Nothing I knows of proves the difference between gentlefolks and poorpersons as tastes in wine, " said Mrs. Crickledon, admiring him as shebrought in a dish of cutlets, --with Sir Alfred Pooney's favourite sauceSoubise, wherein rightly onion should be delicate as the idea of love inmaidens' thoughts, albeit constituting the element of flavour. Somethingof such a dictum Sir Alfred Pooney had imparted to his cook, andshe repeated it with the fresh elegance of, such sweet sayings whentransfused through the native mind:

"He said, I like as it was what you would call a young gal's blush at akiss round a corner. "

The epicurean baronet had the habit of talking in that way. 

Herbert drank to his memory. He was well-filled; he had no work to do, and he was exuberant in spirits, as Mrs. Crickledon knew her countrymenshould and would be under those conditions. And suddenly he drew hishand across a forehead so wrinkled and dark, that Mrs. Crickledonexclaimed, "Heart or stomach?"

"Oh, no, " said he. "I'm sound enough in both, I hope. "

"That old Tinman's up to one of his games, " she observed. 

"Do you think so?"

"He's circumventing Miss Annette Smith. "

"Pooh! Crickledon. A man of his age can't be seriously thinking ofproposing for a young lady. "

"He's a well-kept man. He's never racketed. He had n't the rackets inhim. And she may n't care for him. But we hear things drop. "

"What things have you heard drop, Crickledon? In a profound silenceyou may hear pins; in a hubbub you may hear cannon-balls. But I neverbelieve in eavesdropping gossip. "

"He was heard to say to Mr. Smith, " Crickledon pursued, and she loweredher voice, "he was heard to say, it was when they were quarreling overthat chiwal, and they went at one another pretty hard before Mr. Smithbeat him and he sold Mr. Smith that meadow; he was heard to say, therewas worse than transportation for Mr. Smith if he but lifted his finger. They Tinmans have awful tempers. His old mother died malignant, thoughshe was a saving woman, and never owed a penny to a Christian a hourlonger than it took to pay the money. And old Tinman's just suchanother. "

"Transportation!" Herbert ejaculated, "that's sheer nonsense, Crickledon. I'm sure your husband would tell you so. "

"It was my husband brought me the words, " Mrs. Crickledon rejoined withsome triumph. "He did tell me, I own, to keep it shut: but my speakingto you, a friend of Mr. Smith's, won't do no harm. He heard them underthe battery, over that chiwal glass: 'And you shall pay, ' says Mr. Smith, and 'I sha'n't, ' says old Tinman. Mr. Smith said he would haveit if he had to squeeze a deathbed confession from a sinner. Then oldTinman fires out, 'You!' he says, 'you' and he stammered. 'Mr. Smith, 'my husband said and you never saw a man so shocked as my husband atbeing obliged to hear them at one another Mr. Smith used the word damn. 'You may laugh, sir. '"

"You say it so capitally, Crickledon. "

"And then old Tinman said, 'And a D. To you; and if I lift my finger, it's Big D. On your back. "

"And what did Mr. Smith say, then?"

"He said, like a man shot, my husband says he said, 'My God!'"

Herbert Fellingham jumped away from the table. 

"You tell me, Crickledon, your husband actually heard that--just thosewords?--the tones?"

"My husband says he heard him say, 'My God!' just like a poor man shotor stabbed. You may speak to Crickledon, if you speaks to him alone, sir. I say you ought to know. For I've noticed Mr. Smith since that dayhas never looked to me the same easy-minded happy gentleman he was whenwe first knew him. He would have had me go to cook for him at Elba, butCrickledon thought I'd better be independent, and Mr. Smith said to me, 'Perhaps you're right, Crickledon, for who knows how long I may be amongyou?'"

Herbert took the solace of tobacco in Crickledon's shop. Thence, withthe story confirmed to him, he sauntered toward the house on the beach. 

CHAPTER VIII

The moon was over sea. Coasting vessels that had run into the bay forshelter from the North wind lay with their shadows thrown shoreward onthe cold smooth water, almost to the verge of the beach, where there wasneither breath nor sound of wind, only the lisp at the pebbles. 

Mrs. Crickledon's dinner and the state of his heart made youngFellingham indifferent to a wintry atmosphere. It sufficed him that thenight was fair. He stretched himself on the shingle, thinking of theManzanilla, and Annette, and the fine flavour given to tobacco by a drystill air in moonlight--thinking of his work, too, in the background, asfar as mental lassitude would allow of it. The idea of taking Annette tosee his first play at the theatre when it should be performed--wasvery soothing. The beach rather looked like a stage, and the sea likea ghostly audience, with, if you will, the broadside bulks of blacksailing craft at anchor for representatives of the newspaper piers. Annette was a nice girl; if a little commonplace and low-born, yetsweet. What a subject he could make of her father! "The Deserter"offered a new complication. Fellingham rapidly sketched it in fancy--VanDiemen, as a Member of the Parliament of Great Britain, led away fromthe House of Commons to be branded on the bank! What a magnificent fall!We have so few intensely dramatic positions in English real life thatthe meditative author grew enamoured of this one, and laughed out aroyal "Ha!" like a monarch reviewing his well-appointed soldiery. 

"There you are, " said Van Diemen's voice; "I smelt your pipe. You're arum fellow, to belying out on the beach on a cold night. Lord! I don'tlike you the worse for it. Twas for the romance of the moon in my youngdays. "

"Where is Annette?" said Fellingham, jumping to his feet. 

"My daughter? She 's taking leave of her intended. "

"What's that?" Fellingham gasped. "Good heavens, Mr. Smith, what do youmean?"

"Pick up your pipe, my lad. Girls choose as they please, I suppose"

"Her intended, did you say, sir? What can that mean?"

"My dear good young fellow, don't make a fuss. We're all going tostay here, and very glad to see you from time to time. The fact is, I oughtn't to have quarrelled with Mart Tinman as I've done; I'm toopeppery by nature. The fact is, I struck him, and he forgave it. Icould n't have done that myself. And I believe I'm in for a headacheto-morrow; upon my soul, I do. Mart Tinman would champagne us; but, poorold boy, I struck him, and I couldn't make amends--didn't see my way;and we joined hands over the glass--to the deuce with the glass!--andthe end of it is, Netty--she did n't propose it, but as I'm in his--Isay, as I had struck him, she--it was rather solemn, if you had seenus--she burst into tears, and there was Mrs. Cavely, and old Mart, andme as big a fool--if I'm not a villain!"

Fellingham perceived a more than common effect of Tin man's wine. Hetouched Van Diemen on the shoulder. "May I beg to hear exactly what hashappened?"

"Upon my soul, we're all going to live comfortably in Old England, andno more quarreling and decamping, " was the stupid rejoinder. "Exceptthat I did n't exactly--I think you said I exactly'?--I did n't bargainfor old Mart as my--but he's a sound man; Mart's my junior; he's rich. He's eco ... He's eco... You know--my Lord! where's my brains?--but he'supright--'nomical!"

"An economical man, " said Fellingham, with sedate impatience. 

"My dear sir, I'm heartily obliged to you for your assistance, " returnedVan Diemen. "Here she is. "

Annette had come out of the gate in the flint wall. She started slightlyon seeing Herbert, whom she had taken for a coastguard, she said. Hebowed. He kept his head bent, peering at her intrusively. 

"It's the air on champagne, " Van Diemen said, calling on his lungs toclear themselves and right him. "I was n't a bit queer in the house. "

"The air on Tinman's champagne!" said Fellingham. 

"It must be like the contact of two hostile chemical elements. "

Annette walked faster. 

They descended from the shingle to the scant-bladed grass-sweep runninground the salted town-refuse on toward Elba. Van Diemen sniffed, ejaculating, "I'll be best man with Mart Tinman about this business!You'll stop with us, Mr. ----what's your Christian name? Stop with us aslong as you like. Old friends for me! The joke of it is that Nelsonwas my man, and yet I went and enlisted in the cavalry. If you talk ofchemical substances, old Mart Tinman was a sneak who never cared a dumpfor his country; and I'm not to speak a single sybbarel about that..... Over there... Australia... Gippsland! So down he went, clean over. Verysorry for what we have done. Contrite. Penitent. "

"Now we feel the wind a little, " said Annette. 

Fellingham murmured, "Allow me; your shawl is flying loose. "

He laid his hands on her arms, and, pressing her in a tremble, said, "One sign! It's not true? A word! Do you hate me?"

"Thank you very much, but I am not cold, " she replied and linked herselfto her father. 

Van Diemen immediately shouted, "For we are jolly boys! for we are jollyboys! It's the air on the champagne. And hang me, " said he, as theyentered the grounds of Elba, "if I don't walk over my property. "

Annette interposed; she stood like a reed in his way. 

"No! my Lord! I'll see what I sold you for!" he cried. "I'm an owner ofthe soil of Old England, and care no more for the title of squire thanNapoleon Bonaparty. But I'll tell you what, Mr. Hubbard: your motherwas never so astonished at her dog as old Van Diemen would be to hearhimself called squire in Old England. And a convict he was, for hedid wrong once, but he worked his redemption. And the smell of myown property makes me feel my legs again. And I'll tell you what, Mr. Hubbard, as Netty calls you when she speaks of you in private: MartTinman's ideas of wine are pretty much like his ideas of healthy smells, and when I'm bailiff of Crikswich, mind, he'll find two to one againsthim in our town council. I love my country, but hang me if I don'tpurify it--"

Saying this, with the excitement of a high resolve a upon him, VanDiemen bored through a shrubbery-brake, and Fellingham said to Annette:

"Have I lost you?"

"I belong to my father, " said she, contracting and disengaging herfeminine garments to step after him in the cold silver-spotted dusk ofthe winter woods. 

Van Diemen came out on a fish-pond. 

"Here you are, young ones!" he said to the pair. "This way, Fellowman. I'm clearer now, and it's my belief I've been talking nonsense. I'm puffed up with money, and have n't the heart I once had. I say, Fellowman, Fellowbird, Hubbard--what's your right name?--fancy an oldcarp fished out of that pond and flung into the sea. That's exile! Andif the girl don't mind, what does it matter?"

"Mr. Herbert Fellingham, I think, would like to go to bed, papa, " saidAnnette. 

"Miss Smith must be getting cold, " Fellingham hinted. 

"Bounce away indoors, " replied Van Diemen, and he led them like a bull. 

Annette was disinclined to leave them together in the smoking-room, andunder the pretext of wishing to see her father to bed she remained withthem, though there was a novel directness and heat of tone in Herbertthat alarmed her, and with reason. He divined in hideous outlines whathad happened. He was no longer figuring on easy ice, but desperate atthe prospect of a loss to himself, and a fate for Annette, that tossedhim from repulsion to incredulity, and so back. 

Van Diemen begged him to light his pipe. 

"I'm off to London to-morrow, " said Fellingham. "I don't want to go, for very particular reasons; I may be of more use there. I have a cousinwho's a General officer in the army, and if I have your permission--yousee, anything's better, as it seems to me, than that you should dependfor peace and comfort on one man's tongue not wagging, especiallywhen he is not the best of tempers if I have your permission--withoutmentioning names, of course--I'll consult him. "

There was a dead silence. 

"You know you may trust me, sir. I love your daughter with all my heart. Your honour and your interests are mine. "

Van Diemen struggled for composure. 

"Netty, what have you been at?" he said. 

"It is untrue, papa!" she answered the unworded accusation. 

"Annette has told me nothing, sir. I have heard it. You must brace yourmind to the fact that it is known. What is known to Mr. Tinman is prettysure to be known generally at the next disagreement. "

"That scoundrel Mart!" Van Diemen muttered. 

"I am positive Mr. Tinman did not speak of you, papa, " said Annette, andturned her eyes from the half-paralyzed figure of her father on Herbertto put him to proof. 

"No, but he made himself heard when it was being discussed. At any rate, it's known; and the thing to do is to meet it. "

"I'm off. I'll not stop a day. I'd rather live on the Continent, "said Van Diemen, shaking himself, as to prepare for the step into thatdesert. 

"Mr. Tinman has been most generous!" Annette protested tearfully. 

"I won't say no: I think you are deceived and lend him your owngenerosity, " said Herbert. "Can you suppose it generous, that even inthe extremest case, he should speak of the matter to your father, andtalk of denouncing him? He did it. "

"He was provoked. "

"A gentleman is distinguished by his not allowing himself to beprovoked. "

"I am engaged to him, and I cannot hear it said that he is not agentleman. "

The first part of her sentence Annette uttered bravely; at theconclusion she broke down. She wished Herbert to be aware of the truth, that he might stay his attacks on Mr. Tinman; and she believed he hadonly been guessing the circumstances in which her father was placed; butthe comparison between her two suitors forced itself on her now, whenthe younger one spoke in a manner so self-contained, brief, and full offeeling. 

She had to leave the room weeping. 

"Has your daughter engaged herself, sir?" said Herbert. 

"Talk to me to-morrow; don't give us up if she has we were trapped, it'smy opinion, " said Van Diemen. "There's the devil in that wine of--MartTinman's. I feel it still, and in the morning it'll be worse. What canshe see in him? I must quit the country; carry her off. How he did it, I don't know. It was that woman, the widow, the fellow's sister. Shetalked till she piped her eye--talked about our lasting union. On mysoul, I believe I egged Netty on! I was in a mollified way with thatwine; all of a sudden the woman joins their hands! And I--a man ofspirit will despise me!--what I thought of was, 'now my secret's safe!'You've sobered me, young sir. I see myself, if that's being sober. Idon't ask your opinion of me; I am a deserter, false to my colours, a breaker of his oath. Only mark this: I was married, and a commontrooper, married to a handsome young woman, true as steel; but she washandsome, and we were starvation poor, and she had to endure persecutionfrom an officer day by day. Bear that situation in your mind.... Providence dropped me a hundred pounds out of the sky. Properlyspeaking, it popped up out of the earth, for I reaped it, you may say, from a relative's grave. Rich and poor 's all right, if I'm rich andyou're poor; and you may be happy though you're poor; but where thereare many poor young women, lots of rich men are a terrible temptation tothem. That's my dear good wife speaking, and had she been spared to meI never should have come back to Old England, and heart's delight andheartache I should not have known. She was my backbone, she was mybreast-comforter too. Why did she stick to me? Because I had faithin her when appearances were against her. But she never forgave thiscountry the hurt to her woman's pride. You'll have noticed a squarishjaw in Netty. That's her mother. And I shall have to encounter it, supposing I find Mart Tinman has been playing me false. I'm blown onsomehow. I'll think of what course I'll take 'twixt now and morning. Good night, young gentleman. "

"Good night; sir, " said Herbert, adding, "I will get information fromthe Horse Guards; as for the people knowing it about here, you're notliving much in society--"

"It's not other people's feelings, it's my own, " Van Diemen silencedhim. "I feel it, if it's in the wind; ever since Mart Tinman spoke thething out, I've felt on my skin cold and hot. "

He flourished his lighted candle and went to bed, manifestly solaced bythe idea that he was the victim of his own feelings. 

Herbert could not sleep. Annette's monstrous choice of Tinman inpreference to himself constantly assailed and shook his understanding. There was the "squarish jaw" mentioned by her father to think of. Itfilled him with a vague apprehension, but he was unable to imagine thata young girl, and an English girl, and an enthusiastic young Englishgirl, could be devoid of sentiment; and presuming her to have it, as onemust, there was no fear, that she would persist in her loathsome choicewhen she knew her father was against it. 

CHAPTER IX

Annette did not shun him next morning. She did not shun the subject, either. But she had been exact in arranging that she should not be morethan a few minutes downstairs before her father. Herbert found, thatcompared with her, girls of sentiment are commonplace indeed. She hadconceived an insane idea of nobility in Tinman that blinded her to hisface, figure, and character--his manners, likewise. He had forgiven ablow!

Silly as the delusion might be, it clothed her in whimsicalattractiveness. 

It was a beauty in her to dwell so firmly upon moral quality. Overthrownand stunned as he was, and reduced to helplessness by her brief andpositive replies, Herbert was obliged to admire the singular younglady, who spoke, without much shyness, of her incongruous, destined matethough his admiration had an edge cutting like irony. While in the turnfor candour, she ought to have told him, that previous to her decisionshe had weighed the case of the diverse claims of himself and Tinman, and resolved them according to her predilection for the peacefulresidence of her father and herself in England. This she had done alittle regretfully, because of the natural sympathy of the younggirl for the younger man. But the younger man had seemed to herseriously-straightforward mind too light and airy in his wooing, likeone of her waltzing officers--very well so long as she stepped themeasure with him, and not forcible enough to take her off her feet. Hehad changed, and now that he had become persuasive, she feared he woulddisturb the serenity with which she desired and strove to contemplateher decision. Tinman's magnanimity was present in her imagination tosustain her, though she was aware that Mrs. Cavely had surprised herwill, and caused it to surrender unconsulted by her wiser intelligence. 

"I cannot listen to you, " she said to Herbert, after listening longerthan was prudent. "If what you say of papa is true, I do not think hewill remain in Crikswich, or even in England. But I am sure the oldfriend we used, to speak of so much in Australia has not wilfullybetrayed him. "

Herbert would have had to say, "Look on us two!" to proceed in hisbaffled wooing; and the very ludicrousness of the contrast led him tosee the folly and shame of proposing it. 

Van Diemen came down to breakfast looking haggard and restless. "Ihave 'nt had my morning's walk--I can't go out to be hooted, " he said, calling to his daughter for tea, and strong tea; and explaining toHerbert that he knew it to be bad for the nerves, but it was an antidoteto bad champagne. 

Mr. Herbert Fellingham had previously received an invitation on behalfof a sister of his to Crikswich. A dull sense of genuine sagacityinspired him to remind Annette of it. She wrote prettily to Miss MaryFellingham, and Herbert had some faint joy in carrying away the letterof her handwriting. 

"Fetch her soon, for we sha'n't be here long, " Van Diemen said to himat parting. He expressed a certain dread of his next meeting with MartTinman. 

Herbert speedily brought Mary Fellingham to Elba, and left her there. The situation was apparently unaltered. Van Diemen looked worn, like aman who has been feeding mainly on his reflections, which was manifestin his few melancholy bits of speech. He said to Herbert: "How you feela thing when you are found out!" and, "It doesn't do for a man with aheart to do wrong!" He designated the two principal roads by whichpoor sinners come to a conscience. His own would have slumbered but fordiscovery; and, as he remarked, if it had not been for his heart leadinghim to Tinman, he would not have fallen into that man's power. 

The arrival of a young lady of fashionable appearance at Elba was matterof cogitation to Mrs. Cavely. She was disposed to suspect that it meantsomething, and Van Diemen's behaviour to her brother would of itselfhave fortified any suspicion. He did not call at the house on the beach, he did not invite Martin to dinner, he was rarely seen, and when heappeared at the Town Council he once or twice violently opposed hisfriend Martin, who came home ruffled, deeply offended in his interestsand his dignity. 

"Have you noticed any difference in Annette's treatment of you, dear?"Mrs. Cavely inquired. 

"No, " said Tinman; "none. She shakes hands. She asks after my health. She offers me my cup of tea. "

"I have seen all that. But does she avoid privacy with you?"

"Dear me, no! Why should she? I hope, Martha, I am a man who may beconfided in by any young lady in England. "

"I am sure you may, dear Martin. "

"She has an objection to name the... The day, " said Martin. "I haveinformed her that I have an objection to long engagements. I don't likeher new companion: She says she has been presented at Court. I greatlydoubt it. "

"It's to give herself a style, you may depend. I don't believe her!"exclaimed Mrs. Cavely, with sharp personal asperity. 

Brother and sister examined together the Court Guide they had purchasedon the occasion at once of their largest outlay and most thrillinggratification; in it they certainly found the name of GeneralFellingham. "But he can't be related to a newspaper-writer, " said Mrs. Cavely. 

To which her brother rejoined, "Unless the young man turned scamp. Ihate unproductive professions. "

"I hate him, Martin. " Mrs. Cavely laughed in scorn, "I should say, Ipity him. It's as clear to me as the sun at noonday, he wanted Annette. That's why I was in a hurry. How I dreaded he would come that eveningto our dinner! When I saw him absent, I could have cried out it wasProvidence! And so be careful--we have had everything done for us fromon High as yet--but be careful of your temper, dear Martin. I willhasten on the union; for it's a shame of a girl to drag a man behind hertill he 's old at the altar. Temper, dear, if you will only think of it, is the weak point. "

"Now he has begun boasting to me of his Australian wines!" Tinmanejaculated. 

"Bear it. Bear it as you do Gippsland. My dear, you have the retort inyour heart:--Yes! but have you a Court in Australia?"

"Ha! and his Australian wines cost twice the amount I pay for mine!"

"Quite true. We are not obliged to buy them, I should hope. I would, though--a dozen--if I thought it necessary, to keep him quiet. "

Tinman continued muttering angrily over the Australian wines, with aword of irritation at Gippsland, while promising to be watchful of histemper. 

"What good is Australia to us, " he asked, "if it does n't bring usmoney?"

"It's going to, my dear, " said Mrs. Cavely. "Think of that when hebegins boasting his Australia. And though it's convict's money, as heconfesses--"

"With his convict's money!" Tinman interjected tremblingly. "How long amI expected to wait?"

"Rely on me to hurry on the day, " said Mrs. Cavely. "There is no otherannoyance?"

"Wherever I am going to buy, that man outbids me and then says it's theold country's want of pluck and dash, and doing things large-handed! Aman who'd go on his knees to stop in England!" Tinman vociferated in abreath; and fairly reddened by the effort: "He may have to do it yet. Ican't stand insult. "

"You are less able to stand insult after Honours, " his sister said, in obedience to what she had observed of him since his famous visit toLondon. "It must be so, in nature. But temper is everything just now. Remember, it was by command of temper, and letting her father puthimself in the wrong, you got hold of Annette. And I would abstain evenfrom wine. For sometimes after it, you have owned it disagreed. AndI have noticed these eruptions between you and Mr. Smith--as he callshimself--generally after wine. "

"Always the poor! the poor! money for the poor!" Tinman harped onfurther grievances against Van Diemen. "I say doctors have said thedrain on the common is healthy; it's a healthy smell, nourishing. We'vealways had it and been a healthy town. But the sea encroaches, and I saymy house and my property is in danger. He buys my house over my head, and offers me the Crouch to live in at an advanced rent. And then hesells me my house at an advanced price, and I buy, and then he votesagainst a penny for the protection of the shore! And we're in Winteragain! As if he was not in my power!"

"My dear Martin, to Elba we go, and soon, if you will govern yourtemper, " said Mrs. Cavely. "You're an angel to let me speak of itso, and it's only that man that irritates you. I call him sinfullyostentatious. "

"I could blow him from a gun if I spoke out, and he knows it! He'swanting in common gratitude, let alone respect, " Tinman snorted. 

"But he has a daughter, my dear. "

Tinman slowly and crackingly subsided. 

His main grievance against Van Diemen was the non-recognition ofhis importance by that uncultured Australian, who did not seem to beconscious of the dignities and distinctions we come to in our country. The moneyed daughter, the prospective marriage, for an economical manrejected by every lady surrounding him, advised him to lock up histemper in submission to Martha. 

"Bring Annette to dine with us, " he said, on Martha's proposing a visitto the dear young creature. 

Martha drank a glass of her brother's wine at lunch, and departed on themission. 

Annette declined to be brought. Her excuse was her guest, MissFellingham. 

"Bring her too, by all means--if you'll condescend, I am sure, " Mrs. Cavely said to Mary. 

"I am much obliged to you; I do not dine out at present, " said theLondon lady. 

"Dear me! are you ill?"

"No. "

"Nothing in the family, I hope?"

"My family?"

"I am sure, I beg pardon, " said Mrs. Cavely, bridling with a spitepardonable by the severest moralist. 

"Can I speak to you alone?" she addressed Annette. 

Miss Fellingham rose. 

Mrs. Cavely confronted her. "I can't allow it; I can't think of it. I'm only taking a little liberty with one I may call my futuresister-in-law. "

"Shall I come out with you?" said Annette, in sheer lassitude assistingMary Fellingham in her scheme to show the distastefulness of this ladyand her brother. 

"Not if you don't wish to. "

"I have no objection. "

"Another time will do. "

"Will you write?"

"By post indeed!"

Mrs. Cavely delivered a laugh supposed to, be peculiar to the Englishstage. 

"It would be a penny thrown away, " said Annette. "I thought you couldsend a messenger. "

Intercommunication with Miss Fellingham had done mischief to her highmoral conception of the pair inhabiting the house on the beach. Mrs. Cavely saw it, and could not conceal that she smarted. 

Her counsel to her brother, after recounting the offensive scene to himin animated dialogue, was, to give Van Diemen a fright. 

"I wish I had not drunk that glass of sherry before starting, " sheexclaimed, both savagely and sagely. "It's best after business. Andthese gentlemen's habits of yours of taking to dining late upset me. I'mafraid I showed temper; but you, Martin, would not have borne one-tenthof what I did. "

"How dare you say so!" her brother rebuked her indignantly; and thehouse on the beach enclosed with difficulty a storm between brother andsister, happily not heard outside, because of loud winds raging. 

Nevertheless Tinman pondered on Martha's idea of the wisdom of givingVan Diemen a fright. 

CHAPTER X

The English have been called a bad-tempered people, but this is to judgeof them by their manifestations; whereas an examination into causesmight prove them to be no worse tempered than that man is a bad sleeperwho lies in a biting bed. If a sagacious instinct directs them todiscountenance realistic tales, the realistic tale should justify itsappearance by the discovery of an apology for the tormented souls. Oncethey sang madrigals, once they danced on the green, they revelled intheir lusty humours, without having recourse to the pun for fun, anexhibition of hundreds of bare legs for jollity, a sentimental wailingall in the throat for music. Evidence is procurable that they havebeen an artificially-reared people, feeding on the genius of inventors, transposers, adulterators, instead of the products of nature, for thelast half century; and it is unfair to affirm of them that they arepositively this or that. They are experiments. They are the sons andvictims of a desperate Energy, alluring by cheapness, satiating withquantity, that it may mount in the social scale, at the expense of theirtissues. The land is in a state of fermentation to mount, and the shop, which has shot half their stars to their social zenith, is what verilythey would scald themselves to wash themselves free of. Nor is it in anydegree a reprehensible sign that they should fly as from hue and cry thetitle of tradesman. It is on the contrary the spot of sanity, which bidsus right cordially hope. Energy, transferred to the moral sense, mayclear them yet. 

Meanwhile this beer, this wine, both are of a character to have killedmore than the tempers of a less gifted people. Martin Tinman invited VanDiemen Smith to try the flavour of a wine that, as he said, he thoughtof "laying down. "

It has been hinted before of a strange effect upon the minds of men whoknew what they were going to, when they received an invitation to dinewith Tinman. For the sake of a little social meeting at any cost, they accepted it; accepted it with a sigh, midway as by engineeringmeasurement between prospective and retrospective; as nearly mechanicalas things human may be, like the Mussulman's accustomed cry of Kismet. Has it not been related of the little Jew babe sucking at its mother'sbreast in Jerusalem, that this innocent, long after the Captivity, would start convulsively, relinquishing its feast, and indulging inthe purest. Hebrew lamentation of the most tenacious of races, at thepassing sound of a Babylonian or a Ninevite voice? In some such mannerdid men, unable to refuse, deep in what remained to them of nature, listen to Tinman; and so did Van Diemen, sighing heavily under theoperation of simple animal instinct. 

"You seem miserable, " said Tinman, not oblivious of his design to givehis friend a fright. 

"Do I? No, I'm all right, " Van Diemen replied. "I'm thinking ofalterations at the Hall before Summer, to accommodate guests--if I stayhere. "

"I suppose you would not like to be separated from Annette. "

"Separated? No, I should think I shouldn't. Who'd do it?"

"Because I should not like to leave my good sister Martha all to herselfin a house so near the sea--"

"Why not go to the Crouch, man?"

"Thank you. "

"No thanks needed if you don't take advantage of the offer. "

They were at the entrance to Elba, whither Mr. Tinman was betakinghimself to see his intended. He asked if Annette was at home, and to hisgreat stupefaction heard that she had gone to London for a week. 

Dissembling the spite aroused within him, he postponed his very stronglyfortified design, and said, "You must be lonely. "

Van Diemen informed him that it would be for a night only, as youngFellingham was coming down to keep him company. 

"At six o'clock this evening, then, " said Tinman. "We're not fashionablein Winter. "

"Hang me, if I know when ever we were!" Van Diemen rejoined. 

"Come, though, you'd like to be. You've got your ambition, Philip, likeother men. "

"Respectable and respected--that 's my ambition, Mr. Mart. "

Tinman simpered: "With your wealth!"

"Ay, I 'm rich--for a contented mind. "

"I 'm pretty sure you 'll approve my new vintage, " said Tinman. "It'sdirect from Oporto, my wine-merchant tells me, on his word. "

"What's the price?"

"No, no, no. Try it first. It's rather a stiff price. "

Van Diemen was partially reassured by the announcement. "What do youcall a stiff price?"

"Well!--over thirty. "

"Double that, and you may have a chance. "

"Now, " cried Tinman, exasperated, "how can a man from Australia knowanything about prices for port? You can't divest your ideas of diggers'prices. You're like an intoxicating drink yourself on the tradesmenof our town. You think it fine--ha! ha! I daresay, Philip, I should bedoing the same if I were up to your mark at my banker's. We can't all ofus be lords, nor baronets. "

Catching up his temper thus cleverly, he curbed that habitual runaway, and retired from his old friend's presence to explode in the society ofthe solitary Martha. 

Annette's behaviour was as bitterly criticized by the sister as by thebrother. 

"She has gone to those Fellingham people; and she may be thinking ofjilting us, " Mrs. Cavely said. 

"In that case, I have no mercy, " cried her brother. "I have borne"--hebowed with a professional spiritual humility--"as I should, but it mayget past endurance. I say I have borne enough; and if the worst comes tothe worst, and I hand him over to the authorities--I say I mean him noharm, but he has struck me. He beat me as a boy and he has struck meas a man, and I say I have no thought of revenge, but I cannot havehim here; and I say if I drive him out of the country back to hisGippsland!"

Martin Tinman quivered for speech, probably for that which feedethspeech, as is the way with angry men. 

"And what?--what then?" said Martha, with the tender mellifluousness ofsisterly reproach. "What good can you expect of letting temper get thebetter of you, dear?"

Tinman did not enjoy her recent turn for usurping the lead in theirconsultations, and he said, tartly, "This good, Martha. We shall get theHall at my price, and be Head People here. Which, " he raised his note, "which he, a Deserter, has no right to pretend to give himself out tobe. What your feelings may be as an old inhabitant, I don't know, but Ihave always looked up to the people at Elba Hall, and I say I don'tlike to have a Deserter squandering convict's money there--with hisforty-pound-a-year cook, and his champagne at seventy a dozen. It's theluxury of Sodom and Gomorrah. "

"That does not prevent its being very nice to dine there, " said Mrs. Cavely; "and it shall be our table for good if I have any management. "

"You mean me, ma'am, " bellowed Tinman. 

"Not at all, " she breathed, in dulcet contrast. "You are good-looking, Martin, but you have not half such pretty eyes as the person I mean. Inever ventured to dream of managing you, Martin. I am thinking of thepeople at Elba. "

"But why this extraordinary treatment of me, Martha?"

"She's a child, having her head turned by those Fellinghams. But she'shonourable; she has sworn to me she would be honourable. "

"You do think I may as well give him a fright?" Tinman inquiredhungrily. 

"A sort of hint; but very gentle, Martin. Do be gentle--casual like--asif you did n't want to say it. Get him on his Gippsland. Then if hebrings you to words, you can always laugh back, and say you will go toKew and see the Fernery, and fancy all that, so high, on Helvellynor the Downs. Why"--Mrs. Cavely, at the end of her astute advices andcautionings, as usual, gave loose to her natural character--"Why thatman came back to England at all, with his boastings of Gippsland, Ican't for the life of me find out. It 's a perfect mystery. "

"It is, " Tinman sounded his voice at a great depth, reflectively. Gladof taking the part she was perpetually assuming of late, he put out hishand and said: "But it may have been ordained for our good, Martha. "

"True, dear, " said she, with an earnest sentiment of thankfulness to thePower which had led him round to her way of thinking and feeling. 

CHAPTER XI

Annette had gone to the big metropolis, which burns in colonialimaginations as the sun of cities, and was about to see something ofLondon, under the excellent auspices of her new friend, Mary Fellingham, and a dense fog. She was alarmed by the darkness, a little in fear, too, of Herbert; and these feelings caused her to chide herself for leavingher father. 

Hearing her speak of her father sadly, Herbert kindly proposed to godown to Crikswich on the very day of her coming. She thanked him, andgave him a taste of bitterness by smiling favourably on his offer; butas he wished her to discern and take to heart the difference between oneman and another, in the light of a suitor, he let her perceive that itcost him heavy pangs to depart immediately, and left her to brood on hisexample. Mary Fellingham liked Annette. She thought her a sensiblegirl of uncultivated sensibilities, the reverse of thousands; notcommonplace, therefore; and that the sensibilities were expanding wasto be seen in her gradual unreadiness to talk of her engagement to Mr. Tinman, though her intimacy with Mary warmed daily. She consideredshe was bound to marry the man at some distant date, and did not feelunhappiness yet. She had only felt uneasy when she had to greet andconverse with her intended; especially when the London young lady hadbeen present. Herbert's departure relieved her of the pressing senseof contrast. She praised him to Mary for his extreme kindness to herfather, and down in her unsounded heart desired that her father mightappreciate it even more than she did. 

Herbert drove into Crikswich at night, and stopped at Crickledon's, where he heard that Van Diemen was dining with Tinman. 

Crickledon the carpenter permitted certain dry curves to play round hislips like miniature shavings at the name of Tinman; but Herbert asked, "What is it now?" in vain, and he went to Crickledon the cook. 

This union of the two Crickledons, male and female; was an ideal one, such as poor women dream of; and men would do the same, if they knew howpoor they are. Each had a profession, each was independent of the other, each supported the fabric. Consequently there was mutual respect, asbetween two pillars of a house. Each saw the other's faults with a slywink to the world, and an occasional interchange of sarcasm that wastonic, very strengthening to the wits without endangering the habit ofaffection. Crickledon the cook stood for her own opinions, and directedthe public conduct of Crickledon the carpenter; and if he went astrayfrom the line she marked out, she put it down to human nature, to whichshe was tolerant. He, when she had not followed his advice, ascribed itto the nature of women. She never said she was the equal of her husband;but the carpenter proudly acknowledged that she was as good as a man, and he bore with foibles derogatory to such high stature, by teachinghimself to observe a neatness of domestic and general management thattold him he certainly was not as good as a woman. Herbert delighted inthem. The cook regaled the carpenter with skilful, tasty, and economicdishes; and the carpenter, obedient to her supplications, had promised, in the event of his outliving her, that no hands but his should havethe making of her coffin. "It is so nice, " she said, "to think one's ownhusband will put together the box you are to lie in, of his own make!"Had they been even a doubtfully united pair, the cook's anticipation ofa comfortable coffin, the work of the best carpenter in England, wouldhave kept them together; and that which fine cookery does for thecementing of couples needs not to be recounted to those who have read achapter or two of the natural history of the male sex. 

"Crickledon, my dear soul, your husband is labouring with a bit of fun, "Herbert said to her. 

"He would n't laugh loud at Punch, for fear of an action, " she replied. "He never laughs out till he gets to bed, and has locked the door; andwhen he does he says 'Hush!' to me. Tinman is n't bailiff again justyet, and where he has his bailiff's best Court suit from, you may ask. He exercises in it off and on all the week, at night, and sometimes inthe middle of the day. "

Herbert rallied her for her gossip's credulity. 

"It's truth, " she declared. "I have it from the maid of the house, little Jane, whom he pays four pound a year for all the work of thehouse: a clever little thing with her hands and her head she is; and canread and write beautiful; and she's a mind to leave 'em if they don'tadvance her. She knocked and went in while he was full blaze, and bowinghis poll to his glass. And now he turns the key, and a child might knowhe was at it. "

"He can't be such a donkey!"

"And he's been seen at the window on the seaside. 'Who's your Admiralstaying at the house on the beach?' men have inquired as they comeashore. My husband has heard it. Tinman's got it on his brain. He mightbe cured by marriage to a sound-headed woman, but he 'll soon be wantingto walk about in silk legs if he stops a bachelor. They tell me his oldmother here had a dress value twenty pound; and pomp's inherited. Saveas he may, there's his leak. "

Herbert's contempt for Tinman was intense; it was that of the young andignorant who live in their imaginations like spendthrifts, unaware ofthe importance of them as the food of life, and of how necessary it isto seize upon the solider one among them for perpetual sustenance whenthe unsubstantial are vanishing. The great event of his bailiff's termof office had become the sun of Tinman's system. He basked in itsrays. He meant to be again the proud official, royally distinguished;meantime, though he knew not that his days were dull, he groaned underthe dulness; and, as cart or cab horses, uncomplaining as a rule, showtheir view of the nature of harness when they have release to frisk ina field, it is possible that existence was made tolerable to the joggingman by some minutes of excitement in his bailiff's Court suit. Reallyto pasture on our recollections we ought to dramatize them. There is, however, only the testimony of a maid and a mariner to show that Tinmandid it, and those are witnesses coming of particularly long-bow classes, given to magnify small items of fact. 

On reaching the hall Herbert found the fire alight in the smoking-room, and soon after settling himself there he heard Van Diemen's voice at thehall-door saying good night to Tinman. 

"Thank the Lord! there you are, " said Van Diemen, entering the room. "Icouldn't have hoped so much. That rascal!" he turned round to the door. "He has been threatening me, and then smoothing me. Hang his oil! It'scombustible. And hang the port he's for laying down, as he calls it. 'Leave it to posterity, ' says I. 'Why?' says he. 'Because the young ones'll be better able to take care of themselves, ' says I, and he insistson an explanation. I gave it to him. Out he bursts like a wasp'snest. He may have said what he did say in temper. He seemed sorryafterwards--poor old Mart! The scoundrel talked of Horse Guards andtelegraph wires. "

"Scoundrel, but more ninny, " said Herbert, full of his contempt. "Darehim to do his worst. The General tells me they 'd be glad to overlookit at the Guards, even if they had all the facts. Branding 's out of thequestion. "

"I swear it was done in my time, " cried Van Diemen, all on fire. 

"It's out of the question. You might be advised to leave England for afew months. As for the society here--"

"If I leave, I leave for good. My heart's broken. I'm disappointed. I'mdeceived in my friend. He and I in the old days! What's come to him?What on earth is it changes men who stop in England so? It can't be theclimate. And did you mention my name to General Fellingham?"

"Certainly not, " said Herbert. "But listen to me, sir, a moment. Why notget together half-a-dozen friends of the neighbourhood, and make a cleanbreast of it. Englishmen like that kind of manliness, and they are sureto ring sound to it. "

"I couldn't!" Van Diemen sighed. "It's not a natural feeling I haveabout it--I 've brooded on the word. If I have a nightmare, I seeDeserter written in sulphur on the black wall. "

"You can't remain at his mercy, and be bullied as you are. He makes youill, sir. He won't do anything, but he'll go on worrying you. I'd stophim at once. I'd take the train to-morrow and get an introduction to theCommander-in-Chief. He's the very man to be kind to you in a situationlike this. The General would get you the introduction. "

"That's more to my taste; but no, I couldn't, " Van Diemen moaned in hisweakness. "Money has unmanned me. I was n't this kind of man formerly;nor more was Mart Tinman, the traitor! All the world seems changeing forthe worse, and England is n't what she used to be. "

"You let that man spoil it for you, sir. " Herbert related Mrs. Crickledon's tale of Mr. Tinman, adding, "He's an utter donkey. I shoulddefy him. What I should do would be to let him know to-morrow morningthat you don't intend to see him again. Blow for, blow, is the thing herequires. He'll be cringing to you in a week. "

"And you'd like to marry Annette, " said Van Diemen, relishing, nevertheless, the advice, whose origin and object he perceived soplainly. 

"Of course I should, " said Herbert, franker still in his colour than hisspeech. 

"I don't see him my girl's husband. " Van Diemen eyed the red hollowin the falling coals. "When I came first, and found him a healthy man, good-looking enough for a trifle over forty, I 'd have given her gladly, she nodding Yes. Now all my fear is she's in earnest. Upon my soul, I had the notion old Mart was a sort of a boy still; playing man, youknow. But how can you understand? I fancied his airs and stiffness wereput on; thought I saw him burning true behind it. Who can tell? He seemsto be jealous of my buying property in his native town. Something fretshim. I ought never to have struck him! There's my error, and I repentit. Strike a friend! I wonder he didn't go off to the Horse Guards atonce. I might have done it in his place, if I found I couldn't lick him. I should have tried kicking first. "

"Yes, shinning before peaching, " said Herbert, astonished almost asmuch as he was disgusted by the inveterate sentimental attachment of VanDiemen to his old friend. 

Martin Tinman anticipated good things of the fright he had given the manafter dinner. He had, undoubtedly, yielded to temper, forgetting purepolicy, which it is so exceeding difficult to practice. But he hadsoothed the startled beast; they had shaken hands at parting, and Tinmanhoped that the week of Annette's absence would enable him to mould herfather. Young Fellingham's appointment to come to Elba had slipped Mr. Tinman's memory. It was annoying to see this intruder. "At all events, he's not with Annette, " said Mrs. Cavely. "How long has her father torun on?"

"Five months, " Tinman replied. "He would have completed his term ofservice in five months. "

"And to think of his being a rich man because he deserted, " Mrs. Cavelyinterjected. "Oh! I do call it immoral. He ought to be apprehended andpunished, to be an example for the good of society. If you lose time, my dear Martin, your chance is gone. He's wriggling now. And if I couldbelieve he talked us over to that young impudent, who has n't a pennythat he does n't get from his pen, I'd say, denounce him to-morrow. Ilong for Elba. I hate this house. It will be swallowed up some day; Iknow it; I have dreamt it. Elba at any cost. Depend upon it, Martin, youhave been foiled in your suits on account of the mean house you inhabit. Enter Elba as that girl's husband, or go there to own it, and girls willcrawl to you. "

"You are a ridiculous woman, Martha, " said Tinman, not dissenting. 

The mixture of an idea of public duty with a feeling of personal rancouris a strong incentive to the pursuit of a stern line of conduct; andthe glimmer of self-interest superadded does not check the steps ofthe moralist. Nevertheless, Tinman held himself in. He loved peace. Hepreached it, he disseminated it. At a meeting in the town he strove towin Van Diemen's voice in favour of a vote for further moneys toprotect "our shores. " Van Diemen laughed at him, telling him he wanted abattery. "No, " said Tinman, "I've had enough to do with soldiers. "

"How's that?"

"They might be more cautious. I say, they might learn to know theirfriends from their enemies. "

"That's it, that's it, " said Van Diemen. "If you say much more, myhearty, you'll find me bidding against you next week for Marine Paradeand Belle Vue Terrace. I've a cute eye for property, and this town'slooking up. "

"You look about you before you speculate in land and house propertyhere, " retorted Tinman. 

Van Diemen bore so much from him that he asked himself whether he couldbe an Englishman. The title of Deserter was his raw wound. He attemptedto form the habit of stigmatizing himself with it in the privacy ofhis chamber, and he succeeded in establishing the habit of talking tohimself, so that he was heard by the household, and Annette, on herreturn, was obliged to warn him of his indiscretion. This development ofa new weakness exasperated him. Rather to prove his courage by defiancethan to baffle Tinman's ambition to become the principal owner of housesin Crikswich, by outbidding him at the auction for the sale of MarineParade and Belle Vue Terrace, Van Diemen ran the houses up at theauction, and ultimately had Belle Vue knocked down to him. So fierce wasthe quarrel that Annette, in conjunction with Mrs. Cavely; was called onto interpose with her sweetest grace. "My native place, " Tinman saidto her; "it is my native place. I have a pride in it; I desire to ownproperty in it, and your father opposes me. He opposes me. Then says Imay have it back at auction price, after he has gone far to double theprice! I have borne--I repeat I have borne too much. "

"Are n't your properties to be equal to one?" said Mrs. Cavely, smilingmother--like from Tinman to Annette. 

He sought to produce a fondling eye in a wry face, and said, "Yes, Iwill remember that. "

"Annette will bless you with her dear hand in a month or two at theoutside, " Mrs. Cavely murmured, cherishingly. 

"She will?" Tinman cracked his body to bend to her. 

"Oh, I cannot say; do not distress me. Be friendly with papa, " the girlresumed, moving to escape. 

"That is the essential, " said Mrs. Cavely; and continued, when Annettehad gone, "The essential is to get over the next few months, miss, andthen to snap your fingers at us. Martin, I would force that man to sellyou Belle Vue under the price he paid for it, just to try your power. "

Tinman was not quite so forcible. He obtained Belle Vue at auctionprice, and his passion for revenge was tipped with fire by having itaccorded as a friend's favour. 

The poisoned state of his mind was increased by a December high windthat rattled his casements, and warned him of his accession of propertyexposed to the elements. Both he and his sister attributed theirnervousness to the sinister behaviour of Van Diemen. For the house onthe beach had only, in most distant times, been threatened by the sea, and no house on earth was better protected from man, --Neptune, in theshape of a coastguard, being paid by Government to patrol about itduring the hours of darkness. They had never had any fears before VanDiemen arrived, and caused them to give thrice their ordinary number ofdinners to guests per annum. In fact, before Van Diemen came, thehouse on the beach looked on Crikswich without a rival to challenge itsanticipated lordship over the place, and for some inexplicable reasonit seemed to its inhabitants to have been a safer as well as a happierresidence. 

They were consoled by Tinman's performance of a clever stroke inprivately purchasing the cottages west of the town, and includingCrickledon's shop, abutting on Marine Parade. Then from the house on thebeach they looked at an entire frontage of their property. 

They entered the month of February. No further time was to be lost, "or we shall wake up to find that man has fooled us, " Mrs. Cavely said. Tinman appeared at Elba to demand a private interview with Annette. Hishat was blown into the hall as the door opened to him, and he himselfwas glad to be sheltered by the door, so violent was the gale. Annetteand her father were sitting together. They kept the betrothed gentlemanwaiting a very long time. At last Van Diemen went to him, and said, "Netty 'll see you, if you must. I suppose you have no business withme?"

"Not to-day, " Tinman replied. 

Van Diemen strode round the drawing-room with his hands in his pockets. "There's a disparity of ages, " he said, abruptly, as if desirous to pourout his lesson while he remembered it. "A man upwards of forty marriesa girl under twenty, he's over sixty before she's forty; he's decayingwhen she's only mellow. I ought never to have struck you, I know. Andyou're such an infernal bad temper at times, and age does n't improvethat, they say; and she's been educated tip-top. She's sharp on grammar, and a man may n't like that much when he's a husband. See her, if youmust. But she does n't take to the idea; there's the truth. Disparityof ages and unsuitableness of dispositions--what was it Fellinghamsaid?--like two barrel-organs grinding different tunes all day in ahouse. "

"I don't want to hear Mr. Fellingham's comparisons, " Tinman snapped. 

"Oh! he's nothing to the girl, " said Van Diemen. "She doesn't stomachleaving me. "

"My dear Philip! why should she leave you? When we have interests incommon as one household--"

"She says you're such a damned bad temper. "

Tinman was pursuing amicably, "When we are united--" But the frightfulcharge brought against his temper drew him up. "Fiery I may be. Annettehas seen I am forgiving. I am a Christian. You have provoked me; youhave struck me. "

"I 'll give you a couple of thousand pounds in hard money to be off thebargain, and not bother the girl, " said Van Diemen. 

"Now, " rejoined Tinman, "I am offended. I like money, like most men whohave made it. You do, Philip. But I don't come courting like a pauper. Not for ten thousand; not for twenty. Money cannot be a compensation tome for the loss of Annette. I say I love Annette. "

"Because, " Van Diemen continued his speech, "you trapped us into thatengagement, Mart. You dosed me with the stuff you buy for wine, whileyour sister sat sugaring and mollifying my girl; and she did the trickin a minute, taking Netty by surprise when I was all heart and no head;and since that you may have seen the girl turn her head from marriagelike my woods from the wind. "

"Mr. Van Diemen Smith!" Tinman panted; he mastered himself. "You shallnot provoke me. My introductions of you in this neighbourhood, mypatronage, prove my friendship. "

"You'll be a good old fellow, Mart, when you get over your hopes ofbeing knighted. "

"Mr. Fellingham may set you against my wine, Philip. Let me tell you--Iknow you--you would not object to have your daughter called Lady. "

"With a spindle-shanked husband capering in a Court suit before he goesto bed every night, that he may n't forget what a fine fellow he was oneday bygone! You're growing lean on it, Mart, like a recollection fiftyyears old. "

"You have never forgiven me that day, Philip!"

"Jealous, am I? Take the money, give up the girl, and see what friendswe'll be. I'll back your buyings, I'll advertise your sellings. I'll paya painter to paint you in your Court suit, and hang up a copy of you inmy diningroom. "

"Annette is here, " said Tinman, who had been showing Etna's tokens ofinsurgency. 

He admired Annette. Not till latterly had Herbert Fellingham been sotrue an admirer of Annette as Tinman was. She looked sincere and shedressed inexpensively. For these reasons she was the best exampleof womankind that he knew, and her enthusiasm for England had thesympathetic effect on him of obscuring the rest of the world, andthrilling him with the reassuring belief that he was blest in his bloodand his birthplace--points which her father, with his boastingsof Gippsland, and other people talking of scenes on the Continent, sometimes disturbed in his mind. 

"Annette, " said he, "I come requesting to converse with you in private. "

"If you wish it--I would rather not, " she answered. 

Tinman raised his head, as often at Helmstone when some offendingshopwoman was to hear her doom. 

He bent to her. "I see. Before your father, then!"

"It isn't an agreeable bit of business, to me, " Van Diemen grumbled, frowning and shrugging. 

"I have come, Annette, to ask you, to beg you, entreat--before a thirdperson--laughing, Philip?"

"The wrong side of my mouth, my friend. And I'll tell you what: we're infor heavy seas, and I 'm not sorry you've taken the house on the beachoff my hands. "

"Pray, Mr. Tinman, speak at once, if you please, and I will do my best. Papa vexes you. "

"No, no, " replied Tinman. 

He renewed his commencement. Van Diemen interrupted him again. 

"Hang your power over me, as you call it. Eh, old Mart? I'm a Deserter. I'll pay a thousand pounds to the British army, whether they punish meor not. March me off tomorrow!"

"Papa, you are unjust, unkind. " Annette turned to him in tears. 

"No, no, " said Tinman, "I do not feel it. Your father has misunderstoodme, Annette. "

"I am sure he has, " she said fervently. "And, Mr. Tinman, I willfaithfully promise that so long as you are good to my dear father, Iwill not be untrue to my engagement, only do not wish me to name anyday. We shall be such very good dear friends if you consent to this. Will you?"

Pausing for a space, the enamoured man unrolled his voice inlamentation: "Oh! Annette, how long will you keep me?"

"There; you'll set her crying!" said Van Diemen. "Now you can runupstairs, Netty. By jingo! Mart Tinman, you've got a bass voice for loveaffairs. "

"Annette, " Tinman called to her, and made her turn round as she wasretiring. "I must know the day before the end of winter. Please. In kindconsideration. My arrangements demand it. "

"Do let the girl go, " said Van Diemen. "Dine with me tonight and I'llgive you a wine to brisk your spirits, old boy. "

"Thank you. When I have ordered dinner at home, I----and my wine agreeswith ME, " Tinman replied. 

"I doubt it. "

"You shall not provoke me, Philip. "

They parted stiffly. 

Mrs. Cavely had unpleasant domestic news to communicate to her brother, in return for his tale of affliction and wrath. It concerned theungrateful conduct of their little housemaid Jane, who, as Mrs. Cavelysaid, "egged on by that woman Crickledon, " had been hinting at anadvance of wages. 

"She didn't dare speak, but I saw what was in her when she broke aplate, and wouldn't say she was sorry. I know she goes to Crickledon andtalks us over. She's a willing worker, but she has no heart. "

Tinman had been accustomed in his shop at Helmstone--where heavenhad blessed him with the patronage of the rich, as visibly as rays ofsupernal light are seen selecting from above the heads of prophets inthe illustrations to cheap holy books--to deal with willing workers thathave no hearts. Before the application for an advance of wages--and heknew the signs of it coming--his method was to calculate how much hemight be asked for, and divide the estimated sum by the figure 4; which, as it seemed to come from a generous impulse, and had been unsolicited, was often humbly accepted, and the willing worker pursued her lean andhungry course in his service. The treatment did not always agree withhis males. Women it suited; because they do not like to lift up theirvoices unless they are in a passion; and if you take from them thegrounds of temper, you take their words away--you make chickens of them. And as Tinman said, "Gratitude I never expect!" Why not? For the reasonthat he knew human nature. He could record shocking instances of theingratitude of human nature, as revealed to him in the term of histenure of the shop at Helmstone. Blest from above, human nature'swickedness had from below too frequently besulphured and suffumigatedhim for his memory to be dim; and though he was ever ready to ownhimself an example that heaven prevaileth, he could cite instances ofscandal-mongering shop-women dismissed and working him mischief in thetown, which pointed to him in person for a proof that the Powers ofGood and Evil were still engaged in unhappy contention. Witness Strikes!witness Revolutions!

"Tell her, when she lays the cloth, that I advance her, on account ofgeneral good conduct, five shillings per annum. Add, " said Tinman, "thatI wish no thanks. It is for her merits--to reward her; you understandme, Martha?"

"Quite; if you think it prudent, Martin. "

"I do. She is not to breathe a syllable to cook. "

"She will. "

"Then keep your eye on cook. "

Mrs. Cavely promised she would do so. She felt sure she was paying fiveshillings for ingratitude; and, therefore, it was with humility that sheowned her error when, while her brother sipped his sugared acrid liquorafter dinner (in devotion to the doctor's decree, that he should takea couple of glasses, rigorously as body-lashing friar), she imparted tohim the singular effect of the advance of wages upon little Jane--"Oh, ma'am! and me never asked you for it!" She informed her brother howlittle Jane had confided to her that they were called "close, " and howlittle Jane had vowed she would--the willing little thing!--go aboutletting everybody know their kindness. 

"Yes! Ah!" Tinman inhaled the praise. "No, no; I don't want to bepuffed, " he said. "Remember cook. I have, " he continued, meditatively, "rarely found my plan fail. But mind, I give the Crickledons noticeto quit to-morrow. They are a pest. Besides, I shall probably think oferecting villas. "

"How dreadful the wind is!" Mrs. Cavely exclaimed. "I would give thatgirl Annette one chance more. Try her by letter. "

Tinman despatched a business letter to Annette, which brought back avague, unbusiness-like reply. Two days afterward Mrs. Cavely reported toher brother the presence of Mr. Fellingham and Miss Mary Fellinghamin Crikswich. At her dictation he wrote a second letter. This time thereply came from Van Diemen:

 "My DEAR MARTIN, --Please do not go on bothering my girl. She does not like the idea of leaving me, and my experience tells me I could not live in the house with you. So there it is. Take it friendly. I have always wanted to be, and am, "Your friend, "PHIL. "

Tinman proceeded straight to Elba; that is, as nearly straight as thewind would allow his legs to walk. Van Diemen was announced to beout; Miss Annette begged to be excused, under the pretext that she wasunwell; and Tinman heard of a dinner-party at Elba that night. 

He met Mr. Fellingham on the carriage drive. The young Londoner presumedto touch upon Tinman's private affairs by pleading on behalf of theCrikledons, who were, he said, much dejected by the notice they hadreceived to quit house and shop. 

"Another time, " bawled Tinman. "I can't hear you in this wind. "

"Come in, " said Fellingham. 

"The master of the house is absent, " was the smart retort roared at him;and Tinman staggered away, enjoying it as he did his wine. 

His house rocked. He was backed by his sister in the assurance that hehad been duped. 

The process he supposed to be thinking, which was the castigation ofhis brains with every sting wherewith a native touchiness could plyimmediate recollection, led him to conclude that he must bring VanDiemen to his senses, and Annette running to him for mercy. 

He sat down that night amid the howling of the storm, wind whistling, water crashing, casements rattling, beach desperately dragging, as bythe wide-stretched star-fish fingers of the half-engulphed. 

He hardly knew what he wrote. The man was in a state of personalterror, burning with indignation at Van Diemen as the main cause ofhis jeopardy. For, in order to prosecute his pursuit of Annette, he hadabstained from going to Helmstone to pay moneys into his bank there, and what was precious to life as well as life itself, was imperilledby those two--Annette and her father--who, had they been true, hadthey been honest, to say nothing of honourable, would by this time haveopened Elba to him as a fast and safe abode. 

His letter was addressed, on a large envelope, "To the Adjutant-General, "HORSE GUARDS. "

But if ever consigned to the Post, that post-office must be in London;and Tinman left the letter on his desk till the morning should bringcounsel to him as to the London friend to whom he might despatch itunder cover for posting, if he pushed it so far. 

Sleep was impossible. Black night favoured the tearing fiends ofshipwreck, and looking through a back window over sea, Tinman saw withdismay huge towering ghostwhite wreaths, that travelled up swiftly onhis level, and lit the dark as they flung themselves in ruin, with agasp, across the mound of shingle at his feet. 

He undressed: His sister called to him to know if they were indanger. Clothed in his dressing-gown, he slipped along to her door, tovociferate to her hoarsely that she must not frighten the servants; andone fine quality in the training of the couple, which had helped them toprosper, a form of self-command, kept her quiet in her shivering fears. 

For a distraction Tinman pulled open the drawers of his wardrobe. Hisglittering suit lay in one. And he thought, "What wonderful changesthere are in the world!" meaning, between a man exposed to the wrath ofthe elements, and the same individual reading from vellum, in that suit, in a palace, to the Head of all of us!

The presumption is; that he must have often done it before. The fact isestablished, that he did it that night. The conclusion drawn from it is, that it must have given him a sense of stability and safety. 

At any rate that he put on the suit is quite certain. 

Probably it was a work of ingratiation and degrees; a feeling of thesilk, a trying on to one leg, then a matching of the fellow with it. Oyou Revolutionists! who would have no state, no ceremonial, and but oneorder of galligaskins! This man must have been wooed away in spirit toforgetfulness of the tempest scourging his mighty neighbour to a biggerand a farther leap; he must have obtained from the contemplation ofhimself in his suit that which would be the saving of all men, inespecial of his countrymen--imagination, namely. 

Certain it is, as I have said, that he attired himself in the suit. Hecovered it with his dressing-gown, and he lay down on his bed so garbed, to await the morrow's light, being probably surprised by sleep actingupon fatigue and nerves appeased and soothed. 

CHAPTER XII

Elba lay more sheltered from South-east winds under the slopes of downthan any other house in Crikswich. The South-caster struck off the cliffto a martello tower and the house on the beach, leaving Elba to repose, so that the worst wind for that coast was one of the most comfortablefor the owner of the hall, and he looked from his upper window on a seaof crumbling grey chalk, lashed unremittingly by the featureless pipinggale, without fear that his elevated grounds and walls would be openat high tide to the ravage of water. Van Diemen had no idea of calamitybeing at work on land when he sat down to breakfast. He told Herbertthat he had prayed for poor fellows at sea last night. Mary Fellinghamand Annette were anxious to finish breakfast and mount the down to gazeon the sea, and receiving a caution from Van Diemen not to go too nearthe cliff, they were inclined to think he was needlessly timorous ontheir account. 

Before they were half way through the meal, word was brought in of greatbreaches in the shingle, and water covering the common. Van Diemen sentfor his head gardener, whose report of the state of things outside tookthe comprehensive form of prophecy; he predicted the fall of the town. 

"Nonsense; what do you mean, John Scott?" said Van Diemen, eyeing hisorderly breakfast table and the man in turns. "It does n't seem likethat, yet, does it?"

"The house on the beach won't stand an hour longer, sir. "

"Who says so?"

"It's cut off from land now, and waves mast-high all about it. "

"Mart Tinman?" cried Van Diemen. 

All started; all jumped up; and there was a scampering for hats andcloaks. Maids and men of the house ran in and out confirming the news ofinundation. Some in terror for the fate of relatives, others pleasantlyexcited, glad of catastrophe if it but killed monotony, for at any rateit was a change of demons. 

The view from the outer bank of Elba was of water covering the spaceof the common up to the stones of Marine Parade and Belle Vue. But at adistance it had not the appearance of angry water; the ladies thought itpicturesque, and the house on the beach was seen standing firm. A secondlook showed the house completely isolated; and as the party led by VanDiemen circled hurriedly toward the town, they discerned heavy cataractsof foam pouring down the wrecked mound of shingle on either side of thehouse. 

"Why, the outer wall's washed away, " said Van Diemen. "Are they in realdanger?" asked Annette, her teeth chattering, and the cold and othermatters at her heart precluding for the moment such warmth of sympathyas she hoped soon to feel for them. She was glad to hear her father say:

"Oh! they're high and dry by this time. We shall find them in thetown And we'll take them in and comfort them. Ten to one they have n'tbreakfasted. They sha'n't go to an inn while I'm handy. "

He dashed ahead, followed closely by Herbert. The ladies beheld themtalking to townsfolk as they passed along the upper streets, and did notaugur well of their increase of speed. At the head of the town water wasvisible, part of the way up the main street, and crossing it, theladies went swiftly under the old church, on the tower of which werespectators, through the churchyard to a high meadow that dropped to astone wall fixed between the meadow and a grass bank above the level ofthe road, where now salt water beat and cast some spray. Not less thana hundred people were in this field, among them Crickledon and his wife. All were in silent watch of the house on the beach, which was to eastof the field, at a distance of perhaps three stonethrows. The scene waswild. Continuously the torrents poured through the shingleclefts, andmomently a thunder sounded, and high leapt a billow that topped thehouse and folded it weltering. 

"They tell me Mart Tinman's in the house, " Van Diemen roared to Herbert. He listened to further information, and bellowed: "There's no boat!"

Herbert answered: "It must be a mistake, I think; here's Crickledon sayshe had a warning before dawn and managed to move most of his things, andthe people over there must have been awakened by the row in time to getoff. "

"I can't hear a word you say;" Van Diemen tried to pitch his voicehigher than the wind. "Did you say a boat? But where?"

Crickledon the carpenter made signal to Herbert. They stepped rapidly upthe field. 

"Women feels their weakness in times like these, my dear, " Mrs. Crickledon said to Annette. "What with our clothes and our cowardice itdo seem we're not the equals of men when winds is high. "

Annette expressed the hope to her that she had not lost much property. Mrs. Crickledon said she was glad to let her know she was insured inan Accident Company. "But, " said she, "I do grieve for that poor manTinman, if alive he be, and comes ashore to find his property wreckedby water. Bless ye! he wouldn't insure against anything less common thanfire; and my house and Crickledon's shop are floating timbers by thistime; and Marine Parade and Belle Vue are safe to go. And it'll be apretty welcome for him, poor man, from his investments. "

A cry at a tremendous blow of a wave on the doomed house rose from thefield. Back and front door were broken down, and the force of waterdrove a round volume through the channel, shaking the walls. 

"I can't stand this, " Van Diemen cried. 

Annette was too late to hold him back. He ran up the field. She waspreparing to run after when Mrs. Crickledon touched her arm and imploredher: "Interfere not with men, but let them follow their judgements whenit's seasons of mighty peril, my dear. If any one's guilty it's me, forminding my husband of a boat that was launched for a life-boat here, and wouldn't answer, and is at the shed by the Crouch--left lying there, I've often said, as if it was a-sulking. My goodness!"

A linen sheet bad been flung out from one of the windows of the house onthe beach, and flew loose and flapping in sign of distress. 

"It looks as if they had gone mad in that house, to have waited so longfor to declare theirselves, poor souls, " Mrs. Crickledon said, sighing. 

She was assured right and left that signals had been seen before, andsome one stated that the cook of Mr. Tinman, and also Mrs. Cavely, wereon shore. 

"It's his furniture, poor man, he sticks to: and nothing gets round theheart so!" resumed Mrs. Crickledon. "There goes his bed-linen!"

The sheet was whirled and snapped away by the wind; distended doubled, like a flock of winter geese changeing alphabetical letters on theclouds, darted this way and that, and finally outspread on the watersbreaking against Marine Parade. 

"They cannot have thought there was positive danger in remaining, " saidAnnette. 

"Mr. Tinman was waiting for the cheapest Insurance office, " a manremarked to Mrs. Crickledon. 

"The least to pay is to the undertaker, " she replied, standing ontiptoe. "And it's to be hoped he 'll pay more to-day. If only thosewalls don't fall and stop the chance of the boat to save him for moreoutlay, poor man! What boats was on the beach last night, high up andover the ridge as they was, are planks by this time and only good forcarpenters. "

"Half our town's done for, " one old man said; and another followed himin a pious tone: "From water we came and to water we go. "

They talked of ancient inroads of the sea, none so serious as thisthreatened to be for them. The gallant solidity, of the house onthe beach had withstood heavy gales: it was a brave house. Heaven bethanked, no fishing boats were out. Chiefly well-to-do people wouldbe the sufferers--an exceptional case. For it is the mysterious andunexplained dispensation that: "Mostly heaven chastises we. "

A knot of excited gazers drew the rest of the field to them. Mrs. Crickledon, on the edge of the crowd, reported what was doing to Annetteand Miss Fellingham. A boat had been launched from the town. "Praisethe Lord, there's none but coastguard in it!" she exclaimed, and excusedherself for having her heart on her husband. 

Annette was as deeply thankful that her father was not in the boat. 

They looked round and saw Herbert beside them. Van Diemen was in therear, panting, and straining his neck to catch sight of the boat nowpulling fast across a tumbled sea to where Tinman himself was perceived, beckoning them wildly, half out of one of the windows. 

"A pound apiece to those fellows, and two if they land Mart Tinmandry; I've promised it, and they'll earn it. Look at that! Quick, yourascals!"

To the east a portion of the house had fallen, melted away. Where itstood, just below the line of shingle, it was now like a structurewasting on a tormented submerged reef. The whole line was given over tothe waves. 

"Where is his sister?" Annette shrieked to her father. 

"Safe ashore; and one of the women with her. But Mart Tinman would stop, the fool! to-poor old boy! save his papers and things; and has n't ahead to do it, Martha Cavely tells me. They're at him now! They've gothim in! There's another? Oh! it's a girl, who would n't go and leavehim. They'll pull to the field here. Brave lads!--By jingo, why ain'tEnglishmen always in danger!--eh? if you want to see them shine!"

"It's little Jane, " said Mrs. Crickledon, who had been joined by herhusband, and now that she knew him to be no longer in peril, kept herhand on him to restrain him, just for comfort's sake. 

The boat held under the lee of the house-wreck a minute; then, asif shooting a small rapid, came down on a wave crowned with foam, tohurrahs from the townsmen. 

"They're all right, " said Van Diemen, puffing as at a mist before hiseyes. "They'll pull westward, with the wind, and land him among us. Iremember when old Mart and I were bathing once, he was younger than me, and could n't swim much, and I saw him going down. It'd have been hardto see him washed off before one's eyes thirty years afterwards. Herethey come. He's all right. He's in his dressing-gown!"

The crowd made way for Mr. Van Diemen Smith to welcome his friend. Twoof the coastguard jumped out, and handed him to the dry bank, whileHerbert, Van Diemen, and Crickledon took him by hand and arm, andhoisted him on to the flint wall, preparatory to his descent into thefield. In this exposed situation the wind, whose pranks are endless whenit is once up, seized and blew Martin Tinman's dressing-gown wide as twoviolently flapping wings on each side of him, and finally over his head. 

Van Diemen turned a pair of stupefied flat eyes on Herbert, who casta sly look at the ladies. Tinman had sprung down. But not before theworld, in one tempestuous glimpse, had caught sight of the Court suit. 

Perfect gravity greeted him from the crowd. 

"Safe, old Mart! and glad to be able to say it, " said Van Diemen. 

"We are so happy, " said Annette. 

"House, furniture, property, everything I possess!" ejaculated Tinman, shivering. 

"Fiddle, man; you want some hot breakfast in you. Your sister has goneon--to Elba. Come you too, old Man; and where's that plucky little girlwho stood by--"

"Was there a girl?" said Tinman. 

"Yes, and there was a boy wanted to help. " Van Diemen pointed atHerbert. 

Tinman looked, and piteously asked, "Have you examined Marine Parade andBelle Vue? It depends on the tide!"

"Here is little Jane, sir, " said Mrs. Crickledon. 

"Fall in, " Van Diemen said to little Jane. 

The girl was bobbing curtseys to Annette, on her introduction by Mrs. Crickledon. 

"Martin, you stay at my house; you stay at Elba till you get thingscomfortable about you, and then you shall have the Crouch for a year, rent free. Eh, Netty?"

Annette chimed in: "Anything we can do, anything. Nothing can be toomuch. "

Van Diemen was praising little Jane for her devotion to her master. 

"Master have been so kind to me, " said little Jane. 

"Now, march; it is cold, " Van Diemen gave the word, and Herbert stoodby Mary rather dejectedly, foreseeing that his prospects at Elba weredarkened. 

"Now then, Mart, left leg forward, " Van Diemen linked his arm in hisfriend's. 

"I must have a look, " Tinman broke from him, and cast a forlorn look offarewell on the last of the house on the beach. 

"You've got me left to you, old Mart; don't forget that, " said VanDiemen. 

Tinman's chest fell. "Yes, yes, " he responded. He was touched. 

"And I told those fellows if they landed you dry they should have--I'dgive them double pay; and I do believe they've earned their money. "

"I don't think I'm very wet, I'm cold, " said Tinman. 

"You can't help being cold, so come along. "

"But, Philip!" Tinman lifted his voice; "I've lost everything. I triedto save a little. I worked hard, I exposed my life, and all in vain. "

The voice of little Jane was heard. 

"What's the matter with the child?" said Van Diemen. 

Annette went up to her quietly. 

But little Jane was addressing her master. 

"Oh! if you please, I did manage to save something the last thing whenthe boat was at the window, and if you please, sir, all the bundles islost, but I saved you a papercutter, and a letter Horse Guards, and herethey are, sir. "

The grateful little creature drew the square letter and paper-cutterfrom her bosom, and held them out to Mr. Tinman. 

It was a letter of the imposing size, with THE HORSE GUARDS verydistinctly inscribed on it in Tinman's best round hand, to strike hisvindictive spirit as positively intended for transmission, and give himsight of his power to wound if it pleased him; as it might. 

"What!" cried he, not clearly comprehending how much her devotion hadaccomplished for him. 

"A letter to the Horse Guards!" cried Van Diemen. 

"Here, give it me, " said little Jane's master, and grasped it nervously. 

"What's in that letter?" Van Diemen asked. "Let me look at that letter. Don't tell me it's private correspondence. "

"My dear Philip, dear friend, kind thanks; it's not a letter, " saidTinman. 

"Not a letter! why, I read the address, 'Horse Guards. ' I read it as itpassed into your hands. Now, my man, one look at that letter, or takethe consequences. "

"Kind thanks for your assistance, dear Philip, indeed! Oh! this? Oh!it's nothing. " He tore it in halves. 

His face was of the winter sea-colour, with the chalk wash on it. 

"Tear again, and I shall know what to think of the contents, " Van Diemenfrowned. "Let me see what you've said. You've sworn you would do it, andthere it is at last, by miracle; but let me see it and I'll overlook it, and you shall be my house-mate still. If not!----"

Tinman tore away. 

"You mistake, you mistake, you're entirely wrong, " he said, as hepursued with desperation his task of rendering every word unreadable. 

Van Diemen stood fronting him; the accumulation of stores of pettyinjuries and meannesses which he had endured from this man, swelledunder the whip of the conclusive exhibition of treachery. He looked soblack that Annette called, "Papa!"

"Philip, " said Tinman. "Philip! my best friend!"

"Pooh, you're a poor creature. Come along and breakfast at Elba, and youcan sleep at the Crouch, and goodnight to you. Crickledon, " he called tothe houseless couple, "you stop at Elba till I build you a shop. "

With these words, Van Diemen led the way, walking alone. Herbert wascompelled to walk with Tinman. 

Mary and Annette came behind, and Mary pinched Annette's arm so sharplythat she must have cried out aloud had it been possible for her to feelpain at that moment, instead of a personal exultation, flying wildlyover the clash of astonishment and horror, like a sea-bird over thefoam. 

In the first silent place they came to, Mary murmured the words: "LittleJane. "

Annette looked round at Mrs. Crickledon, who wound up the procession, taking little Jane by the hand. Little Jane was walking demurely, with aplacid face. Annette glanced at Tinman. Her excited feelings nearly roseto a scream of laughter. For hours after, Mary had only to say to her:"Little Jane, " to produce the same convulsion. It rolled her heart andsenses in a headlong surge, shook her to burning tears, and seemed toher ideas the most wonderful running together of opposite things everknown on this earth. The young lady was ashamed of her laughter; butshe was deeply indebted to it, for never was mind made so clear by thatbeneficent exercise. 

 ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS:

 Adversary at once offensive and helpless provokes brutality Causes him to be popularly weighed Distinguished by his not allowing himself to be provoked Eccentric behaviour in trifles Excited, glad of catastrophe if it but killed monotony Generally he noticed nothing Good jokes are not always good policy I make a point of never recommending my own house Indulged in their privilege of thinking what they liked Infants are said to have their ideas, and why not young ladies? Lend him your own generosity Men love to boast of things nobody else has seen Naughtily Australian and kangarooly Not in love--She was only not unwilling to be in love Rich and poor 's all right, if I'm rich and you're poor She began to feel that this was life in earnest She dealt in the flashes which connect ideas She sought, by looking hard, to understand it better Sunning itself in the glass of Envy That which fine cookery does for the cementing of couples The intricate, which she takes for the infinite Tossed him from repulsion to incredulity, and so back Two principal roads by which poor sinners come to a conscience

THE GENTLEMAN OF FIFTY AND THE DAMSEL OF NINETEEN

(An early uncompleted and hitherto unpublished fragment. )

By GEORGE MEREDITH

CHAPTER I

HE

Passing over Ickleworth Bridge and rounding up the heavily-shadowedriver of our narrow valley, I perceived a commotion as of bathers in acertain bright space immediately underneath the vicar's terrace-gardensteps. My astonishment was considerable when it became evident to methat the vicar himself was disporting in the water, which, reaching nohigher than his waist, disclosed him in the ordinary habiliments of hiscloth. I knew my friend to be one of the most absent-minded of men, and my first effort to explain the phenomenon of his appearancethere, suggested that he might have walked in, the victim of a fit ofabstraction, and that he had not yet fully comprehended his plight; butthis idea was dispersed when I beheld the very portly lady, his partnerin joy and adversity, standing immersed, and perfectly attired, someshort distance nearer to the bank. As I advanced along the bank opposedto them, I was further amazed to hear them discoursing quite equablytogether, so that it was impossible to say on the face of it whether acatastrophe had occurred, or the great heat of a cloudless summer dayhad tempted an eccentric couple to seek for coolness in the directestfashion, without absolute disregard to propriety. I made a pointof listening for the accentuation of the 'my dear' which was beinginterchanged, but the key-note to the harmony existing between husbandand wife was neither excessively unctuous, nor shrewd, and the connubialshuttlecock was so well kept up on both sides that I chose to await theissue rather than speculate on the origin of this strange exhibition. Itherefore, as I could not be accused of an outrage to modesty, permittedmyself to maintain what might be invidiously termed a satyr-like watchfrom behind a forward flinging willow, whose business in life was tolook at its image in a brown depth, branches, trunk, and roots. The soleindication of discomfort displayed by the pair was that the lady's handworked somewhat fretfully to keep her dress from ballooning and puffingout of all proportion round about her person, while the vicar, who stoodwithout his hat, employed a spongy handkerchief from time to time intempering the ardours of a vertical sun. If you will consent to imaginea bald blackbird, his neck being shrunk in apprehensively, as you maysee him in the first rolling of the thunder, you will gather an image ofmy friend's appearance. 

He performed his capital ablutions with many loud 'poofs, ' and a castingup of dazzled eyes, an action that gave point to his recital of theinvocation of Chryses to Smintheus which brought upon the Greeksdisaster and much woe. Between the lines he replied to his wife, whoseremarks increased in quantity, and also, as I thought, in emphasis, under the river of verse which he poured forth unbaffled, broadeninghis chest to the sonorous Greek music in a singular rapture ofobliviousness. 

A wise man will not squander his laughter if he can help it, but willkeep the agitation of it down as long as he may. The simmering of humoursends a lively spirit into the mind, whereas the boiling over is buta prodigal expenditure and the disturbance of a clear current: for thecomic element is visible to you in all things, if you do but keepyour mind charged with the perception of it, as I have heard a greatexpounder deliver himself on another subject; and he spoke very truly. So, I continued to look on with the gravity of Nature herself, and Icould not but fancy, and with less than our usual wilfulness when wefancy things about Nature's moods, that the Mother of men beheld thisscene with half a smile, differently from the simple observation ofthose cows whisking the flies from their flanks at the edge of theshorn meadow and its aspens, seen beneath the curved roof of a broadoak-branch. Save for this happy upward curve of the branch, we areencompassed by breathless foliage; even the gloom was hot; the littleinsects that are food for fish tried a flight and fell on the water'ssurface, as if panting. Here and there, a sullen fish consented to takethem, and a circle spread, telling of past excitement. 

I had listened to the vicar's Homeric lowing for the space of a minuteor so--what some one has called, the great beast-like, bellow-like, roarand roll of the Iliad hexameter: it stopped like a cut cord. One ofthe numerous daughters of his house appeared in the arch of whitecluster-roses on the lower garden-terrace, and with an exclamation, stood petrified at the extraordinary spectacle, and then she laughedoutright. I had hitherto resisted, but the young lady's frank andboisterous laughter carried me along, and I too let loose a peal, anddiscovered myself. The vicar, seeing me, acknowledged a consciousnessof his absurd position with a laugh as loud. As for the scapegracegirl, she went off into a run of high-pitched shriekings like twentywoodpeckers, crying: I Mama, mama, you look as if you were in Jordan!'

The vicar cleared his throat admonishingly, for it was apparent thatMiss Alice was giving offence to her mother, and I presume he thought itwas enough for one of the family to have done so. 

'Wilt thou come out of Jordan?' I cried. 

'I am sufficiently baptized with the water, ' said the helpless man... 

'Indeed, Mr. Amble, ' observed his spouse, 'you can lecture a woman fornot making the best of circumstances; I hope you'll bear in mind thatit's you who are irreverent. I can endure this no longer. You deserveMr. Pollingray's ridicule. '

Upon this, I interposed: 'Pray, ma'am, don't imagine that you haveanything but sympathy from me. '--but as I was protesting, having mymouth open, the terrible Miss Alice dragged the laughter remorselesslyout of me. 

They have been trying Frank's new boat, Mr. Pollingray, and they'veupset it. Oh! oh' and again there was the woodpeckers' chorus. 

'Alice, I desire you instantly to go and fetch John the gardener, ' saidthe angry mother. 

'Mama, I can't move; wait a minute, only a minute. John's gone about thegeraniums. Oh! don't look so resigned, papa; you'll kill me! Mama, comeand take my hand. Oh! oh!'

The young lady put her hands in against her waist and rolled her bodylike a possessed one. 

'Why don't you come in through the boat-house?' she asked when she hadmastered her fit. 

'Ah!' said the vicar. I beheld him struck by this new thought. 

'How utterly absurd you are, Mr. Amble!' exclaimed his wife, 'when youknow that the boat-house is locked, and that the boat was lying underthe camshot when you persuaded me to step into it. '

Hearing this explanation of the accident, Alice gave way to anungovernable emotion. 

'You see, my dear, ' the vicar addressed his wife, she can do nothing;it's useless. If ever patience is counselled to us, it is when accidentsbefall us, for then, as we are not responsible, we know we are in otherhands, and it is our duty to be comparatively passive. Perhaps I may saythat in every difficulty, patience is a life-belt. I beg of you to bepatient still. '

'Mr. Amble, I shall think you foolish, ' said the spouse, with a nod ofmore than emphasis. 

My dear, you have only to decide, ' was the meek reply. 

By this time, Miss Alice had so far conquered the fiend of laughter thatshe could venture to summon her mother close up to the bank and extend arescuing hand. Mrs. Amble waded to within reach, her husband following. Arrangements were made for Alice to pull, and the vicar to push; both inaccordance with Mrs. Amble's stipulations, for even in her extremityof helplessness she affected rule and sovereignty. Unhappily, at thedecisive moment, I chanced (and I admit it was more than an inadvertenceon my part, it was a most ill-considered thing to do) I chanced, I say, to call out--and that I refrained from quoting Voltaire is something inmy favour:

'How on earth did you manage to tumble in?'

There can be no contest of opinion that I might have kept my curiositywaiting, and possibly it may be said with some justification that Iwas the direct cause of my friend's unparalleled behaviour; but could amortal man guess that in the very act of assisting his wife's return todry land, and while she was--if I may put it so--modestly in his hands, he would turn about with a quotation that compared him to old Palinurus, all the while allowing his worthy and admirable burden to sink lower anddispread in excess upon the surface of the water, until the vantage ofher daughter's help was lost to her; I beheld the consequences of myindiscretion, dismayed. I would have checked the preposterous Virgilian, but in contempt of my uplifted hand and averted head, and regardless ofthe fact that his wife was then literally dependent upon him, the vicardeclaimed (and the drenching effect produced by Latin upon a lady atsuch a season, may be thought on):

 Vix primos inopina quies laxaverat artus, Et super incumbens, cum puppis parte revulsa Cumque gubernaclo liquidas projecit in undas. '

It is not easy when you are unacquainted with the language, to retortupon Latin, even when the attempt to do so is made in English. Very feweven of the uneducated ears can tolerate such anti-climax vituperativeas English after sounding Latin. Mrs. Amble kept down those sentimentswhich her vernacular might have expressed. I heard but one groan thatcame from her as she lay huddled indistinguishably in the arms of herhusband. 

'Not--praecipitem! I am happy to say, ' my senseless friend remarkedfurther, and laughed cheerfully as he fortified his statement with a runof negatives. 'No, no'; in a way peculiar to him. 'No, no. If I plant mygrey hairs anywhere, it will be on dry land: no. But, now, my dear; hereturned to his duty; why, you're down again. Come: one, two, and up. '

He was raising a dead weight. The passion for sarcastic speech wasmanifestly at war with common prudence in the bosom of Mrs. Amble;prudence, however, overcame it. She cast on him a look of a kind thatmakes matrimony terrific in the dreams of bachelors, and then weddingher energy to the assistance given she made one of those senselesssprings of the upper half of the body, which strike the philosophic eyewith the futility of an effort that does not arise from a solid basis. Owing to the want of concert between them, the vicar's impulsivestrength was expended when his wife's came into play. Alice clutched hermother bravely. The vicar had force enough to stay his wife's descent;but Alice (she boasts of her muscle) had not the force in the otherdirection--and no wonder. There are few young ladies who could pullfourteen stone sheer up a camshot. 

Mrs. Amble remained in suspense between the two. 

Oh, Mr. Pollingray, if you were only on this side to help us, ' MissAlice exclaimed very piteously, though I could see that she was half madwith the internal struggle of laughter at the parents and concern forthem. 

'Now, pull, Alice, ' shouted the vicar. 

'No, not yet, ' screamed Mrs. Amble; I'm sinking. '

'Pull, Alice. '

'Now, Mama. '

'Oh!'

'Push, Papa. '

'I'm down. '

'Up, Ma'am; Jane; woman, up. '

'Gently, Papa: Abraham, I will not. '

'My dear, but you must. '

'And that man opposite. '

'What, Pollingray? He's fifty. '

I found myself walking indignantly down the path. Even now I protest myfriend was guilty of bad manners, though I make every allowance for him;I excuse, I pass the order; but why--what justifies one man's bawlingout another man's age? What purpose does it serve? I suppose thevicar wished to reassure his wife, on the principle (I have heard himenunciate it) that the sexes are merged at fifty--by which he means, Imust presume, that something which may be good or bad, and is generallysilly--of course, I admire and respect modesty and pudeur as much as anyman--something has gone: a recognition of the bounds of division. Thereis, if that is a lamentable matter, a loss of certain of our youngtricks at fifty. We have ceased to blush readily: and let me ask you todefine a blush. Is it an involuntary truth or an ingenuous lie? I knowthat this will sound like the language of a man not a little jealous ofhis youthful compeers. I can but leave it to rightly judging persons toconsider whether a healthy man in his prime, who has enough, and is notcursed by ambition, need be jealous of any living soul. 

A shriek from Miss Alice checked my retreating steps. The vicar wasstaggering to support the breathing half of his partner while sheregained her footing in the bed of the river. Their effort to scalethe camshot had failed. Happily at this moment I caught sight of MasterFrank's boat, which had floated, bottom upwards, against a projectingmud-bank of forget-me-nots. I contrived to reach it and right it, andhaving secured one of the sculls, I pulled up to the rescue; thoughnot before I had plucked a flower, actuated by a motive that I cannotaccount for. The vicar held the boat firmly against the camshot, whileI, at the imminent risk of joining them (I shall not forget the combinedexpression of Miss Alice's retreating eyes and the malicious corners ofher mouth) hoisted the lady in, and the river with her. From the seatof the boat she stood sufficiently high to project the step towardsland without peril. When she had set her foot there, we all assumed anattitude of respectful attention, and the vicar, who could soar overcalamity like a fairweather swallow, acknowledged the return of his wifeto the element with a series of apologetic yesses and short coughings. 

'That would furnish a good concert for the poets, ' he remarked. 'Aparting, a separation of lovers; "even as a body from the watertorn, "or "from the water plucked"; eh? do you think--"so I weep round her, tearful in her track, " an excellent--'

But the outraged woman, dripping in grievous discomfort above him, madea peremptory gesture. 

'Mr. Amble, will you come on shore instantly, I have borne with yourstupidity long enough. I insist upon your remembering, sir, that youhave a family dependent upon you. Other men may commit these follies. '

This was a blow at myself, a bachelor whom the lady had never persuadedto dream of relinquishing his freedom. 

'My dear, I am coming, ' said the vicar. 

'Then, come at once, or I shall think you idiotic, ' the wife retorted. 

'I have been endeavouring, ' the vicar now addressed me, 'to prove by apractical demonstration that women are capable of as much philosophy asmen, under any sudden and afflicting revolution of circumstances. '

'And if you get a sunstroke, you will be rightly punished, and I shallnot be sorry, Mr. Amble. '

'I am coming, my dear Jane. Pray run into the house and change yourthings. '

'Not till I see you out of the water, sir. '

'You are losing your temper, my love. '

'You would make a saint lose his temper, Mr. Amble. '

'There were female saints, my dear, ' the vicar mildly responded; andaddressed me further: 'Up to this point, I assure you, Pollingray, noconduct could have been more exemplary than Mrs. Amble's. I had got herinto the boat--a good boat, a capital boat--but getting in myself, weoverturned. The first impulse of an ordinary woman would have been toreproach and scold; but Mrs. Amble succumbed only to the first impulse. Discovering that all effort unaided to climb the bank was fruitless, she agreed to wait patiently and make the best of circumstances; and shedid; and she learnt to enjoy it. There is marrow in every bone. My dear. Jane, I have never admired you so much. I tried her, Pollingray, inmetaphysics. I talked to her of the opera we last heard, I think fiftyyears ago. And as it is less endurable for a woman to be patient intribulation--the honour is greater, when she overcomes the fleshy trial. Insomuch, ' the vicar put on a bland air of abnegation of honour, 'thatI am disposed to consider any male philosopher our superior; when you'vefound one, ha, ha--when you've found one. O sol pulcher! I am ready tosing that the day has been glorious, so far. Pulcher ille dies. '

Mrs. Amble appealed to me. 'Would anybody not swear that he is mad tosee him standing waist-deep in the water and the sun on his bald head, I am reduced to entreat you not to--though you have no family of yourown--not to encourage him. It is amusing to you. Pray, reflect that suchfolly is too often fatal. Compel him to come on shore. '

The logic of the appeal was no doubt distinctly visible in the lady'smind, though it was not accurately worded. I saw that I stood markedto be the scape goat of the day, and humbly continued to deserve well, notwithstanding. By dint of simple signs and nods of affirmative, anda constant propulsion of my friend's arm, I drew him into the boat, and thence projected him up to the level with his wife, who had perhapsdeigned to understand that it was best to avoid the arresting of hisdivergent mind by any remark during the passage, and remained silent. Nosooner was he established on his feet, than she plucked him away. 

'Your papa's hat, ' she called, flashing to her daughter, and streamedup the lawn into the rose-trellised pathways leading on aloft to thevicarage house. Behind roses the weeping couple disappeared. The lastI saw of my friend was a smiting of his hand upon his head in a vaineffort to catch at one of the fleeting ideas sowed in him by the quickpassage of objects before his vision, and shaken out of him by abnormalhurry. The Rev. Abraham Amble had been lord of his wife in the water, but his innings was over. He had evidently enjoyed it vastly, and I nowunderstood why he had chosen to prolong it as much as possible. Youreccentric characters are not uncommonly amateurs of petty artifice. There are hours of vengeance even for henpecked men. 

I found myself sighing over the enslaved condition of every Benedict ofmy acquaintance, when the thought came like a surprise that I was alonewith Alice. The fair and pleasant damsel made a clever descent into theboat, and having seated herself, she began to twirl the scull in therowlock, and said: 'Do you feel disposed to join me in looking after theother scull and papa's hat, Mr. Pollingray?' I suggested 'Will younot get your feet wet? I couldn't manage to empty all the water in theboat. '

'Oh' cried she, with a toss of her head; I wet feet never hurt youngpeople. '

There was matter for an admonitory lecture in this. Let me confess I wasabout to give it, when she added: But Mr. Pollingray, I am really afraidthat your feet are wet! You had to step into the water when you rightedthe boat:

My reply was to jump down by her side with as much agility as Icould combine with a proper discretion. The amateur craft rockedthreateningly, and I found myself grasped by and grasping the prettydamsel, until by great good luck we were steadied and preserved from thesame misfortune which had befallen her parents. She laughed and blushed, and we tottered asunder. 

'Would you have talked metaphysics to me in the water, Mr. Pollingray?'

Alice was here guilty of one of those naughty sort of innocent speechessmacking of Eve most strongly; though, of course, of Eve in her bestdays. 

I took the rudder lines to steer against the sculling of her singlescull, and was Adam enough to respond to temptation: 'I should perhapshave been grateful to your charitable construction of it as beingmetaphysics. '

She laughed colloquially, to fill a pause. It had not been coquetry:merely the woman unconsciously at play. A man is bound to remember theseniority of his years when this occurs, for a veteran of ninety and aworn out young debauchee will equally be subject to it if they donot shun the society of the sex. My long robust health and perfectself-reliance apparently tend to give me unguarded moments, or lay meopen to fitful impressions. Indeed there are times when I fear Ihave the heart of a boy, and certainly nothing more calamitous can beconceived, supposing that it should ever for one instant get completemastery of my head. This is the peril of a man who has lived soberly. Do we never know when we are safe? I am, in reflecting thereupon, positively prepared to say that if there is no fool like what theycall an old fool (and a man in his prime, who can be laughed at, is theworld's old fool) there is wisdom in the wild oats theory, and I shallcome round to my nephew's way of thinking: that is, as far as MasterCharles by his acting represents his thinking. I shall at all events bemore lenient in my judgement of him, and less stern in my allocutions, for I shall have no text to preach from. 

We picked up the hat and the scull in one of the little muddy bays ofour brown river, forming an amphitheatre for water-rats and draped withgreat dockleaves, nettle-flowers, ragged robins, and other weeds forwhich the learned young lady gave the botanical names. It was pleasantto hear her speak with the full authority of absolute knowledge of hersubject. She has intelligence. She is decidedly too good for Charles, unless he changes his method of living. 

'Shall we row on?' she asked, settling her arms to work the pair ofsculls. 

'You have me in your power, ' said I, and she struck out. Her shape isexceedingly graceful; I was charmed by the occasional tightening in ofher lips as she exerted her muscle, while at intervals telling me of herrace with one of her boastful younger brothers, whom she had beaten. Ibelieve it is only when they are using physical exertion that the eyesof young girls have entire simplicity--the simplicity of nature asopposed to that other artificial simplicity which they learn from theirgovernesses, their mothers, and the admiration of witlings. Attractivepurity, or the nice glaze of no comprehension of anything which isconsidered to be improper in a wicked world, and is no doubt veryuseful, is not to my taste. French girls, as a rule, cannot competewith our English in the purer graces. They are only incomparable when aswomen they have resort to art. 

Alice could look at me as she rowed, without thinking it necessary toforce a smile, or to speak, or to snigger and be foolish. I felt towardsthe girl like a comrade. 

We went no further than Hatchard's mile, where the water plumps the poorsleepy river from a sidestream, and, as it turned the boat's head quiteround, I let the boat go. These studies of young women are very wellas a pastime; but they soon cease to be a recreation. She forms anagreeable picture when she is rowing, and possesses a musical laugh. Nowand then she gives way to the bad trick of laughing without caring ordaring to explain the cause for it. She is moderately well-bred. I hopethat she has principle. Certain things a man of my time of life learnsby associating with very young people which are serviceable to him. Whata different matter this earth must be to that girl from what it is tome! I knew it before. And--mark the difference--I feel it now. 

CHAPTER II

SHE

Papa never will cease to meet with accidents and adventures. If he onlywalks out to sit for half an hour with one of his old dames, as he callsthem, something is sure to happen to him, and it is almost as sure thatMr. Pollingray will be passing at the time and mixed up in it. 

Since Mr. Pollingray's return from his last residence on the Continent, I have learnt to know him and like him. Charles is unjust to hisuncle. He is not at all the grave kind of man I expected from Charles'sdescription. He is extremely entertaining, and then he understands theworld, and I like to hear him talk, he is so unpretentious and uses justthe right words. No one would imagine his age, from his appearance, andhe has more fun than any young man I have listened to. 

But, I am convinced I have discovered his weakness. It is my fatal. Peculiarity that I cannot be with people ten minutes without seeing somepoint about them where they are tenderest. Mr. Pollingray wants to bethought quite youthful. He can bear any amount of fatigue; he is alwaysfresh and a delightful companion; but you cannot get him to show evena shadow of exhaustion or to admit that he ever knew what it was to liedown beaten. This is really to pretend that he is superhuman. I likehim so much that I could wish him superior to such--it is nothing otherthan--vanity. Which is worse? A young man giving himself the air ofa sage, or--but no one can call Mr. Pollingray an old man. He is aconfirmed bachelor. That puts the case. Charles, when he says of himthat he is a 'gentleman in a good state of preservation, ' means to beironical. I doubt whether Charles at fifty would object to have the samesaid of Mr. Charles Everett. Mr. Pollingray has always looked to hishealth. He has not been disappointed. I am sure he was always very good. But, whatever he was, he is now very pleasant, and he does not talk towomen as if he thought them singular, and feel timid, I mean, confused, as some men show that they feel--the good ones. Perhaps he felt so once, and that is why he is still free. Charles's dread that his uncle willmarry is most unworthy. He never will, but why should he not? Mamadeclares that he is waiting for a woman of intellect, I can hear her:'Depend upon it, a woman of intellect will marry Dayton Manor. ' Shouldthat mighty event not come to pass, poor Charles will have to sink thename of Everett in that of Pollingray. Mr. Pollingray's name is theworst thing about him. When I think of his name I see him ten timesolder than he is. My feelings are in harmony with his pedigreeconcerning the age of the name. One would have to be a woman of profoundintellect to see the advantage of sharing it. 

'Mrs. Pollingray!' She must be a lady with a wig. 

It was when we were rowing up by Hatchard's mill that I first perceivedhis weakness, he was looking at me so kindly, and speaking of hisfriendship for papa, and how glad he was to be fixed at last, near to usat Dayton. I wished to use some term of endearment in reply, and said, Iremember, 'Yes, and we are also glad, Godpapa. ' I was astonished that heshould look so disconcerted, and went on: 'Have you forgotten that youare my godpapa?'

He answered: 'Am I? Oh! yes--the name of Alice. '

Still he looked uncertain, uncomfortable, and I said, 'Do you want tocancel the past, and cast me off?'

'No, certainly not'; he, I suppose, thought he was assuring me. 

I saw his lips move at the words I cancel the past, ' though he did notspeak them out. He positively blushed. I know the sort of young manhe must have been. Exactly the sort of young man mama would like fora son-in-law, and her daughters would accept in pure obedience whenreduced to be capable of the virtue by rigorous diet, or consumption. 

He let the boat go round instantly. This was enough for me. It struckme then that when papa had said to mama (as he did in that absurdsituation) 'He is fifty, ' Mr. Pollingray must have heard it across theriver, for he walked away hurriedly. He came back, it is true, with theboat, but I have my own ideas. He is always ready to do a service, buton this occasion I think it was an afterthought. I shall not venture tocall him 'Godpapa' again. 

Indeed, if I have a desire, it is that I may be blind to people'sweakness. My insight is inveterate. Papa says he has heard Mr. Pollingray boast of his age. If so, there has come a change over him. I cannot be deceived. I see it constantly. After my unfortunate speech, Mr. Pollingray shunned our house for two whole weeks, and scarcely bowedto us when coming out of church. Miss Pollingray idolises him--spoilshim. She says that he is worth twenty of Charles. Nous savons ce quenous savons, nous autres. Charles is wild, but Charles would be abovethese littlenesses. How could Miss Pollingray comprehend the romance ofCharles's nature?

My sister Evelina is now Mr. Pollingray's favourite. She could not sayGodpapa to him, if she would. Persons who are very much petted at home, are always establishing favourites abroad. For my part, let them praiseme or not, I know that I can do any thing I set my mind upon. At presentI choose to be frivolous. I know I am frivolous. What then? If there isfun in the world am I not to laugh at it? I shall astonish them by andby. But, I will laugh while I can. I am sure, there is so much misery inthe world, it is a mercy to be able to laugh. Mr. Pollingray may thinkwhat he likes of me. When Charles tells me that I must do my utmost topropitiate his uncle, he cannot mean that I am to refrain from laughing, because that is being a hypocrite, which I may become when I have gonethrough all the potential moods and not before. 

It is preposterous to suppose that I am to be tied down to the views oflife of elderly people. 

I dare say I did laugh a little too much the other night, but couldI help it? We had a dinner party. Present were Mr. Pollingray, Mrs. Kershaw, the Wilbury people (three), Charles, my brother Duncan, Evelina, mama, papa, myself, and Mr. And Mrs. (put them last foremphasis) Romer Pattlecombe, Mrs. Pattlecombe (the same number ofsyllables as Pollingray, and a 'P' to begin with) is thirty-one yearsher husband's junior, and she is twenty-six; full of fun, and alwaysmaking fun of him, the mildest, kindest, goody old thing, who has neverdistressed himself for anything and never will. Mrs. Romer not onlymakes fun, but is fun. When you have done laughing with her, you canlaugh at her. She is the salt of society in these parts. Some one, as wewere sitting on the lawn after dinner, alluded to the mishap to papa andmama, and mama, who has never forgiven Mr. Pollingray for having seenher in her ridiculous plight, said that men were in her opinion greatergossips than women. 'That is indisputable, ma'am, ' said Mr. Pollingray, he loves to bewilder her; 'only, we never mention it. '

'There is an excuse for us, ' said Mrs. Romer; 'our trials are so great, we require a diversion, and so we talk of others. '

'Now really, ' said Charles, 'I don't think your trials are equal toours. '

For which remark papa bantered him, and his uncle was sharp on him; andCharles, I know, spoke half seriously, though he was seeking to drawMrs. Romer out: he has troubles. 

From this, we fell upon a comparison of sufferings, and Mrs. Romer tookup the word. She is a fair, smallish, nervous woman, with delicate handsand outlines, exceedingly sympathetic; so much so that while you aretelling her anything, she makes half a face in anticipation, and isready to shriek with laughter or shake her head with uttermost grief;and sometimes, if you let her go too far in one direction, she doesboth. All her narrations are with ups and downs of her hands, her eyes, her chin, and her voice. Taking poor, good old Mr. Romer by the rollof his coat, she made as if posing him, and said: 'There! Now, it'sall very well for you to say that there is anything equal to a woman'ssufferings in this world. I do declare you know nothing of what weunhappy women have to endure. It's dreadful! No male creature canpossibly know what tortures I have to undergo. '

Mama neatly contrived, after interrupting her, to divert the subject. I think that all the ladies imagined they were in jeopardy, but I knewMrs. Romer was perfectly to be trusted. She has wit which pleases, jusqu'aux ongles, and her sense of humour never overrides her discretionwith more than a glance--never with preparation. 

'Now, ' she pursued, 'let me tell you what excruciating trials I have togo through. This man, ' she rocked the patient old gentleman to and fro, 'this man will be the death of me. He is utterly devoid of a sense ofpropriety. Again and again I say to him--cannot the tailor cut downthese trowsers of yours? Yes, Mr. Amble, you preach patience to women, but this is too much for any woman's endurance. Now, do attempt topicture to yourself what an agony it must be to me:--he will shave, andhe will wear those enormously high trowsers that, when they are braced, reach up behind to the nape of his neck! Only yesterday morning, as Iwas lying in bed, I could see him in his dressing-room. I tell you: hewill shave, and he will choose the time for shaving early after he hasbraced these immensely high trowsers that make such a placard of him. Oh, my goodness! My dear Romer, I have said to him fifty times if I havesaid it once, my goodness me! why can you not get decent trowsers suchas other men wear? He has but one answer--he has been accustomed to wearthose trowsers, and he would not feel at home in another pair. And whatdoes he say if I continue to complain? and I cannot but continue tocomplain, for it is not only moral, it is physical torment to seethe sight he makes of himself; he says: "My dear, you should not havemarried an old man. " What! I say to him, must an old man wear antiquatedtrowsers? No! nothing will turn him; those are his habits. But, youhave not heard the worst. The sight of those hideous trowsers totallydestroying all shape in the man, is horrible enough; but it isabsolutely more than a woman can bear to see him--for he willshave--first cover his face with white soap with that ridiculouscentre-piece to his trowsers reaching quite up to his poll, and then, you can fancy a woman's rage and anguish! the figure lifts its nose bythe extremist tip. Oh! it's degradation! What respect can a woman havefor her husband after that sight? Imagine it! And I have implored himto spare me. It's useless. You sneer at our hbops and say that youare inconvenienced by them but you gentlemen are not degraded, --Oh!unutterably!--as I am every morning of my life by that cruel spectacleof a husband. '

I have but faintly sketched Mrs. Romer's style. Evelina, who is prudishand thinks her vulgar, refused to laugh, but it came upon me, as thepicture of 'your own old husband, ' with so irresistibly comic an effectthat I was overcome by convulsions of laughter. I do not defend myself. It was as much a fit as any other attack. I did all I could to arrestit. At last, I ran indoors and upstairs to my bedroom and tried hard tobecome dispossessed. I am sure I was an example of the sufferings of mysex. It could hardly have been worse for Mrs. Romer than it was for me. I was drowned in internal laughter long after I had got a grave face. Early in the evening Mr. Pollingray left us. 

CHAPTER III

HE

I am carried by the fascination of a musical laugh. Apparently I amdoomed to hear it at my own expense. We are secure from nothing in thislife. 

I have determined to stand for the county. An unoccupied man is a preyto every hook of folly. Be dilettante all your days, and you might asfairly hope to reap a moral harvest as if you had chased butterflies. The activities created by a profession or determined pursuit arenecessary to the growth of the mind. 

Heavens! I find myself writing like an illegitimate son of LaRochefoucauld, or of Vauvenargues. But, it is true that I am fifty yearsold, and I am not mature. I am undeveloped somewhere. 

The question for me to consider is, whether this development is to beaccomplished by my being guilty of an act of egregious folly. 

Dans la cinquantaine! The reflection should produce a gravity in men. Such a number of years will not ring like bridal bells in a man's ears. I have my books about me, my horses, my dogs, a contented household. Imove in the centre of a perfect machine, and I am dissatisfied. I riseearly. I do not digest badly. What is wrong?

The calamity of my case is that I am in danger of betraying what iswrong with me to others, without knowing it myself. Some woman will besuspecting and tattling, because she has nothing else to do. Girlshave wonderfully shrewd eyes for a weakness in the sex which they areinstructed to look upon as superior. But I am on my guard. 

The fact is manifest: I feel I have been living more or less uselessly. It is a fat time. There are a certain set of men in every prosperouscountry who, having wherewithal, and not being compelled to toil, becomesubjected to the moral ideal. Most of them in the end sit down with oursixth Henry or second Richard and philosophise on shepherds. To be nobetter than a simple hind! Am I better? Prime bacon and an occasionaldraft of shrewd beer content him, and they do not me. Yet I am sound, and can sit through the night and be ready, and on the morrow I shallstand for the county. 

I made the announcement that I had thoughts of entering Parliament, before I had half formed the determination, at my sister's lawn partyyesterday. 

'Gilbert!' she cried, and raised her hands. A woman is hurt if you donot confide to her your plans as soon as you can conceive them. She mustbe present to assist at the birth, or your plans are unblessed plans. 

I had been speaking aside in a casual manner to my friend Amble, whoseidea is that the Church is not represented with sufficient strengthin the Commons, and who at once, as I perceived, grasped the notionof getting me to promote sundry measures connected with schools andclerical stipends, for his eyes dilated; he said: 'Well, if you do, Ican put you up to several things, ' and imparting the usual chorus ofyesses to his own mind, he continued absently: 'Pollingray might be madestrong on church rates. There is much to do. He has lived abroad andrequires schooling in these things. We want a man. Yes, yes, yes. It's agood idea; a notion. '

My sister, however, was of another opinion. She did me the honour totake me aside. 

'Gilbert, were you serious just now?'

'Quite serious. Is it not my characteristic?'

'Not on these occasions. I saw the idea come suddenly upon you. You werelooking at Charles. '

'Continue: and at what was he looking?'

'He was looking at Alice Amble. '

'And the young lady?'

'She looked at you. '

I was here attacked by a singularly pertinacious fly, and came out ofthe contest with a laugh. 

'Did she have that condescension towards me? And from the glance, my resolution to enter Parliament was born? It is the Frenchvaudevilliste's doctrine of great events from little causes. The slipperof a soubrette trips the heart of a king and changes the destiny of anation-the history of mankind. It may be true. If I were but shot intothe House from a little girl's eye!'

With this I took her arm gaily, walked with her, and had nearlyoverreached myself with excess of cunning. I suppose we are reduced tosee more plainly that which we systematically endeavour to veil fromothers. It is best to flutter a handkerchief, instead of nailing up acurtain. The principal advantage is that you may thereby go on deceivingyourself, for this reason: few sentiments are wholly matter of fact; butwhen they are half so, you make them concrete by deliberately seekingeither to crush or conceal them, and you are doubly betrayed--betrayedto the besieging eye and to yourself. When a sentiment has grown to be apassion (mercifully may I be spared!) different tactics are required. Bythat time, you will have already betrayed yourself too deeply to dare tobe flippant: the investigating eye is aware that it has been purposelydiverted: knowing some things, it makes sure of the rest from whichyou turn it away. If you want to hide a very grave case, you must speakgravely about it. --At which season, be but sure of your voice, andsimulate a certain depth of sentimental philosophy, and you may oncemore, and for a long period, bewilder the investigator of the secretsof your bosom. To sum up: in the preliminary stages of a weakness, becareful that you do not show your own alarm, or all will be suspected. Should the weakness turn to fever, let a little of it be seen, like acareless man, and nothing will really be thought. 

I can say this, I can do this; and is it still possible that a pin'spoint has got through the joints of the armour of a man like me?

Elizabeth quitted my side with the conviction that I am as consideratean uncle as I am an affectionate brother. 

I said to her, apropos, 'I have been observing those two. It seems to methey are deciding things for themselves. '

'I have been going to speak to you about them Gilbert, ' said she. 

And I: 'The girl must be studied. The family is good. While Charles isin Wales, you must have her at Dayton. She laughs rather vacantly, don'tyou think? but the sound of it has the proper wholesome ring. I willgive her what attention I can while she is here, but in the meantime Imust have a bride of my own and commence courting. '

'Parliament, you mean, ' said Elizabeth with a frank and tender smile. The hostess was summoned to welcome a new guest, and she left me, pleased with her successful effort to reach my meaning, and absorbed byit. 

I would not have challenged Machiavelli; but I should not haveencountered the Florentine ruefully. I feel the same keen delight inintellectual dexterity. On some points my sister is not a bad match forme. She can beat me seven games out of twelve at chess; but the five Iwin sequently, for then I am awake. There is natural art and artificialart, and the last beats the first. Fortunately for us, women arestrangers to the last. They have had to throw off a mask before theyhave, got the schooling; so, when they are thus armed we know what wemeet, and what are the weapons to be used. 

Alice, if she is a fine fencer at all, will expect to meet the ordinaryEnglish squire in me. I have seen her at the baptismal font! It isinconceivable. She will fancy that at least she is ten times more subtlethan I. When I get the mastery--it is unlikely to make me the master. What may happen is, that the nature of the girl will declare itself, under the hard light of intimacy, vulgar. Charles I cause to be absentfor six weeks; so there will be time enough for the probation. I do notsee him till he returns. If by chance I had come earlier to see him andhe to allude to her, he would have had my conscience on his side, andthat is what a scrupulous man takes care to prevent. 

I wonder whether my friends imagine me to be the same man whom they knewas Gilbert Pollingray a month back? I see the change, I feel the change;but I have no retrospection, no remorse, no looking forward, no feeling:none for others, very little, for myself. I am told that I am losingfluency as a dinner-table talker. There is now more savour to me in asilvery laugh than in a spiced wit. And this is the man who knowswomen, and is far too modest to give a decided opinion upon any of theirmerits. Search myself through as I may, I cannot tell when the changebegan, or what the change consists of, or what is the matter with me, or what charm there is in the person who does the mischief. She isthe counterpart of dozens of girls; lively, brown-eyed, brown-haired, underbred--it is not too harsh to say so--underbred slightly;half-educated, whether quickwitted I dare not opine. She is undoubtedlythe last whom I or another person would have fixed upon as one to workme this unmitigated evil. I do not know her, and I believe I do not careto know her, and I am thirsting for the hour to come when I shall studyher. Is not this to have the poison of a bite in one's blood? The wrathof Venus is not a fable. I was a hard reader and I despised the sexin my youth, before the family estates fell to me; since when I haveplayfully admired the sex; I have dallied with a passion, and not readat all, save for diversion: her anger is not a fable. You may interpretmany a mythic tale by the facts which lie in your own blood. My emotionshave lain altogether dormant in sentimental attachment. I have, Isuppose, boasted of, Python slain, and Cupid has touched me up with anarrow. I trust to my own skill rather than to his mercy for avoiding asecond from his quiver. I will understand this girl if I have to submitto a close intimacy with her for six months. There is no doubt of theelegance of her movements. Charles might as well take his tour, andlet us see him again next year. Yes, her movements are (or will be)gracious. In a year's time she will have acquired the fuller tones andpoetry of womanliness. Perhaps then, too, her smile will linger insteadof flashing. I have known infinitely lovelier women than she. One I haveknown! but let her be. Louise and I have long since said adieu. 

CHAPTER IV

SHE

Behold me installed in Dayton Manor House, and brought here for theexpress purpose (so Charles has written me word) of my being studied, that it may be seen whether I am worthy to be, on some august futureoccasion--possibly--a member (Oh, so much to mumble!) of thisgreat family. Had I known it when I was leaving home, I should havecountermanded the cording of my boxes. If you please, I do the packing, and not the cording. I must practise being polite, or I shall behorrifying these good people. 

I am mortally offended. I am very very angry. I shall show temper. Indeed, I have shown it. Mr. Pollingray must and does think me a goose. Dear sir, and I think you are justified. If any one pretends to guesshow, I have names to suit that person. I am a ninny, an ape, and mindI call myself these bad things because I deserve worse. I am flighty, I believe I am heartless. Charles is away, and I suffer no pangs. Thetruth is, I fancied myself so exceedingly penetrating, and it was myvanity looking in a glass. I saw something that answered to my nods andhowd'ye-do's and--but I am ashamed, and so penitent I might begin makinga collection of beetles. I cannot lift up my head. 

Mr. Pollingray is such a different man from the one I had imagined! Whatthat one was, I have now quite forgotten. I remember too clearly whatthe wretched guesser was. I have been three weeks at Dayton, and ifmy sisters know me when I return to the vicarage, they are not foolishvirgins. For my part, I know that I shall always hate Mrs. RomerPattlecombe, and that I am unjust to the good woman, but I do hate her, and I think the stories shocking, and wonder intensely what it was thatI could have found in them to laugh at. I shall never laugh again formany years. Perhaps, when I am an old woman, I may. I wish the time hadcome. All young people seem to me so helplessly silly. I am one of themfor the present, and have no hope that I can appear to be anything else. The young are a crowd--a shoal of small fry. Their elders are the selectof the world. 

On the morning of the day when I was to leave home for Dayton, adistance of eight miles, I looked out of my window while dressing--asearly as halfpast seven--and I saw Mr. Pollingray's groom on horseback, leading up and down the walk a darling little, round, plump, black cobthat made my heart leap with an immense bound of longing to be on it andaway across the downs. And then the maid came to my door with a letter:

'Mr. Pollingray, in return for her considerate good behaviour andsaving of trouble to him officially, begs his goddaughter to acceptthe accompanying little animal: height 14 h. , age 31 years; hunts, issure-footed, and likely to be the best jumper in the county. '

I flew downstairs. I rushed out of the house and up to my treasure, andkissed his nose and stroked his mane. I could not get my fingers awayfrom him. Horses are so like the very best and beautifullest of womenwhen you caress them. They show their pleasure so at being petted. Theycurve their necks, and paw, and look proud. They take your flatterylike sunshine and are lovely in it. I kissed my beauty, peering at hisblack-mottled skin, which is like Allingborough Heath in the twilight. The smell of his new saddle and bridle-leather was sweeter than a gardento me. The man handed me a large riding-whip mounted with silver. Ilonged to jump up and ride till midnight. 

Then mama and papa came out and read the note and looked, at my darlinglittle cob, and my sisters saw him and kissed me, for they are notenvious girls. The most distressing thing was that we had not ariding-habit in the family. I was ready to wear any sort. I would haveridden as a guy rather than not ride at all. But mama gave me a promisethat in two days a riding-habit should be sent on to Dayton, and I hadto let my pet be led back from where he came. I had no life till I wasfollowing him. I could have believed him to be a fairy prince who hadcharmed me. I called him Prince Leboo, because he was black and good. Iforgive anybody who talks about first love after what my experience hasbeen with Prince Leboo. 

What papa thought of the present I do not know, but I know very wellwhat mama thought: and for my part I thought everything, not distinctlyincluding that, for I could not suppose such selfishness in one sogenerous as Mr. Pollingray. But I came to Dayton in a state of arrogantpride, that gave assurance if not ease to my manners. I thanked Mr. Pollingray warmly, but in a way to let him see it was the matter of ahorse between us. 'You give, I register thanks, and there's an end. '

'He thinks me a fool! a fool!

'My habit, ' I said, 'comes after me. I hope we shall have some ridestogether. '

'Many, ' replied Mr. Pollingray, and his bow inflated me with ideas of mycondescension. 

And because Miss Pollingray (Queen Elizabeth he calls her) looked halfsad, I read it--! I do not write what I read it to be. 

Behold the uttermost fool of all female creation led over the house byMr. Pollingray. He showed me the family pictures. 

'I am no judge of pictures, Mr. Pollingray. '

'You will learn to see the merits of these. '

'I'm afraid not, though I were to study them for years. '

'You may have that opportunity. '

'Oh! that is more than I can expect. '

'You will develop intelligence on such subjects by and by. '

A dull sort of distant blow struck me in this remark; but I paid no heedto it. 

He led me over the gardens and the grounds. The Great John MethlynPollingray planted those trees, and designed the house, and theflower-garden still speaks of his task; but he is not my master, andconsequently I could not share his three great-grandsons' venerationfor him. There are high fir-woods and beech woods, and a long ascendingnarrow meadow between them, through which a brook falls in continualcascades. It is the sort of scene I love, for it has a woodland grandeurand seclusion that leads, me to think, and makes a better girl of me. But what I said was: 'Yes, it is the place of all others to come andsettle in for the evening of one's days. '

'You could not take to it now?' said Mr. Pollingray. 

'Now?' my expression of face must have been a picture. 

'You feel called upon to decline such a residence in the morning of yourdays?'

He persisted in looking at me as he spoke, and I felt like somethingwithering scarlet. 

I am convinced he saw through me, while his face was polished brass. My self-possession returned, for my pride was not to be dispersedimmediately. 

'Please, take me to the stables, ' I entreated; and there I was at home. There I saw my Prince Leboo, and gave him a thousand caresses. '

'He knows me already, ' I said. 

Then he is some degrees in advance of me, ' said Mr. Pollingray. 

Is not cold dissection of one's character a cruel proceeding? And Ithink, too, that a form of hospitality like this by which I am invitedto be analysed at leisure, is both mean and base. I have been kindlytreated and I am grateful, but I do still say (even though I may haveimproved under it) it is unfair. 

To proceed: the dinner hour arrived. The atmosphere of his own houseseems to favour Mr. Pollingray as certain soils and sites favour others. He walked into the dining-room between us with his hands behind him, talking to us both so easily and smoothly cheerfully--naturally andpleasantly--inimitable by any young man! You hardly feel the changeof room. We were but three at table, but there was no lack ofentertainment. Mr. Pollingray is an admirable host; he talks just enoughhimself and helps you to talk. What does comfort me is that it giveshim real pleasure to see a hearty appetite. Young men, I know it fora certainty, never quite like us to be so human. Ah! which is right? Iwould not miss the faith in our nobler essence which Charles has. But, if it nobler? One who has lived longer in the world ought to knowbetter, and Mr. Pollingray approves of naturalness in everything. I havenow seen through Charles's eyes for several months; so implicitly thatI am timid when I dream of trusting to another's judgement. It is, however, a fact that I am not quite natural with Charles. 

Every day Mr. Pollingray puts on evening dress out of deference to hissister. If young men had these good habits they would gain our respect, and lose their own self-esteem less early. 

After dinner I sang. Then Mr. Pollingray read an amusing essay to us, and retired to his library. Miss Pollingray sat and talked to me ofher brother, and of her nephew--for whom it is that Mr. Pollingrayis beginning to receive company, and is going into society. Charles'ssubsequently received letter explained the 'receive company. ' I couldnot comprehend it at the time. 

'The house has been shut up for years, or rarely inhabited by us formore than a month in the year. Mr. Pollingray prefers France. All hisassociations, I may say his sympathies, are in France. Latterly he seemsto have changed a little; but from Normandy to Touraine and Dauphiny--wehad a triangular home over there. Indeed, we have it still. I am nevercertain of my brother. '

While Miss Pollingray was speaking, my eyes were fixed on a Vidal crayondrawing, faintly coloured with chalks, of a foreign lady--I could havesworn to her being French--young, quite girlish, I doubt if her age wasmore than mine. 

She is pretty, is she not?' said Miss Pollingray. 

She is almost beautiful, ' I exclaimed, and Miss Pollingray, seeing mycuriosity, was kind enough not to keep me in suspense. 

'That is the Marquise de Mazardouin--nee Louise de Riverolles. You willsee other portraits of her in the house. This is the most youthful ofthem, if I except one representing a baby, and bearing her initials. '

I remembered having noticed a similarity of feature in some of theportraits in the different rooms. My longing to look at them again waslike a sudden jet of flame within me. There was no chance of seeing themtill morning; so, promising myself to dream of the face before me, Idozed through a conversation with my hostess, until I had got the Frenchlady's eyes and hair and general outline stamped accurately, as I hoped, on my mind. I was no sooner on my way to bed than all had faded. Thetorment of trying to conjure up that face was inconceivable. I lay, andtossed, and turned to right and to left, and scattered my sleep; but byand by my thoughts reverted to Mr. Pollingray, and then like sympatheticink held to the heat, I beheld her again; but vividly, as she must havebeen when she was sitting to the artist. The hair was naturally crisped, waving thrice over the forehead and brushed clean from the temples, showing the small ears, and tied in a knot loosely behind. Her eyebrowswere thick and dark, but soft; flowing eyebrows; far lovelier, to mythinking, than any pencilled arch. Dark eyes, and full, not prominent. I find little expression of inward sentiment in very prominent eyes. Onthe contrary they seem to have a fish-like dependency of gaze on what iswithout, and show fishy depths, if any. For instance, my eyes are ratherprominent, and I am just the little fool--but the French lady is mytheme. Madame la Marquise, your eyes are sweeter to me than celestial. I never saw such candour and unaffected innocence in eyes before. Acceptthe compliment of the pauvre Anglaise. Did you do mischief with them?Did Vidal's delicate sketch do justice to you? Your lips and chin andyour throat all repose in such girlish grace, that if ever it is my goodfortune to see you, you will not be aged to me!

I slept and dreamed of her. 

In the morning, I felt certain that she had often said: 'Mon cherGilbert, ' to Mr. Pollingray. Had he ever said: 'Ma chere Louise?' Hemight have said: 'Ma bien aimee!' for it was a face to be loved. 

My change of feeling towards him dates from that morning. He hadpreviously seemed to me a man so much older. I perceived in him now ayouthfulness beyond mere vigour of frame. I could not detach him from mydreams of the night. He insists upon addressing me by the terms ofour 'official' relationship, as if he made it a principle of ourintercourse. 

'Well, and is your godpapa to congratulate you on your having had aquiet rest?' was his greeting. 

I answered stupidly: 'Oh, yes, thank you, ' and would have given worldsfor the courage to reply in French, but I distrusted my accent. Atbreakfast, the opportunity or rather the excuse for an attempt, wasoffered. His French valet, Francois, waits on him at breakfast. Mr. Pollingray and his sister asked for things in the French tongue, and, as if fearing some breach of civility, Mr. Pollingray asked me if I knewFrench. 

Yes, I know it; that is, I understand it, ' I stuttered. Allons, nousparlerons francais, ' said he. But I shook my head, and remained like asilly mute. 

I was induced towards the close of the meal to come out with a fewFrench words. I was utterly shamefaced. Mr. Pollingray has got theFrench manner of protesting that one is all but perfect in one'sspeaking. I know how absurd it must have sounded. But I felt hiskindness, and in my heart I thanked him humbly. I believe now that aresidence in France does not deteriorate an Englishman. Mr. Pollingray, when in his own house, has the best qualities of the two countries. Heis gay, and, yes, while he makes a study of me, I am making a study ofhim. Which of us two will know the other first? He was papa's collegefriend--papa's junior, of course, and infinitely more papa's junior now. I observe that weakness in him, I mean, his clinging to youthfulness, less and less; but I do see it, I cannot be quite in error. The truthis, I begin to feel that I cannot venture to mistrust my infalliblejudgement, or I shall have no confidence in myself at all. 

After breakfast, I was handed over to Miss Pollingray, with theintimation that I should not see him till dinner. 

'Gilbert is anxious to cultivate the society of his English neighbours, now that he has, as he supposes, really settled among them, ' sheremarked to me. 'At his time of life, the desire to be useful isalmost a malady. But, he cherishes the poor, and that is more than anoccupation, it is a virtue. '

Her speech has become occasionally French in the construction of thesentences. 

'Mais oui, ' I said shyly, and being alone with her, I was not rebuffedby her smile, especially as she encouraged me on. 

I am, she told me, to see a monde of French people here in September. So, the story of me is to be completer, or continued in September. Icould not get Miss Pollingray to tell me distinctly whether Madame laMarquise will be one of the guests. But I know that she is not a widow. In that case, she has a husband. In that case, what is the story of herrelations towards Mr. Pollingray? There must be some story. He would notsurely have so many portraits of her about the house (and they travelwith him wherever he goes) if she were but a lovely face to him. Icannot understand it. They were frequent, constant visitors to oneanother's estates in France; always together. Perhaps a man of Mr. Pollingray's age, or perhaps M. Le Marquis--and here I lose myself. French habits are so different from ours. One thing I am certain of: nocharge can be brought against my Englishman. I read perfect rectitudein his face. I would cast anchor by him. He must have had a dreadfulunhappiness. 

Mama kept her promise by sending my riding habit and hat punctually, butI had run far ahead of all the wishes I had formed when I left home, and I half feared my ride out with Mr. Pollingray. That was before I hadreceived Charles's letter, letting me know the object of my invitationhere. I require at times a morbid pride to keep me up to the work. I suppose I rode befittingly, for Mr. Pollingray praised my seat onhorseback. I know I can ride, or feel the 'blast of a horse like myown'--as he calls it. Yet he never could have had a duller companion. My conversation was all yes and no, as if it went on a pair of crutcheslike a miserable cripple. I was humiliated and vexed. All the while Iwas trying to lead up to the French lady, and I could not commence witha single question. He appears to, have really cancelled the past inevery respect save his calling me his goddaughter. His talk was of theEnglish poor, and vegetation, and papa's goodness to his old dames inIckleworth parish, and defects in my education acknowledged by me, butnot likely to restore me in my depressed state. The ride was beautiful. We went the length of a twelve-mile ridge between Ickleworth andHillford, over high commons, with immense views on both sides, andthrough beech-woods, oakwoods, and furzy dells and downs spotted withjuniper and yewtrees--old picnic haunts of mine, but Mr. Pollingray'sfresh delight in the landscape made them seem new and strange. Homethrough the valley. 

The next day Miss Pollingray joined us, wearing a feutre gris and greenplume, which looked exceedingly odd until you became accustomed to it. Her hair has decided gray streaks, and that, and the Queen Elizabethnose, and the feutre gris!--but she is so kind, I could not even smilein my heart. It is singular that Mr. Pollingray, who's but three yearsher junior, should look at least twenty years younger--at the veryleast. His moustache and beard are of the colour of a corn sheaf, andhis blue eyes shining over them remind me of summer. That describes him. He is summer, and has not fallen into his autumn yet. Miss Pollingrayhelped me to talk a little. She tried to check her brother's enthusiasmfor our scenery, and extolled the French paysage. He laughed at her, forwhen they were in France it was she who used to say, 'There is nothinghere like England!' Miss Fool rode between them attentive to thejingling of the bells in her cap: 'Yes' and 'No' at anybody's command, in and out of season. 

Thank you, Charles, for your letter! I was beginning to think myinvitation to Dayton inexplicable, when that letter arrived. I cannotbut deem it an unworthy baseness to entrap a girl to study her withouta warning to her. I went up to my room after I had read it, and wrotein reply till the breakfast-bell rang. I resumed my occupation an hourlater, and wrote till one o'clock. In all, fifteen pages of writing, which I carefully folded and addressed to Charles; sealed the envelope, stamped it, and destroyed it. I went to bed. 'No, I won't ride outto-day, I have a headache!' I repeated this about half-a-dozen times tonobody's knocking on the door, and when at last somebody knocked Itried to repeat it once, but having the message that Mr. Pollingrayparticularly wished to have my company in a ride, I rose submissivelyand cried. This humiliation made my temper ferocious. Mr. Pollingrayobserved my face, and put it down in his notebook. 'A savagedisposition, ' or, no, 'An untamed little rebel'; for he has hopes of me. He had the cruelty to say so. 

'What I am, I shall remain, ' said I. 

He informed me that it was perfectly natural for me to think it; andon my replying that persons ought to know themselves best: 'At my age, perhaps, ' he said, and added, 'I cannot speak very confidently of myknowledge of myself. '

'Then you make us out to be nothing better than puppets, Mr. Pollingray. '

'If we have missed an early apprenticeship to the habit of self-command, ma filleule. '

'Merci, mon parrain. '

He laughed. My French, I suppose. 

I determined that, if he wanted to study me, I would help him. 

'I can command myself when I choose, but it is only when I choose. '

This seemed to me quite a reasonable speech, until I found him lookingfor something to follow, in explanation, and on coming to sift mymeaning, I saw that it was temper, and getting more angry, continued:

'The sort of young people who have such wonderful command of themselvesare not the pleasantest. '

'No, ' he said; 'they disappoint us. We expect folly from the young. '

I shut my lips. Prince Leboo knew that he must go, and a good gallopreconciled me to circumstances. Then I was put to jumping little furzesand ditches, which one cannot pretend to do without a fair appearanceof gaiety; for, while you are running the risk of a tumble, you arecompelled to look cheerful and gay, at least, I am. To fall frowningwill never do. I had no fall. My gallant Leboo made my heart leap withlove of him, though mill-stones were tied to it. I may be vexed when Ibegin, but I soon ride out a bad temper. And he is mine! I am certainlyinconstant to Charles, for I think of Leboo fifty times more. Besides, there is no engagement as yet between Charles and me. I have first to beapproved worthy by Mr. And Miss Pollingray: two pairs of eyes and ears, over which I see a solemnly downy owl sitting, conning their reports ofme. It is a very unkind ordeal to subject any inexperienced young womanto. It was harshly conceived and it is being remorselessly executed. Iwould complain more loudly--in shrieks--if I could say I was unhappy;but every night I look out of my window before going to bed and see thelong falls of the infant river through the meadow, and the dark woodsseeming to enclose the house from harm: I dream of the old inhabitant, his ancestors, and the numbers and numbers of springs when thewildflowers have flourished in those woods and the nightingales havesung there. And I feel there will never be a home to me like Dayton. 

CHAPTER V

HE

For twenty years of my life I have embraced the phantom of the fairestwoman that ever drew breath. I have submitted to her whims, I haveworshipped her feet, I have, I believe, strengthened her principle. Ihave done all in my devotion but adopt her religious faith. And I have, as I trusted some time since, awakened to perceive that those twentyyears were a period of mere sentimental pastime, perfectly useless, fruitless, unless, as is possible, it has saved me from other follies. But it was a folly in itself. Can one's nature be too stedfast? Thequestion whether a spice of frivolousness may not be a safeguard hasoften risen before me. The truth, I must learn to think, is, that mymental power is not the match for my ideal or sentimental apprehensionand native tenacity of attachment. I have fallen into one of the pits ofa well-meaning but idle man. The world discredits the existence of pureplatonism in love. I myself can barely look back on those twenty yearsof amatory servility with a full comprehension of the part I have beenplaying in them. And yet I would not willingly forfeit the exaltedadmiration of Louise for my constancy: as little willingly as I wouldhave imperilled her purity. I cling to the past as to something in whichI have deserved well, though I am scarcely satisfied with it. Accordingto our English notions I know my name. English notions, however, are notto be accepted in all matters, any more than the flat declaration of afact will develop it in alt its bearings. When our English societyshall have advanced to a high civilization, it will be less expansivein denouncing the higher stupidities. Among us, much of the socialjudgement of Bodge upon the relations of men to women is the stereotypedopinion of the land. There is the dictum here for a man who adores awoman who is possessed by a husband. If he has long adored her, andknown himself to be preferred by her in innocency of heart; if he hassolved the problem of being her bosom's lord, without basely seeking todegrade her to being his mistress; the epithets to characterise him inour vernacular will probably be all the less flattering. Politically weare the most self-conscious people upon earth, and socially the frankestanimals. The terrorism of our social laws is eminently serviceable, forwithout it such frank animals as we are might run into bad excesses. I judge rather by the abstract evidence than by the examples our fairmatrons give to astounded foreigners when abroad. 

Louise writes that her husband is paralysed. The Marquis de Mazardouinis at last tasting of his mortality. I bear in mind the day when hemarried her. She says that he has taken to priestly counsel, and, likea woman, she praises him for that. It is the one thing which I havenot done to please her. She anticipates his decease. Should she befree--what then? My heart does not beat the faster for the thought. There are twenty years upon it, and they make a great load. But I havea desire that she should come over to us. The old folly might rescue mefrom the new one. Not that I am any further persecuted by the dread thatI am in imminent danger here. I have established a proper mastery overmy young lady. 'Nous avons change de role'. Alice is subdued; she laughsfeebly, is becoming conscious--a fact to be regretted, if I desired tocheck the creature's growth. There is vast capacity in the girl. Shehas plainly not centred her affections upon Charles, so that a man'sconscience might be at ease if--if he chose to disregard what is due todecency. But, why, when I contest it, do I bow to the world's opinionconcerning disparity of years between husband and wife? I knowinnumerable cases of an old husband making a young wife happy. Myfriend, Dr. Galliot, married his ward, and he had the best wife of anyman of my acquaintance. She has been publishing his learned manuscriptsever since his death. That is an extreme case, for he was forty-fiveyears her senior, and stood bald at the altar. Old General Althorpemarried Julia Dahoop, and, but for his preposterous jealousy of her, might be cited in proof that the ordinary reckonings are not to be ayoke on the neck of one who earnestly seeks to spouse a fitting mate, though late in life. But, what are fifty years? They mark the prime of ahealthy man's existence. He has by that time seen the world, can decide, and settle, and is virtually more eligible--to use the cant phrase ofgossips--than a young man, even for a young girl. And may not some fairand fresh reward be justly claimed as the crown of a virtuous career?

I say all this, yet my real feeling is as if I were bald as Dr. Galliotand jealous as General Althorpe. For, with my thorough knowledge ofmyself, I, were I like either one of them, should not have offeredmyself to the mercy of a young woman, or of the world. Nor, as I am andknow myself to be, would I offer myself to the mercy of Alice Amble. When my filleule first drove into Dayton she had some singularlyaudacious ideas of her own. Those vivid young feminine perceptions anduntamed imaginations are desperate things to encounter. There is nothingbeyond their reach. Our safety from them lies in the fact that they arealways seeing too much, and imagining too wildly; so that, with a littlehelp from us, they may be taught to distrust themselves; and when theyhave once distrusted themselves, we need not afterwards fear them: theirsupernatural vitality has vanished. I fancy my pretty Alice to be inthis state now. She leaves us to-morrow. In the autumn we shall have herwith us again, and Louise will scan her compassionately. I desire thatthey should meet. It will be hardly fair to the English girl, but, ifI stand in the gap between them, I shall summon up no small quantity ofdormant compatriotic feeling. The contemplation of the contrast, too, may save me from both: like the logic ass with the two trusses of hay oneither side of him. 

CHAPTER VI

SHE

I am at home. There was never anybody who felt so strange in her home. It is not a month since I left my sisters, and I hardly remember thatI know them. They all, and even papa, appear to be thinking about suchpetty things. They complain that I tell them nothing. What have I totell? My Prince! my own Leboo, if I might lie in the stall with you, then I should feel thoroughly happy! That is, if I could fall asleep. Evelina declares we are not eight miles from Dayton. It seems to me Iam eight millions of miles distant, and shall be all my life travellingalong a weary road to get there again just for one long sunny day. And it might rain when I got there after all! My trouble nobody knows. Nobody knows a thing!

The night before my departure, Miss Pollingray did me the honourto accompany me up to my bedroom. She spoke to me searchingly aboutCharles; but she did not demand compromising answers. She is not infavour of early marriages, so she merely wishes to know the footing uponwhich we stand: that of friends. I assured her we were simply friends. 'It is the firmest basis of an attachment, ' she said; and I did not lookhurried. 

But I gained my end. I led her to talk of the beautiful Marquise. Thisis the tale. Mr. Pollingray, when a very young man, and comparativelypoor, went over to France with good introductions, and there saw andfell in love with Louise de Riverolles. She reciprocated his passion. If he would have consented to abjure his religion and worship with her, Madame de Riverolles, her mother, would have listened to her entreaties. But Gilbert was firm. Mr. Pollingray, I mean, refused to abandon hisfaith. Her mother, consequently, did not interfere, and Monsieur deRiverolles, her father, gave her to the Marquis de Marzardouin, a roueyoung nobleman, immensely rich, and shockingly dissipated. And shemarried him. No, I cannot understand French girls. Do as I will, it isquite incomprehensible to me how Louise, loving another, could sufferherself to be decked out in bridal finery and go to the altar andtake the marriage oaths. Not if perdition had threatened would I havesubmitted. I have a feeling that Mr. Pollingray should have shown atleast one year's resentment at such conduct; and yet I admire him forhis immediate generous forgiveness of her. It was fatherly. She wasmarried at sixteen. His forgiveness was the fruit of his few years'seniority, said Miss Pollingray, whose opinion of the Marquise I cannotarrive at. At any rate, they have been true and warm friends ever since, constantly together interchangeing visits. That is why Mr. Pollingrayhas been more French than English for those long years. 

Miss Pollingray concluded by asking me what I thought of the story. Isaid: 'It is very strange French habits are so different from ours. Idare say... I hope... , perhaps... Indeed, Mr. Pollingray seems happynow. ' Her idea of my wits must be that they are of the schoolgirlorder--a perfect receptacle for indefinite impressions. 

'Ah!' said she. 'Gilbert has burnt his heart to ashes by this time. '

I slept with that sentence in my brain. In the morning, I rose anddressed, dreaming. As I was turning the handle of my door to go down tobreakfast, suddenly I swung round in a fit of tears. It was so piteousto think that he should have waited by her twenty years in a slowanguish, his heart burning out, without a reproach or a complaint. I sawhim, I still see him, like a martyr. 

'Some people, ' Miss Pollingray said, I permitted themselves to thinkevil of my brother's assiduous devotion to a married woman. There is nota spot on his character, or on that of the person whom Gilbert loved. '

I would believe it in the teeth of calumny. I would cling to my beliefin him if I were drowning. 

I consider that those twenty years are just nothing, if he chooses tohave them so. He has lived embalmed in a saintly affection. No wonder heconsiders himself still youthful. He is entitled to feel that his futureis before him. 

No amount of sponging would get the stains away from my horrid redeyelids. I slunk into my seat at the breakfast-table, not knowing thatone of the maids had dropped a letter from Charles into my hand, andthat I had opened it and was holding it open. The letter, as I foundafterwards, told me that Charles has received an order from his uncleto go over to Mr. Pollingray's estate in Dauphiny on business. I am notsorry that they should have supposed I was silly enough to cry at thethought of Charles's crossing the Channel. They did imagine it, I know;for by and by Miss Pollingray whispered: 'Les absents n'auront pas tort, cette fois, n'est-ce-pas? 'And Mr. Pollingray was cruelly gentle: anair of 'I would not intrude on such emotions'; and I heightened theirdelusions as much as I could: there was no other way of accounting formy pantomime face. Why should he fancy I suffered so terribly? He talkedwith an excited cheerfulness meant to relieve me, of course, but therewas no justification for his deeming me a love-sick kind of woe-begoneballad girl. It caused him likewise to adopt a manner--what to call it, I cannot think: tender respect, frigid regard, anything that accompaniesand belongs to the pressure of your hand with the finger-tips. He saidgoodbye so tenderly that I would have kissed his sleeve. The effort torestrain myself made me like an icicle. Oh! adieu, mon parrain!

 ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS:

 A wise man will not squander his laughter if he can help it A woman is hurt if you do not confide to her your plans Gentleman in a good state of preservation Imparting the usual chorus of yesses to his own mind In every difficulty, patience is a life-belt Knew my friend to be one of the most absent-minded of men Rapture of obliviousness Telling her anything, she makes half a face in anticipation When you have done laughing with her, you can laugh at her

THE SENTIMENTALISTS

AN UNFINISHED COMEDY

By George Meredith

 DRAMATIS PERSONAE HOMEWARE. PROFESSOR SPIRAL. 

 ARDEN, ............. In love with Astraea. 

 SWITHIN, ........... Sympathetics. OSIER, DAME DRESDEN, ...... Sister to Homeware. 

 ASTRAEA, ........... Niece to Dame Dresden and Homeware. 

 LYRA, .............. A Wife. LADY OLDLACE. VIRGINIA. WINIFRED. 

 THE SENTIMENTALISTS

 AN UNFINISHED COMEDY

The scene is a Surrey garden in early summer. The paths are shaded bytall box-wood hedges. The--time is some sixty years ago. 

 SCENE I

 PROFESSOR SPIRAL, DAME DRESDEN, LADY OLDLACE, VIRGINIA, WINIFRED, SWITHIN, and OSIER

(As they slowly promenade the garden, the professor is delivering one ofhis exquisite orations on Woman. )

SPIRAL: One husband! The woman consenting to marriage takes but one. Forher there is no widowhood. That punctuation of the sentence called deathis not the end of the chapter for her. It is the brilliant proof of herhaving a soul. So she exalts her sex. Above the wrangle and clamour ofthe passions she is a fixed star. After once recording her obedienceto the laws of our common nature--that is to say, by descending once towedlock--she passes on in sovereign disengagement--a dedicated widow. 

 (By this time they have disappeared from view. HOMEWARE appears; he craftily avoids joining their party, like one who is unworthy of such noble oratory. He desires privacy and a book, but is disturbed by the arrival of ARDEN, who is painfully anxious to be polite to 'her uncle Homeware. ')

 SCENE II

 HOMEWARE, ARDEN

ARDEN: A glorious morning, sir. 

HOMEWARE: The sun is out, sir. 

ARDEN: I am happy in meeting you, Mr. Homeware. 

HOMEWARE: I can direct you to the ladies, Mr. Arden. You will find themup yonder avenue. 

ARDEN: They are listening, I believe, to an oration from the mouth ofProfessor Spiral. 

HOMEWARE: On an Alpine flower which has descended to flourish on Englishsoil. Professor Spiral calls it Nature's 'dedicated widow. '

ARDEN: 'Dedicated widow'?

HOMEWARE: The reference you will observe is to my niece Astraea. 

ARDEN: She is dedicated to whom?

HOMEWARE: To her dead husband! You see the reverse of Astraea, says theprofessor, in those world-infamous widows who marry again. 

ARDEN: Bah!

HOMEWARE: Astraea, it is decided, must remain solitary, virgin cold, like the little Alpine flower. Professor Spiral has his theme. 

ARDEN: He will make much of it. May I venture to say that I prefer mypresent company?

HOMEWARE: It is a singular choice. I can supply you with no weapons forthe sort of stride in which young men are usually engaged. You belong tothe camp you are avoiding. 

ARDEN: Achilles was not the worse warrior, sir, for his probation inpetticoats. 

HOMEWARE: His deeds proclaim it. But Alexander was the better chieftainuntil he drank with Lais. 

ARDEN: No, I do not plead guilty to Bacchus. 

HOMEWARE: You are confessing to the madder form of drunkenness. 

ARDEN: How, sir, I beg?

HOMEWARE: How, when a young man sees the index to himself in everythingspoken!

ARDEN: That might have the look. I did rightly in coming to you, sir. 

HOMEWARE: 'Her uncle Homeware'?

ARDEN: You read through us all, sir. 

HOMEWARE: It may interest you to learn that you are the third of thegentlemen commissioned to consult the lady's uncle Homeware. 

ARDEN: The third. 

HOMEWARE: Yes, she is pursued. It could hardly be otherwise. Herattractions are acknowledged, and the house is not a convent. Yet, Mr. Arden, I must remind you that all of you are upon an enterprise held tobe profane by the laws of this region. Can you again forget that Astraeais a widow?

ARDEN: She was a wife two months; she has been a widow two years. 

HOMEWARE: The widow of the great and venerable Professor Towers is notto measure her widowhood by years. His, from the altar to the tomb. Asit might be read, a one day's walk!

ARDEN: Is she, in the pride of her youth, to be sacrificed to awhimsical feminine delicacy?

HOMEWARE: You have argued it with her?

ARDEN: I have presumed. 

HOMEWARE: And still she refused her hand!

ARDEN: She commended me to you, sir. She has a sound judgement ofpersons. 

HOMEWARE: I should put it that she passes the Commissioners of Lunacy, on the ground of her being a humorous damsel. Your predecessors had alsoargued it with her; and they, too, discovered their enemy in a whimsicalfeminine delicacy. Where is the difference between you? Evidentlyshe cannot perceive it, and I have to seek: You will have had manyconversations with Astraea?

ARDEN: I can say, that I am thrice the man I was before I had them. 

HOMEWARE: You have gained in manhood from conversations with a widow inher twenty-second year; and you want more of her. 

ARDEN: As much as I want more wisdom. 

HOMEWARE: You would call her your Muse?

ARDEN: So prosaic a creature as I would not dare to call her that. 

HOMEWARE: You have the timely mantle of modesty, Mr. Arden. She hasprepared you for some of the tests with her uncle Homeware. 

ARDEN: She warned me to be myself, without a spice of affectation. 

HOMEWARE: No harder task could be set a young man in modern days. Oh, the humorous damsel. You sketch me the dimple at her mouth. 

ARDEN: Frankly, sir, I wish you to know me better; and I think I canbear inspection. Astraea sent me to hear the reasons why she refuses mea hearing. 

HOMEWARE: Her reason, I repeat, is this; to her idea, a second wedlockis unholy. Further, it passes me to explain. The young lady landsus where we were at the beginning; such must have been her humorousintention. 

ARDEN: What can I do?

HOMEWARE: Love and war have been compared. Both require strategy andtactics, according to my recollection of the campaign. 

ARDEN: I will take to heart what you say, sir. 

HOMEWARE: Take it to head. There must be occasional descent of lovers'heads from the clouds. And Professor Spiral, --But here we have a belatedbreeze of skirts. 

 (The reference is to the arrival of LYRA, breathless. )

 SCENE III

 HOMEWARE, ARDEN, LYRA

LYRA: My own dear uncle Homeware!

HOMEWARE: But where is Pluriel?

LYRA: Where is a woman's husband when she is away from him?

HOMEWARE: In Purgatory, by the proper reckoning. But hurry up theavenue, or you will be late for Professor Spiral's address. 

LYRA: I know it all without hearing. Their Spiral! Ah, Mr. Arden! Youhave not chosen badly. The greater my experience, the more do I value myuncle Homeware's company. 

 (She is affectionate to excess but has a roguish eye withal, as of one who knows that uncle Homeware suspects all young men and most young women. )

HOMEWARE: Agree with the lady promptly, my friend. 

ARDEN: I would gladly boast of so lengthened an experience, LadyPluriel. 

LYRA: I must have a talk with Astraea, my dear uncle. Her letters breedsuspicions. She writes feverishly. The last one hints at service on theWest Coast of Africa. 

HOMEWARE: For the draining of a pestiferous land, or an enlightenment ofthe benighted black, we could not despatch a missionary more effectivethan the handsomest widow in Great Britain. 

LYRA: Have you not seen signs of disturbance?

HOMEWARE: A great oration may be a sedative. 

LYRA: I have my suspicions. 

HOMEWARE: Mr. Arden, I could counsel you to throw yourself at LadyPluriel's feet, and institute her as your confessional priest. 

ARDEN: Madam, I am at your feet. I am devoted to the lady. 

LYRA: Devoted. There cannot be an objection. It signifies that a manasks for nothing in return!

HOMEWARE: Have a thought upon your words with this lady, Mr. Arden!

ARDEN: Devoted, I said. I am. I would give my life for her. 

LYRA: Expecting it to be taken to-morrow or next day? Accept myencomiums. A male devotee is within an inch of a miracle. Women had beenlooking for this model for ages, uncle. 

HOMEWARE: You are the model, Mr Arden!

LYRA: Can you have intended to say that it is in view of marriage youare devoted to the widow of Professor Towers?

ARDEN: My one view. 

LYRA: It is a star you are beseeching to descend. 

ARDEN: It is. 

LYRA: You disappoint me hugely. You are of the ordinary tribe after all;and your devotion craves an enormous exchange, infinitely surpassing theamount you bestow. 

ARDEN: It does. She is rich in gifts; I am poor. But I give all I have. 

LYRA: These lovers, uncle Homeware!

HOMEWARE: A honey-bag is hung up and we have them about us. They wouldpersuade us that the chief business of the world is a march to thealtar. 

ARDEN: With the right partner, if the business of the world is to bebetter done. 

LYRA: Which right partner has been chosen on her part, by a veiledwoman, who marches back from the altar to discover that she has chainedherself to the skeleton of an idea, or is in charge of that devouringtyrant, an uxorious husband. Is Mr. Arden in favour with the Dame, uncle?

HOMEWARE: My sister is an unsuspicious potentate, as you know. Pretenders to the hand of an inviolate widow bite like waves at a rock. 

LYRA: Professor Spiral advances rapidly. 

HOMEWARE: Not, it would appear, when he has his audience of ladies andtheir satellites. 

LYRA: I am sure I hear a spring-tide of enthusiasm coming. 

ARDEN: I will see. 

 (He goes up the path. )

LYRA: Now! my own dear uncle, save me from Pluriel. I have given him theslip in sheer desperation; but the man is at his shrewdest when he isleft to guess at my heels. Tell him I am anywhere but here. Tell him Iran away to get a sense of freshness in seeing him again. Let me haveone day of liberty, or, upon my word, I shall do deeds; I shall consoleyoung Arden: I shall fly to Paris and set my cap at presidents andforeign princes. Anything rather than be eaten up every minute, as I am. May no woman of my acquaintance marry a man of twenty years her senior!She marries a gigantic limpet. At that period of his life a man becomestoo voraciously constant. 

HOMEWARE: Cupid clipped of wing is a destructive parasite. 

LYRA: I am in dead earnest, uncle, and I will have a respite, or elselet decorum beware!

 (Arden returns. )

ARDEN: The ladies are on their way. 

LYRA: I must get Astraea to myself. 

HOMEWARE: My library is a virgin fortress, Mr. Arden. Its gates are opento you on other topics than the coupling of inebriates. 

 (He enters the house--LYRA disappears in the garden--Spiral's audience reappear without him. )

 SCENE IV

 DAME DRESDEN, LADY OLDLACE, VIRGINIA, WINIFRED, ARDEN, SWITHIN, OSIER

LADY OLDLACE: Such perfect rhythm!

WINIFRED: Such oratory!

LADY OLDLACE: A master hand. I was in a trance from the first sentenceto the impressive close. 

OSIER: Such oratory is a whole orchestral symphony. 

VIRGINIA: Such command of intonation and subject!

SWITHIN: That resonant voice!

LADY OLDLACE: Swithin, his flow of eloquence! He launched forth!

SWITHIN: Like an eagle from a cliff. 

OSIER: The measure of the words was like a beat of wings. 

SWITHIN: He makes poets of us. 

DAME DRESDEN: Spiral achieved his pinnacle to-day!

VIRGINIA: How treacherous is our memory when we have most the longing torecall great sayings!

OSIER: True, I conceive that my notes will be precious. 

WINIFRED: You could take notes!

LADY OLDLACE: It seems a device for missing the quintessential. 

SWITHIN: Scraps of the body to the loss of the soul of it. We can allowthat our friend performed good menial service. 

WINIFRED: I could not have done the thing. 

SWITHIN: In truth; it does remind one of the mess of pottage. 

LADY OLDLACE: One hardly felt one breathed. 

VIRGINIA: I confess it moved me to tears. 

SWITHIN: There is a pathos for us in the display of perfection. Suchsubtle contrast with our individual poverty affects us. 

WINIFRED: Surely there were passages of a distinct and most exquisitepathos. 

LADY OLDLACE: As in all great oratory! The key of it is the pathos. 

VIRGINIA: In great oratory, great poetry, great fiction; you try itby the pathos. All our critics agree in stipulating for the pathos. Mytears were no feminine weakness, I could not be a discordant instrument. 

SWITHIN: I must make confession. He played on me too. 

OSIER: We shall be sensible for long of that vibration from the touch ofa master hand. 

ARDEN: An accomplished player can make a toy-shop fiddle sound you aStradivarius. 

DAME DRESDEN: Have you a right to a remark, Mr. Arden? What could havedetained you?

ARDEN: Ah, Dame. It may have been a warning that I am a discordantinstrument. I do not readily vibrate. 

DAME DRESDEN: A discordant instrument is out of place in any civilsociety. You have lost what cannot be recovered. 

ARDEN: There are the notes. 

OSIER: Yes, the notes. 

SWITHIN: You can be satisfied with the dog's feast at the table, Mr. Arden!

OSIER: Ha!

VIRGINIA: Never have I seen Astraea look sublimer in her beauty thanwith her eyes uplifted to the impassioned speaker, reflecting everyvariation of his tones. 

ARDEN: Astraea!

LADY OLDLACE: She was entranced when he spoke of woman descending fromher ideal to the gross reality of man. 

OSIER: Yes, yes. I have the words [reads]: 'Woman is to the front ofman, holding the vestal flower of a purer civilization. I see, ' he says, 'the little taper in her hands transparent round the light, againstrough winds. '

DAME DRESDEN: And of Astraea herself, what were the words? 'Nature'sdedicated widow. '

SWITHIN: Vestal widow, was it not?

VIRGINIA: Maiden widow, I think. 

DAME DRESDEN: We decide for 'dedicated. '

WINIFRED: Spiral paid his most happy tribute to the memory of her latehusband, the renowned Professor Towers. 

VIRGINIA: But his look was at dear Astraea. 

ARDEN: At Astraea? Why?

VIRGINIA: For her sanction doubtless. 

ARDEN: Ha!

WINIFRED: He said his pride would ever be in his being received as thesuccessor of Professor Towers. 

ARDEN: Successor!

SWITHIN: Guardian was it not?

OSIER: Tutor. I think he said. 

 (The three gentlemen consult Osier's notes uneasily. )

DAME DRESDEN: Our professor must by this time have received in fullAstraea's congratulations, and Lyra is hearing from her what it is tobe too late. You will join us at the luncheon table, if you do not feelyourself a discordant instrument there, Mr. Arden?

ARDEN (going to her): The allusion to knife and fork tunes my stringsinstantly, Dame. 

DAME DRESDEN: You must help me to-day, for the professor will be tired, though we dare not hint at it in his presence. No reference, ladies, tothe great speech we have been privileged to hear; we have expressed ourappreciation and he could hardly bear it. 

ARDEN: Nothing is more distasteful to the orator!

VIRGINIA: As with every true genius, he is driven to feel humbly humanby the exultation of him. 

SWITHIN: He breathes in a rarified air. 

OSIER: I was thrilled, I caught at passing beauties. I see that here andthere I have jotted down incoherencies, lines have seduced me, so thatI missed the sequence--the precious part. Ladies, permit me to rank himwith Plato as to the equality of women and men. 

WINIFRED: It is nobly said. 

OSIER: And with the Stoics, in regard to celibacy. 

 (By this time all the ladies have gone into the house. )

ARDEN: Successor! Was the word successor?

 (ARDEN, SWITHIN, and OSIER are excitedly searching the notes when SPIRAL passes and strolls into the house. His air of self-satisfaction increases their uneasiness they follow him. ASTRAEA and LYRA come down the path. )

 SCENE V

 ASTRAEA, LYRA

LYRA: Oh! Pluriel, ask me of him! I wish I were less sure he would notbe at the next corner I turn. 

ASTRAEA: You speak of your husband strangely, Lyra. 

LYRA: My head is out of a sack. I managed my escape from him thismorning by renouncing bath and breakfast; and what a relief, to be inthe railway carriage alone! that is, when the engine snorted. And ifI set eyes on him within a week, he will hear some truths. His idea ofmarriage is, the taking of the woman into custody. My hat is on, and ongoes Pluriel's. My foot on the stairs; I hear his boot behind me. Inmy boudoir I am alone one minute, and then the door opens to theinevitable. I pay a visit, he is passing the house as I leave it. Hewill not even affect surprise. I belong to him, I am cat's mouse. Andhe will look doating on me in public. And when I speak to anybody, he isthat fearful picture of all smirks. Fling off a kid glove after a roundof calls; feel your hand--there you have me now that I am out of him formy half a day, if for as long. 

ASTRAEA: This is one of the world's happy marriages!

LYRA: This is one of the world's choice dishes! And I have it plantedunder my nostrils eternally. Spare me the mention of Pluriel until heappears; that's too certain this very day. Oh! good husband! goodkind of man! whatever you please; only some peace, I do pray, for thehusband-haunted wife. I like him, I like him, of course, but I want tobreathe. Why, an English boy perpetually bowled by a Christmas puddingwould come to loathe the mess. 

ASTRAEA: His is surely the excess of a merit. 

LYRA: Excess is a poison. Excess of a merit is a capital offence inmorality. It disgusts, us with virtue. And you are the cunningest offencers, tongue, or foils. You lead me to talk of myself, and I hate thesubject. By the way, you have practised with Mr. Arden. 

ASTRAEA: A tiresome instructor, who lets you pass his guard tocompliment you on a hit. 

LYRA: He rather wins me. 

ASTRAEA: He does at first. 

LYRA: Begins Plurielizing, without the law to back him, does he?

ASTRAEA: The fencing lessons are at an end. 

LYRA: The duetts with Mr. Swithin's violoncello continue?

ASTRAEA: He broke through the melody. 

LYRA: There were readings in poetry with Mr. Osier, I recollect. 

ASTRAEA: His own compositions became obtrusive. 

LYRA: No fencing, no music, no poetry! no West Coast of Africa either, Isuppose. 

ASTRAEA: Very well! I am on my defence. You at least shall notmisunderstand me, Lyra. One intense regret I have; that I did notlive in the time of the Amazons. They were free from this question ofmarriage; this babble of love. Why am I so persecuted? He will nottake a refusal. There are sacred reasons. I am supported by every womanhaving the sense of her dignity. I am perverted, burlesqued by the furyof wrath I feel at their incessant pursuit. And I despise Mr. Osier andMr. Swithin because they have an air of pious agreement with the Dame, and are conspirators behind their mask. 

LYRA: False, false men!

ASTRAEA: They come to me. I am complimented on being the vulnerablespot. 

LYRA: The object desired is usually addressed by suitors, my poorAstraea!

ASTRAEA: With the assumption, that as I am feminine I must necessarilybe in the folds of the horrible constrictor they call Love, and that Ileap to the thoughts of their debasing marriage. 

LYRA: One of them goes to Mr. Homeware. 

ASTRAEA: All are sent to him in turn. He can dispose of them. 

LYRA: Now that is really masterly fun, my dear; most creditable to you!Love, marriage, a troop of suitors, and uncle Homeware. No, it wouldnot have occurred to me, and--I am considered to have some humour. Of course, he disposes of them. He seemed to have a fairly favourableopinion of Mr. Arden. 

ASTRAEA: I do not share it. He is the least respectful of the sentimentsentertained by me. Pray, spare me the mention of him, as you say of yourhusband. He has that pitiful conceit in men, which sets them thinkingthat a woman must needs be susceptible to the declaration of the mereexistence of their passion. He is past argument. Impossible for himto conceive a woman's having a mind above the conditions of her sex. Awoman, according to him, can have no ideal of life, except as a ball totoss in the air and catch in a cup. Put him aside.... We creatures aredoomed to marriage, and if we shun it, we are a kind of cripple. Heis grossly earthy in his view of us. We are unable to move a stepin thought or act unless we submit to have a husband. That is hisreasoning. Nature! Nature! I have to hear of Nature! We must be aboveNature, I tell him, or, we shall be very much below. He is ranked amongour clever young men; and he can be amusing. So far he passes muster;and he has a pleasant voice. I dare say he is an uncle Homeware's goodsort of boy. Girls like him. Why does he not fix his attention upon oneof them; Why upon me? We waste our time in talking of him.... The secretof it is, that he has no reverence. The marriage he vaunts is a mereconvenient arrangement for two to live together under command of nature. Reverence for the state of marriage is unknown to him. How explain myfeeling? I am driven into silence. Cease to speak of him.... He is thedupe of his eloquence--his passion, he calls it. I have only to trustmyself to him, and--I shall be one of the world's married women! Wordsare useless. How am I to make him see that it is I who respect the stateof marriage by refusing; not he by perpetually soliciting. Once married, married for ever. Widow is but a term. When women hold their own againsthim, as I have done, they will be more esteemed. I have resisted andconquered. I am sorry I do not share in the opinion of your favourite. 

LYRA: Mine?

ASTRAEA: You spoke warmly of him. 

LYRA: Warmly, was it?

ASTRAEA: You are not blamed, my dear: he has a winning manner. 

LYRA: I take him to be a manly young fellow, smart enough; handsome too. 

ASTRAEA: Oh, he has good looks. 

LYRA: And a head, by repute. 

ASTRAEA: For the world's work, yes. 

LYRA: Not romantic. 

ASTRAEA: Romantic ideas are for dreamy simperers. 

LYRA: Amazons repudiate them. 

ASTRAEA: Laugh at me. Half my time I am laughing at myself. I shouldregain my pride if I could be resolved on a step. I am strong to resist;I have not strength to move. 

LYRA: I see the sphinx of Egypt!

ASTRAEA: And all the while I am a manufactory of gunpowder in this quietold-world Sabbath circle of dear good souls, with their stereotypedinterjections, and orchestra of enthusiasms; their tapering delicacies:the rejoicing they have in their common agreement on all created things. To them it is restful. It spurs me to fly from rooms and chairs andbeds and houses. I sleep hardly a couple of hours. Then into the earlymorning air, out with the birds; I know no other pleasure. 

LYRA: Hospital work for a variation: civil or military. The formerinvolves the house-surgeon: the latter the grateful lieutenant. 

ASTRAEA: Not if a woman can resist... I go to it proof-armoured. 

LYRA: What does the Dame say?

ASTRAEA: Sighs over me! Just a little maddening to hear. 

LYRA: When we feel we have the strength of giants, and are bidden tosit and smile! You should rap out some of our old sweet-innocent gardenoaths with her--'Carnation! Dame!' That used to make her dance on herseat. --'But, dearest Dame, it is as natural an impulse for women to havethat relief as for men; and natural will out, begonia! it will!' We ranthrough the book of Botany for devilish objurgations. I do believe ourmisconduct caused us to be handed to the good man at the altar as theright corrective. And you were the worst offender. 

ASTRAEA: Was I? I could be now, though I am so changed a creature. 

LYRA: You enjoy the studies with your Spiral, come!

ASTRAEA: Professor Spiral is the one honest gentleman here. He doeshomage to my principles. I have never been troubled by him: no sillyhints or side-looks--you know, the dog at the forbidden bone. 

LYRA: A grand orator. 

ASTRAEA: He is. You fix on the smallest of his gifts. He isintellectually and morally superior. 

LYRA: Praise of that kind makes me rather incline to prefer hisinferiors. He fed gobble-gobble on your puffs of incense. I coughed andscraped the gravel; quite in vain; he tapped for more and more. 

ASTRAEA: Professor Spiral is a thinker; he is a sage. He gives womentheir due. 

LYRA: And he is a bachelor too--or consequently. 

ASTRAEA: If you like you may be as playful with me as the Lyra of ourmaiden days used to be. My dear, my dear, how glad I am to have youhere! You remind me that I once had a heart. It will beat again with youbeside me, and I shall look to you for protection. A novel requestfrom me. From annoyance, I mean. It has entirely altered my character. Sometimes I am afraid to think of what I was, lest I should suddenlyromp, and perform pirouettes and cry 'Carnation!' There is the bell. Wemust not be late when the professor condescends to sit for meals. 

LYRA: That rings healthily in the professor. 

ASTRAEA: Arm in arm, my Lyra. 

LYRA: No Pluriel yet!

 (They enter the house, and the time changes to evening of the same day. The scene is still the garden. )

 SCENE VI

 ASTRAEA, ARDEN

ASTRAEA: Pardon me if I do not hear you well. 

ARDEN: I will not even think you barbarous. 

ASTRAEA: I am. I am the object of the chase. 

ARDEN: The huntsman draws the wood, then, and not you. 

ASTRAEA: At any instant I am forced to run, Or turn in my defence: how can I be Other than barbarous? You are the cause. 

ARDEN: No: heaven that made you beautiful's the cause. 

ASTRAEA: Say, earth, that gave you instincts. Bring me down To instincts! When by chance I speak awhile With our professor, you appear in haste, Full cry to sight again the missing hare. Away ideas! All that's divinest flies! I have to bear in mind how young you are. 

ARDEN: You have only to look up to me four years, Instead of forty!

ASTRAEA: Sir?

ARDEN There's my misfortune! And worse that, young, I love as a young man. Could I but quench the fire, I might conceal The youthfulness offending you so much. 

ASTRAEA: I wish you would. I wish it earnestly. 

ARDEN: Impossible. I burn. 

ASTRAEA: You should not burn. 

ARDEN 'Tis more than I. 'Tis fire. It masters will. You would not say I should not' if you knew fire. It seizes. It devours. 

ASTRAEA: Dry wood. 

ARDEN: Cold wit! How cold you can be! But be cold, for sweet You must be. And your eyes are mine: with them I see myself: unworthy to usurp The place I hold a moment. While I look I have my happiness. 

ASTRAEA: You should look higher. 

ARDEN: Through you to the highest. Only through you! Through you The mark I may attain is visible, And I have strength to dream of winning it. You are the bow that speeds the arrow: you The glass that brings the distance nigh. My world Is luminous through you, pure heavenly, But hangs upon the rose's outer leaf, Not next her heart. Astraea! my own beloved!

ASTRAEA: We may be excellent friends. And I have faults. 

ARDEN: Name them: I am hungering for more to love. 

ASTRAEA: I waver very constantly: I have No fixity of feeling or of sight. I have no courage: I can often dream Of daring: when I wake I am in dread. I am inconstant as a butterfly, And shallow as a brook with little fish! Strange little fish, that tempt the small boy's net, But at a touch straight dive! I am any one's, And no one's! I am vain. Praise of my beauty lodges in my ears. The lark reels up with it; the nightingale Sobs bleeding; the flowers nod; I could believe A poet, though he praised me to my face. 

ARDEN: Never had poet so divine a fount To drink of!

ASTRAEA: Have I given you more to love

ARDEN: More! You have given me your inner mind, Where conscience in the robes of Justice shoots Light so serenely keen that in such light Fair infants, I newly criminal of earth, ' As your friend Osier says, might show some blot. Seraphs might! More to love? Oh! these dear faults Lead you to me like troops of laughing girls With garlands. All the fear is, that you trifle, Feigning them. 

ASTRAEA: For what purpose?

ARDEN: Can I guess?ASTRAEA:

 I think 'tis you who have the trifler's note. My hearing is acute, and when you speak, Two voices ring, though you speak fervidly. Your Osier quotation jars. Beware! Why were you absent from our meeting-place This morning?

ARDEN: I was on the way, and met Your uncle Homeware

ASTRAEA: Ah!

ARDEN: He loves you. 

ASTRAEA: He loves me: he has never understood. He loves me as a creature of the flock; A little whiter than some others. Yes; He loves me, as men love; not to uplift; Not to have faith in; not to spiritualize. For him I am a woman and a widow One of the flock, unmarked save by a brand. He said it!--You confess it! You have learnt To share his error, erring fatally. 

ARDEN: By whose advice went I to him?

ASTRAEA: By whose? Pursuit that seemed incessant: persecution. Besides, I have changed since then: I change; I change; It is too true I change. I could esteem You better did you change. And had you heard The noble words this morning from the mouth Of our professor, changed were you, or raised Above love-thoughts, love-talk, and flame and flutter, High as eternal snows. What said he else, My uncle Homeware?

ARDEN: That you were not free: And that he counselled us to use our wits. 

ASTRAEA: But I am free I free to be ever free! My freedom keeps me free! He counselled us? I am not one in a conspiracy. I scheme no discord with my present life. Who does, I cannot look on as my friend. Not free? You know me little. Were I chained, For liberty I would sell liberty To him who helped me to an hour's release. But having perfect freedom... 

ARDEN: No. 

ASTRAEA: Good sir, You check me?

ARDEN: Perfect freedom?

ASTRAEA: Perfect!

ARDEN: No!

ASTRAEA: Am I awake? What blinds me?

ARDEN: Filaments The slenderest ever woven about a brain From the brain's mists, by the little sprite called Fancy. A breath would scatter them; but that one breath Must come of animation. When the heart Is as, a frozen sea the brain spins webs. 

ASTRAEA: 'Tis very singular! I understand. You translate cleverly. I hear in verse My uncle Homeware's prose. He has these notions. Old men presume to read us. 

ARDEN: Young men may. You gaze on an ideal reflecting you Need I say beautiful? Yet it reflects Less beauty than the lady whom I love Breathes, radiates. Look on yourself in me. What harm in gazing? You are this flower You are that spirit. But the spirit fed With substance of the flower takes all its bloom! And where in spirits is the bloom of the flower?

ASTRAEA: 'Tis very singular. You have a tone Quite changed. 

ARDEN: You wished a change. To show you, how I read you... 

ASTRAEA: Oh! no, no. It means dissection. I never heard of reading character That did not mean dissection. Spare me that. I am wilful, violent, capricious, weak, Wound in a web of my own spinning-wheel, A star-gazer, a riband in the wind... 

ARDEN: A banner in the wind! and me you lead, And shall! At least, I follow till I win. 

ASTRAEA: Forbear, I do beseech you. 

ARDEN: I have had Your hand in mine. 

ASTRAEA: Once. 

ARDEN: Once! Once! 'twas; once, was the heart alive, Leaping to break the ice. Oh! once, was aye That laughed at frosty May like spring's return. Say you are terrorized: you dare not melt. You like me; you might love me; but to dare, Tasks more than courage. Veneration, friends, Self-worship, which is often self-distrust, Bar the good way to you, and make a dream A fortress and a prison. 

ASTRAEA: Changed! you have changed Indeed. When you so boldly seized my hand It seemed a boyish freak, done boyishly. I wondered at Professor Spiral's choice Of you for an example, and our hope. Now you grow dangerous. You must have thought, And some things true you speak-save 'terrorized. ' It may be flattering to sweet self-love To deem me terrorized. --'Tis my own soul, My heart, my mind, all that I hold most sacred, Not fear of others, bids me walk aloof. Who terrorizes me? Who could? Friends? Never! The world? as little. Terrorized!

ARDEN: Forgive me. 

ASTRAEA: I might reply, Respect me. If I loved, If I could be so faithless as to love, Think you I would not rather noise abroad My shame for penitence than let friends dwell Deluded by an image of one vowed To superhuman, who the common mock Of things too human has at heart become. 

ARDEN: You would declare your love?

ASTRAEA: I said, my shame. The woman that's the widow is ensnared, Caught in the toils! away with widows!--Oh! I hear men shouting it. 

ARDEN: But shame there's none For me in loving: therefore I may take Your friends to witness? tell them that my pride Is in the love of you?

ASTRAEA: 'Twill soon bring The silence that should be between us two, And sooner give me peace. 

ARDEN: And you consent?

ASTRAEA: For the sake of peace and silence I consent, You should be warned that you will cruelly Disturb them. But 'tis best. You should be warned Your pleading will be hopeless. But 'tis best. You have my full consent. Weigh well your acts, You cannot rest where you have cast this bolt Lay that to heart, and you are cherished, prized, Among them: they are estimable ladies, Warmest of friends; though you may think they soar Too loftily for your measure of strict sense (And as my uncle Homeware's pupil, sir, In worldliness, you do), just minds they have: Once know them, and your banishment will fret. I would not run such risks. You will offend, Go near to outrage them; and perturbate As they have not deserved of you. But I, Considering I am nothing in the scales You balance, quite and of necessity Consent. When you have weighed it, let me hear. My uncle Homeware steps this way in haste. We have been talking long, and in full view!

 SCENE VII

 ASTRAEA, ARDEN, HOMEWARE

HOMEWARE: Astraea, child! You, Arden, stand aside. Ay, if she were a maid you might speak first, But being a widow she must find her tongue. Astraea, they await you. State the fact As soon as you are questioned, fearlessly. Open the battle with artillery. 

ASTRAEA: What is the matter, uncle Homeware?

HOMEWARE (playing fox): What? Why, we have watched your nice preliminaries From the windows half the evening. Now run in. Their patience has run out, and, as I said, Unlimber and deliver fire at once. Your aunts Virginia and Winifred, With Lady Oldlace, are the senators, The Dame for Dogs. They wear terrific brows, But be not you affrighted, my sweet chick, And tell them uncle Homeware backs your choice, By lawyer and by priests! by altar, fount, And testament!

ASTRAEA: My choice! what have I chosen?

HOMEWARE: She asks? You hear her, Arden?--what and whom!

ARDEN: Surely, sir!... Heavens! have you... 

HOMEWARE: Surely the old fox, In all I have read, is wiser than the young: And if there is a game for fox to play, Old fox plays cunningest. 

ASTRAEA: Why fox? Oh! uncle, You make my heart beat with your mystery; I never did love riddles. Why sit they Awaiting me, and looking terrible?

HOMEWARE: It is reported of an ancient folk Which worshipped idols, that upon a day Their idol pitched before them on the floor

ASTRAEA: Was ever so ridiculous a tale!

HOMEWARE To call the attendant fires to account Their elders forthwith sat... 

ASTRAEA: Is there no prayer Will move you, uncle Homeware?

HOMEWARE: God-daughter, This gentleman for you I have proposed As husband. 

ASTRAEA: Arden! we are lost. 

ARDEN: Astraea! Support him! Though I knew not his design, It plants me in mid-heaven. Would it were Not you, but I to bear the shock. My love! We lost, you cry; you join me with you lost! The truth leaps from your heart: and let it shine To light us on our brilliant battle day And victory

ASTRAEA: Who betrayed me!

HOMEWARE: Who betrayed? Your voice, your eyes, your veil, your knife and fork; Your tenfold worship of your widowhood; As he who sees he must yield up the flag, Hugs it oath-swearingly! straw-drowningly. To be reasonable: you sent this gentleman Referring him to me.... 

ASTRAEA: And that is false. All's false. You have conspired. I am disgraced. But you will learn you have judged erroneously. I am not the frail creature you conceive. Between your vision of life's aim, and theirs Who presently will question me, I cling To theirs as light: and yours I deem a den Where souls can have no growth. 

HOMEWARE: But when we touched The point of hand-pressings, 'twas rightly time To think of wedding ties?

ASTRAEA: Arden, adieu!

 (She rushes into house. )

 SCENE VIII

 ARDEN, HOMEWARE

ARDEN: Adieu! she said. With her that word is final. 

HOMEWARE: Strange! how young people blowing words like clouds On winds, now fair, now foul, and as they please Should still attach the Fates to them. 

ARDEN: She's wounded Wounded to the quick!

HOMEWARE: The quicker our success: for short Of that, these dames, who feel for everything, Feel nothing. 

ARDEN: Your intention has been kind, Dear sir, but you have ruined me. 

HOMEWARE: Good-night. (Going. )

ARDEN: Yet she said, we are lost, in her surprise. 

HOMEWARE: Good morning. (Returning. )

ARDEN: I suppose that I am bound (If I could see for what I should be glad!) To thank you, sir. 

HOMEWARE: Look hard but give no thanks. I found my girl descending on the road Of breakneck coquetry, and barred her way. Either she leaps the bar, or she must back. That means she marries you, or says good-bye. (Going again. )

ARDEN: Now she's among them. (Looking at window. )

HOMEWARE: Now she sees her mind. 

ARDEN: It is my destiny she now decides!

HOMEWARE: There's now suspense on earth and round the spheres. 

ARDEN: She's mine now: mine! or I am doomed to go. 

HOMEWARE: The marriage ring, or the portmanteau now!

ARDEN: Laugh as you like, air! I am not ashamed To love and own it. 

HOMEWARE: So the symptoms show. Rightly, young man, and proving a good breed. To further it's a duty to mankind And I have lent my push, But recollect: Old Ilion was not conquered in a day. (He enters house. )

ARDEN: Ten years! If I may win her at the end!

 CURTAIN

 ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS:

 A great oration may be a sedative A male devotee is within an inch of a miracle Above Nature, I tell him, or, we shall be very much below As in all great oratory! The key of it is the pathos Back from the altar to discover that she has chained herself Cupid clipped of wing is a destructive parasite Excess of a merit is a capital offence in morality His idea of marriage is, the taking of the woman into custody I am a discordant instrument I do not readily vibrate I like him, I like him, of course, but I want to breathe I who respect the state of marriage by refusing Love and war have been compared--Both require strategy Peace, I do pray, for the husband-haunted wife Period of his life a man becomes too voraciously constant Pitiful conceit in men Rejoicing they have in their common agreement Self-worship, which is often self-distrust Suspects all young men and most young women Their idol pitched before them on the floor Were I chained, For liberty I would sell liberty Woman descending from her ideal to the gross reality of man Your devotion craves an enormous exchange

MISCELLANEOUS PROSE

CONTENTS:

 INTRODUCTION TO W. M. THACKERAY'S "THE FOUR GEORGES" A PAUSE IN THE STRIFE. CONCESSION TO THE CELT. LESLIE STEPHEN. CORRESPONDENCE FROM THE SEAT OF WAR IN ITALY LETTERS WRITTEN TO THE 'MORNING POST' FROM THE SEAT OF WAR IN ITALY. 

INTRODUCTION TO W. M. THACKERAY'S "THE FOUR GEORGES"

WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY was born at Calcutta, July 18, 1811, theonly child of Richmond and Anne Thackeray. He received the main part ofhis education at the Charterhouse, as we know to our profit. Thence hepassed to Cambridge, remaining there from February 1829 to sometimein 1830. To judge by quotations and allusions, his favourite of theclassics was Horace, the chosen of the eighteenth century, and generallythe voice of its philosophy in a prosperous country. His voyage fromIndia gave him sight of Napoleon on the rocky island. In his youngmanhood he made his bow reverentially to Goethe of Weimar; which did notcheck his hand from setting its mark on the sickliness of Werther. 

He was built of an extremely impressionable nature and a commandinggood sense. He was in addition a calm observer, having 'the harvest of aquiet eye. ' Of this combination with the flood of subjects brought upto judgement in his mind, came the prevalent humour, the enforceddisposition to satire, the singular critical drollery, notable in hisworks. His parodies, even those pushed to burlesque, are an expressionof criticism and are more effective than the serious method, while theyrarely overstep the line of justness. The Novels by Eminent Hands do notpervert the originals they exaggerate. 'Sieyes an abbe, now a ferociouslifeguardsman, ' stretches the face of the rollicking Irish novelistwithout disfeaturing him; and the mysterious visitor to the palatialmansion in Holywell Street indicates possibilities in the Orientalimagination of the eminent statesman who stooped to conquer factthrough fiction. Thackeray's attitude in his great novels is that of thecomposedly urbane lecturer, on a level with a select audience, assuredof interesting, above requirements to excite. The slow movement of thenarrative has a grace of style to charm like the dance of the Minuet dela Cour: it is the limpidity of Addison flavoured with salt of a racyvernacular; and such is the veri-similitude and the dialogue that theymight seem to be heard from the mouths of living speakers. When in thisway the characters of Vanity Fair had come to growth, their author wasrightly appreciated as one of the creators in our literature, he took atonce the place he will retain. With this great book and with Esmond andThe Newcomes, he gave a name eminent, singular, and beloved to Englishfiction. 

Charges of cynicism are common against all satirists, Thackeray had tobear with them. The social world he looked at did not show him heroes, only here and there a plain good soul to whom he was affectionate inthe unhysterical way of an English father patting a son on the head. He described his world as an accurate observer saw it, he could not bedishonest. Not a page of his books reveals malevolence or a sneer athumanity. He was driven to the satirical task by the scenes about him. There must be the moralist in the satirist if satire is to strike. Thestroke is weakened and art violated when he comes to the front. But hewill always be pressing forward, and Thackeray restrained him as much ascould be done, in the manner of a good-humoured constable. Thackeray mayhave appeared cynical to the devout by keeping him from a station inthe pulpit among congregations of the many convicted sinners. That themoralist would have occupied it and thundered had he presented us withthe Fourth of the Georges we see when we read of his rejecting thesolicitations of so seductive a personage for the satiric rod. 

Himself one of the manliest, the kindliest of human creatures, it wasthe love of his art that exposed him to misinterpretation. He did stoutservice in his day. If the bad manners he scourged are now lessened tosome degree we pay a debt in remembering that we owe much to him, and ifwhat appears incurable remains with us, a continued reading of his workswill at least help to combat it. 

A PAUSE IN THE STRIFE--1886

Our 'Eriniad, ' or ballad epic of the enfranchisement of the sisterisland is closing its first fytte for the singer, and with such resultas those Englishmen who have some knowledge of their fellows foresaw. There are sufficient reasons why the Tories should always be ableto keep together, but let them have the credit of cohesiveness andsubordination to control. Though working for their own ends, they wonthe esteem of their allies, which will count for them in the strugglesto follow. Their leaders appear to have seen what has not beendistinctly perceptible to the opposite party--that the break up of theLiberals means the defection of the old Whigs in permanence, heraldingthe establishment of a powerful force against Radicalism, with a capitalcry to the country. They have tactical astuteness. If they seem rathertoo proud of their victory, it is merely because, as becomes them, theydo not look ahead. To rejoice in the gaining of a day, without havingclear views of the morrow, is puerile enough. Any Tory victory, it maybe said, is little more than a pause in the strife, unless when theRadical game is played 'to dish the Whigs, ' and the Tories are now fastbound down by their incorporation of the latter to abstain from theviolent springs and right-about-facings of the Derby-Disraeli period. They are so heavily weighted by the new combination that theirJack-in-the-box, Lord Randolph, will have to stand like an ordinarysentinel on duty, and take the measurement of his natural size. Theymust, on the supposition of their entry into office, even to satisfytheir own constituents, produce a scheme. Their majority in the Housewill command it. 

To this extent, then, Mr. Gladstone has not been defeated. The questionset on fire by him will never be extinguished until the combustiblematter has gone to ashes. But personally he meets a sharp rebuff. TheTories may well raise hurrahs over that. Radicals have to admit it, and point to the grounds of it. Between a man's enemies and his friendsthere comes out a rough painting of his character, not without aresemblance to the final summary, albeit wanting in the justly delicatehistorical touch to particular features. On the one side he is abused as'the one-man power'; lauded on the other for his marvellous intuitionof the popular will. One can believe that he scarcely wishes to marchdictatorially, and full surely his Egyptian policy was from step to stepa misreading of the will of the English people. He went forth on thiscampaign, with the finger of Egypt not ineffectively levelled againsthim a second time. Nevertheless he does read his English; he has, too, the fatal tendency to the bringing forth of Bills in the manner ofJove big with Minerva. He perceived the necessity, and the issue of thenecessity; clearly defined what must come, and, with a higher motivethan the vanity with which his enemies charge him, though not with suchhigh counsel as Wisdom at his ear, fell to work on it alone, producedthe whole Bill alone, and then handed it to his Cabinet to digest, toomuch in love with the thing he had laid and incubated to permit of anyserious dismemberment of its frame. Hence the disruption. He workedfor the future, produced a Bill for the future, and is wrecked in thepresent. Probably he can work in no other way than from the impulse ofhis enthusiasm, solitarily. It is a way of making men overweeningly inlove with their creations. The consequence is likely to be that Irelandwill get her full measure of justice to appease her cravings earlierthan she would have had as much from the United Liberal Cabinet, but ata cost both to her and to England. Meanwhile we are to have a House ofCommons incapable of conducting public business; the tradesmen to whomthe Times addressed pathetic condolences on the loss of their seasonwill lose more than one; and we shall be made sensible that we have anenemy in our midst, until a people, slow to think, have taken counsel oftheir native generosity to put trust in the most generous race on earth. 

CONCESSION TO THE CELT--1886

Things are quiet outside an ant-hill until the stick has been thrustinto it. Mr. Gladstone's Bill for helping to the wiser governmentof Ireland has brought forth our busy citizens on the top-rubble intraversing counterswarms, and whatever may be said against a Bill thatdeals roughly with many sensitive interests, one asks whether anythingless violently impressive would have roused industrious England to takethis question at last into the mind, as a matter for settlement. The Liberal leader has driven it home; and wantonly, in the way of apedestrian demagogue, some think; certainly to the discomposure of thecomfortable and the myopely busy, who prefer to live on with a diseasein the frame rather than at all be stirred. They can, we see, pronouncea positive electoral negative; yet even they, after the eighty and oddyears of our domestic perplexity, in the presence of the eighty andodd members pledged for Home Rule, have been moved to excited inquiriesregarding measures--short of the obnoxious Bill. How much we sufferfrom sniffing the vain incense of that word practical, is contempt ofprevision! Many of the measures now being proposed responsively to thefretful cry for them, as a better alternative to correction by forceof arms, are sound and just. Ten years back, or at a more recent periodbefore Mr. Parnell's triumph in the number of his followers, theywould have formed a basis for the appeasement of the troubled land. The institution of county boards, the abolition of the detested Castle, something like the establishment of a Royal residence in Dublin, wouldhave begun the work well. Materially and sentimentally, they were theright steps to take. They are now proposed too late. They are regardedas petty concessions, insufficient and vexatious. The lower and thehigher elements in the population are fused by the enthusiasm of men whofind themselves marching in full body on a road, under a flag, at theheels of a trusted leader; and they will no longer be fed with sops. Petty concessions are signs of weakness to the unsatisfied; they prickan appetite, they do not close breaches. If our object is, as we hearit said, to appease the Irish, we shall have to give them the Parliamenttheir leader demands. It might once have been much less; it may beworried into a raving, perhaps a desperate wrestling, for still more. Nations pay Sibylline prices for want of forethought. Mr. Parnell'sterms are embodied in Mr. Gladstone's Bill, to which he and his bandhave subscribed. The one point for him is the statutory Parliament, sothat Ireland may civilly govern herself; and standing before the worldas representative of his country, he addresses an applausive audiencewhen he cites the total failure of England to do that business ofgovernment, as at least a logical reason for the claim. England hasconfessedly failed; the world says it, the country admits it. Wehave failed, and not because the so-called Saxon is incapable ofunderstanding the Celt, but owing to our system, suitable enough to us, of rule by Party, which puts perpetually a shifting hand upon the reins, and invites the clamour it has to allay. The Irish--the English too insome degree--have been taught that roaring; in its various forms, is thetrick to open the ears of Ministers. We have encouraged by irritatingthem to practise it, until it has become a habit, an hereditaryprofession with them. Ministers in turn have defensively adopted thearts of beguilement, varied by an exercise of the police. We grewaccustomed to periods of Irish fever. The exhaustion ensuing we namedtranquillity, and hoped that it would bear fruit. But we did not plant. The Party in office directed its attention to what was uppermost andurgent--to that which kicked them. Although we were living, by commonconsent; with a disease in the frame, eruptive at intervals, a nationaldisfigurement always a danger, the Ministerial idea of arresting itfor the purpose of healing was confined, before the passing of Mr. Gladstone's well-meant Land Bill, to the occasional despatch ofcommissions; and, in fine, we behold through History the Irish maladytreated as a form of British constitutional gout. Parliament touchedon the Irish only when the Irish were active as a virus. Our lateralternations of cajolery and repression bear painful resemblance to thenervous fit of rickety riders compounding with their destinations thatthey may keep their seats. The cajolery was foolish, if an end was inview; the repression inefficient. To repress efficiently we have tostifle a conscience accusing us of old injustice, and forget that we aresworn to freedom. The cries that we have been hearing for Cromwell orfor Bismarck prove the existence of an impatient faction in our midstfitter to wear the collars of those masters whom they invoke than todrop a vote into the ballot-box. As for the prominent politicianswho have displaced their rivals partly on the strength of an impliedapprobation of those cries, we shall see how they illumine the councilsof a governing people. They are wiser than the barking dogs. Cromwelland Bismarck are great names; but the harrying of Ireland did not settleit, and to Germanize a Posen and call it peace will find echo only inthe German tongue. Posen is the error of a master-mind too much given tohammer at obstacles. He has, however, the hammer. Can it be imaginedin English hands? The braver exemplar for grappling with monstrouspolitical tasks is Cavour, and he would not have hinted at the ironmethod or the bayonet for a pacification. Cavour challenged debate; hehad faith in the active intellect, and that is the thing to be prayedfor by statesmen who would register permanent successes. The Irish, it is true, do not conduct an argument coolly. Mr. Parnell and hiseighty-five have not met the Conservative leader and his following inthe Commons with the gravity of platonic disputants. But they havea logical position, equivalent to the best of arguments. They arerepresentatives, they would say, of a country admittedly ill-governed byus; and they have accepted the Bill of the defeated Minister as final. Its provisions are their terms of peace. They offer in return for thatboon to take the burden we have groaned under off our hands. If weanswer that we think them insincere, we accuse these thrice accreditedrepresentatives of the Irish people of being hypocrites and craftyconspirators; and numbers in England, affected by the weapons they haveused to get to their present strength, do think it; forgetful thatour obtuseness to their constant appeals forced them into the extremershifts of agitation. Yet it will hardly be denied that these men loveIreland; and they have not shown themselves by their acts to be insane. To suppose them conspiring for separation indicates a suspicion thatthey have neither hearts nor heads. For Ireland, separation is immediateruin. It would prove a very short sail for these conspirators before theship went down. The vital necessity of the Union for both, countries, obviously for the weaker of the two, is known to them; and unless weresume our exasperation of the wild fellow the Celt can be made by sucha process, we have not rational grounds for treating him, or treatingwith him, as a Bedlamite. He has besides his passions shrewd sense; andhis passions may be rightly directed by benevolent attraction. This islanguage derided by the victorious enemy; it speaks nevertheless whatthe world, and even troubled America, thinks of the Irish Celt. More ofit now on our side of the Channel would be serviceable. The notion thathe hates the English comes of his fevered chafing against the harness ofEngland, and when subject to his fevers, he is unrestrained in his criesand deeds. That pertains to the nature of him. Of course, if we have nobelief in the virtues of friendliness and confidence--none in regard tothe Irishman--we show him his footing, and we challenge the issue. For the sole alternative is distinct antagonism, a form of war. Mr. Gladstone's Bill has brought us to that definite line. Ireland havinggiven her adhesion to it, swearing that she does so in good faith, and will not accept a smaller quantity, peace is only to be had by ourplacing trust in the Irish; we trust them or we crush them. Intermediateways are but the prosecution of our ugly flounderings in Bogland; anddubious as we see the choice on either side, a decisive step to right orleft will not show us to the world so bemired, to ourselves so miserablyinefficient, as we appear in this session of a new Parliament. With hiseighty-five, apart from external operations lawful or not, Mr. Parnellcan act as a sort of lumbricus in the House. Let journalists watch andchronicle events: if Mr. Gladstone has humour, they will yet note apeculiar smile on his closed mouth from time to time when the alien bodywithin the House, from which, for the sake of its dignity and ability toconduct its affairs, he would have relieved it till the day of awarmer intelligence between Irish and English, paralyzes our machinerybusiness. An ably-handled coherent body in the midst of the liquidgroups will make it felt that Ireland is a nation, naturally dependentthough she must be. We have to do with forces in politics, and the greatmajority of the Irish Nationalists in Ireland has made them a force. 

No doubt Mr. Matthew Arnold is correct in his apprehensions of thedangers we may fear from a Dublin House of Commons. The declarationsand novel or ultra theories might almost be written down beforehand. I should, for my part, anticipate a greater danger in the familiarattitude of the English metropolitan Press and public toward anexperiment they dislike and incline to dread:--the cynical comments, thequotations between inverted commas, the commiserating shrug, cold irony, raw banter, growl of menace, sharp snap, rounds of laughter. Frenchmenof the Young Republic, not presently appreciated as offensive, have hadsome of these careless trifles translated for them, and have been stung. We favoured Germany with them now and then, before Germany became thefirst power in Europe. Before America had displayed herself as greatestamong the giants that do not go to pieces, she had, as Americansforgivingly remember, without mentioning, a series of flicks of thewhip. It is well to learn manners without having them imposed on us. There are various ways for tripping the experiment. Nevertheless, whenthe experiment is tried, considering that our welfare is involved in itsnot failing, as we have failed, we should prepare to start it cordially, cordially assist it. Thoughtful political minds regard the measure as abackward step; yet conceiving but a prospect that a measure accepted byHome Rulers will possibly enable the Irish and English to steptogether, it seems better worth the venture than to pursue a course ofprospectless discord! Whatever we do or abstain from doing has now itsevident dangers, and this being imminent may appear the larger ofthem; but if a weighing of the conditions dictates it, and conscienceapproves, the wiser proceeding is to make trial of the untried. Ouroutlook was preternaturally black, with enormous increase of dangerswhen the originator of our species venturesomely arose from the postureof the 'quatre pattes'. We consider that we have not lost by histemerity. In states of dubitation under impelling elements, the instinctpointing to courageous action is, besides the manlier, conjecturably theright one. 

LESLIE STEPHEN--1904

When that noble body of scholarly and cheerful pedestrians, the SundayTramps, were on the march, with Leslie Stephen to lead them, there wasconversation which would have made the presence of a shorthand writer abenefaction to the country. A pause to it came at the examination ofthe leader's watch and Ordnance map under the western sun, and voidwas given for the strike across country to catch the tail of a trainoffering dinner in London, at the cost of a run through hedges, overditches and fellows, past proclamation against trespassers, undersuspicion of being taken for more serious depredators in flight. Thechief of the Tramps had a wonderful calculating eye in the observationof distances and the nature of the land, as he proved by his discoveryof untried passes in the higher Alps, and he had no mercy for pursyfollowers. I have often said of this life-long student and philosophicalhead that he had in him the making of a great military captain. He wouldnot have been opposed to the profession of arms if he had been capturedearly for the service, notwithstanding his abomination of bloodshed. He had a high, calm courage, was unperturbed in a dubious position, andwould confidently take the way out of it which he conceived to be thebetter. We have not to deplore that he was diverted from the ways ofa soldier, though England, as the country has been learning of late, cannot boast of many in uniform who have capacity for leadership. Hiswork in literature will be reviewed by his lieutenant of Tramps, oneof the ablest of writers!--[Frederic W. Maitland. ]--The memory of itremains with us, as being the profoundest and the most sober criticismwe have had in our time. The only sting in it was an inoffensivehumorous irony that now and then stole out for a roll over, like a furrycub, or the occasional ripple on a lake in grey weather. We have nothingleft that is like it. 

One might easily fall into the pit of panegyric by an enumeration of hisqualities, personal and literary. It would not be out of harmony withthe temper and characteristics of a mind so equable. He, the equable, whether in condemnation or eulogy. Our loss of such a man is great, forwork was in his brain, and the hand was active till close upon the timewhen his breathing ceased. The loss to his friends can be replaced onlyby an imagination that conjures him up beside them. That will be no taskto those who have known him well enough to see his view of thingsas they are, and revive his expression of it. With them he will livedespite the word farewell. 

CORRESPONDENCE FROM THE SEAT OF WAR IN ITALY

LETTERS WRITTEN TO THE MORNING POST FROM THE SEAT OF WAR IN ITALY FROMOUR OWN CORRESPONDENT

FERRARA, June 22, 1866. 

Before this letter reaches London the guns will have awakened both theecho of the old river Po and the classical Mincio. The whole of thetroops, about 110, 000 men, with which Cialdini intends to force thepassage of the first-named river are already massed along the rightbank of the Po, anxiously waiting that the last hour of to-morrow shouldstrike, and that the order for action should be given. The telegraphwill have already informed your readers that, according to theintimation sent by General Lamarmora on Tuesday evening to the Austrianheadquarters, the three days fixed by the general's message beforebeginning hostilities will expire at twelve p. M. Of the 23rd of June. 

Cialdini's headquarters have been established in this city sinceWednesday morning, and the famous general, in whom the fourth corpshe commands, and the whole of the nation, has so much confidence, hasconcentrated the whole of his forces within a comparatively narrowcompass, and is ready for action. I believe therefore that by to-morrowthe right bank of the Po will be connected with the mainland of thePolesine by several pontoon bridges, which will enable Cialdini's corpsd'armee to cross the river, and, as everybody here hopes, to cross it inspite of any defence the Austrians may make. 

On my way to this ancient city last evening I met General Cadogan andtwo superior Prussian officers, who by this time must have joined VictorEmmanuel's headquarters at Cremona; if not, they have been by thistime transferred elsewhere, more on the front, towards the line of theMincio, on which, according to appearance, the first, second, and thirdItalian corps d'armee seem destined to operate. The English generaland the two Prussian officers above mentioned are to follow the king'sstaff, the first as English commissioner, the superior in rank of thetwo others in the same capacity. 

I have been told here that, before leaving Bologna, Cialdini held ageneral council of the commanders of the seven divisions of which hispowerful corps d'armee is formed, and that he told them that, in spiteof the forces the enemy has massed on the left bank of the Po, betweenthe point which faces Stellata and Rovigo, the river must be crossedby his troops, whatever might be the sacrifice this important operationrequires. Cialdini is a man who knows how to keep his word, and, forthis reason, I have no doubt he will do what he has already made up hismind to accomplish. I am therefore confident that before two or threedays have elapsed, these 110, 000 Italian troops, or a great part ofthem, will have trod, for the Italians, the sacred land of Venetia. 

Once the river Po crossed by Cialdini's corps d'armee, he will boldlyenter the Polesine and make himself master of the road which leadsby Rovigo towards Este and Padua. A glance at the map will show yourreaders how, at about twenty or thirty miles from the first-mentionedtown, a chain of hills, called the Colli Euganei, stretches itself fromthe last spur of the Julian Alps, in the vicinity of Vicenza, gentlysloping down towards the sea. As this line affords good positions forcontesting the advance of an army crossing the Po at Lago Scuro, or atany other point not far from it, it is to be supposed that the Austrianswill make a stand there, and I should not be surprised at all thatCialdini's first battle, if accepted by the enemy, should take placewithin that comparatively narrow ground which is within Montagnana, Este, Terradura, Abano, and Padua. It is impossible to suppose thatCialdini's corps d'armee, being so large, is destined to cross the Poonly at one point of the river below its course: it is extremely likelythat part of it should cross it at some point above, between Revere andStellata, where the river is in two or three instances only 450 metreswide. Were the Italian general to be successful--protected as he willbe by the tremendous fire of the powerful artillery he disposes of--inthese twofold operations, the Austrians defending the line of the ColliEuganei could be easily outflanked by the Italian troops, who wouldhave crossed the river below Lago Scuro. Of course these are meresuppositions, for nobody, as you may imagine, except the king, Cialdinihimself, Lamarmora, Pettiti, and Menabrea, is acquainted with theplan of the forthcoming campaign. There was a rumour at Cialdini'sheadquarters to-day that the Austrians had gathered in great numbersin the Polesine, and especially at Rovigo, a small town which theyhave strongly fortified of late, with an apparent design to oppose thecrossing of the Po, were Cialdini to attempt it at or near Lago Scuro. There are about Rovigo large tracts of marshes and fields cut by ditchesand brooks, which, though owing to the dryness of the season [they]cannot be, as it was generally believed two weeks ago, easily inundated, yet might well aid the operations the Austrians may undertake in orderto check the advance of the Italian fourth corps d'armee. The resistanceto the undertaking of Cialdini may be, on the part of the Austrians, very stout, but I am almost certain that it will be overcome by theardour of Italian troops, and by the skill of their illustrious leader. 

As I told you above, the declaration of war was handed over to anAustrian major for transmission to Count Stancowick, the Austriangovernor of Mantua, on the evening of the 19th, by Colonel Bariola, sous-chef of the general staff, who was accompanied by the Duke Luigiof Sant' Arpino, the husband of the amiable widow of Lord Burghersh. The duke is the eldest son of Prince San Teodoro, one of the wealthiestnoblemen of Naples. In spite of his high position and of his familyties, the Duke of Sant' Arpino, who is well known in London fashionablesociety, entered as a volunteer in the Italian army, and was appointedorderly officer to General Lamarmora. The choice of such a gentlemanfor the mission I am speaking of was apparently made with intention, in order to show the Austrians, that the Neapolitan nobility is as muchinterested in the national movement as the middle and lower classes ofthe Kingdom, once so fearfully misruled by the Bourbons. The Duke ofSant' Arpino is not the only Neapolitan nobleman who has enlisted in theItalian army since the war with Austria broke out. In order to showyou the importance which must be given to this pronunciamiento of theNeapolitan noblemen, allow me to give you here a short list of the namesof those of them who have enlisted as private soldiers in the cavalryregiments of the regular army: The Duke of Policastro; the Count ofSavignano Guevara, the eldest son of the Duke of Bovino; the Duke d'Oziad'Angri, who had emigrated in 1860, and returned to Naples six monthsago; Marquis Rivadebro Serra; Marquis Pisicelli, whose family had leftNaples in 1860 out of devotion to Francis II. ; two Carraciolos, of thehistorical family from which sprung the unfortunate Neapolitan admiralof this name, whose head Lord Nelson would have done better not tohave sacrificed to the cruelty of Queen Caroline; Prince Carini, therepresentative of an illustrious family of Sicily, a nephew of theMarquis del Vasto; and Pescara, a descendant of that great generalof Charles V. , to whom the proud Francis I. Of France was obliged tosurrender and give up his sword at the battle of Pavia. Besides theseNeapolitan noblemen who have enlisted of late as privates, the Italianarmy now encamped on the banks of the Po and of the Mincio may boast oftwo Colonnas, a prince of Somma, two Barons Renzi, an Acquaviva, of theDuke of Atri, two Capece, two Princes Buttera, etc. To return to themission of Colonel Bariola and the Duke of Sant' Arpino, I will add somedetails which were told me this morning by a gentleman who leftCremona yesterday evening, and who had them from a reliable source. Themessenger of General Lamarmora had been directed to proceed from Cremonato the small village of Le Grazie, which, on the line of the Mincio, marks the Austrian and Italian frontier. 

On the right bank of the Lake of Mantua, in the year 1340, stood a smallchapel containing a miraculous painting of the Madonna, called by thepeople of the locality 'Santa Maria delle Grazie. ' The boatmen andfishermen of the Mincio, who had been, as they said, often saved fromcertain death by the Madonna--as famous in those days as the modernLady of Rimini, celebrated for the startling feat of winking hereyes--determined to erect for her a more worthy abode. 

Hence arose the Santuario delle Grazie. Here, as at Loretto and otherholy localities of Italy, a fair is held, in which, amongst a greatnumber of worldly things, rosaries, holy images, and other miraculousobjects are sold, and astounding boons are said to be secured at themost trifling expense. The Santuario della Madonna delle Grazie enjoyinga far-spread reputation, the dumb, deaf, blind, and halt-in short, people afflicted with all sorts of infirmities--flock thither during thefair, and are not wanting even on the other days of the year. The churchof Le Grazie is one of the most curious of Italy. Not that there isanything remarkable in its architecture, for it is an Italian Gothicstructure of the simplest style. But the ornamental part of the interioris most peculiar. The walls of the building are covered with a doublerow of wax statues, of life size, representing a host of warriors, cardinals, bishops, kings, and popes, who--as the story runs--pretendedto have received some wonderful grace during their earthly existence. Amongst the grand array of illustrious personages, there are not a fewhumbler individuals whose history is faithfully told (if you choose tocredit it) by the painted inscriptions below. There is even a convict, who, at the moment of being hanged, implored succour of the all-powerfulMadonna, whereupon the beam of the gibbet instantly broke, and theworthy individual was restored to society--a very doubtful benefit afterall. On Colonel Bariola and the Duke of Sant' Arpino arriving at thisplace, which is only five miles distant from Mantua, their carriage wasnaturally stopped by the commissaire of the Austrian police, whose dutywas to watch the frontier. Having told him that they had a despatch todeliver either to the military governor of Mantua or to some officersent by him to receive it, the commissaire at once despatched a mountedgendarme to Mantua. Two hours had scarcely elapsed when a carriage droveinto the village of Le Grazie, from which an Austrian major of infantryalighted and hastened to a wooden hut where the two Italian officerswere waiting. Colonel Bariola, who was trained in the Austrian militaryschool of Viller Nashstad, and regularly left the Austrian service in1848, acquainted the newly-arrived major with his mission, which wasthat of delivering the sealed despatch to the general in commandof Mantua and receiving for it a regular receipt. The despatch wasaddressed to the Archduke Albert, commander-in-chief of the Austrianarmy of the South, care of the governor of Mantua. After the major haddelivered the receipt, the three messengers entered into a courteousconversation, during which Colonel Bariola seized an opportunityof presenting the duke, purposely laying stress on the fact of hisbelonging to one of the most illustrious families of Naples. It happenedthat the Austrian major had also been trained in the same school whereColonel Bariola was brought up--a circumstance of which he was remindedby the Austrian officer himself. Three hours had scarcely elapsed fromthe arrival of the two Italian messengers of war at Le Grazie, on theAustrian frontier, when they were already on their way back to theheadquarters of Cremona, where during the night the rumour was currentthat a telegram had been received by Lamarmora from Verona, in whichArchduke Albert accepted the challenge. Victor Emmanuel, whom I saw atBologna yesterday, arrived at Cremona in the morning at two o'clock, butby this time his Majesty's headquarters must have removed more towardsthe front, in the direction of the Oglio. I should not be at allsurprised were the Italian headquarters to be established by to-morroweither at Piubega or Gazzoldo, if not actually at Goito, a village, asyou know, which marks the Italian-Austrian frontier on the Mincio. Thewhole of the first, second, and third Italian corps d'armee are by thistime concentrated within that comparatively narrow space which liesbetween the position of Castiglione, Delle Stiviere, Lorrato, andDesenzano, on the Lake of Garda, and Solferino on one side; Piubega, Gazzoldo, Sacca, Goito, and Castellucchio on the other. Are these threecorps d'armee to attack when they hear the roar of Cialdini's artilleryon the right bank of the Po? Are they destined to force the passageof the Mincio either at Goito or at Borghetto? or are they destined toinvest Verona, storm Peschiera, and lay siege to Mantua? This is morethan I can tell you, for, I repeat it, the intentions of theItalian leaders are enveloped in a veil which nobody--the Austriansincluded--has as yet been able to penetrate. One thing, however, iscertain, and it is this, that as the clock of Victor Emmanuel marksthe last minute of the seventy-second hour fixed by the declarationdelivered at Le Grazie on Wednesday by Colonel Bariola to the Austrianmajor, the fair land where Virgil was born and Tasso was imprisoned willbe enveloped by a thick cloud of the smoke of hundreds and hundreds ofcannon. Let us hope that God will be in favour of right and justice, which, in this imminent and fierce struggle, is undoubtedly on theItalian side. 

CREMONA, June 30, 1866. 

The telegraph will have already informed you of the concentration of theItalian army, whose headquarters have since Tuesday been removed fromRedondesco to Piadena, the king having chosen the adjacent villa ofCigognolo for his residence. The concentrating movements of the royalarmy began on the morning of the 27th, i. E. , three days after the bloodyfait d'armes of the 24th, which, narrated and commented on in differentmanners according to the interests and passions of the narrators, stillremains for many people a mystery. At the end of this letter you willsee that I quote a short phrase with which an Austrian major, nowprisoner of war, portrayed the results of the fierce struggle foughtbeyond the Mincio. This officer is one of the few survivors of aregiment of Austrian volunteers, uhlans, two squadrons of which hehimself commanded. The declaration made by this officer was thoroughlyexplicit, and conveys the exact idea of the valour displayed by theItalians in that terrible fight. Those who incline to overrate theadvantages obtained by the Austrians on Sunday last must not forget thatif Lamarmora had thought proper to persist in holding the positions ofValeggio, Volta, and Goito, the Austrians could not have prevented him. It seems the Austrian general-in-chief shared this opinion, for, afterhis army had carried with terrible sacrifices the positions of MonteVento and Custozza, it did not appear, nor indeed did the Austriansthen give any signs, that they intended to adopt a more active system ofwarfare. It is the business of a commander to see that after a victorythe fruit of it should not be lost, and for this reason the enemy ispursued and molested, and time is not left him for reorganization. Nothing of this happened after the 24th--nothing has been done by theAustrians to secure such results. The frontier which separates the twodominions is now the same as it was on the eve of the declaration ofwar. At Goito, at Monzambano, and in the other villages of the extremefrontier, the Italian authorities are still discharging their duties. Nothing is changed in those places, were we to except that now and thenan Austrian cavalry party suddenly makes its appearance, with the onlyobject of watching the movements of the Italian army. One of theseparties, formed by four squadrons of the Wurtemberg hussar regiment, having advanced at six o'clock this morning on the right bank of theMincio, met the fourth squadron of the Italian lancers of Foggia andwere beaten back, and compelled to retire in disorder towards Goito andRivolta. In this unequal encounter the Italian lancers distinguishedthemselves very much, made some Austrian hussars prisoners, and killed afew more, amongst whom was an officer. The same state of thing, prevailsat Rivottella, a small village on the shores of the Lake of Garda, aboutfour miles distant from the most advanced fortifications of Peschiera. There, as elsewhere, some Austrian parties advanced with the object ofwatching the movements of the Garibaldians, who occupy the hilly ground, which from Castiglione, Eseuta, and Cartel Venzago stretches to Lonato, Salo, and Desenzano, and to the mountain passes of Caffaro. In thelast-named place the Garibaldians came to blows with the Austrians onthe morning of the 28th, and the former got the best of the fray. Hadthe fait d'armes of the 24th, or the battle of Custozza, as ArchdukeAlbrecht calls it, been a great victory for the Austrians, why shouldthe imperial army remain in such inaction? The only conclusion we mustcome to is simply this, that the Austrian losses have been such asto induce the commander-in-chief of the army to act prudently on thedefensive. We are now informed that the charges of cavalry whichthe Austrian lancers and the Hungarian hussars had to sustain nearVillafranca on the 24th with the Italian horsemen of the Aorta andAlessandria regiments have been so fatal to the former that a wholedivision of the Kaiser cavalry must be reorganised before it can bebrought into the field main. 

The regiment of Haller hussars and two of volunteer uhlans were almostdestroyed in that terrible charge. To give you an idea of this cavalryencounter, it is sufficient to say that Colonel Vandoni, at the head ofthe Aorta regiment he commands, charged fourteen times during the shortperiod of four hours. The volunteer uhlans of the Kaiser regiment hadalready given up the idea of breaking through the square formed by thebattalion, in the centre of which stood Prince Humbert of Savoy, when they were suddenly charged and literally cut to pieces by theAlessandria light cavalry, in spite of the long lances they carried. This weapon and the loose uniform they wear makes them resemble theCossacks of the Don. There is one circumstance, which, if I am notmistaken, has not as yet been published by the newspapers, and itis this. There was a fight on the 25th on a place at the north ofRoverbella, between the Italian regiment of Novara cavalry and aregiment of Hungarian hussars, whose name is not known. This regimentwas so thoroughly routed by the Italians that it was pursued as far asVillafranca, and had two squadrons put hors de combat, whilst the Novararegiment only lost twenty-four mounted men. I think it right to mentionthis, for it proves that, the day after the bloody affair of the24th, the Italian army had still a regiment of cavalry operating atVillafranca, a village which lay at a distance of fifteen kilometresfrom the Italian frontier. A report, which is much accredited here, explains how the Italian army did not derive the advantages it mighthave derived from the action of the 24th. It appears that the ordersissued from the Italian headquarters during the previous night, andespecially the verbal instructions given by Lamarmora and Pettiti tothe staff officers of the different army corps, were either forgotten ormisunderstood by those officers. Those sent to Durando, the commanderof the first corps, seem to have been as follows: That he should havemarched in the direction of Castelnuovo, without, however, taking partin the action. Durando, it is generally stated, had strictly adhered tothe orders sent from the headquarters, but it seems that GeneralCerale understood them too literally. Having been ordered to march onCastelnuovo, and finding the village strongly held by the Austrians, whoreceived his division with a tremendous fire, he at once engaged in theaction instead of falling back on the reserve of the first corps andwaiting new instructions. If such was really the case, it is evidentthat Cerale thought that the order to march which he had receivedimplied that he was to attack and get possession of Castelnuovo, hadthis village, as it really was, already been occupied by the enemy. Inmentioning this fact I feel bound to observe that I write it under themost complete reserve, for I should be sorry indeed to charge GeneralCerale with having misunderstood such an important order. 

I see that one of your leading contemporaries believes that it would beimpossible for the king or Lamarmora to say what result they expectedfrom their ill-conceived and worse-executed attempt. The result theyexpected is, I think, clear enough; they wanted to break through thequadrilateral and make their junction with Cialdini, who was readyto cross the Po during the night of the 24th. That the attempt wasill-conceived and worse-executed, neither your contemporary nor thepublic at large has, for the present, the right to conclude, for no oneknows as yet but imperfectly the details of the terrible fight. What iscertain, however, is that General Durando, perceiving that the Ceraledivision was lost, did all that he could to help it. Failing in this heturned to his two aides-de-camp and coolly said to them:

'Now, gentlemen, it is time for you to retire, for I have a duty toperform which is a strictly personal one--the duty of dying. ' On sayingthese words he galloped to the front and placed himself at about twentypaces from a battalion of Austrian sharp-shooters which were ascendingthe hill. In less than five minutes his horse was killed under him, and he was wounded in the right hand. I scarcely need add that hisaides-de-camp did not flinch from sharing Durando's fate. They bravelyfollowed their general, and one, the Marquis Corbetta, was wounded inthe leg; the other, Count Esengrini, had his horse shot under him. Icalled on Durando, who is now at Milan, the day before yesterday. Thougha stranger to him, he received me at once, and, speaking of the actionof the 24th, he only said: 'I have the satisfaction of having done myduty. I wait tranquilly the judgement of history. '

Assuming, for argument's sake, that General Cerale misunderstood theorders he had received, and that, by precipitating his movement, hedragged into the same mistake the whole of Durando's corps--assuming, Isay, this to be the right version, you can easily explain the fact thatneither of the two contending parties are as yet in a position clearlyto describe the action of the 24th. Why did neither the one nor theother display and bring into action the whole forces they could have hadat their disposal? Why so many partial engagements at a great distanceone from the other? In a word, why that want of unity, which, inmy opinion, constituted the paramount characteristic of that bloodystruggle? I may be greatly mistaken, but I am of opinion that neitherthe Italian general-in-chief nor the Austrian Archduke entertainedon the night of the 23rd the idea of delivering a battle on the 24th. There, and only there, lies the whole mystery of the affair. The totalwant of unity of action on the part of the Italians assured to theAustrians, not the victory, but the chance of rendering impossibleLamarmora's attempt to break through the quadrilateral. This no one candeny; but, on the other hand, if the Italian army failed in attainingits object, the failure-owing to the bravery displayed both by thesoldiers and by the generals-was far from being a disastrous orirreparable one. The Italians fought from three o'clock in the morninguntil nine in the evening like lions, showing to their enemies and toEurope that they know how to defend their country, and that they areworthy of the noble enterprise they have undertaken. 

But let me now register one of the striking episodes of that memorableday. It was five o'clock p. M. When General Bixio, whose division held anelevated position not far from Villafranca, was attacked by three strongAustrian brigades, which had debouched at the same time from threedifferent roads, supported with numerous artillery. An officer of theAustrian staff, waving a white handkerchief, was seen galloping towardsthe front of Bixio's position, and, once in the presence of thisgeneral, bade him surrender. Those who are not personally acquaintedwith Bixio cannot form an idea of the impression this bold demandmust have made on him. I have been told that, on hearing the word'surrender, ' his face turned suddenly pale, then flushed like purple, and darting at the Austrian messenger, said, 'Major, if you dare topronounce once more the word surrender in my presence, I tell you--andBixio always keeps his word--that I will have you shot at once. ' TheAustrian officer had scarcely reached the general who had sent him, thanBixio, rapidly moving his division, fell with such impetuosity on theAustrian column, which were ascending the hill, that they were thrownpellmell in the valley, causing the greatest confusion amongst theirreserve. Bixio himself led his men, and with his aides-de-camp, Cavaliere Filippo Fermi, Count Martini, and Colonel Malenchini, allTuscans, actually charged the enemy. I have been told that, on hearingthis episode, Garibaldi said, 'I am not at all surprised, for Bixio isthe best general I have made. ' Once the enemy was repulsed, Bixio wasordered to manoeuvre so as to cover the backward movement of the army, which was orderly and slowly retiring on the Mincio. Assisted by theco-operation of the heavy cavalry, commanded by General Count de Sonnaz, Bixio covered the retreat, and during the night occupied Goito, aposition which he held till the evening of the 27th. 

In consequence of the concentrating movement of the Italian army whichI have mentioned at the beginning of this letter, the fourth army corps(Cialdini's) still holds the line of the Po. If I am rightly informed, the decree for the formation of the fourth army corps was signed by theking yesterday. This corps is that of Garibaldi, and is about 40, 000strong. An officer who has just returned from Milan told me this morningthat he had had an opportunity of speaking with the Austrian prisonerssent from Milan to the fortress of Finestrelle in Piedmont. Amongstthem was an officer of a uhlan regiment, who had all the appearance ofbelonging to some aristocratic family of Austrian Poland. Having beenasked if he thought Austria had really gained the battle on the 24th, heanswered: 'I do not know if the illusions of the Austrian army go so faras to induce it to believe it has obtained a victory--I do not believeit. He who loves Austria cannot, however, wish she should obtain suchvictories, for they are the victories of Pyrrhus!

There is at Verona some element in the Austrian councils of war whichwe don't understand, but which gives to their operations in this presentphase of the campaign just as uncertain and as vacillating a characteras it possessed during the campaign of 1859. On Friday they are stillbeyond the Mincio, and on Saturday their small fleet on the Lake ofGarda steams up to Desenzano, and opens fire against this defencelesscity and her railway station, whilst two battalions of Tyrolesesharp-shooters occupy the building. On Sunday they retire, but earlyyesterday they cross the Mincio, at Goito and Monzambano, and begin tothrow two bridges over the same river, between the last-named placeand the mills of Volta. At the same time they erect batteries at Goito, Torrione, and Valeggio, pushing their reconnoitring parties of hussarsas far as Medole, Castiglione delle Stiviere, and Montechiara, thislast-named place being only at a distance of twenty miles from Brescia. Before this news reached me here this morning I was rather inclined tobelieve that they were playing at hide-and-seek, in the hope that theleaders of the Italian army should be tempted by the game and repeat, for the second time, the too hasty attack on the quadrilateral. Thisnews, which I have from a reliable source, has, however, changed myformer opinion, and I begin to believe that the Austrian Archdukehas really made up his mind to come out from the strongholds ofthe quadrilateral, and intends actually to begin war on the verybattlefields where his imperial cousin was beaten on the 24th June 1859. It may be that the partial disasters sustained by Benedek in Germanyhave determined the Austrian Government to order a more active systemof war against Italy, or, as is generally believed here, that theorganisation of the commissariat was not perfect enough with the armyArchduke Albert commands to afford a more active and offensive action. Be that as it may, the fact is that the news received here from severalparts of Upper Lombardy seems to indicate, on the part of the Austrians, the intention of attacking their adversaries. 

Yesterday whilst the peaceable village of Gazzoldo--five Italian milesfrom Goito--was still buried in the silence of night it was occupied by400 hussars, to the great consternation of the people who were rousedfrom their sleep by the galloping of their unexpected visitors. Thesindaco, or mayor of the village, who is the chemist of the place, was, I hear, forcibly taken from his house and compelled to escort theAustrians on the road leading to Piubega and Redondesco. This worthymagistrate, who was not apparently endowed with sufficient courage tomake at least half a hero, was so much frightened that he was takenill, and still is in a very precarious condition. These inroads arenot always accomplished with impunity, for last night, not far fromGuidizzuolo, two squadrons of Italian light cavalry--Cavalleggieri diLucca, if I am rightly informed--at a sudden turn of the road leadingfrom the last-named village to Cerlongo, found themselves almost faceto face with four squadrons of uhlans. The Italians, without numberingtheir foes, set spurs to their horses and fell like thunder on theAustrians, who, after a fight which lasted more than half an hour, wereput to flight, leaving on the ground fifteen men hors de combat, besidestwelve prisoners. 

Whilst skirmishing of this kind is going on in the flat ground ofLombardy which lies between the Mincio and the Chiese, a more decisiveaction has been adopted by the Austrian corps which is quartered in theItalian Tyrol and Valtellina. A few days ago it was generally believedthat the mission of this corps was only to oppose Garibaldi should hetry to force those Alpine passes. But now we suddenly hear that theAustrians are already masters of Caffaro, Bagolino, Riccomassino, andTurano, which points they are fortifying. This fact explains the lastmovements made by Garibaldi towards that direction. But whilst theAustrians are massing their troops on the Tyrolese Alps the revolutionis spreading fast in the more southern mountains of the Friuli andCadorre, thus threatening the flank and rear of their army inVenetia. This revolutionary movement may not have as yet assumed greatproportions, but as it is the effect of a plan proposed beforehand itmight become really imposing, more so as the ranks of those Italianpatriots are daily swollen by numerous deserters and refractory men ofthe Venetian regiments of the Austrian army. 

Although the main body of the Austrians seems to be still concentratedbetween Peschiera and Verona, I should not wonder if they crossed theMincio either to-day or to-morrow, with the object of occupying theheights of Volta, Cavriana, and Solferino, which, both by their positionand by the nature of the ground, are in themselves so many fortresses. Supposing that the Italian army should decide for action--and there isevery reason to believe that such will be the case--it is not unlikelythat, as we had already a second battle at Custozza, we may have asecond one at Solferino. 

That at the Italian headquarters something has been decided upon whichmay hasten the forward movement of the army, I infer from the fact thatthe foreign military commissioners at the Italian headquarters, who, after the 24th June had gone to pass the leisure of their camp lifeat Cremona, have suddenly made their appearance at Torre Malamberti, a villa belonging to the Marquis Araldi, where Lamarmora's staffis quartered. A still more important event is the presence of BaronRicasoli, whom I met yesterday evening on coming here. The President ofthe Council was coming from Florence, and, after stopping a few hoursat the villa of Cicognolo, where Victor Emmanuel and the royal householdare staying, he drove to Torre Malamberti to confer with GeneralLamarmora and Count Pettiti. The presence of the baron at headquartersis too important an incident to be overlooked by people whose businessis that of watching the course of events in this country. And it shouldbe borne in mind that on his way to headquarters Baron Ricasoli stoppeda few hours at Bologna, where he had a long interview with Cialdini. Nor is this all; for the most important fact I have to report to-day is, that whilst I am writing (five o'clock a. M. ) three corps of the Italianarmy are crossing the Oglio at different points--all three actingtogether and ready for any occurrence. This reconnaissance en force may, as you see, be turned into a regular battle should the Austrians havecrossed the Mincio with the main body of their army during the courseof last night. You see that the air around me smells enough of powder tojustify the expectation of events which are likely to exercise a greatinfluence over the cause of right and justice--the cause of Italy. 

MARCARIA, July 3, Evening. 

Murray's guide will save me the trouble of telling you what this littleand dirty hole of Marcaria is like. The river Oglio runs due south, not far from the village, and cuts the road which from Bozzolo leads toMantua. It is about seven miles from Castellucchio, a town which, sincethe peace of Villafranca, marked the Italian frontier in Lower Lombardy. Towards this last-named place marched this morning the eleventh divisionof the Italians under the command of General Angioletti, only a monthago Minister of the Marine in Lamarmora's Cabinet. Angioletti's divisionof the second corps was, in the case of an attack, to be supported bythe fourth and eighth, which had crossed the Oglio at Gazzuolo fourhours before the eleventh had started from the place from which I amnow writing. Two other divisions also moved in an oblique line fromthe upper course of the above-mentioned river, crossed it on a pontoonbridge, and were directed to maintain their communications withAngioletti's on the left, whilst the eighth and fourth would have formedits right. These five divisions were the avant garde of the main body ofthe Italian army. I am not in a position to tell you the exact line thearmy thus advancing from the Oglio has followed, but I have been toldthat, in order to avoid the possibility of repeating the errors whichoccurred in the action of the 24th, the three corps d'armee have beendirected to march in such a manner as to enable them to present acompact mass should they meet the enemy. Contrary to all expectations, Angioletti's division was allowed to enter and occupy Castellucchiowithout firing a shot. As its vanguard reached the hamlet of Ospedalettoit was informed that the Austrians had left Castellucchio during thenight, leaving a few hussars, who, in their turn, retired on Mantua assoon as they saw the cavalry Angioletti had sent to reconnoitre both thecountry and the borough of Castellucchio. 

News has just arrived here that General Angioletti has been able to pushhis outposts as far as Rivolta on his left, and still farther forward onhis front towards Curtalone. Although the distance from Rivolta to Goitois only five miles, Angioletti, I have been told, could not ascertainwhether the Austrians had crossed the Mincio in force. 

What part both Cialdini and Garibaldi will play in the great strugglenobody can tell. It is certain, however, that these two popularleaders will not be idle, and that a battle, if fought, will assume theproportions of an almost unheard of slaughter. 

GENERAL HEADQUARTERS OF THE ITALIAN ARMY, TORRE MALIMBERTI, July 7, 1866. 

Whilst the Austrian emperor throws himself at the feet of the ruler ofFrance--I was almost going to write the arbiter of Europe--Italy and itsbrave army seem to reject disdainfully the idea of getting Venetia as agift of a neutral power. There cannot be any doubt as to the feelingin existence since the announcement of the Austrian proposal by theMoniteur being one of astonishment, and even indignation so far as Italyherself is concerned. One hears nothing but expressions of this kindin whatever Italian town he may be, and the Italian army is naturallyanxious that she should not be said to relinquish her task whenAustrians speak of having beaten her, without proving that she can beatthem too. There are high considerations of honour which no soldier orgeneral would ever think of putting aside for humanitarian or politicalreasons, and with these considerations the Italian army is fully inaccord since the 24th June. The way, too, in which the Kaiser choseto give up the long-contested point, by ignoring Italy and recognisingFrance as a party to the Venetian question, created great indignationamongst the Italians, whose papers declare, one and all, that a freshinsult has been offered to the country. This is the state of publicopinion here, and unless the greatest advantages are obtained by apremature armistice and a hurried treaty of peace, it is likely tocontinue the same, not to the entire security of public order in Italy. As a matter of course, all eyes are turned towards Villa Pallavicini, two miles from here, where the king is to decide upon either acceptingor rejecting the French emperor's advice, both of which decisions arefraught with considerable difficulties and no little danger. The kingwill have sought the advice of his ministers, besides which that ofPrussia will have been asked and probably given. The matter may bedecided one way or the other in a very short time, or may linger on fordays to give time for public anxiety and fears to be allayed and to calmdown. In the meantime, it looks as if the king and his generals hadmade up their mind not to accept the gift. An attack on the Borgofortetete-de-pont on the right side of the Po, began on 5th at half-pastthree in the morning, under the immediate direction of General Cialdini. The attacking corps was the Duke of Mignano's. All the day yesterday thegun was heard at Torre Malamberti, as it was also this morning betweenten and eleven o'clock. Borgoforte is a fortress on the left side ofthe Po, throwing a bridge across this river, the right end of which isheaded by a strong tete-de-pont, the object of the present attack. This work may be said to belong to the quadrilateral, as it is only anadvanced part of the fortress of Mantua, which, resting upon its rear, is connected to Borgoforte by a military road supported on the Mantuaside by the Pietolo fortress. The distance between Mantua and Borgoforteis only eleven kilometres. The fete-de-poet is thrown upon the Po; itsstructure is of recent date, and it consists of a central part and oftwo wings, called Rocchetta and Bocca di Ganda respectively. The lockhere existing is enclosed in the Rocchetta work. 

Since I wrote you my last letter Garibaldi has been obliged to desistfrom the idea of getting possession of Bagolino, Sant' Antonio, andMonte Suello, after a fight which lasted four hours, seeing that hehad to deal with an entire Austrian brigade, supported by uhlans, sharp-shooters (almost a battalion) and twelve pieces of artillery. These positions were subsequently abandoned by the enemy, and occupiedby Garibaldi's volunteers. In this affair the general received aslight wound in his left leg, the nature of which, however, is so verytrifling, that a few days will be enough to enable him to resume activeduties. It seems that the arms of the Austrians proved to be muchsuperior to those of the Garibaldians, whose guns did very bad service. The loss of the latter amounted to about 100 killed and 200 wounded, figures in which the officers appear in great proportion, owing to theirhaving been always at the head of their men, fighting, charging, andencouraging their comrades throughout. Captain Adjutant-Major Battino, formerly of the regular army, died, struck by three bullets, whilerushing on the Austrians with the first regiment. On abandoning theCaffaro line, which they had reoccupied after the Lodrone encounter--inconsequence of which the Garibaldians had to fall back because of theconcentration following the battle of Custozza--the Austrians haveretired to the Lardara fortress, between the Stabolfes and Tenaramountains, covering the route to Tione and Trento, in the ItalianTyrol. The third regiment of volunteers suffered most, as two of theircompanies had to bear the brunt of the terrible Austrian fire kept upfrom formidable positions. Another fight was taking place almost at thesame time in the Val Camonico, i. E. , north of the Caffaro, and of Roccad'Anfo, Garibaldi's point d'appui. This encounter was sustained in thesame proportions, the Italians losing one of their bravest and bestofficers in the person of Major Castellini, a Milanese, commander ofthe second battalion of Lombardian bersaglieri. Although these and MajorCaldesi's battalion had to fall back from Vezza, a strong position wastaken near Edalo, while in the rear a regiment kept Breno safe. 

Although still at headquarters only two days ago, Baron Ricasoli hasbeen suddenly summoned by telegram from Florence, and, as I hear, has just arrived. This is undoubtedly brought about by the newcomplications, especially as, at a council of ministers presided over bythe baron, a vote, the nature of which is as yet unknown, was taken onthe present state of affairs. As you know very well in England, Italyhas great confidence in Ricasoli, whose conduct, always far fromobsequious to the French emperor, has pleased the nation. He is thoughtto be at this moment the right man in the right place, and with thegreat acquaintance he possesses of Italy and the Italians, and with theco-operation of such an honest man as General Lamarmora, Italy may bepronounced safe, both against friends and enemies. 

From what I saw this morning, coming back from the front, I presume thatsomething, and that something new perhaps, will be attempted to-morrow. So far, the proposed armistice has had no effect upon the dispositionsat general headquarters, and did not stay the cannon's voice. In themiddle of rumours, of hopes and fears, Italy's wish to push on with thewar has as yet been adhered to by her trusted leaders. 

HEADQUARTERS OF THE FIRST ARMY CORPS, PIADENA, July 8, 1866. 

As I begin writing you, no doubt can be entertained that some movementis not only in contemplation at headquarters, but is actually providedto take place to-day, and that it will probably prove to be against theAustrian positions at Borgoforte, on the left bank of the Po. Up tothis time the tete-de-pout on the right side of the river had only beenattacked by General the Duke of Mignano's guns. It would now, on thecontrary, be a matter of cutting the communications between Borgoforteand Mantua, by occupying the lower part of the country around the latterfortress, advancing upon the Valli Veronesi, and getting round thequadrilateral into Venetia. While, then, waiting for further news totell us whether this plan has been carried into execution, and whetherit will be pursued, mindless of the existence of Mantua and Borgoforteon its flanks, one great fact is already ascertained, that the armisticeproposed by the Emperor Napoleon has not been accepted, and that thewar is to be continued. The Austrians may shut themselves up in theirstrongholds, or may even be so obliging as to leave the king theuncontested possession of them by retreating in the same line as theiropponents advance; the pursuit, if not the struggle, the war, if not thebattle, will be carried on by the Italians. At Torre Malamberti, wherethe general headquarters are, no end of general officers were to be seenyesterday hurrying in all directions. I met the king, Generals Brignone, Gavone, Valfre, and Menabrea within a few minutes of one another, andPrince Amadeus, who has entirely recovered from his wound, hadbeen telegraphed for, and will arrive in Cremona to-day. No preciseinformation is to be obtained respecting the intentions of theAustrians, but it is to be hoped for the Italian army, and for thecredit of its generals, that more will be known about them now than wasknown on the eve of the famous 24th of June, and on its very morning. The heroism of the Italians on that memorable day surpasses any possibleidea that can be formed, as it did also surpass all expectations of thecountry. Let me relate you a few out of many heroic facts which onlycome to light when an occasion is had of speaking with those whohave been eyewitnesses of them, as they are no object of magnifiedregimental--orders or, as yet, of well-deserved honours. Italiansoldiers seem to think that the army only did its duty, and that, wherever Italians may fight, they will always show equal valour andfirmness. Captain Biraghi, of Milan, belonging to the general staff, having in the midst of the battle received an order from GeneralLamarmora for General Durando, was proceeding with all possible speedtowards the first army corps, which was slowly retreating before thesuperior forces of the enemy and before the greatly superior number ofhis guns, when, while under a perfect shower of grape and canister, hewas all of a sudden confronted by, an Austrian officer of cavalry whohad been lying in wait for the Italian orderly. The Austrian fires hisrevolver at Biraghi; and wounds him in the arm. Nothing daunted, Biraghi assails him and makes him turn tail; then, following in pursuit, unsaddles him, but has his own horse shot down under him. Biraghidisentangles himself, kills his antagonist, and jumps upon the latter'shorse. This, however, is thrown down also in a moment by a cannon ball, so that the gallant captain has to go back on foot, bleeding, andalmost unable to walk. Talking of heroism, of inimitable endurance, andstrength of soul, what do you think of a man who has his arm entirelycarried away by a grenade, and yet keeps on his horse, firm as arock, and still directs his battery until hemorrhage--and hemorrhagealone--strikes him down at last, dead! Such was the case with aNeapolitan--Major Abate, of the artillery--and his name is worth theglory of a whole army, of a whole war; and may only find a fit companionin that of an officer of the eighteenth battalion of bersaglieri, who, dashing at an Austrian flag-bearer, wrenches the standard out of hishands with his left one, has it clean cut away by an Austrian officerstanding near, and immediately grapples it with his right, until his ownsoldiers carry him away with his trophy! Does not this sound like Greekhistory repeated--does it not look as if the brave men of old hadbeen born again, and the old facts renewed to tell of Italian heroism?Another bersagliere--a Tuscan, by name Orlandi Matteo, belonging to thatheroic fifth battalion which fought against entire brigades, regiments, and battalions, losing 11 out of its 16 officers, and about 300 out ofits 600 men--Orlandi, was wounded already, when, perceiving an Austrianflag, he makes a great effort, dashes at the officer, kills him, takesthe flag, and, almost dying, gives it over to his lieutenant. He isnow in a ward of the San Domenico Hospital in Brescia, and all who havelearnt of his bravery will earnestly hope that he may survive to bepointed out as one of the many who covered themselves with fame on thatday. If it is sad to read of death encountered in the field by so many apatriotic and brave soldiers, it is sadder still to learn that not a fewof them were barbarously killed by the enemy, and killed, too, when theywere harmless, for they lay wounded on the ground. The Sicilian colonel, Stalella, a son-in-law of Senator Castagnetto, and a courageous manamongst the most courageous of men; was struck in the leg by a bullet, and thrown down from his horse while exciting his men to repulse theAustrians, which in great masses were pressing on his thinned column. Although retreating, the regiment sent some of his men to take him away, but as soon as he had been put on a stretcher [he] had to be put down, as ten or twelve uhlans were galloping down, obliging the men to hidethemselves in a bush. When the uhlans got near the colonel, and whenthey had seen him lying down in agony, they all planted their lances inhis body. 

Is not this wanton cruelty--cruelty even unheard of cruelty that nosavage possesses? Still these are facts, and no one will ever dare todeny them from Verona and Vienna, for they are known as much as it wasknown and seen that the uhlans and many of the Austrian soldiers weredrunk when they began fighting, and that alighting from the trains theywere provided with their rations and with rum, and that they foughtwithout their haversacks. This is the truth, and nothing beyond it hasto the honour of the Italians been asserted, whether to the disgraceor credit of their enemies; so that while denying that they ill-treatAustrian prisoners, they are ready to state that theirs are well treatedin Verona, without thinking of slandering and calumniating as the Viennapapers have done. 

This morning Prince Amadeus arrived in Cremona, where a most spontaneousand hearty reception was given him by the population and the NationalGuard. He proceeded at once by the shortest way to the headquarters, sothat his wish to be again at the front when something should be done hasbeen accomplished. This brave young man, and his worthy brother, PrinceHumbert, have won the applause of all Italy, which is justly proud ofcounting her king and her princes amongst the foremost in the field. 

I have just learned from a most reliable source that the Austrians havemined the bridge of Borghetto on the Mincio, so that, should it be blownup, the only two, those of Goito and Borghetto, would be destroyed, andthe Italians obliged to make provisional ones instead. I also hear thatthe Venetian towns are without any garrison, and that most probably allthe forces are massed on two lines, one from Peschiera to Custozza andthe other behind the Adige. 

You will probably know by this time that the garrison of Vienna had onthe 3rd been directed to Prague. The news we receive from Prussia is onthe whole encouraging, inasmuch as the greatly feared armistice has beenrepulsed by King William. Some people here think that France will notbe too hard upon Italy for keeping her word with her ally, and that thebrunt of French anger or disapproval will have to be borne by Prussia. This is the least she can expect, as you know!

It is probable that by to-morrow I shall be able to write you more aboutthe Italo-Austrian war of 1866. 

GONZAGA, July 9, 1866. 

I write you from a villa, only a mile distant from Gonzaga, belongingto the family of the Counts Arrivabene of Mantua. The owners have neverreentered it since 1848, and it is only the fortune of war which hasbrought them to see their beautiful seat of the Aldegatta, never, it isto be hoped for them, to be abandoned again. It is, as you see, 'Mutatumab illo. ' Onward have gone, then, the exiled patriots! onward will gothe nation that owns them! The wish of every one who is compelled toremain behind is that the army, that the volunteers, that the fleet, should all cooperate, and that they should, one and all, land onVenetian ground, to seek for a great battle, to give the army back thefame it deserves, and to the country the honour it possesses. The kingis called upon to maintain the word nobly given to avenge Novara, andwith it the new Austrian insulting proposal. All, it is said, is ready. The army has been said to be numerous; if to be numerous and brave, means to deserve victory, let the Italian generals prove what Italiansoldiers are worthy of. If they will fight, the country will supportthem with the boldest of resolutions--the country will accept adiscussion whenever the Government, having dispersed all fears, willproclaim that the war is to be continued till victory is inscribed onItaly's shield. 

As I am not far from Borgoforte, I am able to learn more than the merecannon's voice can tell me, and so will give you some details of theaction against the tete-de-pont, which began, as I told you in one ofmy former letters, on the 4th. In Gorgoforte there were about 1500Austrians, and, on the night from the 5th to the 6th, they kept upfrom their four fortified works a sufficiently well-sustained fire, theobject of which was to prevent the enemy from posting his guns. Thisfire, however, did not cause any damage, and the Italians were able toplant their batteries. Early on the 6th, the firing began all along theline, the Italian 16-pounders having been the first to open fire. TheItalian right was commanded by Colonel Mattei, the left by ColonelBangoni, who did excellent work, while the other wing was not sosuccessful. The heaviest guns had not yet arrived owing to one ofthose incidents always sure to happen when least expected, so that the40-pounders could not be brought to bear against the forts until laterin the day. The damage done to the works was not great for the moment, but still the advantage had been gained of feeling the strength ofthe enemy's positions and finding the right way to attack them. Theartillerymen worked with great vigour, and were only obliged to desistby an unexpected order which arrived about two p. M. From GeneralCialdini. The attack was, however, resumed on the following day, andthe condition of the Monteggiana and Rochetta forts may be pronouncedprecarious. As a sign of the times, and more especially of the justimpatience which prevails in Italy about the general direction of thearmy movements, it may not be without importance to notice that theItalian press has begun to cry out against the darkness in whicheverything is enveloped, while the time already passed since the 24thJune tells plainly of inaction. It is remarked that the bitter giftmade by Austria of the Venetian provinces, and the suspicious offerof mediation by France, ought to have found Italy in greatly differentcondition, both as regards her political and military position. Italyis, on the contrary, in exactly the same state as when the ArchdukeAlbert telegraphed to Vienna that a great success had been obtained overthe Italian army. These are facts, and, however strong and worthy ofrespect may be the reasons, there is no doubt that an extraordinarydelay in the resumption of hostilities has occurred, and that at thepresent moment operations projected are perfectly mysterious. Somethingis let out from time to time which only serves to make the subsequentabsence of news more and more puzzling. For the present the firstofficial relation of the unhappy fight of the 24th June is published, and is accordingly anxiously scanned and closely studied. It is amatter of general remark that no great military knowledge is required toperceive that too great a reliance was placed upon supposed facts, andthat the indulgence of speculations and ideas caused the waste of somuch precious blood. The prudence characterising the subsequent movesof the Austrians may have been caused by the effects of their opponents'arrangements, but the Italian commanders ought to have avoided theresponsibility of giving the enemy the option to move. 

It is clear that to mend things the utterance of generous and patrioticcries is not sufficient, and that it must be shown that the vigour ofthe body is not at all surpassed by the vigour of the mind. It is alsoclear that many lives might have been spared if there had been greaterproofs of intelligence on the part of those who directed the movement. 

The situation is still very serious. Such an armistice as General vonGablenz could humiliate himself enough to ask from the Prussians hasbeen refused, but another which the Emperor of the French has advisedthem to accept might ultimately become a fact. For Italy, the purelyVenetian question could then also be settled, while the Italian, thenational question, the question of right and honour which the armyprizes so much, would still remain to be solved. 

GONZAGA, July 12, 1866. 

Travelling is generally said to be troublesome, but travelling with andthrough brigades, divisions, and army corps, I can certify to be moreso than is usually agreeable. It is not that Italian officers or Italiansoldiers are in any way disposed to throw obstacles in your way; butthey, unhappily for you, have with them the inevitable cars with theinevitable carmen, both of which are enough to make your blood freeze, though the barometer stands very high. What with their indolence, whatwith their number and the dust they made, I really thought they woulddrive me mad before I should reach Casalmaggiore on my way fromTorre Malamberti. I started from the former place at three a. M. , withbeautiful weather, which, true to tradition, accompanied me allthrough my journey. Passing through San Giovanni in Croce, to which theheadquarters of General Pianell had been transferred, I turned to theright in the direction of the Po, and began to have an idea ofthe wearisome sort of journey which I would have to make up toCasalmaggiore. On both sides of the way some regiments belonging to therear division were still camped, and as I passed it was most interestingto see how busy they were cooking their 'rancio, ' polishing their arms, and making the best of their time. The officers stood leisurely aboutgazing and staring at me, supposing, as I thought, that I was travellingwith some part in the destiny of their country. Here and there somesoldiers who had just left the hospitals of Brescia and Milan made theirway to their corps and shook hands with their comrades, from whom onlyillness or the fortune of war had made them part. They seemed glad tosee their old tent, their old drum, their old colour-sergeant, and alsothe flag they had carried to the battle and had not at any price allowedto be taken. I may state here, en passant, that as many as six flagswere taken from the enemy in the first part of the day of Custozza, andwere subsequently abandoned in the retreat, while of the Italiansonly one was lost to a regiment for a few minutes, when it was quicklyretaken. This fact ought to be sufficient by itself to establish thebravery with which the soldiers fought on the 24th, and the bravery withwhich they will fight if, as they ardently wish; a new occasion is givento them. 

As long as I had only met troops, either marching or camping on theroad, all went well, but I soon found myself mixed with an interminableline of cars and the like, forming the military and the civil train ofthe moving army. Then it was that it needed as much patience to keepfrom jumping out of one's carriage and from chastising the carrettieri, as they would persist in not making room for one, and being as dumb toone's entreaties as a stone. When you had finished with one you had todeal with another, and you find them all as obstinate and as egotisticalas they are from one end of the world to the other, whether it be on theCasalmaggiore road or in High Holborn. From time to time things seemedto proceed all right, and you thought yourself free from furthertrouble, but you soon found out your mistake, as an enormous ammunitioncar went smack into your path, as one wheel got entangled with another, and as imperturbable Signor Carrettiere evidently took delight at afresh opportunity for stoppage, inaction, indolence, and sleep. I sooncame to the conclusion that Italy would not be free when the Austrianshad been driven away, for that another and a more formidable foe--anenemy to society and comfort, to men and horses, to mankind in generalwould have still to be beaten, expelled, annihilated, in the shape ofthe carrettiere. If you employ him, he robs you fifty times over; if youwant him to drive quickly, he is sure to keep the animal from goingat all; if, worse than all, you never think of him, or have just beenplundered by him, he will not move an inch to oblige you. Surely thecholera is not the only pestilence a country may be visited with; and, should Cialdini ever go to Vienna, he might revenge Novara and theSpielberg by taking with him the carrettieri of the whole army. 

At last Casalmaggiore hove in sight, and, when good fortune and thecarmen permitted, I reached it. It was time! No iron-plated Jacobcould ever have resisted another two miles' journey in such company. AtCasalmaggiore I branched off. There were, happily, two roads, and notthe slightest reason or smallest argument were needed to make me choosethat which my cauchemar had not chosen. They were passing the river atCasalmaggiore. I went, of course, for the same purpose, somewhere else. Any place was good enough--so I thought, at least, then. New adventures, new miseries awaited me--some carrettiere, or other, guessing that I wasno friend of his, nor of the whole set of them, had thrown the jattaturaon me. 

I alighted at the Colombina, after four hours' ride, to give thehorses time to rest a little. The Albergo della Colombina was a greatdisappointment, for there was nothing there that could be eaten. Idecided upon waiting most patiently, but most unlike a few cavalryofficers, who, all covered with dust, and evidently as hungry and asthirsty as they could be, began to swear to their hearts' content. In anhour some eggs and some salame, a kind of sausage, were brought up, and quickly disposed of. A young lieutenant of the thirtieth infantryregiment of the Pisa brigade took his place opposite, and we were soonengaged in conversation. He had been in the midst and worst part of thebattle of Custozza, and had escaped being taken prisoner by what seemeda miracle. He told me how, when his regiment advanced on the Monte Croceposition, which he practically described to me as having the form of anEnglish pudding, they were fired upon by batteries both on their flanksand front. The lieutenant added, however, rather contemptuously, thatthey did not even bow before them, as the custom appears to be--thatis, to lie down, as the Austrians were firing very badly. The cross-firegot, however, so tremendous that an order had to be given to keep downby the road to avoid being annihilated. The assault was given, thewhole range of positions was taken, and kept too for hours, untilthe infallible rule of three to one, backed by batteries, grape, andcanister, compelled them to retreat, which they did slowly and in order. It was then that their brigade commander, Major General Rey de Villarey, who, though a native of Mentone, had preferred remaining with his kingfrom going over to the French after the cession, turning to his son, whowas also his aide-de-camp, said in his dialect, 'Now, my son, we mustdie both of us, ' and with a touch of the spurs was soon in front ofthe line and on the hill, where three bullets struck him almost at oncedead. The horse of his son falling while following, his life was spared. My lieutenant at this moment was so overcome with hunger and fatiguethat he fell down, and was thought to be dead. He was not so, however, and had enough life to hear, after the fight was over, the AustrianJagers pass by, and again retire to their original positions, wheretheir infantry was lying down, not dreaming for one moment of pursuingthe Italians. Four of his soldiers--all Neapolitans he heard coming insearch of him, while the bullets still hissed all round; and, as soon ashe made a sign to them, they approached, and took him on their shouldersback to where was what remained of the regiment. It is highly creditableto Italian unity to hear an old Piedmontese officer praise the leviesof the new provinces, and the lieutenant took delight in relating thatanother Neapolitan was in the fight standing by him, and firing as fastas he could, when a shell having burst near him, he disdainfully gave ita look, and did not even seek to save himself from the jattatura. 

The gallant lieutenant had unfortunately to leave at last, and I wasdeprived of many an interesting tale and of a brave man's company. Istarted, therefore, for Viadana, where I purposed passing the Po, theleft bank of which the road was now following parallel with the stream. At Viadana, however, I found no bridge, as the military had demolishedwhat existed only the day before, and so had to look out for information. As I was going about under the porticoes which one meets inalmost all the villages in this neighbourhood, I was struck by the sightof an ancient and beautiful piece of art--for so it was--a Venetianmirror of Murano. It hung on the wall inside the village draper's shop, and was readily shown me by the owner, who did not conceal the pride hehad in possessing it. It was one of those mirrors one rarely meetswith now, which were once so abundant in the old princes' castles andpalaces. It looked so deep and true, and the gilt frame was so light, and of such a purity and elegance, that it needed all my resolution tokeep from buying it, though a bargain would not have been effected veryeasily. The mirror, however, had to be abandoned, as Dosalo, the nearestpoint for crossing the Po, was still seven miles distant. By thistime the sun was out in all its force, and the heat was by no meansagreeable. Then there was dust, too, as if the carrettieri had beenpassing in hundreds, so that the heat was almost unbearable. At last theDosalo ferry was reached, the road leading to it was entered, and thecarriage was, I thought, to be at once embarked, when a drove of oxenwere discovered to have the precedence; and so I had to wait. This undersuch a sun, on a shadeless beach, and with the prospect of having tostay there for two hours at least, was by no means pleasant. It tookthree-quarters of an hour to put the oxen in the boat, it took half anhour to get them on the other shore, and another hour to have the ferryboat back. The panorama from the beach was splendid, the Po appeared inall the mighty power of his waters, and as you looked with the glass atoxen and trees on the other shore, they appeared to be clothed inall the colours of the rainbow, and as if belonging to another world. Several peasants were waiting for the boat near me, talking about thewar and the Austrians, and swearing they would, if possible, annihilatesome of the latter. I gave them the glass to look with, and I imaginedthat they had never seen one before, for they thought it highlywonderful to make out what the time was at the Luzzara Tower, threemiles in a straight line on the other side. The revolver, too, was asubject of great admiration, and they kept turning, feeling, and staringat it, as if they could not make out which way the cartridges were putin. One of these peasants, however, was doing the grand with the others, and once on the subject of history related to all who would hear how hehad been to St. Helena, which was right in the middle of Moscow, whereit was so very cold that his nose had got to be as large as his head. The poor man was evidently mixing one night's tale with that of the nextone, a tale probably heard from the old Sindaco, who is at the same timethe schoolmaster, the notary, and the highest municipal authority in theplace. 

I started in the ferry boat with them at last. While crossing they gotto speak of the priests, and were all agreed, to put it in the mildestway, in thinking extremely little of them, and only differed as to whatpunishment they should like them to suffer. 

On the side where we landed lay heaps of ammunition casks for the corpsbesieging Borgoforte. Others were conveyed upon cars by my friends thecarrettieri, of whom it was decreed I should not be quit for some timeto come. Entering Guastalla I found only a few artillery officers, evidently in charge of what we had seen carried along the route. Guastalla is a neat little town very proud of its statue of DukeFerrante Gonzaga, and the Croce Rossa is a neat little inn, which may beproud of a smart young waiter, who actually discovered that, as I wantedto proceed to Luzzara, a few miles on, I had better stop till nextmorning, I did not take his advice, and was soon under the gate ofLuzzara, a very neat little place, once one of the many possessionswhere the Gonzagas had a court, a palace, and a castle. The arms overthe archway may still be seen, and would not be worth any notice but fora remarkable work of terracotta representing a crown of pines andpine leaves in a wonderful state of preservation. The whole is soartistically arranged and so natural, that one might believe it to beone of Luca della Robbia's works. Luzzara has also a great tower, whichI had seen in the distance from Dosalo, and the only albergo in theplace gives you an excellent Italian dinner. The wine might please oneof the greatest admirers of sherry, and if you are not given featherbeds, the beds are at least clean like the rooms themselves. Here, as itwas getting too dark, I decided upon stopping, a decision which gave meoccasion to see one of the finest sunsets I ever saw. As I looked fromthe albergo I could see a gradation of colours, from the purple red tothe deepest of sea blue, rising like an immense tent from the dark greenof the trees and the fields, here and there dotted with little whitehouses, with their red roofs, while in front the Luzzara Tower rosemajestically in the twilight. As the hour got later the coloursdeepened, and the lower end of the immense curtain graduallydisappeared, while the stars and the planets began shining high above. A peasant was singing in a field near by, and the bells of a church werechiming in the distance. Both seemed to harmonise wonderfully. It was ascene of great loveliness. 

At four a. M. I was up, and soon after on the road to Reggiolo, and thento Gonzaga. Here the vegetation gets to be more luxuriant, and everyinch of ground contributes to the immense vastness of the whole. Natureis here in full perfection, and as even the telegraphic wire hangsleisurely down from tree to tree, instead of being stuck upon poles, you feel that the romantic aspect of the place is too beautiful to beencroached upon. All is peace, beauty, and happiness, all reveals to youthat you are in Italy. 

In Gonzaga, which only a few days ago belonged to the Austrians, theItalian tricolour is out of every window. As the former masters retiredthe new advanced; and when a detachment of Monferrato lancers enteredthe old castle town the joy of the inhabitants seemed to be almostbordering on delirium. The lancers soon left, however. The flag onlyremains. 

July 11. 

Cialdini began passing the Po on the 8th, and crossed at three points, i. E. , Carbonara, Carbonarola, and Follonica. Beginning at three o'clockin the morning, he had finished crossing upon the two first pontoonbridges towards midnight on the 9th. The bridge thrown up at Follonicawas still intact up to seven in the morning on the 10th, but the troopsand the military and the civil train that remained followed the Powithout crossing to Stellata, in the supposed direction of PonteLagoscura. 

Yesterday guns were heard here at seven o'clock in the morning, and upto eleven o'clock, in the direction of Legnano, towards, I think, the Adige. The firing was lively, and of such a nature as to make onesurmise that battle had been given. Perhaps the Austrians have awaitedCialdini under Legnano, or they have disputed the crossing of the Adige. Rovigo was abandoned by the Austrians in the night of the 9th and 10th. They have blown up the Rovigo and Boara fortresses, have destroyed thetete-de-pont on the Adige, and burnt all bridges. They may now seek tokeep by the left side of this river up to Legnano, so as to get underthe protection of the quadrilateral, in which case, if Cialdini cancross the river in time, the shock would be almost inevitable, and wouldbe a reason for yesterday's firing. They may also go by rail to Padua, when they would have Cialdini between them and the quadrilateral. In anycase, if this general is quick, or if they are not too quick for him, according to possible instructions, a collision is difficult to beavoided. 

Baron Ricasoli has left Florence for the camp, and all sorts of rumoursare afloat as to the present state of negotiations as they appearunmistakably to exist. The opinions are, I think, divided in the highcouncils of the Crown, and the country is still anxious to know theresult of this state of affairs. A splendid victory by Cialdini mightat this moment solve many a difficulty. As it is, the war is prosecutedeverywhere except by sea, for Garibaldi's forces are slowly advancing inthe Italian Tyrol, while the Austrians wait for them behind the walls ofLandaro and Ampola. The Garibaldians' advanced posts were, by the latestnews, near Darso. 

The news from Prussia is still contradictory; while the Italian press isunanimous in asking with the country that Cialdini should advance, meet the enemy, fight him, and rout him if possible. Italy's wishes areentirely with him. 

NOALE, NEAR TREVISO, July 17, 1866. 

From Lusia I followed General Medici's division to Motta, where I leftit, not without regret, however, as better companions could not easilybe found, so kind were the officers and jovial the men. They are nowencamped around Padua, and will to-morrow march on Treviso, where theItalian Light Horse have already arrived, if I judge so from theirhaving left Noale on the 15th. From the right I hear that the advancedposts have proceeded as far as Mira on the Brenta, twenty kilometresfrom Venice itself, and that the first army corps is to concentrateopposite Chioggia. This corps has marched from Ferrara straight on toRovigo, which the forward movement of the fourth, or Cialdini's corpsd'armee, had left empty of soldiers. General Pianell has still chargeof it, and Major-General Cadalini, formerly at the head of the Sienabrigade, replaces him in the command of his former division. GeneralPianell has under him the gallant Prince Amadeus, who has entirelyrecovered from his chest wound, and of whom the brigade of Lombardiangrenadiers is as proud as ever. They could not wish for a more skilledcommander, a better superior officer, and a more valiant soldier. Thusthe troops who fought on the 24th June are kept in the second line, while the still fresh divisions under Cialdini march first, as fast asthey can. This, however, is of no avail. The Italian outposts on thePiave have not yet crossed it, for the reason that they must keepdistances with their regiments, but will do so as soon as these getnearer to the river. If it was not that this is always done in regularwarfare, they could beat the country beyond the Piave for a good manymiles without even seeing the shadow of an Austrian. To the simpleprivate, who does not know of diplomatic imbroglios and of politicalconsiderations, this sudden retreat means an almost as sudden retracingof steps, because he remembers that this manoeuvre preceded both theattacks on Solferino and on Custozza by the Austrians. To the officer, however, it means nothing else than a fixed desire not to face theItalian army any more, and so it is to him a source of disappointmentand despondency. He cannot bear to think that another battle isimprobable, and may be excused if he is not in the best of humour whenon this subject. This is the case not only with the officers but withthe volunteers, who have left their homes and the comfort of theirdomestic life, not to be paraded at reviews, but to be sent against theenemy. There are hundreds of these in the regular army-in the cavalryespecially, and the Aosta Lancers and the regiment of Guides are halfcomposed of them. If you listen to them, there ought not to be theslightest doubt or hesitation as to crossing the Isongo and marchingupon Vienna. May Heaven see their wishes accomplished, for, unlesscrushed by sheer force, Italy is quite decided to carry war into theenemy's country. 

The decisions of the French government are looked for here with greatanxiety, and not a few men are found who predict them to be unfavourableto Italy. Still, it is hard for every one to believe that the Frenchemperor will carry things to extremities, and increase the manydifficulties Europe has already to contend with. 

To-day there was a rumour at the mess table that the Austrians hadabandoned Legnano, one of the four fortresses of the quadrilateral. I donot put much faith in it at present, but it is not improbable, as wemay expect many strange things from the Vienna government. It would havebeen much better for them, since Archduke Albert spoke in eulogisticterms of the king, of his sons, and of his soldiers, while relating theaction of the 24th, to have treated with Italy direct, thus securingpeace, and perhaps friendship, from her. But the men who have ruled sodespotically for years over Italian subjects cannot reconcile themselvesto the idea that Italy has at last risen to be a nation, and they eventake slyly an opportunity to throw new insult into her face. You caneasily see that the old spirit is still struggling for empire; that theold contempt is still trying to make light of Italians; and that theold Metternich ideas are still fondly clung to. Does not this deserveanother lesson? Does not this need another Sadowa to quiet downfor ever? Yes; and it devolves upon Italy to do it. If so, let onlyCialdini's army alone, and the day may be nigh at hand when the king maytell the country that the task has been accomplished. 

A talk on the present state of political affairs, and on the peculiarposition of Italy, is the only subject worth notice in a letter from thecamp. Everything else is at a standstill, and the movements of the finearmy Cialdini now disposes of, about 150, 000 men, are no longer full ofinterest. They may, perhaps, have some as regards an attack on Venice, because Austrian soldiers are still garrisoning it, and will be obligedto fight if they are assailed. It is hoped, if such is the case, that the beautiful queen of the Adriatic will be spared a scene ofdevastation, and that no new Haynau will be found to renew the deeds ofBrescia and Vicenza. 

The king has not yet arrived, and it seems probable he will not come forsome time, until indeed the day comes for Italian troops to make theirtriumphal entry into the city of the Doges. 

The heat continues intense, and this explains the slowness in advancing. As yet no sickness has appeared, and it must be hoped that thetroops will be healthy, as sickness tries the morale much more thanhalf-a-dozen Custozzas. 

P. S. --I had finished writing when an officer came rushing into the innwhere I am staying and told me that he had just heard that an Italianpatrol had met an Austrian one on the road out of the village, androuted it. This may or may not be true, but it was must curious to seehow delighted every one was at the idea that they had found 'them' atlast. They did not care much about the result of the engagement, which, as I said, was reported to have been favourable. All that they caredabout was that they were close to the enemy. One cannot despair of anarmy which is animated with such spirits. You would think, from thejoy which brightens the face of the soldiers you meet now about, that avictory had been announced for the Italian arms. 

DOLO, NEAR VENICE, July 20, 1866. 

I returned from Noale to Padua last evening, and late in the night Ireceived the intimation at my quarters that cannon was heard in thedirection of Venice. It was then black as in Dante's hell, and rainingand blowing with violence--one of those Italian storms which seem toawake all the earthly and heavenly elements of creation. There was nochoice for it but to take to the saddle, and try to make for the front. No one who has not tried it can fancy what work it is to find one's wayalong a road on which a whole corps d'amee is marching with an enormousmateriel of war in a pitch dark night. This, however, is what yourspecial correspondent was obliged to do. Fortunately enough, I hadscarcely proceeded as far as Ponte di Brenta when I fell in with anofficer of Cialdini's staff, who was bound to the same destination, namely, Dolo. As we proceeded along the road under a continuous showerof rain, our eyes now and then dazzled by the bright serpent-likeflashes of the lightning, we fell in with some battalion or squadron, which advanced carefully, as it was impossible for them as well as forus to discriminate between the road and the ditches which flank it, forall the landmarks, so familiar to our guides in the daytime, were in onedead level of blackness. So it was that my companion and myself, afterstumbling into ditches and out of them, after knocking our horses' headsagainst an ammunition car, or a party of soldiers sheltered under somebig tree, found ourselves, after three hours' ride, in this village ofDolo. By this time the storm had greatly abated in its violence, andthe thunder was but faintly heard now and then at such a distance asto enable us distinctly to hear the roar of the guns. Our horsescould scarcely get through the sticky black mud, into which the whitesuffocating dust of the previous days had been turned by one night'srain. We, however, made our way to the parsonage of the village, for wehad already made up our minds to ascend the steeple of the church to geta view of the surrounding country and a better hearing of the gunsif possible. After a few words exchanged with the sexton--a staunchItalian, as he told us he was--we went up the ladder of the churchspire. Once on the wooden platform, we could hear more distinctly theboom of the guns, which sounded like the broadsides of a big vessel. Were they the guns of Persano's long inactive fleet attacking some ofBrondolo's or Chioggia's advanced forts? Were the guns those of someAustrian man-of-war which had engaged an Italian ironclad; or were theythe 'Affondatore, ' which left the Thames only a month ago, pitching intoTrieste? To tell the truth, although we patiently waited two long hourson Dolo church spire, when both I and my companion descended we were notin a position to solve either of these problems. We, however, thoughtthen, and still think, they were the guns of the Italian fleet which hadattacked an Austrian fort. 

CIVITA VECCHIA, July 22, 1866. 

Since the departure from this port of the old hospital ship 'Gregeois'about a year ago, no French ship of war had been stationed at CivitaVecchia; but on Wednesday morning the steam-sloop 'Catinat, ' 180men, cast anchor in the harbour, and the commandant immediately ondisembarking took the train for Rome and placed himself in communicationwith the French ambassador. I am not aware whether the Pontificalgovernment had applied for this vessel, or whether the sending it wasa spontaneous attention on the part of the French emperor, but, at anyrate, its arrival has proved a source of pleasure to His Holiness, asthere is no knowing what may happen In troublous times like the present, and it is always good to have a retreat insured. 

Yesterday it was notified in this port, as well as at Naples, thatarrivals from Marseilles would be, until further notice, subjected toa quarantine of fifteen days in consequence of cholera having made itsappearance at the latter place. A sailing vessel which arrived fromMarseilles in the course of the day had to disembark the merchandiseit brought for Civita Vecchia into barges off the lazaretto, where theyellow flag was hoisted over them. This vessel left Marseilles five daysbefore the announcement of the quarantine, while the 'Prince Napoleon'of Valery's Company, passenger and merchandise steamer, which leftMarseilles only one day before its announcement, was admitted thismorning to free pratique. Few travellers will come here by sea now. 

MARSEILLES, July 24. 

Accustomed as we have been of late in Italy to almost hourly bulletinsof the progress of hostilities, it is a trying condition to be suddenlydebarred of all intelligence by finding oneself on board a steamer forthirty-six hours without touching at any port, as was my case in cominghere from Civita Vecchia on board the 'Prince Napoleon. ' But, althoughtelegrams were wanting, discussions on the course of events were rifeon board among the passengers who had embarked at Naples and CivitaVecchia, comprising a strong batch of French and Belgian priestsreturning from a pilgrimage to Rome, well supplied with rosaries andchaplets blessed by the Pope and facsimiles of the chains of St. Peter. Not much sympathy for the Italian cause was shown by these gentlemenor the few French and German travellers who, with three or fourNeapolitans, formed the quarterdeck society; and our Corsican captaintook no pains to hide his contempt at the dilatory proceedings ofthe Italian fleet at Ancona. We know that the Prussian minister, M. D'Usedom, has been recently making strenuous remonstrances at Ferraraagainst the slowness with which the Italian naval and military forceswere proceeding, while their allies, the Prussians, were already nearthe gates of Vienna; and the conversation of a Prussian gentlemanon board our steamer, who was connected with that embassy, plainlyindicated the disappointment felt at Berlin at the rather inefficaciousnature of the diversion made in Venetia, and on the coast of Istria bythe army and navy of Victor Emmanuel. He even attributed to his ministeran expression not very flattering either to the future prospects ofItaly as resulting from her alliance with Prussia, or to the fidelity ofthe latter in carrying out the terms of it. I do not know whether thisgentleman intended his anecdote to be taken cum grano salis, but Icertainly understood him to say that he had deplored to the minister thewant of vigour and the absence of success accompanying the operations ofthe Italian allies of Prussia, when His Excellency replied: 'C'est bienvrai. Ils nous ont tromps; mais que voulez-vous y faire maintenant? Nousaurons le temps de les faire egorger apres. '

It is difficult to suppose that there should exist a preconceivedintention on the part of Prussia to repay the sacrifices hitherto made, although without a very brilliant accompaniment of success, by theItalian government in support of the alliance, by making her ownseparate terms with Austria and leaving Italy subsequently exposed tothe vengeance of the latter, but such would certainly be the inferenceto be drawn from the conversation just quoted. 

It was only on arriving in the port of Marseilles, however, that thefull enmity of most of my travelling companions towards Italy and theItalians was manifested. A sailor, the first man who came on boardbefore we disembarked, was immediately pounced upon for news, andhe gave it as indeed nothing less than the destruction, more or lesscomplete, of the Italian fleet by that of the Austrians. At thisastounding intelligence the Prussian burst into a yell of indignation. 'Fools! blockheads! miserables! Beaten at sea by an inferior force! Isthat the way they mean to reconquer Venice by dint of arms? If ever theydo regain Venetia it will be through the blood of our Brandenburghersand Pomeranians, and not their own. ' During this tirade a little oldBelgian in black, with the chain of St. Peter at his buttonhole by wayof watchguard, capered off to communicate the grateful news to a groupof his ecclesiastical fellow-travellers, shrieking out in ecstasy:

'Rosses, Messieurs! Ces blagueurs d'Italiens ont ete rosses parmer, comme ils avaient ete rosses par terre. ' Whereupon the reverendgentlemen congratulated each other with nods, and winks, and smiles, and sundry fervent squeezes of the hand. The same demonstrations woulddoubtless have been made by the Neapolitan passengers had they belongedto the Bourbonic faction, but they happened to be honest traders withcases of coral and lava for the Paris market, and therefore they merelystood silent and aghast at the fatal news, with their eyes and mouths aswide open as possible. I had no sooner got to my hotel than I inquiredfor the latest Paris journal, when the France was handed me, and Iobtained confirmation in a certain degree of the disaster to the Italianfleet narrated by the sailor, although not quite in the same formidableproportions. 

Before quitting the subject of my fellow-passengers on board the 'PrinceNapoleon' I must mention an anecdote related to me, respecting the stateof brigandage, by a Russian or German gentleman, who told me hewas established at Naples. He was complaining of the dangers he hadoccasionally encountered in crossing in a diligence from Naples toFoggia on business; and then, speaking of the audacity of brigands ingeneral, he told me that last year he saw with his own eyes; in broaddaylight, two brigands walking about the streets of Naples with messagesfrom captured individuals to their relations, mentioning the sums whichhad been demanded for their ransoms. They were unarmed, and in thecommon peasants' dresses, and whenever they arrived at one of the housesto which they were addressed for this purpose, they stopped and opened ahandkerchief which one of them carried in his hand, and took out an ear, examining whether the ticket on it corresponded with the address of thehouse or the name of the resident. There were six ears, all ticketedwith the names of the original owners in the handkerchief, which weregradually dispensed to their families in Naples to stimulate: promptpayment of the required ransoms. On my inquiring how it was that thepolice took no notice of such barefaced operations, my informant told methat, previous to the arrival of these brigand emissaries in town, the chief always wrote to the police authorities warning them againstinterfering with them, as the messengers were always followed by spiesin plain clothes belonging to the band who would immediately reportany molestation they might encounter in the discharge of their delicatemission, and the infallible result of such molestation would be firstthe putting to death of all the hostages held for ransom; and next, the summary execution of several members of gendarmery and police forcecaptured in various skirmishes by the brigands, and held as prisoners ofwar. 

Such audacity would seem incredible if we had not heard and read of somany similar instances of late. 

 ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS:

 A very doubtful benefit Americans forgivingly remember, without mentioning As becomes them, they do not look ahead Charges of cynicism are common against all satirists Fourth of the Georges Here and there a plain good soul to whom he was affectionate Holy images, and other miraculous objects are sold It is well to learn manners without having them imposed on us Men overweeningly in love with their creations Must be the moralist in the satirist if satire is to strike Not a page of his books reveals malevolence or a sneer Petty concessions are signs of weakness to the unsatisfied Statesman who stooped to conquer fact through fiction The social world he looked at did not show him heroes The exhaustion ensuing we named tranquillity Utterance of generous and patriotic cries is not sufficient We trust them or we crush them We grew accustomed to periods of Irish fever

ON THE IDEA OF COMEDY AND OF THE USES OF THE COMIC SPIRIT {1}

[This etext was prepared from the 1897 Archibald Constable and Companyedition by David Price, email ccx074@coventry. Ac. Uk]

Good Comedies are such rare productions, that notwithstanding the wealthof our literature in the Comic element, it would not occupy us longto run over the English list. If they are brought to the test I shallpropose, very reputable Comedies will be found unworthy of theirstation, like the ladies of Arthur's Court when they were reduced to theordeal of the mantle. 

There are plain reasons why the Comic poet is not a frequent apparition;and why the great Comic poet remains without a fellow. A society ofcultivated men and women is required, wherein ideas are current and theperceptions quick, that he may be supplied with matter and an audience. The semi-barbarism of merely giddy communities, and feverish emotionalperiods, repel him; and also a state of marked social inequality of thesexes; nor can he whose business is to address the mind be understoodwhere there is not a moderate degree of intellectual activity. 

Moreover, to touch and kindle the mind through laughter, demands morethan sprightliness, a most subtle delicacy. That must be a natal giftin the Comic poet. The substance he deals with will show him a startlingexhibition of the dyer's hand, if he is without it. People are ready tosurrender themselves to witty thumps on the back, breast, and sides;all except the head: and it is there that he aims. He must be subtleto penetrate. A corresponding acuteness must exist to welcome him. Thenecessity for the two conditions will explain how it is that we counthim during centuries in the singular number. 

'C'est une etrange entreprise que celle de faire rire les honnetesgens, ' Moliere says; and the difficulty of the undertaking cannot beover-estimated. 

Then again, he is beset with foes to right and left, of a characterunknown to the tragic and the lyric poet, or even to philosophers. 

We have in this world men whom Rabelais would call agelasts; that is tosay, non-laughers; men who are in that respect as dead bodies, whichif you prick them do not bleed. The old grey boulder-stone that hasfinished its peregrination from the rock to the valley, is as easilyto be set rolling up again as these men laughing. No collision ofcircumstances in our mortal career strikes a light for them. It is butone step from being agelastic to misogelastic, and the [Greek text whichcannot be reproduced], the laughter-hating, soon learns to dignify hisdislike as an objection in morality. 

We have another class of men, who are pleased to consider themselvesantagonists of the foregoing, and whom we may term hypergelasts; theexcessive laughers, ever-laughing, who are as clappers of a bell, thatmay be rung by a breeze, a grimace; who are so loosely put together thata wink will shake them. 

'... C'est n'estimer rien qu'estioner tout le monde, '

and to laugh at everything is to have no appreciation of the Comic ofComedy. 

Neither of these distinct divisions of non-laughers and over-laugherswould be entertained by reading The Rape of the Lock, or seeing aperformance of Le Tartuffe. In relation to the stage, they have taken inour land the form and title of Puritan and Bacchanalian. For though thestage is no longer a public offender, and Shakespeare has been revivedon it, to give it nobility, we have not yet entirely raised it abovethe contention of these two parties. Our speaking on the theme of Comedywill appear almost a libertine proceeding to one, while the other willthink that the speaking of it seriously brings us into violent contrastwith the subject. 

Comedy, we have to admit, was never one of the most honoured of theMuses. She was in her origin, short of slaughter, the loudest expressionof the little civilization of men. The light of Athene over the head ofAchilles illuminates the birth of Greek Tragedy. But Comedy rolled inshouting under the divine protection of the Son of the Wine-jar, asDionysus is made to proclaim himself by Aristophanes. Our second Charleswas the patron, of like benignity, of our Comedy of Manners, which begansimilarly as a combative performance, under a licence to deride andoutrage the Puritan, and was here and there Bacchanalian beyond theAristophanic example: worse, inasmuch as a cynical licentiousness ismore abominable than frank filth. An eminent Frenchman judges from thequality of some of the stuff dredged up for the laughter of men andwomen who sat through an Athenian Comic play, that they could have hadsmall delicacy in other affairs when they had so little in their choiceof entertainment. Perhaps he does not make sufficient allowance for theregulated licence of plain speaking proper to the festival of the god, and claimed by the Comic poet as his inalienable right, or for the factthat it was a festival in a season of licence, in a city accustomed togive ear to the boldest utterance of both sides of a case. However thatmay be, there can be no question that the men and women who sat throughthe acting of Wycherley's Country Wife were past blushing. Our tenacityof national impressions has caused the word theatre since then to prodthe Puritan nervous system like a satanic instrument; just as one hasknown Anti-Papists, for whom Smithfield was redolent of a sinistersmoke, as though they had a later recollection of the place than thelowing herds. Hereditary Puritanism, regarding the stage, is met, tothis day, in many families quite undistinguished by arrogant piety. Ithas subsided altogether as a power in the profession of morality; but itis an error to suppose it extinct, and unjust also to forget that it hadonce good reason to hate, shun, and rebuke our public shows. 

We shall find ourselves about where the Comic spirit would place us, if we stand at middle distance between the inveterate opponents and thedrum-and-fife supporters of Comedy: 'Comme un point fixe fait remarquerl'emportement des autres, ' as Pascal says. And were there more in thisposition, Comic genius would flourish. 

Our English idea of a Comedy of Manners might be imaged in the person ofa blowsy country girl--say Hoyden, the daughter of Sir Tunbelly Clumsy, who, when at home, 'never disobeyed her father except in the eating ofgreen gooseberries'--transforming to a varnished City madam; with a loudlaugh and a mincing step; the crazy ancestress of an accountably fallendescendant. She bustles prodigiously and is punctually smart in herspeech, always in a fluster to escape from Dulness, as they say the dogson the Nile-banks drink at the river running to avoid the crocodile. Ifthe monster catches her, as at times he does, she whips him to a froth, so that those who know Dulness only as a thing of ponderousness, shallfail to recognise him in that light and airy shape. 

When she has frolicked through her five Acts to surprise you with theinformation that Mr. Aimwell is converted by a sudden death in the worldoutside the scenes into Lord Aimwell, and can marry the lady in thelight of day, it is to the credit of her vivacious nature that she doesnot anticipate your calling her Farce. Five is dignity with a trailingrobe; whereas one, two, or three Acts would be short skirts, anddegrading. Advice has been given to householders, that they shouldfollow up the shot at a burglar in the dark by hurling the pistol afterit, so that if the bullet misses, the weapon may strike and assure therascal he has it. The point of her wit is in this fashion supplementedby the rattle of her tongue, and effectively, according to the testimonyof her admirers. Her wit is at once, like steam in an engine, the motiveforce and the warning whistle of her headlong course; and it vanisheslike the track of steam when she has reached her terminus, nevertroubling the brains afterwards; a merit that it shares with good wine, to the joy of the Bacchanalians. As to this wit, it is warlike. In theneatest hands it is like the sword of the cavalier in the Mall, quick toflash out upon slight provocation, and for a similar office--to wound. Commonly its attitude is entirely pugilistic; two blunt fists rallyingand countering. When harmless, as when the word 'fool' occurs, orallusions to the state of husband, it has the sound of the smack ofharlequin's wand upon clown, and is to the same extent exhilarating. Believe that idle empty laughter is the most desirable of recreations, and significant Comedy will seem pale and shallow in comparison. Ourpopular idea would be hit by the sculptured group of Laughter holdingboth his sides, while Comedy pummels, by way of tickling him. As to ameaning, she holds that it does not conduce to making merry: you mightas well carry cannon on a racing-yacht. Morality is a duenna to becircumvented. This was the view of English Comedy of a sagaciousessayist, who said that the end of a Comedy would often be thecommencement of a Tragedy, were the curtain to rise again on theperformers. In those old days female modesty was protected by a fan, behind which, and it was of a convenient semicircular breadth, theladies present in the theatre retired at a signal of decorum, to peep, covertly askant, or with the option of so peeping, through a prettilyfringed eyelet-hole in the eclipsing arch. 

'Ego limis specto sic per flabellum clanculum. '-TERENCE. 

That fan is the flag and symbol of the society giving us our so-calledComedy of Manners, or Comedy of the manners of South-sea Islanders undercity veneer; and as to Comic idea, vacuous as the mask without the facebehind it. 

Elia, whose humour delighted in floating a galleon paradox and waftingit as far as it would go, bewails the extinction of our artificialComedy, like a poet sighing over the vanished splendour of Cleopatra'sNile-barge; and the sedateness of his plea for a cause condemned even inhis time to the penitentiary, is a novel effect of the ludicrous. Whenthe realism of those 'fictitious half-believed personages, ' as hecalls them, had ceased to strike, they were objectionable company, uncaressable as puppets. Their artifices are staringly naked, and havenow the effect of a painted face viewed, after warm hours of dancing, in the morning light. How could the Lurewells and the Plyants ever havebeen praised for ingenuity in wickedness? Critics, apparently sober, and of high reputation, held up their shallow knaveries for the worldto admire. These Lurewells, Plyants, Pinchwifes, Fondlewifes, Miss Prue, Peggy, Hoyden, all of them save charming Milamant, are dead as lastyear's clothes in a fashionable fine lady's wardrobe, and it must be anexceptionably abandoned Abigail of our period that would look on themwith the wish to appear in their likeness. Whether the puppet show ofPunch and Judy inspires our street-urchins to have instant recourse totheir fists in a dispute, after the fashion of every one of the actorsin that public entertainment who gets possession of the cudgel, is opento question: it has been hinted; and angry moralists have tracedthe national taste for tales of crime to the smell of blood in ournursery-songs. It will at any rate hardly be questioned that it isunwholesome for men and women to see themselves as they are, if theyare no better than they should be: and they will not, when they haveimproved in manners, care much to see themselves as they once were. Thatcomes of realism in the Comic art; and it is not public caprice, but theconsequence of a bettering state. {2} The same of an immoral may be saidof realistic exhibitions of a vulgar society. 

The French make a critical distinction in ce qui remue from ce quiemeut--that which agitates from that which touches with emotion. In therealistic comedy it is an incessant remuage--no calm, merely bustlingfigures, and no thought. Excepting Congreve's Way of the World, whichfailed on the stage, there was nothing to keep our comedy alive onits merits; neither, with all its realism, true portraiture, nor muchquotable fun, nor idea; neither salt nor soul. 

The French have a school of stately comedy to which they can fly forrenovation whenever they have fallen away from it; and their having sucha school is mainly the reason why, as John Stuart Mill pointed out, they know men and women more accurately than we do. Moliere followedthe Horatian precept, to observe the manners of his age and give hischaracters the colour befitting them at the time. He did not paint inraw realism. He seized his characters firmly for the central purposeof the play, stamped them in the idea, and by slightly raising andsoftening the object of study (as in the case of the ex-Huguenot, Dukede Montausier, {3} for the study of the Misanthrope, and, according toSt. Simon, the Abbe Roquette for Tartuffe), generalized upon it so asto make it permanently human. Concede that it is natural for humancreatures to live in society, and Alceste is an imperishable mark ofone, though he is drawn in light outline, without any forcible humancolouring. Our English school has not clearly imagined society; andof the mind hovering above congregated men and women, it has imaginednothing. The critics who praise it for its downrightness, and forbringing the situations home to us, as they admiringly say, cannot butdisapprove of Moliere's comedy, which appeals to the individual mind toperceive and participate in the social. We have splendid tragedies, wehave the most beautiful of poetic plays, and we have literary comediespassingly pleasant to read, and occasionally to see acted. By literarycomedies, I mean comedies of classic inspiration, drawn chiefly fromMenander and the Greek New Comedy through Terence; or else comedies ofthe poet's personal conception, that have had no model in life, and arehumorous exaggerations, happy or otherwise. These are the comedies ofBen Jonson, Massinger, and Fletcher. Massinger's Justice Greedy we canall of us refer to a type, 'with fat capon lined' that has been andwill be; and he would be comic, as Panurge is comic, but only a Rabelaiscould set him moving with real animation. Probably Justice Greedy wouldbe comic to the audience of a country booth and to some of our friends. If we have lost our youthful relish for the presentation of charactersput together to fit a type, we find it hard to put together themechanism of a civil smile at his enumeration of his dishes. Somethingof the same is to be said of Bobadil, swearing 'by the foot of Pharaoh';with a reservation, for he is made to move faster, and to act. The comicof Jonson is a scholar's excogitation of the comic; that of Massinger amoralist's. 

Shakespeare is a well-spring of characters which are saturated with thecomic spirit; with more of what we will call blood-life than is to befound anywhere out of Shakespeare; and they are of this world, but theyare of the world enlarged to our embrace by imagination, and by greatpoetic imagination. They are, as it were--I put it to suit my presentcomparison--creatures of the woods and wilds, not in walled towns, notgrouped and toned to pursue a comic exhibition of the narrower world ofsociety. Jaques, Falstaff and his regiment, the varied troop of Clowns, Malvolio, Sir Hugh Evans and Fluellen--marvellous Welshmen!--Benedictand Beatrice, Dogberry, and the rest, are subjects of a special study inthe poetically comic. 

His Comedy of incredible imbroglio belongs to the literary section. One may conceive that there was a natural resemblance between himand Menander, both in the scheme and style of his lighter plays. HadShakespeare lived in a later and less emotional, less heroical period ofour history, he might have turned to the painting of manners as well ashumanity. Euripides would probably, in the time of Menander, when Athenswas enslaved but prosperous, have lent his hand to the composition ofromantic comedy. He certainly inspired that fine genius. 

Politically it is accounted a misfortune for France that her noblesthronged to the Court of Louis Quatorze. It was a boon to the comicpoet. He had that lively quicksilver world of the animalcule passions, the huge pretensions, the placid absurdities, under his eyes in fullactivity; vociferous quacks and snapping dupes, hypocrites, posturers, extravagants, pedants, rose-pink ladies and mad grammarians, sonneteering marquises, high-flying mistresses, plain-minded maids, inter-threading as in a loom, noisy as at a fair. A simply bourgeoiscircle will not furnish it, for the middle class must have thebrilliant, flippant, independent upper for a spur and a pattern;otherwise it is likely to be inwardly dull as well as outwardly correct. Yet, though the King was benevolent toward Moliere, it is not to theFrench Court that we are indebted for his unrivalled studies of mankindin society. For the amusement of the Court the ballets and farces werewritten, which are dearer to the rabble upper, as to the rabble lower, class than intellectual comedy. The French bourgeoisie of Paris weresufficiently quick-witted and enlightened by education to welcome greatworks like Le Tartuffe, Les Femmes Savantes, and Le Misanthrope, worksthat were perilous ventures on the popular intelligence, big vessels tolaunch on streams running to shallows. The Tartuffe hove into view as anenemy's vessel; it offended, not Dieu mais les devots, as the Prince deConde explained the cabal raised against it to the King. 

The Femmes Savantes is a capital instance of the uses of comedyin teaching the world to understand what ails it. The farce of thePrecieuses ridiculed and put a stop to the monstrous romantic jargonmade popular by certain famous novels. The comedy of the Femmes Savantesexposed the later and less apparent but more finely comic absurdityof an excessive purism in grammar and diction, and the tendency tobe idiotic in precision. The French had felt the burden of this newnonsense; but they had to see the comedy several times before they wereconsoled in their suffering by seeing the cause of it exposed. 

The Misanthrope was yet more frigidly received. Moliere thought it dead. 'I cannot improve on it, and assuredly never shall, ' he said. It is oneof the French titles to honour that this quintessential comedy ofthe opposition of Alceste and Celimene was ultimately understood andapplauded. In all countries the middle class presents the public which, fighting the world, and with a good footing in the fight, knows theworld best. It may be the most selfish, but that is a question leadingus into sophistries. Cultivated men and women, who do not skim the creamof life, and are attached to the duties, yet escape the harsher blows, make acute and balanced observers. Moliere is their poet. 

Of this class in England, a large body, neither Puritan norBacchanalian, have a sentimental objection to face the study of theactual world. They take up disdain of it, when its truths appearhumiliating: when the facts are not immediately forced on them, theytake up the pride of incredulity. They live in a hazy atmosphere thatthey suppose an ideal one. Humorous writing they will endure, perhapsapprove, if it mingles with pathos to shake and elevate the feelings. They approve of Satire, because, like the beak of the vulture, it smellsof carrion, which they are not. But of Comedy they have a shiveringdread, for Comedy enfolds them with the wretched host of the world, huddles them with us all in an ignoble assimilation, and cannot be usedby any exalted variety as a scourge and a broom. Nay, to be an exaltedvariety is to come under the calm curious eye of the Comic spirit, and be probed for what you are. Men are seen among them, and verymany cultivated women. You may distinguish them by a favourite phrase:'Surely we are not so bad!' and the remark: 'If that is human nature, save us from it!' as if it could be done: but in the peculiar Paradiseof the wilful people who will not see, the exclamation assumes thesaving grace. 

Yet should you ask them whether they dislike sound sense, they vow theydo not. And question cultivated women whether it pleases them to beshown moving on an intellectual level with men, they will answer that itdoes; numbers of them claim the situation. Now, Comedy is the fountainof sound sense; not the less perfectly sound on account of the sparkle:and Comedy lifts women to a station offering them free play for theirwit, as they usually show it, when they have it, on the side of soundsense. The higher the Comedy, the more prominent the part they enjoy init. Dorine in the Tartuffe is common-sense incarnate, though palpably awaiting-maid. Celimene is undisputed mistress of the same attribute inthe Misanthrope; wiser as a woman than Alceste as man. In Congreve'sWay of the World, Millamant overshadows Mirabel, the sprightliest malefigure of English comedy. 

But those two ravishing women, so copious and so choice of speech, whofence with men and pass their guard, are heartless! Is it not preferableto be the pretty idiot, the passive beauty, the adorable bundle ofcaprices, very feminine, very sympathetic, of romantic and sentimentalfiction? Our women are taught to think so. The Agnes of the Ecole desFemmes should be a lesson for men. The heroines of Comedy are like womenof the world, not necessarily heartless from being clear-sighted: theyseem so to the sentimentally-reared only for the reason that they usetheir wits, and are not wandering vessels crying for a captain or apilot. Comedy is an exhibition of their battle with men, and that of menwith them: and as the two, however divergent, both look on one object, namely, Life, the gradual similarity of their impressions must bringthem to some resemblance. The Comic poet dares to show us men and womencoming to this mutual likeness; he is for saying that when they drawtogether in social life their minds grow liker; just as the philosopherdiscerns the similarity of boy and girl, until the girl is marched awayto the nursery. Philosopher and Comic poet are of a cousinship in theeye they cast on life: and they are equally unpopular with our wilfulEnglish of the hazy region and the ideal that is not to be disturbed. 

Thus, for want of instruction in the Comic idea, we lose a largeaudience among our cultivated middle class that we should expect tosupport Comedy. The sentimentalist is as averse as the Puritan and asthe Bacchanalian. 

Our traditions are unfortunate. The public taste is with the idlelaughers, and still inclines to follow them. It may be shown by ananalysis of Wycherley's Plain Dealer, a coarse prose adaption of theMisanthrope, stuffed with lumps of realism in a vulgarized theme tohit the mark of English appetite, that we have in it the keynote of theComedy of our stage. It is Moliere travestied, with the hoof to hisfoot and hair on the pointed tip of his ear. And how difficult it is forwriters to disentangle themselves from bad traditions is noticeablewhen we find Goldsmith, who had grave command of the Comic in narrative, producing an elegant farce for a Comedy; and Fielding, who was a masterof the Comic both in narrative and in dialogue, not even approaching tothe presentable in farce. 

These bad traditions of Comedy affect us not only on the stage, but inour literature, and may be tracked into our social life. They are theground of the heavy moralizings by which we are outwearied, about Lifeas a Comedy, and Comedy as a jade, {4} when popular writers, consciousof fatigue in creativeness, desire to be cogent in a modish cynicism:perversions of the idea of life, and of the proper esteem for thesociety we have wrested from brutishness, and would carry higher. Stockimages of this description are accepted by the timid and the sensitive, as well as by the saturnine, quite seriously; for not many lookabroad with their own eyes, fewer still have the habit of thinkingfor themselves. Life, we know too well, is not a Comedy, but somethingstrangely mixed; nor is Comedy a vile mask. The corrupted importationfrom France was noxious; a noble entertainment spoilt to suit thewretched taste of a villanous age; and the later imitations of it, partly drained of its poison and made decorous, became tiresome, notwithstanding their fun, in the perpetual recurring of the samesituations, owing to the absence of original study and vigour ofconception. Scene v. Act 2 of the Misanthrope, owing, no doubt, to thefact of our not producing matter for original study, is repeated insuccession by Wycherley, Congreve, and Sheridan, and as it is at secondhand, we have it done cynically--or such is the tone; in the manner of'below stairs. ' Comedy thus treated may be accepted as a version of theordinary worldly understanding of our social life; at least, in accordwith the current dicta concerning it. The epigrams can be made; butit is uninstructive, rather tending to do disservice. Comedy justlytreated, as you find it in Moliere, whom we so clownishly mishandled, the Comedy of Moliere throws no infamous reflection upon life. It isdeeply conceived, in the first place, and therefore it cannot be impure. Meditate on that statement. Never did man wield so shrieking ascourge upon vice, but his consummate self-mastery is not shaken whileadministering it. Tartuffe and Harpagon, in fact, are made each to whiphimself and his class, the false pietists, and the insanely covetous. Moliere has only set them in motion. He strips Folly to the skin, displays the imposture of the creature, and is content to offer herbetter clothing, with the lesson Chrysale reads to Philaminte andBelise. He conceives purely, and he writes purely, in the simplestlanguage, the simplest of French verse. The source of his wit is clearreason: it is a fountain of that soil; and it springs to vindicatereason, common-sense, rightness and justice; for no vain purpose ever. The wit is of such pervading spirit that it inspires a pun with meaningand interest. {5} His moral does not hang like a tail, or preach fromone character incessantly cocking an eye at the audience, as in recentrealistic French Plays: but is in the heart of his work, throbbingwith every pulsation of an organic structure. If Life is likened to thecomedy of Moliere, there is no scandal in the comparison. 

Congreve's Way of the World is an exception to our other comedies, hisown among them, by virtue of the remarkable brilliancy of the writing, and the figure of Millamant. The comedy has no idea in it, beyond thestale one, that so the world goes; and it concludes with the jadeddiscovery of a document at a convenient season for the descent of thecurtain. A plot was an afterthought with Congreve. By the help of awooden villain (Maskwell) marked Gallows to the flattest eye, he getsa sort of plot in The Double Dealer. {6} His Way of the World mightbe called The Conquest of a Town Coquette, and Millamant is a perfectportrait of a coquette, both in her resistance to Mirabel and the mannerof her surrender, and also in her tongue. The wit here is not so salientas in certain passages of Love for Love, where Valentine feigns madnessor retorts on his father, or Mrs. Frail rejoices in the harmlessness ofwounds to a woman's virtue, if she 'keeps them from air. ' In The Wayof the World, it appears less prepared in the smartness, and is morediffused in the more characteristic style of the speakers. Here, however, as elsewhere, his famous wit is like a bully-fencer, notashamed to lay traps for its exhibition, transparently petulant forthe train between certain ordinary words and the powder-magazine of theimproprieties to be fired. Contrast the wit of Congreve with Moliere's. That of the first is a Toledo blade, sharp, and wonderfully supple forsteel; cast for duelling, restless in the scabbard, being so pretty whenout of it. To shine, it must have an adversary. Moliere's wit is like arunning brook, with innumerable fresh lights on it at every turn of thewood through which its business is to find a way. It does not run insearch of obstructions, to be noisy over them; but when dead leavesand viler substances are heaped along the course, its natural song isheightened. Without effort, and with no dazzling flashes of achievement, it is full of healing, the wit of good breeding, the wit of wisdom. 

'Genuine humour and true wit, ' says Landor, {7} 'require a sound andcapacious mind, which is always a grave one. Rabelais and La Fontaineare recorded by their countrymen to have been reveurs. Few men have beengraver than Pascal. Few men have been wittier. '

To apply the citation of so great a brain as Pascal's to our countrymanwould be unfair. Congreve had a certain soundness of mind; of capacity, in the sense intended by Landor, he had little. Judging him by his wit, he performed some happy thrusts, and taking it for genuine, it is asurface wit, neither rising from a depth nor flowing from a spring. 

'On voit qu'il se travaille e dire de bons mots. '

He drives the poor hack word, 'fool, ' as cruelly to the market for witas any of his competitors. Here is an example, that has been held up foreulogy:

WITWOUD: He has brought me a letter from the fool my brother, etc. Etc. 

MIRABEL: A fool, and your brother, Witwoud?

WITWOUD: Ay, ay, my half-brother. My half-brother he is; no nearer, uponmy honour. 

MIRABEL: Then 'tis possible he may be but half a fool. 

By evident preparation. This is a sort of wit one remembers to haveheard at school, of a brilliant outsider; perhaps to have been guiltyof oneself, a trifle later. It was, no doubt, a blaze of intellectualfireworks to the bumpkin squire, who came to London to go to the theatreand learn manners. 

Where Congreve excels all his English rivals is in his literary force, and a succinctness of style peculiar to him. He had correct judgement, a correct ear, readiness of illustration within a narrow range, insnapshots of the obvious at the obvious, and copious language. Hehits the mean of a fine style and a natural in dialogue. He is atonce precise and voluble. If you have ever thought upon style you willacknowledge it to be a signal accomplishment. In this he is a classic, and is worthy of treading a measure with Moliere. The Way of the Worldmay be read out currently at a first glance, so sure are the accents ofthe emphatic meaning to strike the eye, perforce of the crispness andcunning polish of the sentences. You have not to look over them beforeyou confide yourself to him; he will carry you safe. Sheridan imitated, but was far from surpassing him. The flow of boudoir Billingsgate inLady Wishfort is unmatched for the vigour and pointedness of the tongue. It spins along with a final ring, like the voice of Nature in a fury, and is, indeed, racy eloquence of the elevated fishwife. 

Millamant is an admirable, almost a lovable heroine. It is a piece ofgenius in a writer to make a woman's manner of speech portray her. You feel sensible of her presence in every line of her speaking. The stipulations with her lover in view of marriage, her fine lady'sdelicacy, and fine lady's easy evasions of indelicacy, coquettishairs, and playing with irresolution, which in a common maid would bebashfulness, until she submits to 'dwindle into a wife, ' as she says, form a picture that lives in the frame, and is in harmony with Mirabel'sdescription of her:

'Here she comes, i' faith, full sail, with her fan spread, and herstreamers out, and a shoal of fools for tenders. '

And, after an interview:

'Think of you! To think of a whirlwind, though 'twere in a whirlwind, were a case of more steady contemplation, a very tranquillity of mindand mansion. '

There is a picturesqueness, as of Millamant and no other, in her voice, when she is encouraged to take Mirabel by Mrs. Fainall, who is 'sure shehas a mind to him':

MILLAMANT: Are you? I think I have--and the horrid man looks as if hethought so too, etc. Etc. 

One hears the tones, and sees the sketch and colour of the whole scenein reading it. 

Celimene is behind Millamant in vividness. An air of bewitchingwhimsicality hovers over the graces of this Comic heroine, like thelively conversational play of a beautiful mouth. 

But in wit she is no rival of Celimene. What she utters adds to herpersonal witchery, and is not further memorable. She is a flashingportrait, and a type of the superior ladies who do not think, not ofthose who do. In representing a class, therefore, it is a lower class, in the proportion that one of Gainsborough's full-length aristocraticwomen is below the permanent impressiveness of a fair Venetian head. 

Millamant side by side with Celimene is an example of how far therealistic painting of a character can be carried to win our favour; andof where it falls short. Celimene is a woman's mind in movement, armedwith an ungovernable wit; with perspicacious clear eyes for the world, and a very distinct knowledge that she belongs to the world, and ismost at home in it. She is attracted to Alceste by her esteem for hishonesty; she cannot avoid seeing where the good sense of the man isdiseased. 

Rousseau, in his letter to D'Alembert on the subject of the Misanthrope, discusses the character of Alceste, as though Moliere had put himforth for an absolute example of misanthropy; whereas Alceste is only amisanthrope of the circle he finds himself placed in: he has a touchingfaith in the virtue residing in the country, and a critical love ofsweet simpleness. Nor is he the principal person of the comedy to whichhe gives a name. He is only passively comic. Celimene is the activespirit. While he is denouncing and railing, the trial is imposed uponher to make the best of him, and control herself, as much as a wittywoman, eagerly courted, can do. By appreciating him she practicallyconfesses her faultiness, and she is better disposed to meet himhalf. Way than he is to bend an inch: only she is une ame de vingt ans, the world is pleasant, and if the gilded flies of the Court are silly, uncompromising fanatics have their ridiculous features as well. Can sheabandon the life they make agreeable to her, for a man who will not beguided by the common sense of his class; and who insists on plunginginto one extreme--equal to suicide in her eyes--to avoid another? Thatis the comic question of the Misanthrope. Why will he not continue tomix with the world smoothly, appeased by the flattery of her secret andreally sincere preference of him, and taking his revenge in satire ofit, as she does from her own not very lofty standard, and will by and bydo from his more exalted one?

Celimene is worldliness: Alceste is unworldliness. It does not quiteimply unselfishness; and that is perceived by her shrewd head. Still heis a very uncommon figure in her circle, and she esteems him, l'hommeaux rubans verts, 'who sometimes diverts but more often horribly vexesher, ' as she can say of him when her satirical tongue is on the run. Unhappily the soul of truth in him, which wins her esteem, refuses tobe tamed, or silent, or unsuspicious, and is the perpetual obstacle totheir good accord. He is that melancholy person, the critic of everybodysave himself; intensely sensitive to the faults of others, wounded bythem; in love with his own indubitable honesty, and with his ideal ofthe simpler form of life befitting it: qualities which constitute thesatirist. He is a Jean Jacques of the Court. His proposal to Celimenewhen he pardons her, that she should follow him in flying humankind, andhis frenzy of detestation of her at her refusal, are thoroughly in themood of Jean Jacques. He is an impracticable creature of a pricelessvirtue; but Celimene may feel that to fly with him to the desert: thatis from the Court to the country

'Ou d'etre homme d'honneur on ait la liberte, '

she is likely to find herself the companion of a starving satirist, likethat poor princess who ran away with the waiting-man, and when both werehungry in the forest, was ordered to give him flesh. She is a fieffeecoquette, rejoicing in her wit and her attractions, and distinguished byher inclination for Alceste in the midst of her many other lovers;only she finds it hard to cut them off--what woman with a train doesnot?--and when the exposure of her naughty wit has laid her undertheir rebuke, she will do the utmost she can: she will give her hand tohonesty, but she cannot quite abandon worldliness. She would be unwiseif she did. 

The fable is thin. Our pungent contrivers of plots would see noindication of life in the outlines. The life of the comedy is in theidea. As with the singing of the sky-lark out of sight, you must lovethe bird to be attentive to the song, so in this highest flight ofthe Comic Muse, you must love pure Comedy warmly to understand theMisanthrope: you must be receptive of the idea of Comedy. And to loveComedy you must know the real world, and know men and women well enoughnot to expect too much of them, though you may still hope for good. 

Menander wrote a comedy called Misogynes, said to have been the mostcelebrated of his works. This misogynist is a married man, according tothe fragment surviving, and is a hater of women through hatred of hiswife. He generalizes upon them from the example of this lamentableadjunct of his fortunes, and seems to have got the worst of it in thecontest with her, which is like the issue in reality, in the politeworld. He seems also to have deserved it, which may be as true to thecopy. But we are unable to say whether the wife was a good voice of hersex: or how far Menander in this instance raised the idea of womanfrom the mire it was plunged into by the comic poets, or rather satiricdramatists, of the middle period of Greek Comedy preceding him andthe New Comedy, who devoted their wit chiefly to the abuse, and fora diversity, to the eulogy of extra-mural ladies of conspicuous fame. Menander idealized them without purposely elevating. He satirized acertain Thais, and his Thais of the Eunuchus of Terence is neitherprofessionally attractive nor repulsive; his picture of the twoAndrians, Chrysis and her sister, is nowhere to be matched fortenderness. But the condition of honest women in his day did not permitof the freedom of action and fencing dialectic of a Celimene, andconsequently it is below our mark of pure Comedy. 

Sainte-Beuve conjures up the ghost of Menander, saying: For the love ofme love Terence. It is through love of Terence that moderns are able tolove Menander; and what is preserved of Terence has not apparentlygiven us the best of the friend of Epicurus. [Greek text which cannot bereproduced] the lover taken in horror, and [Greek text] the damsel shornof her locks, have a promising sound for scenes of jealousy and a toomasterful display of lordly authority, leading to regrets, of thekind known to intemperate men who imagined they were fighting with theweaker, as the fragments indicate. 

Of the six comedies of Terence, four are derived from Menander; two, the Hecyra and the Phormio, from Apollodorus. These two are inferior incomic action and the peculiar sweetness of Menander to the Andria, theAdelphi, the Heautontimorumenus, and the Eunuchus: but Phormio is a moredashing and amusing convivial parasite than the Gnatho of thelast-named comedy. There were numerous rivals of whom we know next tonothing--except by the quotations of Athenaeus and Plutarch, and theGreek grammarians who cited them to support a dictum--in this as in thepreceding periods of comedy in Athens, for Menander's plays are countedby many scores, and they were crowned by the prize only eight times. Thefavourite poet with critics, in Greece as in Rome, was Menander; andif some of his rivals here and there surpassed him in comic force, andout-stripped him in competition by an appositeness to the occasion thathad previously in the same way deprived the genius of Aristophanes ofits due reward in Clouds and Birds, his position as chief of the comicpoets of his age was unchallenged. Plutarch very unnecessarily dragsAristophanes into a comparison with him, to the confusion of the olderpoet. Their aims, the matter they dealt in, and the times, were quitedissimilar. But it is no wonder that Plutarch, writing when Athenianbeauty of style was the delight of his patrons, should rank Menanderat the highest. In what degree of faithfulness Terence copied Menander, whether, as he states of the passage in the Adelphi taken from Diphilus, verbum de verbo in the lovelier scenes--the description of the lastwords of the dying Andrian, and of her funeral, for instance--remainsconjectural. For us Terence shares with his master the praise of anamenity that is like Elysian speech, equable and ever gracious; like theface of the Andrian's young sister:

'Adeo modesto, adeo venusto, ut nihil supra. '

The celebrated 'flens quam familiariter, ' of which the closestrendering grounds hopelessly on harsh prose, to express the sorrowfulconfidingness of a young girl who has lost her sister and dearestfriend, and has but her lover left to her; 'she turned and flung herselfon his bosom, weeping as though at home there': this our instincttells us must be Greek, though hardly finer in Greek. Certain lines ofTerence, compared with the original fragments, show that he embellishedthem; but his taste was too exquisite for him to do other than devotehis genius to the honest translation of such pieces as the above. Menander, then; with him, through the affinity of sympathy, Terence; andShakespeare and Moliere have this beautiful translucency of language:and the study of the comic poets might be recommended, if for that only. 

A singular ill fate befell the writings of Menander. What we have of himin Terence was chosen probably to please the cultivated Romans; {8} andis a romantic play with a comic intrigue, obtained in two instances, theAndria and the Eunuchus, by rolling a couple of his originals into one. The titles of certain of the lost plays indicate the comic illuminingcharacter; a Self-pitier, a Self-chastiser, an Ill-tempered man, aSuperstitious, an Incredulous, etc. , point to suggestive domesticthemes. 

Terence forwarded manuscript translations from Greece, that sufferedshipwreck; he, who could have restored the treasure, died on the wayhome. The zealots of Byzantium completed the work of destruction. So wehave the four comedies of Terence, numbering six of Menander, with a fewsketches of plots--one of them, the Thesaurus, introduces a miser, whomwe should have liked to contrast with Harpagon--and a multitude of smallfragments of a sententious cast, fitted for quotation. Enough remains tomake his greatness felt. 

Without undervaluing other writers of Comedy, I think it may be saidthat Menander and Moliere stand alone specially as comic poets of thefeelings and the idea. In each of them there is a conception ofthe Comic that refines even to pain, as in the Menedemus of theHeautontimorumenus, and in the Misanthrope. Menander and Moliere havegiven the principal types to Comedy hitherto. The Micio and Demea of theAdelphi, with their opposing views of the proper management of youth, are still alive; the Sganarelles and Arnolphes of the Ecole des Marisand the Ecole des Femmes, are not all buried. Tartuffe is the father ofthe hypocrites; Orgon of the dupes; Thraso, of the braggadocios; Alcesteof the 'Manlys'; Davus and Syrus of the intriguing valets, the Scapinsand Figaros. Ladies that soar in the realms of Rose-Pink, whose languagewears the nodding plumes of intellectual conceit, are traceable toPhilaminte and Belise of the Femmes Savantes: and the mordant wittywomen have the tongue of Celimene. The reason is, that these two poetsidealized upon life: the foundation of their types is real and in thequick, but they painted with spiritual strength, which is the solid inArt. 

The idealistic conceptions of Comedy gives breadth and opportunities ofdaring to Comic genius, and helps to solve the difficulties it creates. How, for example, shall an audience be assured that an evident andmonstrous dupe is actually deceived without being an absolute fool? InLe Tartuffe the note of high Comedy strikes when Orgon on his returnhome hears of his idol's excellent appetite. 'Le pauvre homme!' heexclaims. He is told that the wife of his bosom has been unwell. 'EtTartuffe?' he asks, impatient to hear him spoken of, his mind suffusedwith the thought of Tartuffe, crazy with tenderness, and again hecroons, 'Le pauvre homme!' It is the mother's cry of pitying delight ata nurse's recital of the feats in young animal gluttony of her cherishedinfant. After this masterstroke of the Comic, you not only put faith inOrgon's roseate prepossession, you share it with him by comic sympathy, and can listen with no more than a tremble of the laughing muscles tothe instance he gives of the sublime humanity of Tartuffe:

'Un rien presque suffit pour le scandaliser, Jusque-le, qu'il se vintl'autre jour accuser D'avoir pris une puce en faisant sa priere, Et del'avoir tuee avec trop de colere. '

And to have killed it too wrathfully! Translating Moliere is likehumming an air one has heard performed by an accomplished violinist ofthe pure tones without flourish. 

Orgon, awakening to find another dupe in Madame Pernelle, incredulousof the revelations which have at last opened his own besotted eyes, is ascene of the double Comic, vivified by the spell previously cast on themind. There we feel the power of the poet's creation; and in the sharplight of that sudden turn the humanity is livelier than any realisticwork can make it. 

Italian Comedy gives many hints for a Tartuffe; but they may be found inBoccaccio, as well as in Machiavelli's Mandragola. The Frate Timoteo ofthis piece is only a very oily friar, compliantly assisting an intriguewith ecclesiastical sophisms (to use the mildest word) for payment. Frate Timoteo has a fine Italian priestly pose. 

DONNA: Credete voi, che'l Turco passi questo anno in Italia?

F. TIM. : Se voi non fate orazione, si. 

Priestly arrogance and unctuousness, and trickeries and casuistries, cannot be painted without our discovering a likeness in the long Italiangallery. Goldoni sketched the Venetian manners of the decadence of theRepublic with a French pencil, and was an Italian Scribe in style. 

The Spanish stage is richer in such Comedies as that which furnished theidea of the Menteur to Corneille. But you must force yourself to believethat this liar is not forcing his vein when he piles lie upon lie. Thereis no preceding touch to win the mind to credulity. Spanish Comedy isgenerally in sharp outline, as of skeletons; in quick movement, as ofmarionnettes. The Comedy might be performed by a troop of the corpsde ballet; and in the recollection of the reading it resolves to ananimated shuffle of feet. It is, in fact, something other than the trueidea of Comedy. Where the sexes are separated, men and women grow, asthe Portuguese call it, affaimados of one another, famine-stricken; andall the tragic elements are on the stage. Don Juan is a comic characterthat sends souls flying: nor does the humour of the breaking of a dozenwomen's hearts conciliate the Comic Muse with the drawing of blood. 

German attempts at Comedy remind one vividly of Heine's image of hiscountry in the dancing of Atta Troll. Lessing tried his hand at it, witha sobering effect upon readers. The intention to produce the reverseeffect is just visible, and therein, like the portly graces of the poorold Pyrenean Bear poising and twirling on his right hind-leg and hisleft, consists the fun. Jean Paul Richter gives the best edition of theGerman Comic in the contrast of Siebenkas with his Lenette. A light ofthe Comic is in Goethe; enough to complete the splendid figure of theman, but no more. 

The German literary laugh, like the timed awakenings of theirBarbarossa in the hollows of the Untersberg, is infrequent, and rathermonstrous--never a laugh of men and women in concert. It comes ofunrefined abstract fancy, grotesque or grim, or gross, like the peculiarhumours of their little earthmen. Spiritual laughter they have not yetattained to: sentimentalism waylays them in the flight. Here and therea Volkslied or Marchen shows a national aptitude for stout animallaughter; and we see that the literature is built on it, which ishopeful so far; but to enjoy it, to enter into the philosophy of theBroad Grin, that seems to hesitate between the skull and the embryo, andreaches its perfection in breadth from the pulling of two square fingersat the corners of the mouth, one must have aid of 'the good Rhine wine, 'and be of German blood unmixed besides. This treble-Dutch lumbersomenessof the Comic spirit is of itself exclusive of the idea of Comedy, andthe poor voice allowed to women in German domestic life will accountfor the absence of comic dialogues reflecting upon life in that land. Ishall speak of it again in the second section of this lecture. 

Eastward you have total silence of Comedy among a people intenselysusceptible to laughter, as the Arabian Nights will testify. Where theveil is over women's-faces, you cannot have society, without which thesenses are barbarous and the Comic spirit is driven to the gutters ofgrossness to slake its thirst. Arabs in this respect are worse thanItalians--much worse than Germans; just in the degree that their systemof treating women is worse. 

M. Saint-Marc Girardin, the excellent French essayist and masterof critical style, tells of a conversation he had once with an Arabgentleman on the topic of the different management of these difficultcreatures in Orient and in Occident: and the Arab spoke in praise ofmany good results of the greater freedom enjoyed by Western ladies, andthe charm of conversing with them. He was questioned why his countrymentook no measures to grant them something of that kind of liberty. Hejumped out of his individuality in a twinkling, and entered into thesentiments of his race, replying, from the pinnacle of a splendidconceit, with affected humility of manner: 'YOU can look on them withoutperturbation--but WE!'... And after this profoundly comic interjection, he added, in deep tones, 'The very face of a woman!' Our representativeof temperate notions demurely consented that the Arab's pride ofinflammability should insist on the prudery of the veil as thecivilizing medium of his race. 

There has been fun in Bagdad. But there never will be civilization whereComedy is not possible; and that comes of some degree of social equalityof the sexes. I am not quoting the Arab to exhort and disturb thesomnolent East; rather for cultivated women to recognize that the ComicMuse is one of their best friends. They are blind to their interestsin swelling the ranks of the sentimentalists. Let them look with theirclearest vision abroad and at home. They will see that where they haveno social freedom, Comedy is absent: where they are household drudges, the form of Comedy is primitive: where they are tolerably independent, but uncultivated, exciting melodrama takes its place and a sentimentalversion of them. Yet the Comic will out, as they would know if theylistened to some of the private conversations of men whose mindsare undirected by the Comic Muse: as the sentimental man, to hisastonishment, would know likewise, if he in similar fashion couldreceive a lesson. But where women are on the road to an equal footingwith men, in attainments and in liberty--in what they have wonfor themselves, and what has been granted them by a faircivilization--there, and only waiting to be transplanted from life tothe stage, or the novel, or the poem, pure Comedy flourishes, and is, as it would help them to be, the sweetest of diversions, the wisest ofdelightful companions. 

Now, to look about us in the present time, I think it will beacknowledged that in neglecting the cultivation of the Comic idea, weare losing the aid of a powerful auxiliar. You see Folly perpetuallysliding into new shapes in a society possessed of wealth and leisure, with many whims, many strange ailments and strange doctors. Plenty ofcommon-sense is in the world to thrust her back when she pretends toempire. But the first-born of common-sense, the vigilant Comic, which isthe genius of thoughtful laughter, which would readily extinguish her atthe outset, is not serving as a public advocate. 

You will have noticed the disposition of common-sense, under pressureof some pertinacious piece of light-headedness, to grow impatient andangry. That is a sign of the absence, or at least of the dormancy, ofthe Comic idea. For Folly is the natural prey of the Comic, known toit in all her transformations, in every disguise; and it is with thespringing delight of hawk over heron, hound after fox, that it gives herchase, never fretting, never tiring, sure of having her, allowing her norest. 

Contempt is a sentiment that cannot be entertained by comicintelligence. What is it but an excuse to be idly minded, or personallylofty, or comfortably narrow, not perfectly humane? If we do notfeign when we say that we despise Folly, we shut the brain. There isa disdainful attitude in the presence of Folly, partaking of thefoolishness to Comic perception: and anger is not much less foolish thandisdain. The struggle we have to conduct is essence against essence. Letno one doubt of the sequel when this emanation of what is firmest in usis launched to strike down the daughter of Unreason and Sentimentalism:such being Folly's parentage, when it is respectable. 

Our modern system of combating her is too long defensive, and carried ontoo ploddingly with concrete engines of war in the attack. She has timeto get behind entrenchments. She is ready to stand a siege, before theheavily armed man of science and the writer of the leading article orelaborate essay have primed their big guns. It should be remembered thatshe has charms for the multitude; and an English multitude seeing hermake a gallant fight of it will be half in love with her, certainlywilling to lend her a cheer. Benevolent subscriptions assist her to hireher own man of science, her own organ in the Press. If ultimately she iscast out and overthrown, she can stretch a finger at gaps in our ranks. She can say that she commanded an army and seduced men, whom we thoughtsober men and safe, to act as her lieutenants. We learn rather gloomily, after she has flashed her lantern, that we have in our midst ablemen and men with minds for whom there is no pole-star in intellectualnavigation. Comedy, or the Comic element, is the specific for thepoison of delusion while Folly is passing from the state of vapour tosubstantial form. 

O for a breath of Aristophanes, Rabelais, Voltaire, Cervantes, Fielding, Moliere! These are spirits that, if you know them well, will come whenyou do call. You will find the very invocation of them act on you like arenovating air--the South-west coming off the sea, or a cry in the Alps. 

No one would presume to say that we are deficient in jokers. Theyabound, and the organisation directing their machinery to shoot them inthe wake of the leading article and the popular sentiment is good. 

But the Comic differs from them in addressing the wits for laughter; andthe sluggish wits want some training to respond to it, whether in publiclife or private, and particularly when the feelings are excited. 

The sense of the Comic is much blunted by habits of punning and of usinghumouristic phrase: the trick of employing Johnsonian polysyllablesto treat of the infinitely little. And it really may be humorous, of akind, yet it will miss the point by going too much round about it. 

A certain French Duke Pasquier died, some years back, at a very advancedage. He had been the venerable Duke Pasquier in his later years up tothe period of his death. There was a report of Duke Pasquier that hewas a man of profound egoism. Hence an argument arose, and was warmlysustained, upon the excessive selfishness of those who, in a world oftroubles, and calls to action, and innumerable duties, husband theirstrength for the sake of living on. Can it be possible, the argumentran, for a truly generous heart to continue beating up to the age of ahundred? Duke Pasquier was not without his defenders, who likened him tothe oak of the forest--a venerable comparison. 

The argument was conducted on both sides with spirit and earnestness, lightened here and there by frisky touches of the polysyllabic playful, reminding one of the serious pursuit of their fun by truant boys, thatare assured they are out of the eye of their master, and now and thenindulge in an imitation of him. And well might it be supposed that theComic idea was asleep, not overlooking them! It resolved at lastto this, that either Duke Pasquier was a scandal on our humanityin clinging to life so long, or that he honoured it by so sturdy aresistance to the enemy. As one who has entangled himself in a labyrinthis glad to get out again at the entrance, the argument ran about toconclude with its commencement. 

Now, imagine a master of the Comic treating this theme, and particularlythe argument on it. Imagine an Aristophanic comedy of THE CENTENARIAN, with choric praises of heroical early death, and the same of a stubbornvitality, and the poet laughing at the chorus; and the grand questionfor contention in dialogue, as to the exact age when a man shoulddie, to the identical minute, that he may preserve the respect ofhis fellows, followed by a systematic attempt to make an accuratemeasurement in parallel lines, with a tough rope-yarn by one party, anda string of yawns by the other, of the veteran's power of enduringlife, and our capacity for enduring HIM, with tremendous pulling on bothsides. 

Would not the Comic view of the discussion illumine it and thedisputants like very lightning? There are questions, as well as persons, that only the Comic can fitly touch. 

Aristophanes would probably have crowned the ancient tree, with theconsolatory observation to the haggard line of long-expectant heirs ofthe Centenarian, that they live to see the blessedness of coming of astrong stock. The shafts of his ridicule would mainly have been aimedat the disputants. For the sole ground of the argument was the old man'scharacter, and sophists are not needed to demonstrate that we can verysoon have too much of a bad thing. A Centenarian does not necessarilyprovoke the Comic idea, nor does the corpse of a duke. It is notprovoked in the order of nature, until we draw its penetratingattentiveness to some circumstance with which we have been mixing ourprivate interests, or our speculative obfuscation. Dulness, insensibleto the Comic, has the privilege of arousing it; and the laying of a dullfinger on matters of human life is the surest method of establishingelectrical communications with a battery of laughter--where the Comicidea is prevalent. 

But if the Comic idea prevailed with us, and we had an Aristophanesto barb and wing it, we should be breathing air of Athens. Prosers nowpouring forth on us like public fountains would be cut short in thestreet and left blinking, dumb as pillar-posts, with letters thrust intotheir mouths. We should throw off incubus, our dreadful familiar--bysome called boredom--whom it is our present humiliation to be just aliveenough to loathe, never quick enough to foil. There would be a brightand positive, clear Hellenic perception of facts. The vapours ofUnreason and Sentimentalism would be blown away before they wereproductive. Where would Pessimist and Optimist be? They would in anycase have a diminished audience. Yet possibly the change of despots, from good-natured old obtuseness to keen-edged intelligence, which is bynature merciless, would be more than we could bear. The rupture of thelink between dull people, consisting in the fraternal agreement thatsomething is too clever for them, and a shot beyond them, is not tobe thought of lightly; for, slender though the link may seem, it isequivalent to a cement forming a concrete of dense cohesion, verydesirable in the estimation of the statesman. 

A political Aristophanes, taking advantage of his lyrical Bacchiclicence, was found too much for political Athens. I would not ask tohave him revived, but that the sharp light of such a spirit as his mightbe with us to strike now and then on public affairs, public themes, tomake them spin along more briskly. 

He hated with the politician's fervour the sophist who corruptedsimplicity of thought, the poet who destroyed purity of style, thedemagogue, 'the saw-toothed monster, ' who, as he conceived, chicanedthe mob, and he held his own against them by strength of laughter, untilfines, the curtailing of his Comic licence in the chorus, and ultimatelythe ruin of Athens, which could no longer support the expense of thechorus, threw him altogether on dialogue, and brought him under the law. After the catastrophe, the poet, who had ever been gazing back at themen of Marathon and Salamis, must have felt that he had foreseen it;and that he was wise when he pleaded for peace, and derided militarycoxcombry, and the captious old creature Demus, we can admit. He hadthe Comic poet's gift of common-sense--which does not always includepolitical intelligence; yet his political tendency raised him above theOld Comedy turn for uproarious farce. He abused Socrates, but Xenophon, the disciple of Socrates, by his trained rhetoric saved the TenThousand. Aristophanes might say that if his warnings had been followedthere would have been no such thing as a mercenary Greek expeditionunder Cyrus. Athens, however, was on a landslip, falling; none couldarrest it. To gaze back, to uphold the old times, was a most naturalconservatism, and fruitless. The aloe had bloomed. Whether right orwrong in his politics and his criticisms, and bearing in mind theinstruments he played on and the audience he had to win, there is anidea in his comedies: it is the Idea of Good Citizenship. 

He is not likely to be revived. He stands, like Shakespeare, anunapproachable. Swift says of him, with a loving chuckle:

'But as for Comic Aristophanes, The dog too witty and too profane is. '

Aristophanes was 'profane, ' under satiric direction, unlike his rivalsCratinus, Phrynichus, Ameipsias, Eupolis, and others, if we are tobelieve him, who in their extraordinary Donnybrook Fair of the day ofComedy, thumped one another and everybody else with absolute heartiness, as he did, but aimed at small game, and dragged forth particular women, which he did not. He is an aggregate of many men, all of a certaingreatness. We may build up a conception of his powers if we mountRabelais upon Hudibras, lift him with the songfulness of Shelley, givehim a vein of Heinrich Heine, and cover him with the mantle of theAnti-Jacobin, adding (that there may be some Irish in him) a dash ofGrattan, before he is in motion. 

But such efforts at conceiving one great one by incorporation of minorsare vain, and cry for excuse. Supposing Wilkes for leading man in acountry constantly plunging into war under some plumed Lamachus, withenemies periodically firing the land up to the gates of London, and aSamuel Foote, of prodigious genius, attacking him with ridicule, Ithink it gives a notion of the conflict engaged in by Aristophanes. This laughing bald-pate, as he calls himself, was a Titanic pamphleteer, using laughter for his political weapon; a laughter without scruple, the laughter of Hercules. He was primed with wit, as with the garlic hespeaks of giving to the game-cocks, to make them fight the better. Andhe was a lyric poet of aerial delicacy, with the homely song of a jollynational poet, and a poet of such feeling that the comic mask is attimes no broader than a cloth on a face to show the serious featuresof our common likeness. He is not to be revived; but if his methodwere studied, some of the fire in him would come to us, and we might berevived. 

Taking them generally, the English public are most in sympathy withthis primitive Aristophanic comedy, wherein the comic is capped by thegrotesque, irony tips the wit, and satire is a naked sword. Theyhave the basis of the Comic in them: an esteem for common-sense. Theycordially dislike the reverse of it. They have a rich laugh, thoughit is not the gros rire of the Gaul tossing gros sel, nor the polishedFrenchman's mentally digestive laugh. And if they have now, like amonarch with a troop of dwarfs, too many jesters kicking the dictionaryabout, to let them reflect that they are dull, occasionally, like thepensive monarch surprising himself with an idea of an idea of his own, they look so. And they are given to looking in the glass. They must seethat something ails them. How much even the better order of them willendure, without a thought of the defensive, when the person afflictingthem is protected from satire, we read in Memoirs of a Preceding Age, where the vulgarly tyrannous hostess of a great house of receptionshuffled the guests and played them like a pack of cards, with her exactestimate of the strength of each one printed on them: and still thishouse continued to be the most popular in England; nor did the lady everappear in print or on the boards as the comic type that she was. 

It has been suggested that they have not yet spiritually comprehendedthe signification of living in society; for who are cheerfuller, briskerof wit, in the fields, and as explorers, colonisers, backwoodsmen?They are happy in rough exercise, and also in complete repose. Theintermediate condition, when they are called upon to talk to oneanother, upon other than affairs of business or their hobbies, revealsthem wearing a curious look of vacancy, as it were the socket of an eyewanting. The Comic is perpetually springing up in social life, and, itoppresses them from not being perceived. 

Thus, at a dinner-party, one of the guests, who happens to have enrolledhimself in a Burial Company, politely entreats the others to inscribetheir names as shareholders, expatiating on the advantages accruing tothem in the event of their very possible speedy death, the salubrityof the site, the aptitude of the soil for a quick consumption of theirremains, etc. ; and they drink sadness from the incongruous man, andconceive indigestion, not seeing him in a sharply defined light, thatwould bid them taste the comic of him. Or it is mentioned that a newlyelected member of our Parliament celebrates his arrival at eminence bythe publication of a book on cab-fares, dedicated to a beloved femalerelative deceased, and the comment on it is the word 'Indeed. ' But, merely for a contrast, turn to a not uncommon scene of yesterday inthe hunting-field, where a brilliant young rider, having broken hiscollar-bone, trots away very soon after, against medical interdict, half put together in splinters, to the most distant meet of hisneighbourhood, sure of escaping his doctor, who is the first person heencounters. 'I came here purposely to avoid you, ' says the patient. 'Icame here purposely to take care of you, ' says the doctor. Off theygo, and come to a swollen brook. The patient clears it handsomely: thedoctor tumbles in. All the field are alive with the heartiest relish ofevery incident and every cross-light on it; and dull would the man havebeen thought who had not his word to say about it when riding home. 

In our prose literature we have had delightful Comic writers. BesidesFielding and Goldsmith, there is Miss Austen, whose Emma and Mr. Eltonmight walk straight into a comedy, were the plot arranged for them. Galt's neglected novels have some characters and strokes of shrewdcomedy. In our poetic literature the comic is delicate and gracefulabove the touch of Italian and French. Generally, however, the Englishelect excel in satire, and they are noble humourists. The nationaldisposition is for hard-hitting, with a moral purpose to sanction it; orfor a rosy, sometimes a larmoyant, geniality, not unmanly in its vergingupon tenderness, and with a singular attraction for thick-headedness, todecorate it with asses' ears and the most beautiful sylvan haloes. Butthe Comic is a different spirit. 

You may estimate your capacity for Comic perception by being able todetect the ridicule of them you love, without loving them less: andmore by being able to see yourself somewhat ridiculous in dear eyes, andaccepting the correction their image of you proposes. 

Each one of an affectionate couple may be willing, as we say, to diefor the other, yet unwilling to utter the agreeable word at the rightmoment; but if the wits were sufficiently quick for them to perceivethat they are in a comic situation, as affectionate couples must bewhen they quarrel, they would not wait for the moon or the almanac, ora Dorine, to bring back the flood-tide of tender feelings, that theyshould join hands and lips. 

If you detect the ridicule, and your kindliness is chilled by it, youare slipping into the grasp of Satire. 

If instead of falling foul of the ridiculous person with a satiric rod, to make him writhe and shriek aloud, you prefer to sting him undera semi-caress, by which he shall in his anguish be rendered dubiouswhether indeed anything has hurt him, you are an engine of Irony. 

If you laugh all round him, tumble him, roll him about, deal him asmack, and drop a tear on him, own his likeness to you and yours toyour neighbour, spare him as little as you shun, pity him as much as youexpose, it is a spirit of Humour that is moving you. 

The Comic, which is the perceptive, is the governing spirit, awakeningand giving aim to these powers of laughter, but it is not to beconfounded with them: it enfolds a thinner form of them, differing fromsatire, in not sharply driving into the quivering sensibilities, andfrom humour, in not comforting them and tucking them up, or indicating abroader than the range of this bustling world to them. 

Fielding's Jonathan Wild presents a case of this peculiar distinction, when that man of eminent greatness remarks upon the unfairness of atrial in which the condemnation has been brought about by twelve men ofthe opposite party; for it is not satiric, it is not humorous; yet it isimmensely comic to hear a guilty villain protesting that his own 'party'should have a voice in the Law. It opens an avenue into villains'ratiocination. {9} And the Comic is not cancelled though we shouldsuppose Jonathan to be giving play to his humour. I may have dreamedthis or had it suggested to me, for on referring to Jonathan Wild, I donot find it. 

Apply the case to the man of deep wit, who is ever certain of hiscondemnation by the opposite party, and then it ceases to be comic, andwill be satiric. 

The look of Fielding upon Richardson is essentially comic. His methodof correcting the sentimental writer is a mixture of the comic and thehumorous. Parson Adams is a creation of humour. But both the conceptionand the presentation of Alceste and of Tartuffe, of Celimene andPhilaminte, are purely comic, addressed to the intellect: there is nohumour in them, and they refresh the intellect they quicken to detecttheir comedy, by force of the contrast they offer between themselves andthe wiser world about them; that is to say, society, or that assemblageof minds whereof the Comic spirit has its origin. 

Byron had splendid powers of humour, and the most poetic satire that wehave example of, fusing at times to hard irony. He had no strong comicsense, or he would not have taken an anti-social position, whichis directly opposed to the Comic; and in his philosophy, judged byphilosophers, he is a comic figure, by reason of this deficiency. 'Sobald er philosophirt ist er ein Kind, ' Goethe says of him. Carlyle seeshim in this comic light, treats him in the humorous manner. 

The Satirist is a moral agent, often a social scavenger, working on astorage of bile. 

The Ironeist is one thing or another, according to his caprice. Irony isthe humour of satire; it may be savage as in Swift, with a moral object, or sedate, as in Gibbon, with a malicious. The foppish irony frettingto be seen, and the irony which leers, that you shall not mistake itsintention, are failures in satiric effort pretending to the treasures ofambiguity. 

The Humourist of mean order is a refreshing laugher, giving tone to thefeelings and sometimes allowing the feelings to be too much for him. Butthe humourist of high has an embrace of contrasts beyond the scope ofthe Comic poet. 

Heart and mind laugh out at Don Quixote, and still you brood on him. The juxtaposition of the knight and squire is a Comic conception, theopposition of their natures most humorous. They are as different as thetwo hemispheres in the time of Columbus, yet they touch and are boundin one by laughter. The knight's great aims and constant mishaps, hischivalrous valiancy exercised on absurd objects, his good sense alongthe highroad of the craziest of expeditions; the compassion he plucksout of derision, and the admirable figure he preserves while stalkingthrough the frantically grotesque and burlesque assailing him, are inthe loftiest moods of humour, fusing the Tragic sentiment with the Comicnarrative. 

The stroke of the great humourist is world-wide, with lights of Tragedyin his laughter. 

Taking a living great, though not creative, humourist to guide ourdescription: the skull of Yorick is in his hands in our seasons offestival; he sees visions of primitive man capering preposterously underthe gorgeous robes of ceremonial. Our souls must be on fire when we wearsolemnity, if we would not press upon his shrewdest nerve. Finite andinfinite flash from one to the other with him, lending him a two-edgedthought that peeps out of his peacefullest lines by fits, like thelantern of the fire-watcher at windows, going the rounds at night. Thecomportment and performances of men in society are to him, by the vividcomparison with their mortality, more grotesque than respectable. Butask yourself, Is he always to be relied on for justness? He will flystraight as the emissary eagle back to Jove at the true Hero. He willalso make as determined a swift descent upon the man of his wilfulchoice, whom we cannot distinguish as a true one. This vast power ofhis, built up of the feelings and the intellect in union, is oftenwanting in proportion and in discretion. Humourists touching uponHistory or Society are given to be capricious. They are, as in thecase of Sterne, given to be sentimental; for with them the feelingsare primary, as with singers. Comedy, on the other hand, is aninterpretation of the general mind, and is for that reason of necessitykept in restraint. The French lay marked stress on mesure et gout, and they own how much they owe to Moliere for leading them in simplejustness and taste. We can teach them many things; they can teach us inthis. 

The Comic poet is in the narrow field, or enclosed square, of thesociety he depicts; and he addresses the still narrower enclosure ofmen's intellects, with reference to the operation of the social worldupon their characters. He is not concerned with beginnings or endings orsurroundings, but with what you are now weaving. To understand his workand value it, you must have a sober liking of your kind and a soberestimate of our civilized qualities. The aim and business of the Comicpoet are misunderstood, his meaning is not seized nor his point of viewtaken, when he is accused of dishonouring our nature and being hostileto sentiment, tending to spitefulness and making an unfair use oflaughter. Those who detect irony in Comedy do so because they choose tosee it in life. Poverty, says the satirist, has nothing harder in itselfthan that it makes men ridiculous. But poverty is never ridiculous toComic perception until it attempts to make its rags conceal its barenessin a forlorn attempt at decency, or foolishly to rival ostentation. Caleb Balderstone, in his endeavour to keep up the honour of a noblehousehold in a state of beggary, is an exquisitely comic character. Inthe case of 'poor relatives, ' on the other hand, it is the rich, whomthey perplex, that are really comic; and to laugh at the former, not seeing the comedy of the latter, is to betray dulness of vision. Humourist and Satirist frequently hunt together as Ironeists in pursuitof the grotesque, to the exclusion of the Comic. That was an affectingmoment in the history of the Prince Regent, when the First Gentleman ofEurope burst into tears at a sarcastic remark of Beau Brummell's on thecut of his coat. Humour, Satire, Irony, pounce on it altogether astheir common prey. The Comic spirit eyes but does not touch it. Put intoaction, it would be farcical. It is too gross for Comedy. 

Incidents of a kind casting ridicule on our unfortunate nature insteadof our conventional life, provoke derisive laughter, which thwarts theComic idea. But derision is foiled by the play of the intellect. Mostof doubtful causes in contest are open to Comic interpretation, and anyintellectual pleading of a doubtful cause contains germs of an Idea ofComedy. 

The laughter of satire is a blow in the back or the face. The laughterof Comedy is impersonal and of unrivalled politeness, nearer a smile;often no more than a smile. It laughs through the mind, for the minddirects it; and it might be called the humour of the mind. 

One excellent test of the civilization of a country, as I have said, Itake to be the flourishing of the Comic idea and Comedy; and the test oftrue Comedy is that it shall awaken thoughtful laughter. 

If you believe that our civilization is founded in common-sense (andit is the first condition of sanity to believe it), you will, whencontemplating men, discern a Spirit overhead; not more heavenly than thelight flashed upward from glassy surfaces, but luminous and watchful;never shooting beyond them, nor lagging in the rear; so closely attachedto them that it may be taken for a slavish reflex, until its featuresare studied. It has the sage's brows, and the sunny malice of a faunlurks at the corners of the half-closed lips drawn in an idle warinessof half tension. That slim feasting smile, shaped like the long-bow, wasonce a big round satyr's laugh, that flung up the brows like a fortresslifted by gunpowder. The laugh will come again, but it will be of theorder of the smile, finely tempered, showing sunlight of the mind, mental richness rather than noisy enormity. Its common aspect is oneof unsolicitous observation, as if surveying a full field and havingleisure to dart on its chosen morsels, without any fluttering eagerness. Men's future upon earth does not attract it; their honesty andshapeliness in the present does; and whenever they wax out ofproportion, overblown, affected, pretentious, bombastical, hypocritical, pedantic, fantastically delicate; whenever it sees them self-deceivedor hoodwinked, given to run riot in idolatries, drifting into vanities, congregating in absurdities, planning short-sightedly, plottingdementedly; whenever they are at variance with their professions, andviolate the unwritten but perceptible laws binding them in considerationone to another; whenever they offend sound reason, fair justice;are false in humility or mined with conceit, individually, or in thebulk--the Spirit overhead will look humanely malign and cast an obliquelight on them, followed by volleys of silvery laughter. That is theComic Spirit. 

Not to distinguish it is to be bull-blind to the spiritual, and todeny the existence of a mind of man where minds of men are in workingconjunction. 

You must, as I have said, believe that our state of society is foundedin common-sense, otherwise you will not be struck by the contrasts theComic Spirit perceives, or have it to look to for your consolation. You will, in fact, be standing in that peculiar oblique beam of light, yourself illuminated to the general eye as the very object of chase anddoomed quarry of the thing obscure to you. But to feel its presence andto see it is your assurance that many sane and solid minds are with youin what you are experiencing: and this of itself spares you the pain ofsatirical heat, and the bitter craving to strike heavy blows. You sharethe sublime of wrath, that would not have hurt the foolish, but merelydemonstrate their foolishness. Moliere was contented to revenge himselfon the critics of the Ecole des Femmes, by writing the Critique del'Ecole des Femmes, one of the wisest as well as the playfullest ofstudies in criticism. A perception of the comic spirit gives highfellowship. You become a citizen of the selecter world, the highest weknow of in connection with our old world, which is not supermundane. Look there for your unchallengeable upper class! You feel that you areone of this our civilized community, that you cannot escape from it, and would not if you could. Good hope sustains you; weariness does notoverwhelm you; in isolation you see no charms for vanity; personal prideis greatly moderated. Nor shall your title of citizenship exclude youfrom worlds of imagination or of devotion. The Comic spirit is nothostile to the sweetest songfully poetic. Chaucer bubbles with it:Shakespeare overflows: there is a mild moon's ray of it (pale withsuper-refinement through distance from our flesh and blood planet)in Comus. Pope has it, and it is the daylight side of the night halfobscuring Cowper. It is only hostile to the priestly element, when that, by baleful swelling, transcends and overlaps the bounds of its office:and then, in extreme cases, it is too true to itself to speak, and veilsthe lamp: as, for example, the spectacle of Bossuet over the dead bodyof Moliere: at which the dark angels may, but men do not laugh. 

We have had comic pulpits, for a sign that the laughter-moving and theworshipful may be in alliance: I know not how far comic, or how muchassisted in seeming so by the unexpectedness and the relief of itsappearance: at least they are popular, they are said to win the ear. Laughter is open to perversion, like other good things; the scornful andthe brutal sorts are not unknown to us; but the laughter directed bythe Comic spirit is a harmless wine, conducing to sobriety in the degreethat it enlivens. It enters you like fresh air into a study; as whenone of the sudden contrasts of the comic idea floods the brain likereassuring daylight. You are cognizant of the true kind by feeling thatyou take it in, savour it, and have what flowers live on, natural airfor food. That which you give out--the joyful roar--is not the betterpart; let that go to good fellowship and the benefit of the lungs. Aristophanes promises his auditors that if they will retain the ideasof the comic poet carefully, as they keep dried fruits in boxes, theirgarments shall smell odoriferous of wisdom throughout the year. Theboast will not be thought an empty one by those who have choicefriends that have stocked themselves according to his directions. Suchtreasuries of sparkling laughter are wells in our desert. Sensitivenessto the comic laugh is a step in civilization. To shrink from being anobject of it is a step in cultivation. We know the degree of refinementin men by the matter they will laugh at, and the ring of the laugh; butwe know likewise that the larger natures are distinguished by the greatbreadth of their power of laughter, and no one really loving Moliere isrefined by that love to despise or be dense to Aristophanes, though itmay be that the lover of Aristophanes will not have risen to the heightof Moliere. Embrace them both, and you have the whole scale of laughterin your breast. Nothing in the world surpasses in stormy fun the scenein The Frogs, when Bacchus and Xanthias receive their thrashings fromthe hands of businesslike OEacus, to discover which is the divinityof the two, by his imperviousness to the mortal condition of pain, andeach, under the obligation of not crying out, makes believe that hishorrible bellow--the god's iou--iou being the lustier--means onlythe stopping of a sneeze, or horseman sighted, or the prelude to aninvocation to some deity: and the slave contrives that the god shallget the bigger lot of blows. Passages of Rabelais, one or two in DonQuixote, and the Supper in the Manner of the Ancients, in PeregrinePickle, are of a similar cataract of laughter. But it is notilluminating; it is not the laughter of the mind. Moliere's laughter, inhis purest comedies, is ethereal, as light to our nature, as colour toour thoughts. The Misanthrope and the Tartuffe have no audible laughter;but the characters are steeped in the comic spirit. They quicken themind through laughter, from coming out of the mind; and the mind acceptsthem because they are clear interpretations of certain chapters of theBook lying open before us all. Between these two stand Shakespeare andCervantes, with the richer laugh of heart and mind in one; with much ofthe Aristophanic robustness, something of Moliere's delicacy. 

The laughter heard in circles not pervaded by the Comic idea, will soundharsh and soulless, like versified prose, if you step into them witha sense of the distinction. You will fancy you have changed yourhabitation to a planet remoter from the sun. You may be amongpowerful brains too. You will not find poets--or but a stray one, over-worshipped. You will find learned men undoubtedly, professors, reputed philosophers, and illustrious dilettanti. They have in them, perhaps, every element composing light, except the Comic. They readverse, they discourse of art; but their eminent faculties are not underthat vigilant sense of a collective supervision, spiritual and present, which we have taken note of. They build a temple of arrogance; theyspeak much in the voice of oracles; their hilarity, if it does not dipin grossness, is usually a form of pugnacity. 

Insufficiency of sight in the eye looking outward has deprived them ofthe eye that should look inward. They have never weighed themselves inthe delicate balance of the Comic idea so as to obtain a suspicion ofthe rights and dues of the world; and they have, in consequence, anirritable personality. A very learned English professor crushed anargument in a political discussion, by asking his adversary angrily:'Are you aware, sir, that I am a philologer?'

The practice of polite society will help in training them, and theprofessor on a sofa with beautiful ladies on each side of him, maybecome their pupil and a scholar in manners without knowing it: he is atleast a fair and pleasing spectacle to the Comic Muse. But the societynamed polite is volatile in its adorations, and to-morrow will bepetting a bronzed soldier, or a black African, or a prince, or aspiritualist: ideas cannot take root in its ever-shifting soil. It isbesides addicted in self-defence to gabble exclusively of the affairs ofits rapidly revolving world, as children on a whirligoround bestow theirattention on the wooden horse or cradle ahead of them, to escape fromgiddiness and preserve a notion of identity. The professor is betterout of a circle that often confounds by lionizing, sometimes annoys byabandoning, and always confuses. The school that teaches gently whatperil there is lest a cultivated head should still be coxcomb's, and thecollisions which may befall high-soaring minds, empty or full, is moreto be recommended than the sphere of incessant motion supplying it withmaterial. 

Lands where the Comic spirit is obscure overhead are rank with raw cropsof matter. The traveller accustomed to smooth highways and people notcovered with burrs and prickles is amazed, amid so much that is fair andcherishable, to come upon such curious barbarism. An Englishman paida visit of admiration to a professor in the Land of Culture, and wasintroduced by him to another distinguished professor, to whom he tookso cordially as to walk out with him alone one afternoon. The firstprofessor, an erudite entirely worthy of the sentiment of scholarlyesteem prompting the visit, behaved (if we exclude the dagger) with thevindictive jealousy of an injured Spanish beauty. After a short preludeof gloom and obscure explosions, he discharged upon his faithlessadmirer the bolts of passionate logic familiar to the ears of flightycaballeros:--'Either I am a fit object of your admiration, or I am not. Of these things one--either you are competent to judge, in which caseI stand condemned by you; or you are incompetent, and thereforeimpertinent, and you may betake yourself to your country again, hypocrite!' The admirer was for persuading the wounded scholar that itis given to us to be able to admire two professors at a time. He wasdriven forth. 

Perhaps this might have occurred in any country, and a comedy of ThePedant, discovering the greedy humanity within the dusty scholar, wouldnot bring it home to one in particular. I am mindful that it was inGermany, when I observe that the Germans have gone through no comictraining to warn them of the sly, wise emanation eyeing them from aloft, nor much of satirical. Heinrich Heine has not been enough to cause themto smart and meditate. Nationally, as well as individually, when theyare excited they are in danger of the grotesque, as when, for instance, they decline to listen to evidence, and raise a national outcry becauseone of German blood has been convicted of crime in a foreign country. They are acute critics, yet they still wield clubs in controversy. Compare them in this respect with the people schooled in La Bruyere, LaFontaine, Moliere; with the people who have the figures of a Trissotinand a Vadius before them for a comic warning of the personal vanitiesof the caressed professor. It is more than difference of race. It is thedifference of traditions, temper, and style, which comes of schooling. 

The French controversialist is a polished swordsman, to be dreadedin his graces and courtesies. The German is Orson, or the mob, or amarching army, in defence of a good case or a bad--a big or a little. His irony is a missile of terrific tonnage: sarcasm he emits like ablast from a dragon's mouth. He must and will be Titan. He stamps hisfoe underfoot, and is astonished that the creature is not dead, butstinging; for, in truth, the Titan is contending, by comparison, with agod. 

When the Germans lie on their arms, looking across the Alsatian frontierat the crowds of Frenchmen rushing to applaud L'ami Fritz at the TheatreFrancais, looking and considering the meaning of that applause, whichis grimly comic in its political response to the domestic moral of theplay--when the Germans watch and are silent, their force of charactertells. They are kings in music, we may say princes in poetry, goodspeculators in philosophy, and our leaders in scholarship. That sogifted a race, possessed moreover of the stern good sense which collectsthe waters of laughter to make the wells, should show at a disadvantage, I hold for a proof, instructive to us, that the discipline of the comicspirit is needful to their growth. We see what they can reach to in thatgreat figure of modern manhood, Goethe. They are a growing people;they are conversable as well; and when their men, as in France, andat intervals at Berlin tea-tables, consent to talk on equal terms withtheir women, and to listen to them, their growth will be accelerated andbe shapelier. Comedy, or in any form the Comic spirit, will then come tothem to cut some figures out of the block, show them the mirror, enlivenand irradiate the social intelligence. 

Modern French comedy is commendable for the directness of the studyof actual life, as far as that, which is but the early step in such ascholarship, can be of service in composing and colouring the picture. A consequence of this crude, though well-meant, realism is the collisionof the writers in their scenes and incidents, and in their characters. The Muse of most of them is an Aventuriere. She is clever, and a certaindiversion exists in the united scheme for confounding her. The object ofthis person is to reinstate herself in the decorous world; and either, having accomplished this purpose through deceit, she has a nostalgie dela boue, that eventually casts her back into it, or she is exposed inher course of deception when she is about to gain her end. A very good, innocent young man is her victim, or a very astute, goodish young manobstructs her path. This latter is enabled to be the champion of thedecorous world by knowing the indecorous well. He has assisted in theprogress of Aventurieres downward; he will not help them to ascend. Theworld is with him; and certainly it is not much of an ascension theyaspire to; but what sort of a figure is he? The triumph of a candidrealism is to show him no hero. You are to admire him (for it must besupposed that realism pretends to waken some admiration) as a crediblyliving young man; no better, only a little firmer and shrewder, than therest. If, however, you think at all, after the curtain has fallen, youare likely to think that the Aventurieres have a case to plead againsthim. True, and the author has not said anything to the contrary; he hasbut painted from the life; he leaves his audience to the reflections ofunphilosophic minds upon life, from the specimen he has presented in thebright and narrow circle of a spy-glass. 

I do not know that the fly in amber is of any particular use, but theComic idea enclosed in a comedy makes it more generally perceptible andportable, and that is an advantage. There is a benefit to men in takingthe lessons of Comedy in congregations, for it enlivens the wits; and towriters it is beneficial, for they must have a clear scheme, and evenif they have no idea to present, they must prove that they have made thepublic sit to them before the sitting to see the picture. And writingfor the stage would be a corrective of a too-incrusted scholarly style, into which some great ones fall at times. It keeps minor writers to adefinite plan, and to English. Many of them now swelling a plethoricmarket, in the composition of novels, in pun-manufactories and injournalism; attached to the machinery forcing perishable matter on apublic that swallows voraciously and groans; might, with encouragement, be attending to the study of art in literature. Our critics appear tobe fascinated by the quaintness of our public, as the world is whenour beast-garden has a new importation of magnitude, and the creaturesappetite is reverently consulted. They stipulate for a writer'spopularity before they will do much more than take the position ofumpires to record his failure or success. Now the pig supplies the mostpopular of dishes, but it is not accounted the most honoured of animals, unless it be by the cottager. Our public might surely be led to tryother, perhaps finer, meat. It has good taste in song. It might betaught as justly, on the whole, and the sooner when the cottager's viewof the feast shall cease to be the humble one of our literary critics, to extend this capacity for delicate choosing in the direction of thematter arousing laughter. 

Footnotes:

{1} A lecture delivered at the London Institution, February 1st, 1877. 

{2} Realism in the writing is carried to such a pitch in THE OLDBACHELOR, that husband and wife use imbecile connubial epithets to oneanother. 

{3} Tallemant des Reaux, in his rough portrait of the Duke, shows thefoundation of the character of Alceste. 

{4} See Tom Jones, book viii. Chapter I, for Fielding's opinion ofour Comedy. But he puts it simply; not as an exercise in thequasi-philosophical bathetic. 

{5} Femmes Savantes:

BELISE: Veux-tu toute la vie offenser la grammaire?

MARTINE: Qui parle d'offenser grand'mere ni grand-pere?'

The pun is delivered in all sincerity, from the mouth of a rustic. 

{6} Maskwell seems to have been carved on the model of Iago, as bythe hand of an enterprising urchin. He apostrophizes his 'invention'repeatedly. 'Thanks, my invention. ' He hits on an invention, to say:'Was it my brain or Providence? no matter which. ' It is no matter which, but it was not his brain. 

{7} Imaginary Conversations: Alfieri and the Jew Salomon. 

{8} Terence did not please the rough old conservative Romans; they likedPlautus better, and the recurring mention of the vetus poeta inhis prologues, who plagued him with the crusty critical view of hisproductions, has in the end a comic effect on the reader. 

{9} The exclamation of Lady Booby, when Joseph defends himself: 'YOURVIRTUE! I shall never survive it!' etc. , is another instance. --JosephAndrews. Also that of Miss Mathews in her narrative to Booth: 'But suchare the friendships of women. '--Amelia. 

 ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS FOR THE PG SHORT WORKS OF MEREDITH:

 A wise man will not squander his laughter if he can help it A woman is hurt if you do not confide to her your plans A generous enemy is a friend on the wrong side A very doubtful benefit A great oration may be a sedative A male devotee is within an inch of a miracle Above Nature, I tell him, or, we shall be very much below Adversary at once offensive and helpless provokes brutality All are friends who sit at table All flattery is at somebody's expense Americans forgivingly remember, without mentioning As becomes them, they do not look ahead As in all great oratory! The key of it is the pathos Back from the altar to discover that she has chained herself Be what you seem, my little one Be philosophical, but accept your personal dues Bed was a rock of refuge and fortified defence But I leave it to you Can believe a woman to be any age when her cheeks are tinted Causes him to be popularly weighed Charges of cynicism are common against all satirists Civil tongue and rosy smiles sweeten even sour wine Cupid clipped of wing is a destructive parasite Dangerous things are uttered after the third glass Distinguished by his not allowing himself to be provoked Distrust us, and it is a declaration of war Eccentric behaviour in trifles Everywhere the badge of subjection is a poor stomach Excess of a merit is a capital offence in morality Excited, glad of catastrophe if it but killed monotony Face betokening the perpetual smack of lemon Fourth of the Georges Generally he noticed nothing Gentleman in a good state of preservation Good jokes are not always good policy Gratitude never was a woman's gift Happiness in love is a match between ecstasy and compliance Here and there a plain good soul to whom he was affectionate His idea of marriage is, the taking of the woman into custody Holy images, and other miraculous objects are sold I who respect the state of marriage by refusing I make a point of never recommending my own house I like him, I like him, of course, but I want to breathe I am a discordant instrument I do not readily vibrate If I do not speak of payment Imparting the usual chorus of yesses to his own mind In every difficulty, patience is a life-belt Indulged in their privilege of thinking what they liked Infants are said to have their ideas, and why not young ladies? Intellectual contempt of easy dupes Invite indecision to exhaust their scruples Is not one month of brightness as much as we can ask for? It was harder to be near and not close It is well to learn manners without having them imposed on us Knew my friend to be one of the most absent-minded of men Lend him your own generosity Love and war have been compared--Both require strategy Loving in this land: they all go mad, straight off Men love to boast of things nobody else has seen Men overweeningly in love with their creations Modest are the most easily intoxicated when they sip at vanity Must be the moralist in the satirist if satire is to strike Nature is not of necessity always roaring Naughtily Australian and kangarooly Never reckon on womankind for a wise act No flattery for me at the expense of my sisters Not a page of his books reveals malevolence or a sneer Not in love--She was only not unwilling to be in love Nothing desirable will you have which is not coveted Only to be described in the tongue of auctioneers Peace, I do pray, for the husband-haunted wife Period of his life a man becomes too voraciously constant Petty concessions are signs of weakness to the unsatisfied Pitiful conceit in men Primitive appetite for noise Rapture of obliviousness Rejoicing they have in their common agreement Respected the vegetable yet more than he esteemed the flower Rich and poor 's all right, if I'm rich and you're poor Self-incense Self-worship, which is often self-distrust She seems honest, and that is the most we can hope of girls She sought, by looking hard, to understand it better She might turn out good, if well guarded for a time She began to feel that this was life in earnest She dealt in the flashes which connect ideas Sign that the evil had reached from pricks to pokes So are great deeds judged when the danger's past (as easy) Soft slumber of a strength never yet called forth Spare me that word "female" as long as you live Statesman who stooped to conquer fact through fiction Sunning itself in the glass of Envy Suspects all young men and most young women Suspicion was her best witness Sweet treasure before which lies a dragon sleeping Telling her anything, she makes half a face in anticipation That which fine cookery does for the cementing of couples The intricate, which she takes for the infinite The social world he looked at did not show him heroes The alternative is, a garter and the bedpost The exhaustion ensuing we named tranquillity The mildness of assured dictatorship Their idol pitched before them on the floor They miss their pleasure in pursuing it This mania of young people for pleasure, eternal pleasure Tossed him from repulsion to incredulity, and so back Two principal roads by which poor sinners come to a conscience Utterance of generous and patriotic cries is not sufficient We grew accustomed to periods of Irish fever We like well whatso we have done good work for We trust them or we crush them Weak reeds who are easily vanquished and never overcome Weak stomach is certainly more carnally virtuous than a full one Were I chained, For liberty I would sell liberty When we see our veterans tottering to their fall When you have done laughing with her, you can laugh at her Wins everywhere back a reflection of its own kindliness Wits, which are ordinarily less productive than land Woman descending from her ideal to the gross reality of man Your devotion craves an enormous exchange