Note: Images of the original pages are available through the Wright American Fiction Project, Indiana University Digital Library Program. See http://www. Letrs. Indiana. Edu/cgi/t/text/text-idx?sid=1a8b0a10bc4cb8d39c32ac704ab8c82f&c=wright2&view=reslist&type=simple&q1=Aconite%2C%20Tobias&rgn=author

A Narrative of Startling Interest!!

EDWARD BARNETT, A NEGLECTED CHILD OF SOUTH CAROLINA, WHO ROSE TO BE A PEER OF GREATBRITAIN, --AND THE STORMY LIFE OF HIS GRANDFATHER, CAPTAIN WILLIAMS, Or

The Earl's Victims:with an Account of the Terrible End of the Proud Earl De Montford, theLamentable Fate of the Victim of His Passion, And

The Shadow's Punishment, 'Truth Is Stranger Than Fiction. '

by

TOBIAS ACONITE, The Mayor of Hole cum Corner. 

1855

THE EARL'S VICTIMS. 

CHAPTER I. 

THE STEWARD. 

Earl de Montford sat in a plainly furnished room in his stately mansion. Gorgeously decorated as were the other apartments of his princelyresidence, this apartment, with its plain business-look--its hardbenches for such of the tenantry as came to him or his agent onbusiness--its walls garnished with abstracts of the Game and Poor LawEnactments--its worn old chairs and heavy oak presses, the open doors ofsome of which disclosed bundles of old papers, parchments, etc. --thislittle room, the only one almost ever seen by any save the aristocracyand their followers--exercised and contained frequently more of humanhope and fear than any other or the whole of the others of thissumptuous edifice. Here the toil-worn farmer came to pay his dues to theLord of the Manor--here often too with beating heart and quivering lip, the old servant of the soil came to beg for time--time to enable him byhard pinching to make up his proportion of the sum spent in luxury byhis landlord. Ah! reader! could those old walls reveal the sounds, thetales of human suffering, of heartless avarice, and callousindifference--of sneering assumption and hopeless woe, thy brain wouldbe as fire, thy heart would sicken, and thy blood would boil, tillrushing over every prudent thought, through grinding teeth andpassion-paling lips would start, the one wild word, Revenge!

I have said the room was plainly furnished, but there was oneexception--the chair in which the Earl sat. This was an old one, formerly the chair of state in which the old Barons his ancestors hadpresided at many a scene of wassail, with their retainers. It had beenstuffed and new-covered to suit modern luxury, but the armorial bearingsremained still carved in the wood of the high back, with the proudmotto, "Nulli Secundi, " second to none. 

The Earl was not alone. His agent, a hard-featured man of business, satat a desk, busy with papers, and a venerable old man, who had been hisfather's steward, stood a little behind his chair. There was a frown onthe brow of the nobleman, as after a stern glance at the old man, heasked, 'Has that scoundrel been apprehended yet?'

'He has not, your lordship, ' said the agent, slowly folding up adocument; 'nor does it seem likely he will be. I have had the old hauntssearched--I have, as you directed, promised large rewards for hisapprehension, and threatened the tenants if they harbor him, but no clueto his hiding-place has yet been discovered. I am afraid he has left. '

'He has not, ' interrupted the Earl. 'He is here, in this neighbourhood. I feel his hated presence. He must have harborers, Johnson. The parvenumillionaire--the cotton lord--harbors these ruffians by refusing toprosecute poachers. He preaches equal rights, forsooth! Break down hisfences--send my deer to stray into his park--get some one to fire hisbarns--I will pay them. He has thwarted me, and he shall feel the agonyof a long and fluctuating law-suit. Oh! for one day of my Normanancestors! I would sweep such vermin from the earth. Waters!' said he, turning to the steward, 'beware! I have, from respect to my father'smemory, somewhat restrained myself towards you. You have pleaded thisman's cause. Say no more. He has threatened me--dared to use reproachesand threats to a peer of the realm--he shall be crushed as a noxiousreptile!'

'My lord, ' said the old man firmly, 'I was your father's steward--I wasyour grandfather's foster-brother and playmate--man and boy, I have beenin the service of your family for over seventy years, and for the loveof your house have I withstood you in wrong-doing--I beseech you again, let this man go. You well know he is an injured man. Add not more tothat final account which you as well as I must one day render beforeGod. '

'Palter such trash to coward fools!--I want none of your priestcraft, 'returned the nobleman. 'Do I not know the reason of all this affectedlove for justice and mercy. Your grand-daughter was to have married thismidnight robber--they were betrothed, or some such trash. Findhim--doubtless _she_ knows how--let them marry--such a son-in-law willbe an honor to your family, and a comfort to your declining years. '

'Your insinuations and your sneers fall as harmless upon me as yourthreats, ' said the steward with dignity. 'I am eighty-nine, and shallsoon be beyond them: but when you brand with undeserved infamy one whonever injured you--when you accuse my innocent grandchild of beingprivy to the concealment of a midnight robber, as you but now called theunhappy man whom your ill-usage, whom your misdeeds drove from a happyhome and honorable course of life, you commit an action, only equalledin its baseness, by its cowardice!'

The Earl started up, purple with rage. For a moment, he seemed about tostrike the aged form before him. He paused, however, and stood regardinghim with clenched hands and furious look, and every evil passion glaringfrom his eyes. The steward moved not one inch, but confronted him in themajesty of venerable age. 

The agent paused not for one moment in his task, but quietly labellingand tying up a pile of documents, placed it in its proper pigeon hole, and went on with methodical exactness to the next. They were a strangegroup. The man of business in his chair, pursuing his work as if noother were present, but observing all that took place nevertheless; thenobleman in the prime of glorious manhood, noble, as far as physicalbeauty could go; handsome, rich, accomplished, intellectual, butdistorted as that face was now, in his rage, ugly, hideous in theextreme as he gazed upon the calm face slightly flushed with virtuousindignation, the spare form and silver locks of the aged man who daredto stand between him and the victims of his wrath. 

Gradually the face of the nobleman became calmer, one by one the linesof passion disappeared and an expression of cold sarcasm took possessionof his features; he threw himself into his chair and turned to theagent. 

'Mr. Lambert, be pleased to pay particular attention to my orders, thatis if your nerves are not too much discomposed by the exciting piece ofeloquence Mr. Waters has just favored us with for my especial benefit. Gad! Waters, you'd do the heavy fathers finely on the stage. I'll writeto Davidge for you, that last speech of yours was capital; couldn't youfavor us with a finishing touch, we are all attention. ' The agent placedhis papers on the table, and wheeling his chair round, sat in imitationof his master as if in expectation of hearing some rich joke. 

The single word 'God!' escaped the steward as he turned to leave theroom; he gave one glance around as if for the last time looking on thosefamiliar objects, cast a sorrowful glance at his master, and was aboutto quit, when his eye was arrested by a picture; it was that of frankand noble boy in the pride of youth and beauty, his face ruddy withexercise, his eye bright with intellect. It was a portrait of the Earlwhen a boy. 

He turned towards them once more. 

'My lord, ' said he, 'I pass by your harsh speeches of me and mine. Itmay be I spoke too rudely myself. I will dwell no longer on the past, itis irrevocable; of my broken-hearted grandchild; of her young love, which was twined too strong around her heart, for one to perish withoutthe other; of my own head grey in your service I will never morespeak--but oh! for the love that bright boy once bore me, here on myknees, I entreat you, spare this man, who once was your playmate, sparehim as you would be spared yourself; for let not your proud heartdeceive you, not all your array of domestics, not all your barred doors, can save you from a violent death, or the guilt of murder, if you do notstop this unrighteous prosecution--for your own sake I entreat you stop, ere it be too late. Spurn this grey head if you will into the dust, butlisten and spare. '

The Earl was unmoved as marble. 

The old man left with bent head and slow step. 'Lambert, you will issuea notice, offering £500 to any one who captures Horace Hunter, dead oralive--also on pain of expulsion from the property, forbid any oneharboring him; send for two London officers. These country bumpkins willnever find him. Enquire for a dissolute fellow, known by the name ofCurly Tom--pay him well: he perhaps may track him, in short, find thisman and punishment to death shall follow. '

'It shall on you!' said a loud voice, apparently near them. 

The Earl sprang to the window, and jumped out, the agent tremblingremained, not a living being was in sight--the window opened upon asmooth lawn, there was not a chance of a person escaping notice, but noone was there; he summoned the domestics; they searched--no one wasfound, they had seen no one. Frantic with rage, yet with an ill-definedsensation of fear, the nobleman, re-entered the mansion, and dismissingevery one, locked himself in an inner chamber. 

The agent waited until his master was gone; then seated himself in thechair of state, and mused. 'Let me see! £500, too much to slip from myhands. I will find this Curly Tom myself--I think I know him--and if Ican but keep him sober--and promise him a good carouse when Hunter'scaught, he will entrap him--for these scoundrels all know how to findone another--£500, too much for any of these bumpkins constables, no, no, I must have it--there is danger though--I must think over it--thatvoice was queer, where could it come from--could any one be in thepresses?' After screwing up his courage to the task, he opened themfearfully one by one; there was nothing there but the old papers beforementioned. He stooped and stood leaning against the mantelpiece, overwhich was the Earl's picture--then puzzled, but determined on his courseof action, he left the room and took his way to the village. He was notfar from the house, when a servant called to him. 'You have a paper onyour back, Mr. Lambert, ' said he. He took his coat off; on the back, fastened with a pin, was a paper, with the single word, doomed, writtenupon it. The man of business was puzzled; he was not altogether acoward, but this was not a business proceeding; he said nothing, however, but methodically folded it up, placed it in his pocket book, and proceeded. 

CHAPTER II. 

THE VILLAGE ALE-HOUSE. 

Railroads were unknown in the times in which our story occurred, and thevillage ale-house was still the rendezvous of the villagers of anevening; the parson still occasionally looked in and smoked his pipewith the lawyer, the exciseman, the sexton, and the parish-clerk; whilethe sturdy farmers, the smith, the butcher, and baker formed anothercircle; while the laborers and ploughmen, the butcher-boy and thetailor's apprentice lounged in to drink with greedy ears the news; tolisten to the wise saws of the village politicians, and become in duetime convinced that by some strange freak of fortune the only personsincompetent to rule the country were those in power at the time. Mrs. Alice Goodfellow, the landlady and proprietress of this village elysium, fair, fat, and forty, was a buxom widow, shrewd, good-humored and fondof pleasure, but careful withal and fond of admiration. She never, however, allowed any one of her admirers, to suppose himself morefavored than the rest; neither did she suffer any of them to languish indespair. If she allowed the smith to hand her to her pew in church onSunday, she, nevertheless, smiled sweetly on the baker; and if she tooka drive in Farmer Dobson's pony-chaise for her health, yet, FarmerThomas would sit for hours inside her bar; the truth was, the good widowwas perfectly well aware that her snug little free-hold and thrivinglittle trade were quite as great objects of attraction as her delectableself, and acting on the same principle as that old humbug 'Elizabeth, 'insanely called 'the good Queen Bess, ' viz: the balancing oppositeinterests, she drew custom to her house and grist to her mill, withouttroubling herself as to selection from her numerous admirers, which, besides displeasing the others, would place another in authority overthat bar, which, for the last ten years, she had ruled monarch of allshe surveyed. She had no relative, save one nephew, a wild, shy boy, strange and moody in his habits, passing whole days no one knewwhere--holding little or no communication with any of those who visitedthe tavern--none at all with the boys of the village, poring over somebook of wild adventure when at home, ranging the woods with an old duckgun on his shoulders, or laying down beneath some shady tree poring overthe same wild legends when abroad. His aunt could make nothing of him, and nobody else took the trouble. The curate, indeed, tried to teach himonce or twice, but he disconcerted the old man so by discharging hismusket at an old wig, hanging by the wall in the midst of a lecture onthe propriety of going to school, that he gave him up as hopeless. 

The tap-room presented its usual evening appearance when the agententered. The curate and lawyer were deep in a discussion on the beautiesof the new poor-law; the farmers grumbling at the weather; the landladyquietly seated behind the bar, while the bar-maid, a smart, coquettishgirl of nineteen, carried the ale and brandy around to the thirstycustomers, and all the usual concomitants of a scene then common, but, what we must now call of the olden time, though half a century hasscarce passed away since it occurred. The agent was a great man there, few liked him--in fact, all hated him, for though generally a just man, he was entirely a man of business; punctuality was his deity--there wasno excuse with him for not meeting rent or bills when due; he did notovercharge or wrong anyone, but he must have his bond, like Shylock, without his ferocity. If money was due it must be paid; sickness, badcrops, death itself was nothing to him; if not, he proceeded _legally_;oh, what a world of anguish! what a number of crimes, crying aloud toHeaven for justice and retribution, are committed under the cloak ofMan's legality. The type was forged in Hell that stamped the letter ofthe law. 

The agent, after exchanging courtesies, lip-deep, with the principalfarmers, the curate, etc. , walked up to the bar and entered intoconversation with Mrs. Ally, as she was usually called. 

'His lordship has desired me, Mrs. Ally, to put this notice up in aconspicuous place in your tavern, perhaps you will oblige me by placingit in a proper position. ' So saying, he handed her the paper containingthe reward, etc. , offered for the apprehension of Hunter. 

'You may stick it up yourself on the parish pump, Mr. Lambert, if youlike, but my bar is no station-house or cage; give it to the towncrier, ' said the dame bristling, for she hated the agent, and feared himnot. 

'Dang my buttons!' said a burly farmer, 'Mrs. Ally ha the agentdumbfoundered--what be the matter?'

'It is simply this, good friends, ' said the agent: 'his lordship hasoffered a reward of £500;--£500, ' said the agent, slowly repeating thesum, 'for the apprehension of the notorious poacher, Horace Hunter, whohas threatened his life, and will visit with his gravest displeasure anyone who harbors him, or in any way countenances him; if a tenant heshall be discharged; and Mrs. Ally here, refuses to let me place thenotice in her bar, thereby showing great disregard for my lord's wishes, to say the least. '

The farmers mostly shrunk back on this speech; the name of a lord, andthat lord their landlord, appalled them. They knew the bitter wrong hehad heaped upon Hunter's devoted head; they well could sympathize withhim; they had known him a gay and thriving farmer, their lord's especialfavorite--fatal favor--the companionship of the tiger and the deer. Thebeauty of Hunter's sister had struck the libidinous eye of thearistocratic villain--need I say more? ruin and desolation followed--noone knew what had become of her. The brother had been kidnapped by apress-gang, but of course the Earl knew nothing of that; he was now, however, supposed to be lurking in the neighborhood. The Earl hadreceived a letter in which the brother's heart had been poured out inbitterness; he had injured, therefore he could not forgive. Not so, however, Mrs. Alice; she did not fear the lord one jot, and folks didsay, she knew more about him than he would like told; be that as it may, she loudly protested against its being placed there at all; and wasstill indignantly haranguing; now crying shame upon his lordship; nowbewailing poor Ellen, who had been a great favorite of hers, when hereccentric nephew entered; he looked dusty and fatigued, but there was astrange smile upon his lips as he looked at the agent. Without saying aword he walked straight up to the agent, and taking the paper from hishand procured a hammer and some tacks and nailed it up in the mostconspicuous place in the bar, displacing some of his aunt's ornaments inso doing; then drinking a mug of ale, he threw himself along a bench andwas or seemed to be sound asleep. 

'Dash ma wig, ' said the farmer, who had before spoken, 'that dangs all, the boy be daft and Mrs. Ally doant say nuthen--he be queer forsartain. '

Mrs. Ally said not a word, but gazed on her nephew with muteastonishment; she did not, however, attempt to remove the obnoxiouspaper. The agent having in this unexpected manner gained his point, called for wine and sat down with the curate, lawyer, etc. He had yetanother object--to find Curly Tom, no easy matter, that worthy being byno means a welcome guest there; that he did come there sometimes, however, Lambert knew, for as long as no warrant was out against him, however bad his character, he could not be turned away from the inn whenhe paid his shot; he did not like openly to ask for such a character, but sat down trusting that when the ale made the farmers loquacious heshould gain some clue to his whereabouts. Fortune seemed destined to behis friend in more than one way that evening. The sound of a pistol shotwas heard in the road leading towards the seaport, which was some tenmiles distant; and a few moments after, a burly seafaring man enteredthe tap-room, dragging after him, in his powerful grasp, a ruffianlyill-looking countryman; no other indeed than the man of all othersLambert wished most to see, viz: Curly Tom. 

'Cast your anchor there, ' said the seaman, 'and if you attempt to slipmoorings, afore you've been over-hauled by the skipper, split mytopsails but I'll bring you up all standing with this barking iron, 'pressing the muzzle of a pistol to the fellow's forehead. 

'Put up your pistol, ' said the fellow sullenly. 'I beant going to run;you've broke my head and dinged all the wind oot of ma body. '

'What is the matter, my good man?' said Mr. Lambert, coming forward. 'Iam a magistrate, and can take your deposition. '

'Matter!' said the sailor, 'piracy is the matter. I was making for thisere port, charged with despatches from my commanding officer, when thisere shark ranges alongside and pops his barking iron into my face, andwants me to break cargo and hand over to him, but I brought my harpoonhandle to bear on his figure head and he capsized, and his barker gotfoul of his rigging, then I roused him up and brought him along to thisport. '

'Highway robbery and attempt at murder, ' said the agent. 'Simpkins, youare constable, take this man in charge, while I make out his committal. Stay!' he added, 'the cage is very insecure, and this is no triflingcase. You had better take him up to the castle, my lord will examine himin the morning, and there is a strong room there; meantime, Mrs. Allywill perhaps see to his wound, it looks an ugly one. '

The kind hearted landlady readily undertook this latter office, even forso repulsive a being; his head had indeed received a terrific blow, afur cap had somewhat deadened the force or he must have been killed onthe spot; she bound his head up, and in charge of the constable and twostout laborers he was marched up to the castle. The agent after warningthe mariner to attend in the morning at his examination, going withthem, well pleased, not only to have found the man he sought, but alsoto have him in such a situation that he could only choose between doinghis bidding or the gallows. The boy, had never stirred from his sleepduring this scene. The company at the ale house also broke up, and eachwended his way home, where, no doubt, each in his own way, regaled hisfamily with the marvels of the evening, and the seaman alone remained, eating his supper as coolly as though nothing had happened, a combat oflife and death seeming to him a thing too common to excite any emotionin his breast. Had it been daylight it is not likely he would have beenattacked by one man; few that gazed upon his square muscular form, hisbrawny chest and strong hard hands, would have liked to cope with him inpersonal conflict, though his iron grey beard told that more than fiftyyears of storm had rolled over his head. His face had been handsome, scarred with storm and conflict, it still bore the impress of manlybeauty, and there was a look of settled determination, upon it, thattold was indeed, 'In close fight a warrior grim, '

and traces of fierce passion also showed him to be one whom no one wouldlike for an enemy. His dress was finer than an ordinary seaman's, andthough perfectly nautical, was free from any stain of tar or pitch, generally considered absolutely necessary in a sailor's attire. The boygazed intently on him as he took his meal, closing his eyes howeverwhenever the sailor looked at him, and preserving the appearance ofslumber. 

Mrs. Ally waited with becoming patience while her guest ate his fill andthen approaching him with a brimming tumbler of punch said, 'Drink tothe memory of old times, Walter. '

'You know me then!' said he, 'strange that but one eye alone of thosewho knew me in my boyhood should recognize me, but sea and storm do muchto alter a man, human passion does more. ' (He spoke now without any ofthe sea jargon that had made his account of the encounter with Curly Tomalmost unintelligible to the farmers); 'but, ' he added, 'you had bettersend this lad to bed. '

'You need not, ' said the boy, rising as he spoke, 'I remembered youinstantly. I will not betray you if you wish to remain unknown. '

'You may safely trust him, ' said his aunt, 'he never breaks his word. '

'A good sign that, ' said the seaman, 'and a bold boy I warrant, he iswell grown too for his years, and like--'

'Like who?' asked aunt and nephew in one breath. 

'Like one I never wish to speak of, ' was the answer, 'let be, let be, Ihave much to ask you; first of my father, does he live?'

'He does, bowed down by age and now by sorrow, Walter. When you and Iwere younger--years ago--when my sister, who is now an angel in heaven, I hope, married you, I never thought the day would come when my lipsshould be the ones to tell you of the desolation of your child. '

Walter recoiled, and rising from his seat grasped the back of the chairhe had been seated on with such a nervous gripe that the strong oak railbroke in two with the pressure, and his heaving chest and quivering liptold the fierce emotions that were struggling for utterance. --Thelandlady understood his look. 

'Do not fear, Walter--your child is as pure as an angel. It is thedesolation of her heart I speak of--not the pollution. It is the blightthat has fallen upon her young love--upon a woman's first and holiestimpressions--a virtuous love for a deserving object. Are you calm enoughto hear the tale?'

'I am--proceed. '

'My tale will not be a long one, but sad--sad for more than one victimhas and will fall yet to the fell passions of him, who rules thisneighborhood with a rod of iron. You remember Geoffry Hunter, of theToll gate farm?'

'Well; he and I were schoolmates. '

'He died some few years after you went on that voyage from which no oneever expected to see you return--I for one. Though remembering yourdaring courage and hardihood, I did not credit the tale that was broughthere that you had perished in the woods attempting to escape. I feltconfident you would one day return--as you did ten years ago, andbrought this boy with you. Geoffry Hunter left two children. You knewthem--Horace and Ellen. Poor Ellen! victim of a titled villain!' and thegood woman paused, and tears filled her eyes. It was some moments ereshe could proceed. 'Horace grew up a fine young-man. As a boy he was aplaymate of our proud master; and when Ellen returned from Canterbury, where she had been educated by an aunt, she was the pride of thevillage, the joy of her widowed mother's heart, and the apple of herbrother's eye. It was a beautiful thing to see, Walter, the strong loveof those two--the exultant pride of the brother in his sister'sloveliness--in her accomplishments, for she knew many things our countryfolks were unacquainted with. The deep affection of the sister--oh, itwas a happy and a handsome picture, that mother, sister and brother. Shetook more pleasure in the society of your daughter than in any other ofthe village girls, and they were much together. Ellen taught her whatshe had learned, and thus it came about that her brother first noticedand finally loved her. And she loved him in return. A handsomer or morefitting pair never trod the sod together. You would have approved thematch. Your father gave his consent--he had long mourned you asdead--and they were to have been married when she became 20 years ofage. It yet wanted two years of this time when our lord returned fromabroad. He soon visited the house of his old playfellow, and was struckwith the beauty of Ellen Hunter--but he too well knew the character ofHorace Hunter to openly show it. The first step he took was to dismissyour father from the stewardship, under pretence of his being too old, and settling a pension on him. He did not wish the good old man nearhim--it was a living reproach on his bad deeds. '

'On the infamous practices of his race, ' said the seaman sternly; 'badfather and bad son--but proceed. '

'He installed this man Lambert in your father's place--a cold, unfeelingman--a money-worshiper, and suspected of being only too willing aninstrument in furthering his master's infamous designs. Lambertsedulously cultivated an intimacy with the Hunters--condoled with themother, ingratiated himself with the young man, and affected unboundedfriendship. Ellen, however, with the true instinct of a pure andinnocent girl, shrank from his companionship; innocence will ever shrinkwith innate consciousness from baseness. He persuaded Hunter to rent afarm in addition to his own, and lent him money to speculate largely inbreeding fancy sheep. The speculation failed--the agent pressed forpayment. His master came forward and paid the amount. Thus he appearedas a benefactor, and Ellen's gratitude soon ripened into love; but herbrother was in the way. He went to Erith to make some purchases for hismother and sister, and was kidnapped by a press-gang. Lambert had beenthere a few days before. '

'Ah, I understand, ' said the seaman--'too plain. Fire them--what righthave they to seize a free man as if he were a negro slave?'

'It's a shame, ' said Mrs. Ally, 'but good King George--'

'Imbecile old ass, ' said the mariner--'go on with your story. '

'The mother grieved for her son's absence--he wrote from the tender shipasking for his clothes, and to buy off his discharge. She applied to theEarl. He deceived her--gave her hope--promised to write to theAdmiralty--was sorry, but the necessities of the war were such, substitutes were not allowed, and a discharge could not be granted. Within a year the mother died, and Ellen was left alone. Beautiful, helpless, with no one to protect her, was it a wonder she fell a victimto the vile plot laid for her? Her seducer wearied of her after twoyears, and offered to settle a pension upon her and wed her to his baseinstrument Lambert. She spurned the offer, and left the cottage where hehad established her in splendid infamy. None knew whither she went, andno tidings have since been heard of her. '

The seaman was pacing the floor in stern and gloomy silence. He paused. 'And him?--what became of him?'

'He came back three years after, ' said the landlady, 'in sailor's garb, but without a seaman's manner. He had learned dissipation, and wasgloomy and fierce. He had heard of his sister's shame, and he swore aterrible revenge. The Earl was in London at the time, but had he beenhere, Horace would have attempted nothing then. "I will not strike himnow, " said he--"no! that were a poor revenge. I will tame his pridefirst--then destroy him. Mine shall be no vulgar vengeance. "--He howeverwrote a passionate letter to the Earl demanding his acknowledgment ofhis sister as his lawful wife, and threatening terrible vengeance. Thiswas idle, but I suppose it merely done to cover deeper designs. Hereturned to sea--was absent two more years, but re-appeared here somethree months ago, since when he has been frequently seen about theneighborhood, and is supposed to subsist by poaching. Curly Tom, theruffian you captured last night, has been much with him. He has againwritten to the Earl something which has made him furious--so your fathertold me, who had been there, the good old man, trying to make him foregohis pursuit of poor Horace. There will be something terrible, I am sure. God help us, and avert it. '

'Say rather, let his righteous judgments fall upon that base man and hisinfamous house, ' said the mariner sternly. 'You need tell me no more. Ican picture my sweet child, pining, grieving over the lost character ofhim she loved--two families of victims. But shall not vengeance take itscourse? It shall--terrible and full. But a short space of time shallelapse ere he shall be stripped of rank and title, and then--'

'Walter, you rave. '

'I speak in earnest. I never threaten in vain. But I must act now. Imust find Hunter. How to do that--'

'I will take you to him, ' said the boy, 'to-morrow evening. '

'Good. I must have some talk with you, but now I must rest. To-morrownight I shall have none. '

So saying, the burly seaman, preceded by the landlady, retired to hischamber. The house was soon in quiet, but the boy sat long by thedecaying embers of the fire, musing over the words "he shall be strippedof his rank and titles"--then took from his vest a small gold locket. Itcontained a lock of hair--two persons' hair entwined together, dark andfair--but it bore the impress of a coronet, and the proud motto, "NulliSecundi. "

CHAPTER III. 

THE AGENT. 

Great was the concourse that thronged the room to which we firstintroduced our reader, on the morning after the events we havedetailed--the weather-beaten mariner was there to state his charge--theparish clerk with more than usual importance was ready to act assecretary--the lawyer, the curate, all prepared to play their part inthe approaching drama of real life. The Earl in his magisterialseat--bitter mockery of justice--prepared to sit in judgment on a wretchnot half so guilty as himself. But he belonged to a privilegedclass--the other was one of the "lower orders. "

The entrance of Mr. Simpkins the constable, with rueful countenance andfaltering voice, with the intelligence that the prisoner had escaped, created a great sensation. No one was more indignant than theEarl--though how far this was real may be judged when we inform thereader that Lambert had held a long conversation with the prisoner, Simpkins and his two assistants being first treated to a powerful opiatein a mug of ale. This conversation had resulted in Curly Tom'sdeparting--a pensioned tool, a hired slave, to do the will, even tomurder, of his titled employer--he had no choice save the gallows. Theconstable was severely reprimanded, a reward offered for theapprehension of the fugitive--the seaman's deposition taken in due form, and all the forms of law gone through with as if it had indeed been acourt of justice. The seaman treated the affair lightly, laughed andjoked with the farmers, and the crowd began to disperse, when a burst ofmusical laughter, bitter mocking in its tones, was heard in theapartment. It came from no one there. All stood aghast. Many astout-hearted countryman who would have faced a cannon withoutshrinking, trembled and turned pale. The women shrieked; the noblemanstarted up. 

'Let no one quit the apartment, ' said he. 'Search the walls--there mustbe some secret panel there. ' It was done, but not a trace, not a knobwas visible; all sounded hard and solid. 

'You have a shipmate with you, my lord, ' said the mariner, 'whose nameis not upon the ship's books. I have heard of such things at sea. '

'And what might your wisdom suppose them to be?' said the Earl, with asneer. 

'It is hard for man to tell, ' said the seaman, who had not been theslightest discomposed by the voice. 'He who made the ocean and the dryland alone knows; but a conscience void of offence is the sheet anchorfor man to rely upon in the voyage of life. I never knew such a thing tohappen save to a wicked man. '

'Ha, ' said the Earl sarcastically, 'a moralizing tar-bucket. Truly, thisage is prolific in wonders. The march of intellect is abroad with avengeance. But since these good people have been disappointed of theirexpected morning's amusement, perhaps you will favor them and myselfwith this yarn, I think they call it; and Lambert, order some ale to beserved round, and let them bring a cup of brandy for our maritime friendhere; he must wet his whistle, I suppose, or he will never be able tospin a yarn in true, orthodox, sailor fashion. Sit down, friend, andbegin. '

'I drink when I am dry, my lord, ' said the seaman, 'and I preferstanding to casting anchor here. '

'Have it your own way, then, but proceed, we are all attention. '

'I had shipped as mate on board a vessel bound from Valparaiso toVirginia, some years ago, when, getting short of provisions, we put intoLima, on the coast of Peru. Here we took on as passenger, an Englishgentleman in bad health, who was said to be enormously rich, but whobore a very bad character, people said he had murdered his brother'schild, or had him put out of the way, to obtain his inheritance, but hewas a rich man and justice was quiet. He had noble blood in his veins, and had been sent out by government as ambassador, or something of thatsort. One of our crew came from his native village, and he told me theseparticulars. '

A singular expression came over the Earl's features for a moment, andthe same low, mocking laugh was again heard, the listeners shuddered anddrew closer together: the mariner proceeded. 

'We had a rough passage, but when we neared Cape Horn, of all the galesthat ever blew in five-and-forty years that I have been at sea, I neversaw one like that. One night when the storm was at its utmost, when thelightning, blue and vivid, seemed to surround us with an atmosphere offlame, he rushed upon deck, pale and trembling, declaring he could notstay below, for there was a woman and child there, mocking him anddancing in the lightning's flash. ' A groan of horror burst from thelisteners. The Earl's cheek flushed for a moment, then turned pale, buthe was motionless and passionless in seeming. The seaman glanced at theEarl from under his shaggy eyebrows, and proceeded. 

'The sailors spoke together in angry whispers, some of them were forthrowing him overboard, and I had hard work to persuade them to leavehim to his Maker and his conscience; soon, however, we all heard thewailing cry of a child, then stifling sobs, sounds mingled with thestorm like a woman's voice in agony of supplication, bitter, mockinglaughter. I could restrain the men no longer, "we will free our craftfrom this Jonah, " said they, "the storm is sent for him. " But thevengeance of the Almighty was swifter than theirs, he had climbed therigging--the stoutest seaman that ever handled rope could not havepassed the futtoch shrouds in such a storm, yet he reached the top-mastcross-trees, clinging to the top-gallant mast he stood, and in thelightning we had seen his face, ghastly with terror. There was a vividflash--it seemed to wrap the mast in one blue sheet of flame, while allaround was dark, we saw it then, a female with a child in her arms, floating, as it seemed, upon the wind, now drifting towards him, nowwhirled upon the blast to a distance. A tremendous sea struck us uponthe beam at this moment, and every mast went by the board. The galeabated soon, and we got jury-masts up, and put back to Lima, but of allthat ship's crew, no man was hurt by the storm or the spirit, save hewhose deeds had been evil;--and that is why, my lord, I say I fear notthese sounds, for a good conscience is the best sheet-anchor. '

'A truly edifying tale, ' said the Earl sneering, 'you must be Chaplainto the fleet, doubtless. The bad boy got whipped and the good boys wentscot free, just as it should be. And now, good folks, you have had youramusement, and had best seek your homes, and Old Boreas here may go tohis ship or the Devil. I care not. ' With this parting benediction theEarl quitted the apartment, and the crowd soon dispersed. The agentremained, and a few of the tenantry who had business with him. Themariner with a grave, quiet look, remained seated on one of the benches. There was a slight bustle at the door, as of repelling some intruder, who, however, succeeded in gaining an entrance, and a man whose garmentsbespoke extreme poverty, entered and approached the man of business. 

Mr. Lambert lifted up his head and looked coldly at him. 'What is it youwant now?' he asked. 

'If you please--' began the man. 

'Oh! It's all of no use, unless you have brought the money. My Lordcan't wait any longer, and I have a warrant out now. '

'But I have the money, ' said the man, and he laid five one pound noteson the table. 

'This is not sufficient, ' said Lambert, 'the costs of the summons, warrant of distress, etc. , amount to £14 more. '

'My God!' said he, 'what am I to do?'

'I can take this on account, and stop further proceedings, if you canprocure security to pay the remainder within a month. '

'I cannot. Great God! have you no mercy? I have not tasted food thesethree days, and I am weak with fever. I cannot work yet; wait till I ambetter. '

This man's attenuated form, his bony hands and cadaverous cheeks--eyesstaring with hunger, told a tale too common, alas, of fearful suffering;but no marble was colder than the agent. 

'I am not your physician, Mr. Johnson, and therefore cannot say anything about your fitness for work. One thing I have to say, that is, youcannot sit rent free in my lord's cottage; the money must be paid or outyou pack. I have an attachment on your tools, so you cannot remove them. You have had the usual legal notice, and my offer just now wasliberal--very liberal. '

'And my children--'

'There are institutions provided by the laws, Mr. Johnson, for thereception of paupers. But we are wasting time. Do you accept myproposition or not?'

'I cannot do it; give me time. '

'Too much has been already wasted. Take back your money. You doubtlesscan obtain more in the same manner you did this. It looks verysuspicious, I must say. '

'And this is called a Christian land!' said the poor fellow, holding hiswasted hands up to heaven. 'O God, that these things should be! Theearth is covered with food for sustaining life, and hundreds, aye, thousands, like myself, are perishing at home. Oh, where is Christiancharity?'

'Charity begins at home, ' said the seaman, 'and seldom casts anchor inany other port. If you'll take my advice, you will stow your cargo andmake sail, and hark ye--' He whispered a word in the man's ear; theother clasped his hands together, and with a tear in his eye, left theapartment. 

'Woe! woe! doomed!' cried the mysterious voice. 

Lambert shook like a leaf--the seaman seemed to enjoy his terror. 

'How much does Mr. Johnson owe?' said he, '£5 rent, and £14 costs and taxes. '

'Write a receipt. '

The mariner paid the sum, and asked how he came so low. 

'The usual story, captain. '

'Williams is my name. '

'The usual story, Captain Williams--sick wife, large family, broke aleg, wife died, behind-hand in his rent, steady man, but not punctual inpaying his bills. '

'Why how the thunder could he? Couldn't his lordship wait till the poorfellow was a little recovered?'

'Business, captain, must be conducted in a business-like manner. '

'You thought otherwise once. '

'When was that, pray?'

'When the father of that man, whom your relentless cruelty pursues withsuch vindictive malice, took you, a friendless boy, fed and clothed you, educated you along with his own son--the very man whose misery youinsult--when his father saved _you_ from the "charitable institution"you would send his children to, and finally paid the fee for articlingyou to the attorney at Canterbury, where you learned your presentdevotion to business. '

The agent stared in speechless astonishment--the low musical laugh againrang through the room. 

'Listen!' said the mariner. 'The creatures of the air, the beings ofanother world denounce you; the victims of your lust for gold, thoughburied fathoms deep in the grave, still find a voice to chill the marrowin your bones: the dead shall rise from their graves and confrontyou--the hidden perfidy of years shall be disclosed, base tool of abaser master--all your machinations against the wronged and the humbleshall fail, and recoil upon yourselves. Repent ere it will be too late;you will never more be warned by me. '

So saying, the stout seaman left the astonished agent and wended his waytowards the cottage of the poor man Johnson, whither we shall precedehim. It is needless to remind the reader that the way was perfectlyfamiliar to him. 

Dark are the shadows that cross the poor man's path, and few and farbetween are the glimpses of hope that come to lighten them. The Eternalin his wisdom has ordained that such should be--but Oh! woe! woe! tenthousand times ten thousand woes, does he deserve who oppresses where heshould relieve, who becomes the destroyer where he should have been thecomforter; and yet there exist ten thousand such who thrive and roll inluxury, while human hearts are bursting in their agony. 

CHAPTER IV. 

THE POOR MAN'S HOME. 

Standing a little aloof from the other cottages, as if conscious of itspoor appearance, was a shed; it could hardly be called any thing else, for it appeared originally to have been nothing more than an out-housebelonging to another building, and such in fact it had been. The roofwas decayed in many places, and covered partly with rank moss. It wassituated in a hollow, and the marshy soil around bore evident proof thatit was subject to be overflowed in rainy weather. Four or five squalid, ragged children, with pinched features and thin limbs, sat huddled in aheap on the muddy ground, watching the road with anxious eyes--eyes sobright with hunger that they seemed like those of so many rats. Theyoungest--it was not two years old, cried--the elder beat it. Start not, reader, it is human nature. The little creature hid her wizen face inher withered little hands and sobbed. A man rode by just then. It wasthe agent on his way to the castle, for this was the morning of CurlyTom's escape. Instinctively the children drew closer together andshuddered. They did not know why, but they knew their father feared him. He passed on, and the little faces seemed to brighten for a moment; theeldest was but seven. Long ere the dawn their father had started for themarket town, some five miles off, in the vain hope that an old friendthere would help him. Ah, poor children! there they sat from the firstray of daylight, and the bright sun was now glittering high above theirheads, shining upon their desolation and upon the castle turrets, wherein dwelt in luxury their oppressor. The events we have described astaking place at the castle were still in progress, when a female wasseen slowly coming along the road, bearing a basket on her arm thatseemed too heavy for her. 

'That is Mary Walters, ' said the eldest, 'and she will give us somethingto eat--I am sure she will. Jenny, dear, don't cry, ' and the urchinwiped the little face she had struck before, and tenderly took her inher own spare little arms. The child was not much weight. Gentle MaryWaters! who that gazed upon thy placid face, as thou earnest on thineerrand of mercy--who that saw thee as thou ministered to the necessitiesof those poor desolate children, would not have loved thee--who that hadseen thee in the first blush of thy beauty, when thy foot was as elasticas the fawn's, and thy countenance radiant with joy and life's youngmorning hope--who, who could dream that there existed one who had seenall this, who had known the tie that bound thee to earth and itspromised happiness, the innocent love that abounded in thy heart--yetruthlessly snapped that tie asunder, and buried the love nought coulderadicate, deep in her bosom--a shattered wreck amid the memories of thepast. Gentle Mary Walters! alas for thy experience!

What avails it to describe her--perished as we know that fair form tobe, withered in its bloom. Yet she was handsome. It was not in anyparticular feature; it was in the whole expression of her face and form. Her auburn hair, in its plain quiet braid--her neat and scrupulouslyplain attire, her mild blue eye, the air of placid resignation about herpresence, seemed so lovely, for she bore no outward token of the griefwithin; she had never wailed or cried her sorrow away; but though hergay smile had passed away forever, she had not become the gloomymisanthrope or the fretful querulous invalid. She had complained to noone. Her old grandfather knew her griefs, but he also knew that it was asubject he could not offer her consolation upon. To aid the suffering asfar as her slender means would allow, to tend the couch of sickness, tocheer the desponding heart in its hour of darkness, these were theoccupations with which she strove, not to forget her sorrows--that couldnever be--but to afford an outlet for that love for her fellow creatureswhich no selfish grief could lessen. And she could smile and speak incheering tones to others in their hour of woe, shedding over theirdarkened paths the light of hope, while deep in the fountains of her ownheart that sweet flame was extinguished forever on earth, and dust andashes alone remained. 

But over that lovely countenance, so serene and beautiful, the shadow ofdeath had already fallen;--that dread disease that beautifies ere itkills its victims, had placed its fell stamp upon her. Daily her figurebecame thinner and sharper, her breath grew shorter and a hacking coughcommenced, while a hectic flush sometimes came over her pallidcheek--but too plainly warning those who looked upon her, thatconsumption had marked her for its victim. 

Hastily giving the children some victuals she had brought for them, sheentered the hovel, furniture there was none;--a chest of tools and aheap of straw was all its contents. The grate had evidently beenunconscious of a fire for weeks past, --but it was summer. She shudderedas she looked around. This was the home for which the proud lord ofthose domains exacted a rent of £10 per year. She was not one, however, to give way to idle speculation when there was good to be done: sheopened the shutters, swept the floor, and threw a quilt she had broughtwith her over the heap of straw, then made the children wash themselves, and proceeded to dress them in some hastily made clothes, which herbasket contained. Then taking the little one in her lap, and making theothers lay down on the bed--for hunger had awoke them far before theyhad their needful rest, she sat down upon the tool-chest lulling thechild to sleep, and patiently awaiting the arrival of the father. A stepapproached, it was not the man, however, but the landlady's waywardnephew:--he, too, carried a basket, and seemed pleased, but not at allsurprised at seeing Mary. 

'I knew I should find you here, ' said he, sitting beside her, (he wasmuch more companionable with her than with any other person, ) 'I knew assoon as you came back and heard how badly off these poor creatures were, you would come to relieve them. It's like you, Mary, you seem the onlyAngel amongst a race of fiends. '

'It is our duty to help the poor and needy, Edward: I only grieve I wasabsent from the village. Things ought never to have come to this pass. Why did not the neighbors help them?'

'Why, Mary, in the first place you know poor Johnson was no favorite oftheirs--he was better educated than any of them, you know he was notbred a carpenter, but intended for a minister, --so he has often told mehimself, for he has been my schoolmaster, it's because we are bothlonely, I suppose, that he talked to me, but he kept aloof from theothers, and they all said pride would have a fall, and so would not comenear him in his trouble. My aunt and he had quarrelled, but she wouldgladly help him for all that if he would only accept of it, but hispride sticks in the way. I knew he was away, or I would not have broughtthis with me; however, you can say you brought it. '

'I can never tell an untruth, Edward, but you can leave it, perhaps hewill ask no questions. '

'I'm not quite sure of that, Mary; but I've played him one trick thismorning for his own good, and if you won't help me to play another, e'enlet it alone--all have their weak side, --that abstract idea of truth youworship, Mary, is yours. '

'And do you not love the truth too, Edward?'

'I never tell a wilful lie, Mary, you know. I'd scorn it, and I neverbreak my word, --but still, look at truth's reward, --here! the home of anhonest man, and there!' he pointed towards the castle. 'Ah! forgive me, Mary, stupid dolt, that I am. '

'You have not hurt me, Edward, but must never think honesty and truthhas no reward even on earth; a good conscience is a blessing none cantake away from us, and there is hope in Heaven. '

'There had need be, Mary, --I won't contradict you, though I don't knowmuch about it. The Bible says so, and I suppose it's true: but poorJohnson, I'm thinking will be more glad of the five pounds I tricked himinto accepting this morning than a dozen good consciences. '

'How was that done, Edward?'

'Why, my aunt wanted to help him, but did not know how, --but I was up atgrey dawn this morning, and saw him pass in the direction of Elverton. Iknew he was gone on a fool's errand to appeal to an old friend; he had, it seems, bowed his proud heart to that. True, he had saved this man'slife: more, he had saved him from dishonor and disgrace, but I felt nonethe less certain he would get no aid there. So I took £5 from AuntAlly's cash-box, and putting them inside a blank letter, I directed itin a feigned hand, only adding the words, "from one who sympathises withlearning and ability in distress, " for he's proud of his learning, androde like mad over the hills to get there before him; there I watchedfor him, and got a footmail to give him the letter, and came back asfast as I went. '

'Now, God bless you for it, Edward, you are a wild boy, but you have agood heart. '

'Boy! Man, you mean, Mary. I'm eighteen this summer. '

'I should not have thought you so old. '

'Aye, aye, you judge like the rest, because my carcase is not as big asLumping Dick's the butcher boy's, and because you have known me as achild when you were a grown woman, you think I am to remain a childalways. ' And he petulantly shook back the masses of long dark hair thatshadowed his wild but handsome countenance. 

At this moment Johnson entered the room. His step was feeble and slow, but his countenance no longer bore the look of deep dejection that hadin the morning characterized it. His eye brightened still more when hesaw Mary. 

'Now God bless you, Miss Waters, for thinking of my poor lambs, ' saidhe. 'I scarcely dared to hope for them. I have brought food forthem--see!' he added. 'I little dreamed anyone would have been herebefore me. '

'Sit down, ' said Mary, rising; 'you are fatigued and weak. I must gonow, as my grandfather will need me, but we will send you something tomake your house more comfortable. '

'I shall not require it, Miss Mary: I have nearly five pounds here. '

'Why, how is that?'

'It was handed me this morning by a strange footman in Elverton, afterthe door was shut in my face of the only man I ever tamed my spirit toask aid from: yes, the cowardly hypocrite that dared not deny me to myface, sent his lacquey to tell me he was unwell, and could not bedisturbed by beggars. May the curse--'

'Stay!' said Mary, 'curse him not, leave his punishment to his Maker;but did not the agent take the five pounds for the rent?'

'No; he said there was a warrant and costs of suit that made it fourteenpounds more, and was going to send the bailiffs to turn me out this veryevening; but a strange old seaman came forward and paid the amount. Ishould have been here sooner, but I went round to the village shop tobuy food for the little ones. '

'You must allow me to have my way, Johnson, ' said Mary. 'Sit down nowand eat; then rest. You will need the little money you have, and moretoo, to recruit your health, for you must not dream of working againuntil you are strong. I will send what is necessary, and some one tomind the children; Edward, will you walk home with me?' and before theman could reply, not giving him time to utter a word of thanks, she tookthe arm of the youth and quitted the cottage. The man knelt down on thefloor, and famishing as he was, prayed for a blessing on her head ere hetouched the food that was there. Another had been a witness to thisinterview. Looking through the casement was the visage of the mariner, no longer stern, but moved with unutterable emotion, and tears, yes, tears trickling down his weather-beaten cheeks. This soon ceased, however, and a frown dark and terrible passed over his face; hispowerful frame quivered, then settled down into one look of deep, determined, implacable resolve. He entered the hut, and laying theagent's receipt upon the chest, quitted without a word. 

CHAPTER V. 

THE CAPTURE. 

The sun had set about an hour on the evening of the same day, when Mr. Lambert, with two stout attendants, set out from his residence on theoutskirts of the village, and took his way through the intervening woodtowards the sea shore. The two men with him were London officers, adeptsat thief catching, resolute and determined; they were well armed, butbore no badge of their occupation outside. The agent had screwed hiscourage to the point of accompanying them, with some difficulty, but hewas well aware that if they failed in capturing their man, he would haveto encounter the nobleman's rage, and he feared the loss of his favormore than the chance of being shot or stabbed by Hunter; but he knewwell it was an errand of no small danger he was upon; yet they werethree to one, and he counted much upon the instructions he had given toCurly Tom; much also on Hunter's habit of drink, still he felt by nomeans easy and would have given much then to have been quietly in hisbed; not so the officers; they were in high glee, the prospect of adesperate encounter being by men inured to deal with ruffians as theywere, but small in comparison with the hope of a large reward. 

They proceeded in silence, however--the agent, who was perfectlyfamiliar with the way, leading. They soon emerged into the open country, and after a few miles began to ascend, and felt the keen air from thesea blow upon their faces--the path soon became rugged and uneven, butsloping towards the sea. In a short time they reached the beach. Herethey dismounted and tied their beasts up under a shed, placed there forthe purpose of drying fish. There was no moon, but it was a brightstarlight night, and the tide was out. Creeping cautiously along, theyskirted the base of a large cliff which projected far beyond low watermark, and against which the sea beat in fury when the tide was in; andkeeping on its inner side; crept along until they reached the entranceof a cave. Not a word was spoken. Their instructions had beenprecise--for Lambert, who was born and had spent his earliest yearsthere, knew every spot of the ground. They took their shoes off, andwalking upon the hard sand which formed the ground, entered the pitchydarkness. Lambert going first, and knowing that a sound would befatal--for they would have little chance in that narrow passage--heturned every angle as accurately as if it had been daylight, and theofficers holding, one behind the other, followed stealthily along. Soontheir path widened, and a glimmering light allowed them that the cavernwas tenanted, or had been so. A few paces more, and they stopped. Somelarge masses of fallen rock here almost blocked up the path, leaving anopening so narrow as to require stooping to enter. Cautiously peepingthrough some spaces between the rocks, the agent and his myrmidons gazedupon a scene Salvator would have loved to paint. The cavern hereexpanded into a semicircular hall, stalactites hanging from its roofnearly to the ground. Here and there a niche and recess which seemeddone by human art, but which in fact was Nature's handiwork, was seen, and every point of spar, from the lofty roof to the stalagmites below, was glittering in the light of a huge fire of brushwood fed by CurlyTom. A small rill of water trickled from a fissure in the rock above, and wound its way through the sand towards the sea. It was the verybeau-ideal of a robber's cave. Its existence was known to few: onlyaccessible at low water, the entrance had escaped notice, and the fewthat did find it were discouraged on entering by the long and tortuousway which led to this chamber, and did not track it far. The smoke foundvent above, as the fire burnt clear and bright, and did not incommodethe watchers. 

Horace Hunter was pacing the cave with unsteady step, and with delightthe officers saw that he was more than half intoxicated. No one couldhave recognized in the bloated countenance and reckless air of thehunted man, the gay and handsome young farmer of seven years before. There was still the same manly form and intelligent features, but therich brown hair that then curled round his open brow, now wild andmatted, only added to the desperate appearance of his sunken eyes andoverhanging brows. Drink did not make him merry. On the contrary he wasmore bitter then than ever. Gloomy and ferocious as he had become sincehis sister's shame had been known to him, when he drank he only broodedheavier upon it; and the hope of a more complete revenge only restrainedhim then from some desperate act of violence. As he walked to and fro, chafing with inward passion, he might have been compared to a caged wildbeast, hungry and with food in sight, yet unattainable. 

'A curse upon you, Tom!' said he. 'Would you roast us alive, this hotnight? Leave the fire alone and bring your hang-dog face here!'

He treated his associate with the most bitter contempt. 

'I doant fancy biding here with narra light!' said the fellow. 'There bea mort of ugly things here!'

'There's nothing uglier than your own carcase. Drink and get courage. Ifyour heart is cold with fear, warm it with brandy. '

So saying he took a deep draught himself and handed the bottle to hiscompanion. 

'I hate the stuff!' said he. 'Bah! it's poison--but it rouses me. Firethis infernal cave! What's that?' A bat, disturbed by the smoke, flittedclose before his face. 'I have had nothing but evil omens to-day. Whatis the day of the month?'

'I heern lawyer say the 26th, yesterday. '

'The 27th of August, then. By twelve o'clock to-night my time will beup--then I shall be free to act. If that old seaman should play me falsenow! I promised him to wait three years, and I have kept my word!' Hewas speaking more to himself than to his companion. 'Three longyears--too long for vengeance for wrongs like mine to wait. But that heswore, I should tame his pride--but that he spoke of hurling him fromhis high estate, ere this I would have had the heart's blood of thatproud man. But to-night I shall be free, and then--'

He took from his vest a miniature, and gazed upon it long and earnestly. Gradually his features softened, and burying his face in his hands, hewept. There was yet one green spot in the desert of his heart--love forthe fair girl he had been betrothed to. Reader, it was a terrible thingto see that man weep--it would have made your heart sicken and yourblood boil, while every scalding tear that fell would cry aloud in yourthoughts, 'Vengeance, vengeance!'

A strange proceeding now took place. Curly Tom took from his pocket asmall phial, and previously filling his own cup with brandy, poured thecontents into the bottle. He watched his companion intently during thisprocess, but his terrible emotion too completely mastered him for themoment. It was but momentary. He arose and commenced to pace the flooragain. 'My Mary! you too sacrificed! O, fiend! fiend! But my vengeanceshall be terrible! To-night I shall be free from my oath!' He walked upto the table and drank. Curly Tom watched him intently as he resumed hisunsteady walk. 

'He little dreams that I can enter his very chamber at any hour. Oh!coward, fool, dolt, that I have been, to delay my just revenge on theword of that old pirate. I believe him, --some paid minion of this proudman; for he has them in every guise, perhaps the very appointment madethree years ago in the West Indies, was a trap, perhaps, --even this clodis a spy and accomplice;' he took a pistol from an inner pocket andcocking it, pressed it to the ear of his companion. 'Tom, ' said he, 'ifI thought you would betray me. ' The ruffian possessed that bruteindifference to danger too often mistaken for true courage, --he did nottremble, though a slight paleness was visible on his repulsivecountenance as he felt the touch of the iron barrel. 'Whoy! MeasterHorace, ' said he, 'didn't you save moy old mawther from being drowned bythe boys vor a witch, noa, noa, --I be true, and hate yearl and lawyer, and all the great volk. '

'I believe you, ' said the other, replacing the pistol, 'but' he began tomutter indistinctly, took a few steps in a wild, uncertain way;--'I feeldizzy, --d----nation, ' he staggered to a seat and dropped his head uponthe piece of rock that served them for a table;--the opiate had done itswork. 

Curly Tom cautiously arose, and walking up to him, looked upon him longand steadily, listening to the heavy breathing, --he wished to remove hisarms, but the position Hunter was lying in, prevented his doing so. Theruffian felt no remorse; it was true that Hunter had saved the wretch'smother from being abused and ill-treated, perhaps murdered, by thesuperstitious villagers: true that he had regularly allowed the poor oldwoman support till her death, --while her ruffian son was pursuing hiscareer of crime, --but the villain knew his own neck was in danger, andbeing conscious of perfidy, now hated Hunter for his momentarysuspicion. As he leaned over the insensible man, his light, bleary eyesgleaming with ferocious satisfaction, his lank, shambling figure, andyellow, matted hair hanging in elf locks round his sharp visage, helooked like an unclean bird of prey hovering over a carcase. And acarcase it was over which he bent his head; dead now to every honorablehope, worse than useless to his kind, a hunted outcast, a mass ofdecaying matter, kept alive only by the fiery hope of vengeance thatburnt within. The ruffian had hitherto been faithful, and procuredHunter those necessaries that he could not venture in quest of himself, for he was a deserter from that service, which kidnaps men to do itswork, and hunts down the poor slaves when they escape, even in the landwhose inhabitants are singing, 'Britons ever will be free. ' Bitter, mockery of freedom. Curly Tom now held up his hand, and cautiously theofficers emerged from their hiding place, slowly they came forward, anticipating an easy capture; they were mistaken. The opiate, as itfrequently does on excitable natures, had only partially stupefied him, and the first effect wearing off, it now began to act as astimulant;--the officers had traversed about half the distance to therock on which Hunter's head reclined, when he started up and lookedwildly around him, --for a moment he seemed stupefied, and passed hishand before his face as if to assure himself he was not dreaming--theofficers rushed forward. He saw it all now, --he drew a pistol, but CurlyTom threw his long arms round him, --too late to prevent the explosion, however. The ball whizzed by the side of the foremost officer, andstruck the agent in the leg--he fell. Curly Tom possessed more strengththan his lank figure promised, --but Hunter, thoroughly sobered by hisdanger; tore his hold away, and striking the ruffian a tremendous blowwith the butt end of the discharged pistol, felled him to theground, --and snatching a knife from the rock close at hand, stabbed theforemost officer to the heart, --he fell with a heavy groan, and the nextmoment the remaining officer, a man of herculean strength had closedupon him. Terrible was now the struggle--the officer had dexterouslystruck the knife from his hand as he closed with him, but he could notdraw his pistols. Locked in each other's grasp they wrestled togetherfor life: each one well knew that death would be the lot of thevanquished, --the officer burning to revenge his comrade's death:--Hunterstruggling for life and his cherished vengeance. Gradually theyapproached the spot where the agent sat watching the conflict withterrible anxiety, so absorbing as to make him forgetful of the pain ofhis wound; here, by a tremendous effort the officer succeeded inthrowing his antagonist; falling, however, with him. Hunter madedesperate efforts to rise, but getting within reach of the agent in thestruggle, Lambert seized his hair, and held his head firmly down; tomaster his hands now, and slip a pair of handcuffs over his wrists, was, to the powerful and practised officer, the work of a moment, --andfurious with passion, but exhausted by the struggle, Hunter lay upon theearth, a captive. 

'A game fellow, ' said the officer, wiping the perspiration from hisbrow, 'and strong as a bear, but I've tackled as tough hands as him inmy day, and so has poor Bill Maddox there. I hope the Earl will settle agood pension on his widow--it will be sad news for her and her four poorchildren:--stone dead. He took the famous highwayman, Jack Blount summutin this way, five years ago. Well, he's gone, and as the tide is comingin, we had best be smart. That shot was unlucky for you, Mr. Lambert, but such accidents will happen. You behaved beautifully. I'm blowed if Ithought you so fly to these things. Poor Bill--we can't move him untilnext tide, but sea-water can't hurt him now. I must rouse thischuckle-headed yokel and get him to help me. ' So saying, the veteranthief-catcher lighted a dark lantern, and taking some water sprinkled itfreely over the head and face of Curly Tom. The fellow returned toconsciousness, and gazed around him--a look of ferocious joy animatedhis eyes, as he saw that Hunter was taken, and drinking the brandy hehad reserved unmixed in the cup, he professed his readiness to helpthem. 

Leaving him to guard the prisoner, first, however, removing Hunter'sremaining pistol, and even securing the discharged one, the sturdyofficial took the wounded agent on his back, and crept out of thecavern. He soon returned, and with Tom's assistance removed Hunter also, who now from the combined effects of exhaustion, liquor and the opiate, was fast becoming insensible. Leaving one of his pistols with the agent, in case of treachery on the part of Tom, he once more returned, andtaking off the outer clothing of the dead man, fastened a cord to hisfeet, and tied it firmly round a piece of rock near by. He was too usedto scenes of blood to shed a tear, but he shook the dead man's hand andsaid, 'Poor Bill, ' as he quitted the cave. His precautions with regardto Tom were unneeded. The ruffian's hatred had been aroused by Hunter'ssuspicion, and confirmed by the blow. Nor did he refuse to start toErith for assistance to convey the prisoner and the wounded man there. He had been assured by the agent that no harm should come to him, protected by the powerful influence of the nobleman; and to allowhimself to be captured had been part of the plan from the first. He hadnot sense enough to know that the heavier crime of murder, now layingupon the soul of the unfortunate man, did away with the necessity of hisappearing as a witness, as it had been done in the presence of Mr. Lambert and the officer, and they were both too wise to undeceive him. Indeed the wily agent had determined, now that the service was rendered, to sacrifice his ruffianly tool, as his presence might be troublesome. Tom soon returned with a posse of police officers and a cart, to conveythe prisoner and the wounded. A surgeon was with them, who dressed Mr. Lambert's wound temporarily, and pronounced it trifling, and the partydeparted--Tom going with them as a voluntary prisoner. 

Great were the encomiums bestowed upon the officer by his brotherofficial, for his conduct and bravery, and the agent also came in forhis share of praise--and the whole party were in high glee at theresult, which brought one poor hunted human being under the dread ban ofthe law, while he whose lust had driven him to crime revelled in luxury, and mingled with the fair and good, courted and caressed by those whowould have shrunk from expressing any sympathy for the poor victims ofhis pride. Weep, angels, weep! and devils, shout for joy! Hell has nominister so powerful as the proud man's lust. 

It may be as well to mention here at once, that the agent, pursuing hisplan of getting rid of Curly Tom, much to that worthy's astonishment, pressed the charge of highway robbery against him, before the trial ofHunter, which was postponed through the influence of the Earl, which wasindirectly exerted also to procure the condemnation of his base tool;and so it came to pass, that after a trial, which was a mere form--forthe seaman's bare deposition, which Mr. Lambert had taken, was admittedas evidence--the good citizens of Canterbury being in want of a littleexcitement, that interesting individual performed a dance upon nothing, in company with a sheep-stealer and a forger, for their especial behoof, one fine day in September, under the personal superintendence of thataccomplished artist, Mr. John Ketch, in the presence of a highlyrespectable and numerous audience, who all retired to their homes inpeace, much gratified with the exhibition, and duly impressed with adeep sense of the blessing of being permitted to vegetate under theprotection of a government so wise in its councils, so strong in_execution_, and so paternal in its care for the morals of the people. So said the newspapers next day; and thus ended the career of aheartless ruffian, it is true, but who had ever sought to make himotherwise?

To proceed with our tale. Day was now fast breaking; and as the cortegemoved away with their prisoner, two horsemen appeared on the cliffsabove, and dismounting, watched the party with eager but disappointedlooks. They were the old seaman and Edward Barnett, the villagelandlady's eccentric nephew. 

'A plague upon my awkward riding, ' said the seaman, 'we are too late!They have taken him, and that rascal too with him! Fool that he was toplace any confidence in such a hound. '

'He had been kind to Tom's mother, ' said Edward, 'and he supposed thatgratitude. '

'Bah!' said the sailor; 'when you have buffeted as many of the storms oflife as I have, you will learn that gratitude is rarely found onearth--least of all in such a brutified nature as that fellow's. But whydo I blame him? He was but what the law made him. Punished for a venialfault--sent to herd with hardened malefactors, is it wonderful that heshould become schooled in crime? And now the law will punish thecriminal it made. We can do no good here--we had best proceed to Erith. I have much to say to you, and much to do. But fear not; Hunter shallnot perish without an effort, even if I tear him from the gallows. ' Sosaying, he remounted, and the two slowly pursued their way towardsErith. 

CHAPTER VI. 

THE BEGINNING OF RETRIBUTION. 

The seaman and his young companion were seated together in a little roomoverlooking the sea, on the evening succeeding the events we haverelated. It was one of those calm, lovely evenings when summer, seemingloth to give over her reign to the approaching fall, exerts herself todisplay her utmost beauty, and withholds her scorching heat. Thedeclining sun gave a rose colored tint to the landscape, and the vesselspassing to or from the modern Babylon added animation to the scene. Themariner was gazing at the distant horizon, lost in thought. Thatmemories of other days were recalled to his mind, was evident from theworking of his features; that it required a strong effort to restrainhis emotion, was perceivable from the compression of his lips. There wasa massive grandeur in his aspect as he sat, well befitting the scene. His young companion had his thoughts also, and they were not the usualones of his age. The meeting with the seaman and subsequent events hadroused him from his usual listless, wayward fancies, and he was goingback in memory to past scenes--shadowy and indistinct--but all in someway mixed with the locket he wore suspended, unseen, around his neck. That the time had now arrived when he was to receive an explanation ofthe past, he felt sure; for his aunt had often told him that when Walterarrived he should know all: and from the seaman's manner he conjecturedthat the long wished for hour was come. 

'Edward, ' said the mariner, 'I wish you to tell me all that yourecollect--not of your life at your aunt's, but before that. '

'And then, ' said the boy, 'in return you promise to tell me of myparentage?'

'You shall know all. '

The boy paced the floor for a few moments. His figure was slender, butlithe and active, of medium stature; and there was a restlessness abouthis movements that told of a wild spirit within. His face was remarkablyhandsome; features chiselled in a form that would have served a Greciansculptor for a model--and his long dark hair fell in glossy locks evenover his shoulders. He stood holding the back of a chair, and lookingmore to seaward than at his companion, began:

'It was not in this country, I am sure, that I first recollect myself, in a handsome house, but built different from these. There werecocoa-nut trees growing near it; and other trees that do not grow here;but I have seen something like them in the Earl's green house. Therewere luscious fruits, but not English ones--oranges and bananas I amsure. The people around us too were black. I remember I was frightenedwhen I came here first at seeing so many white people and no blacks. '

Walter regarded him steadily--but the young man's eye was seaward. Heseemed to see before him the scenes he was depicting. 

'There was a piazza round the house, where I used to play, and a sweetlady, very like poor Mary, but dark-haired, whom I used to call mother. 'There was powerful emotion depicted on the listener's face, but he saidnothing. 'I remember a handsome gentleman, but he was not there often. He wore a uniform, but not like the officers here. I think now he musthave been in the navy. I used to call him papa. I am sure he must havebeen my father, and he was a sailor; for my mother was always lookingout to sea when he was absent, and he took me onboard a man of war shiponce, where, from the deference every one showed to him, I judge, nowthat I am older, that he must have been the Captain of. These thingsseem to me like shadows, for I was not more than five years old then. '

'True, ' said his auditor, 'your memory is good. '

'There was a party. I think my father was not there, but I washandsomely dressed, and ladies caressed me, and the negroes weredancing. I think it must have been my birth-day. I remember a servantbringing in a letter, and my mother fainting, and talk about a greatfight at sea, and my father's name mentioned--I have forgotten it--butladies told me not to cry, and I knew that he was dead; but I did notknow what it meant. After this another gentleman used to come there, very handsome too, but not like my father, for he had a dark face anddark hair, and my father's hair was light. I did not like him, for hespoke very stern to my mother, and she used to weep, and was very muchfrightened by him. It was some paper he wanted from her, and he offeredher gold once. I saw him, for I hid myself and watched him. Then mymother got sick--they said she was getting better, and I remember beingmuch surprised one morning, when the old nurse came down and told me shewas dead. She had died suddenly in the night, they said, and yet she hadbeen better the evening before. '

A deep groan burst from the seaman's lips, and his face was ashy pale. The young man trembled as he proceeded. 

'The dark gentleman came and took me away from the house, and I neversaw it again. My old nurse went with me. I was six years old then, and Ilived with her, in a poorer place than before, and not close to the oldhouse, for we went a long way in a carriage to reach it. We livedtogether so till I was near eight years old. The dark gentleman nevercame near us--but one day a man came, and said he had bought her, Ithink, and she must go with him; and they took her away from me. I clungto her, but they beat me away. Unseen by them she tied this ribbon withthe locket to it round my neck, and telling me never to part with it, for it had been my mother's, and would one day bring me rank andfortune, she went with her new master. A kind old colored woman, whoused to say she was free, took me to her house, and I remember nothingmore until you found me there, but that I hid the locket even from her, for I was afraid she would take it away, and that the man who took Nurseaway, said, looking at me, "What a pity he is white!"'

The youth had been so intent upon collecting the reminiscences of hischildhood, that he had failed to perceive the effect it had upon hiscompanion, and the darkness now prevented his face from being seen--butthe agonized sobs that broke from him now and then told that thefountains of his heart were stirred, and his very soul harrowed up, andmemory had conjured up a series of terrible recollections. Lights werebrought into the room, but all traces of agitation had disappeared, andhis countenance bore only the look of stern, implacable resolve. 

'Edward, tell me one thing more. Have you ever seen the dark-haired mansince?'

'Daily, for these ten years almost. I knew him instantly. '

'His name?'

'De Montford! It was by accident I discovered the secret of the picturein the justice-room, and I have availed myself of it to play spirit tohim and his base agent sometimes. '

'It was a boyish trick--but you have sterner work now in hand thanplaying ghost--you have to avenge a murdered mother!'

'Ah! then my mother's sudden death, when she was recovering--'

'Was the work of poison!'

'I see it all!' said the young man. 'The papers he wanted, and sherefused--but I will kill him!' He started up, and was rushing to thedoor. The iron grasp of the seaman arrested him. 

'You must be calm, Edward. He shall die, but he must not perish by yourhand. He is your uncle. But he shall first be stripped of his assumedrank and title, and his proud spirit humbled. Then he shall answer in acourt of justice for the murder of your mother. '

'Who, then, was my father?'

'The eldest lawful son of the late Earl De Montford!'

Edward gazed proudly around him for a moment, then sank into a chair, and burying his face in his hands, burst into tears. Walter did notdisturb him, but sat regarding him with a look in which affection wasstrangely mingled with his stern resolve. At length Edward raised hishead. 

'I am composed now, ' said he, 'and will be guided by you, for I amconvinced you have been a true friend to me. But there must be noreservation--you must tell me all. '

'Or you will doubt me. It was never my intention to keep you in the darkor in leading strings longer than necessary. I am above the petty spiritwhich, to magnify its importance, keeps to itself half a secret, to betold at another time. You shall know all, and we will concert ourmeasures together as man and man, for I can easily guess from thismoment you have put off the boy for ever. '

It was true. Even in that short time a marked change had come upon him, and it was with the resolved air of a man prepared to hear, determine, and to act, if need be, with firmness and deliberation, that he pushedhis chair from the table, and folding his arms upon his chest, satwaiting for the mariner to proceed in his tale. That burst of tearswhich followed the announcement of his rank was a last farewell toboyhood, and his firm attitude and handsome features looked worthy touphold the proud motto of his house, "Nulli Secundi. "

CHAPTER VII. 

THE SEAMAN'S STORY. 

'I was little more than twelve years of age when I entered the BritishNavy as a midshipman, much against my good father's will, for I was hisonly child, and my mother died the day I first saw the light. But I wasa wayward, unruly boy, and he feared I might take to bad courses ifrestrained. It was a time of stirring action, and before I was twentyyears of age I bore upon my shoulder the epaulette of a lieutenant, earned in many a bloody fight. The naval service was then in highfavour, and many sprigs of nobility condescended to walk thequarter-deck as captains and commanders, though they seldom knew as muchabout a ship as the ship's boys. One of these was the late Earl deMontford--He had the haughty courage of his race; few of them weredeficient in that; but he had disdained to learn his profession, andwhen he was appointed to command a corvette, I was sent on board asfirst lieutenant, but in fact as what is called a nurse--to do the work, while my incapable but titled commander reaped the glory. We wereanchored in the bay of Naples, having borne despatches to the fleet thenstationed there, and were under orders to sail the next morning, when hesent for me into his cabin, and with more familiarity and kindness thanhe had ever used to me before, he confided to me that he was in love, and wanted my assistance to rescue her he loved from a convent. Fond ofadventure, I consented, and we succeeded, so they were that very eveningunited by the chaplain on board the corvette. She was very beautiful, and he was both proud and fond of her. His father was alive, however, and as the old Earl had negotiated for him a marriage with the daughterof some proud Marquis in England, he did not dare to acquaint him ofit--for though the title and the estate could not be alienated, yet theenormous personal property could, and even his love for the fair Italiancould not reconcile him to risk the chance of enduring what he wouldhave called poverty. He purchased a villa at Leghorn, and leaving theship almost entirely at my command, lived for the time at least asthough there was nothing on this earth to care for but love and beauty. The chaplain had been sworn to secresy, and the other officers of theship thought it was merely some amour of their commander's, and whateverthey thought of his morals, they of course took good care to saynothing. The chaplain died soon after, and I remained the sole livingwitness of the marriage. The birth of a son, however, instead of linkingtheir hearts closer together, became the apple of discord between them. She pressed him to acknowledge her as his wife to the numerous Englishfamilies who were settled around Leghorn, and who refused to associatewith one in her equivocal position. She had borne their slightspatiently when only directed against herself, but the feelings of amother were aroused when the finger of scorn was pointed at her child. It was too evident, also, that his affection for her was on the wane. Hewas absent from her more frequently--spoke of the necessity of attendingto his duty--his duty! oh, the ready excuse man finds to do evil. Betterfar for that poor girl would it have been to have been buried in thedeepest recesses of the cloister, than to have attracted the notice ofthat vile unprincipled nobleman. It was about this time the old Earldied, and he quitted the service. There was no bar now for hisacknowledging her as his wife--but he was satiated--his fleeting passionhad evaporated. He had visited England in the interval, and seen thebride destined for him by his father: and her beauty, the enormousaddition to his wealth and power which would accrue from the marriage, tempted him, and he now regarded the woman who had surrendered to himthe most sacred of man's earthly trusts--her young heart's firstaffections, her hopes of earthly happiness--as a barrier to his prideand the vile passion he dared to dignify with the name of love: and whenshe now asked him to do her the justice which he could no longer pleadhis father's anger for denying--O God, where were thy thunderbolts!--hetold her that their marriage was a sham one, that the chaplain was but aservant in disguise, and that in truth she was only his mistress. I hadbeen dismissed the service through him--I will speak of that anon--thechaplain was dead--she did not even know his name or mine--how could shehelp herself? She never held up her head after this. She refused allsupport from him, though he offered to settle upon her a considerablepension. For five years she supported herself by teaching music atFlorence, whither she removed with an attendant whom her gentle mannershad attached to her, and from whom, years after, I learned theseparticulars. She never would, however, consent to sign any papers whichwould affect her own or her son's rights, nor would she part with thecertificate of marriage the chaplain had given her, though he tried hardto obtain them, as also the letters he had written to her from the shipat different times in which he had always addressed her as his wife. Buther constitution had received a shock from which it never recovered, andat the expiration of that time she died. His agent, who had beensecretly watching her by his orders, took the boy to England, where hewas sent to a distant school for education under a feigned name, and atthe age of fifteen sent to sea--where, as he was believed to be anatural son of the Earl, and the latter favored that assumption, hisadvancement was rapid; not more so, however, than his gallantry and goodconduct deserved, for I often heard his name mentioned with applause, though I little dreamed then who he was, or how closely the fortunes ofthose I loved the best were connected with him. He was your father, Edward, and the proud man who now usurps your title and your fortune isa bastard!'

The look of high reserve that flashed in the young man's eyes as helistened to the tale, contrasted well while it agreed with the stern, implacable, expression of the mariner's countenance, which deepened, ifpossible, as he proceeded. 

'It was many years afterwards that I learned these particulars, but Imust now speak of my dismissal and its cause. From the day that yourgrandfather's love for his young bride began to decline, he hated me, yet he feared me--and took good care to conceal it: I was young andunsuspicious, and when he procured my appointment as first-lieutenant ina frigate bound to the West Indies, I thanked the man who was plottingmy ruin. The commander of the frigate was one of the meanest wretchesthat ever disgraced a command--an impoverished rake who gained the meansof continuing his excesses by flattering the vanity and aiding theschemes of his richer companions in vice, and duping the moreinexperienced. He had received his directions evidently, and everystudied insult, everything that petty spite and malice could inflict wastried to provoke me, but the contempt I felt for the reptile restrainedme full as much as the iron bands of discipline. We arrived at Jamaicaand cruised about the Bay of Mexico for some time, when the daughter ofa rich planter, in South Carolina, (then one of his Majesty's colonies, now one of the brightest stars in the flag of the Great Republic, ) tooka passage with her governess in our ship to New Orleans, whither we wereordered on service. The Captain tried to make himself agreeable to her, but she treated his advances with coldness so marked as to enrage him. She saw through, with ease, the flimsy veil he attempted to throw overhis vices. It was my happy fortune to save her from a watery grave. Inlanding, she incautiously stepped from the ladder before the boat wassufficiently near to receive her, and fell, into the sea. I dashed overthe taffrail, the tide was running strong, but I caught her in my arms, and bore her up, until the boat came to our relief. Her father, whoawaited her arrival, was unbounded in his expressions of gratitude, andinvited me often to his hotel, he also gave me a cordial invitation tohis plantation in Carolina. The Captain made many unseemly jokes uponthe affair, but I bore them all, --for now I felt I loved and I hoped, who does not hope at twenty-three? I hoped I was beloved in return. Annoyed by my patience, galled and mortified by his rejection, he losthis usual prudence, and one day boasted before a knot of loosecompanions in my presence, of favors he had received from her, --from herwho was purity itself, and had scarcely deigned to exchange the commoncourtesies of life with him. I struck him to the deck for his detestedlie, and gave myself up as prisoner. I was tried by a Court Martial anddeclared incapable of serving his Majesty again. I had expected death, and his powerful friends did their utmost to procure a sentence, but theAdmiral was a just though a rigid man, and well knew the character of myaccuser, --the provocation was taken into consideration, and the servicesI had rendered during eleven years in storm and battle. I was dismissed. Mr. Elliott, the planter, offered me a home. I had saved considerableprize money. I was disgusted with England, and I loved. He, himself, offered me his daughter, and she did not refuse me. We lived togetherthree happy years, when she died in giving birth to a daughter. Oh! shewas beautiful, --most beautiful, but linked to my wayward fate, sheperished. '

There was a softened shade over the seaman's face, and the sternexpression had gone, --he brushed some moisture from his eyes with hisstrong hand, and turned aside for a moment; the young man was deeplymoved. 

'A life of inactivity gave no balm to my wounded spirit, and I burnedfor action. Mr. Elliott saw it; "Side with us, " said he, "there has beena Tea Party in Boston harbor that will bring thunder ere long, and Iwill procure you a command;" he did so. I joined the Navy of the UnitedStates, and bore the stars and stripes aloft through many a scene ofperil and of death. Mr. Elliott doted on his grandchild, and sheremained with him. Those were times that tried men's hearts, and myfather-in-law was chivalrous as he was generous--he gave the bulk of hisfortune to his country's need, and confiding my daughter, then a childsome two years old, to a distant relative, carried his grey head andfeeble limbs to join the ranks of those who fought for liberty. He fellgloriously in battle, and when, after years of active service, peace wasdeclared, and I came home to seek my daughter, the lady who had her incharge had died of fever, and my child had been taken away, no one couldtell me by whom or where:--all traces of her were lost. I now longed tosee my father, peace was declared, the Independence of America admitted, and as I had fought under an assumed name, I anticipated no danger. Iwas received as one from the grave. I never mentioned my marriage, evento my father, but accounted for my absence and my silence, by sayingthat, ashamed to come home after being dismissed, I had gone in amerchant vessel to India, and had there been taken prisoner by theLootees, a species of banditti, while on an excursion inland. My talewas easily believed; to please my father, I married again. The sister ofgood Mrs. Ally, my second wife, was a good and kind woman, and after thebirth of my daughter Mary, I again hoped for happiness. Vain hope. Themalice of the De Montford family was again let loose upon me. Yourgrandfather was dead. I knew nothing of the events that had occurredduring my absence, and supposed that his first wife had died in Italy, and her son also. But the countess had found among her husband's papers, so I suppose, at least, for on this point I am uninformed, somethingwhich threw light upon the past, and, supposing that I knew of theexistence of your father resolved on removing me. I was fond ofshooting, and one day shot a hare in a distant part of the manor. I hadbeen watched, by her orders, and a charge of poaching was institutedagainst me. Her son was absent then, upon his murderous errand, as Iafterwards knew. I was tried on a charge of poaching; the game laws weresevere; the justice was her creature, and despite the entreaties of myfather, and the tears of my wife, I was condemned to transportation forseven years. '

A bitter sneer was curling on the young man's lip; the mariner's facehad resumed its stern expression. 'The details of my escape from BotanyBay are unimportant. Suffice it, that I once more reached America, anddevoted my energies to tracing the fate of my child. In Savannah I wasfortunate enough to meet with the attendant of your grandmother. She hadaccompanied a family of refugees from European disturbances, and fromher I learned not only what I have told you already--but that mydaughter had been married, and that her husband was no other than theson of her old mistress and your father!'

The young man threw his hands towards heaven and fell on his knees. 

'O Thou, whose ways are inscrutable, blessed be thy name, for out ofdarkness thou hast brought light, and turned the misdeeds of the guiltyupon themselves, and made the promptings of nature yearn in the heart ofthe orphan boy towards the father of my mother. '

He fell upon the old man's neck and sobbed. Such emotions are nodisgrace to manhood. The mariner strained him to his heart, and it wassome time ere the emotion of both had subsided sufficiently to enablethe one to ask or the other to give further explanation. At length themariner resumed. 'From this woman, who had recognised your father by apeculiar mark on his hand, I learned that she had kept the papers ofyour grandmother and the locket, and gave them to your father; but hetreated them as fabulous, and her as an impostor. Your mother, however, gave credence to her tale, and even consulted a lawyer; but they werenot sufficient without my evidence, and your father would not take anysteps in the affair. Your mother kept her as an attendant till her owndeath, but your uncle must have heard from some source of the existenceof his brother; and after his death, which happened in battle at sea, hetried to induce the widow to give up these papers. Failing in this, by alarge sum of money he tempted your nurse to poison her, and possessedhimself of them, representing himself as her husband's brother, butconcealing his rank. She was also to make away with you; but repentingof the murder of your mother, she concealed you for some time in adistant part of the State, but he discovered her and sold her to aTennessee planter. It was but this year I succeeded in tracing her, andfinding her almost at the point of death, got these facts from her, regularly drawn up and witnessed. I bought her freedom first to enableher to give evidence, and soon after her earthly account was closed. Violetta D'Arista, your grand-mother's faithful attendant, gave me aclue by which I traced you; and she is now in London, anxious to foldyou to her breast, and to aid you as far as in her power, to restore toyou your birthright and inheritance. '

'And the papers?'

'If not destroyed, are in his possession. '

'Then I can obtain them, although he has had, as he thinks, all thesubterranean passages stopped up, yet there remains one, by which I canpenetrate to his very bed-room unseen, although a stout man could not. 'The seaman mused. 'It would be dangerous. Your uncle is a brave man, andpowerful. If he awoke--and such consciences must be bad sleepingcompanions, you would be sacrificed. '

'I fear not--for vengeance on my mother's murderer I would dareanything. '

'It must not be, young man. You have a sacred duty to perform, morebinding far than vengeance, which is the Lord's alone. You have to healthe sorrows of those who will be in a great measure dependent upon youto redress the wrongs of years of oppression, to be a father to thetenants of your wide domain, and your life must not be idly risked. '

'I have it!' said Edward, eagerly. 'You say my father was fair-haired, and I am like my mother. '

The seaman took a miniature from his vest, and handed it to him. Itcontained two portraits--one of a captain in the British navy, in fulluniform, his head bare, and locks of fair hair falling even over hisshoulders, for he had disdained the peruke then in fashion--and that ofa lady, whose dark eyes and raven ringlets told that her nativity hadbeen the sunny south. 

'Johnson is not unlike the portrait of my father, and is a slim man, 'said Edward. 'He will readily go with me. I will personate my mother. Iam confident the papers are not destroyed, for I have often seen himwhen he little dreamed an eye was upon him, examining some papers hekeeps in a small casket on his toilet, and one in particular, a documentof some length, which he has often seemed to me about to tear, butalways replaced. '

'It will do, ' said his grandfather. 'Good Mrs. Ally will procure you thenecessary attire. She can be trusted fully, and I will reconcile her andJohnson, so that we can all work in concert. Those papers secured, withthe evidence of Violetta and the dying deposition of your nurse, withthe evidence of the lady who took charge of your mother, and who is alsoalive and in London, I doubt not soon to see you in the enjoyment ofyour rights. It will be a strange anomaly--an American a British peer. '

'And then, dear grandfather, you will allow me to repay you, in a smallmeasure, by my affection and care of your declining years, for all theanxiety you have endured in securing my interests. '

'Not to me, young man, not to me. My lot on earth is cast. I am here afugitive, in danger of a felon's doom. I shall return to honest, plainAmerica, and there devote the remainder of my life to succoring the poorand afflicted. Do you likewise here, remembering that you are but thesteward of your wealth. Let the former oppressions of your house beforgotten in your good deeds. Let your voice be heard in the high courtof which you will be a member, whenever the artizan and the laborer needa defender from the foul enactments that are there consummated. Let yourpassions be subjected to the control of religion and morality--let noavaricious knave oppress the hard-toiling farmer in your name, but seeto these things yourself. Let your ear be easy of access, and your heartbe open, and then, my Lord, I shall be more than repaid, you will havehad a nobler vengeance than any man could give you, and will earn intruth a right to bear the proud motto which your fathers arrogated tothemselves, emblazoned, not on your escutcheon, but in the hearts ofgrateful men--

"_Second to none in deeds of charity. _"'

CHAPTER VIII. 

THE END OF TWO VICTIMS. 

Walter Waters, or Captain Williams, as he called himself now, and infact He had come to England ostensibly as the commander of a tradingvessel, had determined to effect the escape of Horace Hunter. That hisown plans might not be disarranged by any violence towards the Earl, hehad on an accidental meeting in the West Indies promised Hunter a morefull revenge if he waited for three years; and feeling that his capturehad in some measure been owing to his appointment, he revolved in hismind many plans for his rescue. His trial had taken place, and as theevidence was conclusive, he was condemned to death. As his friends werenow permitted to see him, Walter with his daughter to whom and hisfather he had made himself known in private, although he still stoppedat Mrs. Ally's when not in London, obtained permission to visit thedoomed man. Who shall attempt to portray the feelings of Mary Waters, asin company with the parent so long mourned as dead, she set forth tohold the last communication on earth with him to whom the treasure ofher young love had been given. Joy at once more beholding her fathermingled in painful intensity with her heart's desolation when shecontemplated the fearful position of her lover; and to her father'sassurances of rescuing him, of reclaiming him and of their union and ahappy life in America, she only replied by a mournful feature, andpointing to her own emaciated form and hectic cheek. Her beauty had nowassumed an almost unearthly character. The lustre of her dark blue eyeand deathly paleness of her cheek told indeed her race was nearly run. As they all stood together in the steward's house on the morning oftheir visit, they formed a strange and touching group. The bowed figureof the aged man whose life had been prolonged so far beyond the usualterm of man's existence, the strong form of the mariner, whose vigor wasunabated although near sixty, and the wasted figure and sharpenedfeatures of his daughter, who though scarce more than past the thresholdof womanhood, was yet closer to the dread abyss of eternity than either. The old steward looked wistfully after them as they passed out into thewintry air. 

Hunter's passion for drink, his remorse for the officer's death, hisburning thirst for vengeance, and his own sense of self-abasement--allconspired to add to the fever of his brain; and when Walter and hisdaughter were admitted to his cell, it was a gibbering maniac thatrushed forward to meet them. Walter removed his fainting daughter fromthe appalling spectacle, and returned with a sickening heart andterrible forebodings. The shades of evening had given place to brightmoonlight ere they reached the castle. The driver used his utmost speed, but the snow hindered their progress, and just as they arrived at thecastle gates, the horses swerved violently, and starting to the side ofthe road, stood snorting with terror. Walter sprang out, and in themomentary strength caused by the excitement, his daughter followed him. The Earl with some companions rode up at the moment of seeing thecarriage stopped; but a more ghastly obstacle obstructed their path--forthere in the snow drift at the gates of the mansion where her seducerlived in splendor, lay the corpse of the once fair, gentle, andaccomplished Ellen Hunter. 

The Earl gazed upon the body of his victim for a moment, and even hiscallous heart was touched. It was evanescent, however, for on one of hiscompanions asking in a tone of coarse buffoonery, if he wascontemplating that frozen carrion with a view to ornamenting his hallwith it as a statue, he replied in the same strain, and was turning hishorse's head towards the gate, when he was arrested by the stern voiceof the mariner. 

'Blasphemer, peace! Add not insult to the fearful injury you havecommitted to that poor piece of clay! Man of the marble heart, yourcareer is near its close! This is not the only one of your crimes thathas resulted in death. There arises from the earth in South Carolina avoice that calls for vengeance on her murderer. The child you thoughtwithout a friend, whom you hoped would perish unknown, is even nowpreparing to assert his rights, and drive you, titled bastard as youknow yourself to be, from your usurped position. Your agents haveconfessed, and nothing can save you from the merited punishment of yourcrimes. Repent, weep tears of penitence over this poor form, and makeyour peace with God. You have but little time left ere man's justicewill claim you as its due. ' He replaced his daughter in the carriage, and lifting the body of poor Ellen as tenderly as if it had been achild, placed it inside, and thus the dying and the dead departed. 

At headlong speed the Earl reached his mansion, galled to madness. Hepondered long and deeply who the mysterious seaman could be, but couldarrive at no satisfactory conclusion; but reflecting that he stillpossessed the only papers which could be produced in support of theclaimant of his title, he became more collected, and resolved first todestroy the documents, and then to devise means for getting rid of theobnoxious seaman, and also of his nephew, if he dared to press hisclaim. Somewhat relieved by these considerations, he entered into anexplanation with his friends, spoke of the seaman as a harmless maniac, and succeeded in calming the irritation of their wounded pride. 

But he could not calm the raging tumult of his own heart--he had enteredinto preliminary engagements for a marriage with the daughter of a houseas haughty as his own. His mother's fame would suffer, not that he caredone jot for any abstract idea of virtue, and she had been sinless inthat at least, for she knew not that her husband had another wife. Hehad been offered by the king, and had accepted a high confidentialmission to a foreign power, and now when every proud wish of his heartseemed to be gratified, to be threatened with the loss of all--and more, to be subjected to the vulgar gaze as a murderer--death he felt werebetter. He drank deeply, which was not his usual custom, and to concealhis feelings affected a wild gaiety, which, however, failed in deceivinghis companions. Midnight had long passed when he retired to his chamber, harassed and jaded by the efforts he had made to preserve appearances, and still more irritated by the wine he had drank. A vague feeling ofhorror moreover began to steal over him. He looked out upon themoonlight and drew his head in with a shudder, for he fancied--it wasbut fancy, that he saw a body lying upon the ground. He tried to nervehimself to the task of destroying the documents, but could not bringhimself to touch the casket. At length he opened the casket; a deepgroan seemed to issue from it. The long low musical laugh he had heardbefore sounded in the room. The next moment he hardened himself andbegan to read them over. They consisted of the letters mentioned before, his father's marriage certificate, and the addition of a still moreimportant document--a statement drawn up by his father a little beforehis death, in which he acknowledged Captain Piercy, the name his son hadbeen known by, prayed for forgiveness for the wrong he had done hismother, and fully acknowledged his marriage with the fair Italian. Thiswas the document which had led the countess to persecute CaptainWilliams, and her son to murder his brother's widow. He read them slowlythrough, and taking them in his hand walked towards the fireplace; hewas about to cast them in, when the same low mocking voice sounded soclose him--he turned and beheld an appalling spectacle. The picture ofhis own mother, that had occupied a large compartment of the room, hadentirely disappeared, although but the instant before he had seenit--and in its place appeared the figures of a man in a full dress navaluniform, and a lady in the costume of the one he had murdered in distantAmerica. He gave one wild shriek and fell senseless on the floor. Toseize the papers was to Edward, whom our readers will easily guess tohave personated the lady, but the work of a moment; he regained thepanel and swung it to just as the domestics were hurrying up; nothowever before he had fixed upon the toilet with a penknife of theEarl's, a paper with the word "doomed!" in large characters traced uponit. 

CHAPTER IX. 

THE AGENT'S PUNISHMENT. 

The village bells tolled mournfully, and the stout farmers looked withSaddened faces at each other on the morning which was to consign toearth the remains of Mary Waters. Matrons held their aprons to theireyes as they followed the melancholy procession. She was laid by her ownrequest in the same grave with Ellen Hunter. The old clergyman who hadloved her as his daughter, faltered as he read the solemn words, "I amthe resurrection and the life, " and when the ceremony was concluded, there was not an eye that was not filled with tears. When the oldsteward heard the earth fall upon the coffin lid, his frame was seen toquiver, he fell forward, and his spirit had departed. They laid him bythe side of his grand daughter the next day; and it was soon ascertainedthat he had left the bulk of his savings to the poor children ofJohnson, and that Mrs. Alice Goodfellow was appointed sole executrix. 

Rumors now began to circulate about the Earl--a claim had been laid indue form by Edward--and the tumult which raged in his heart wasindescribable. Yet he dared to think of vengeance, and swore an oath tohave the heart's blood of those who had humbled him. As he approachedthe house of the agent he determined to ask his aid in carrying out hisschemes. Mr. Lambert, however, had no intention of being dragged downinto the vortex, and received him coldly. 

'This is not the reception I expected, Mr. Lambert. '

'I beg your pardon sir. '

Sir!--how the word grated on the ear, that had been accustomed to 'mylord, ' and that in the humblest tone; 'I merely wish to intimate, Mr. Lambert, when it is your gracious pleasure to listen, that I want a wordor two with you. ' He spoke in his old sneering tone; the other, who fromhabit, remained standing in his presence, bowed; but he did not answer aword. 'Since you cannot, or will not speak--hear one thing; for yourinterest is thereby affected; and that I suppose will reach you--do yousuppose, that those who have attacked the master, will let the servantescape. Will not even the great Mr. Lambert, be required to give anaccount of his stewardship; when so humble an individual as myself, hasbeen deemed worthy of notice?'--he bowed with mock humility. 'Myaccounts are prepared to undergo the strictest investigation. My--sir--'said the agent, recovering his self possession the instant business wasmentioned, 'both as regards the estate and personal account, my balancesare correct--that of the estate which yet remains unsettled I am readyto account for to--the proper parties--' (he substituted for the newEarl's name which rose to his lips, ) 'the small balance on the personalaccount which is in my favour, I shall be happy to take your notefor--properly endorsed. ' The man of business had been so occupied withthe figures he was running up in his mind, that he had failed to observethe gathering storm on his companion's brow; he had been so used to holddown his head while speaking to his patron, that even now he could notforego the habit; but the last word had not passed his lips fully--erethe earl rose from his seat, and seizing the heavy brass lamp upon thetable between them, struck the unfortunate man a tremendous blow withit, which prostrated him to the floor; smashing in a portion of hisskull, and inflicting a mortal wound; the agent groaned and laysenseless; the servants rushed to the scene on hearing the fall, but thefurious appearance of the murderer terrified them, particularly as hestill held in his hand the weapon he had used; he burst through them, and mounting his horse at the door, fled as though pursued by all thefiends of hell. 

CHAPTER X. 

RETRIBUTION. 

Regardless of the wintry storm, the murderer spurred on the noble animalhe rode; he had no purpose in the flight, he had arranged no plan ofescape; unused to act for himself, his movements were all uncertainty:now he reined in his horse, and listened as if for pursuers, but nonecame: now fancying he heard the mocking laugh he had so often heard, hedashed forward, as if the furies were behind him; the storm meanwhileincreased in its violence, he felt it not; the warfare of the elementswas calmness to the tumult of his heart; he looked up to the heavens, but there on the edge of every lurid cloud, he saw it, he saw them; notone but hundreds: maidens with stony blue eyes, all glaring upon him; helooked upon the earth, a gibbering madman was running by his side, howling and hooting in the wind; now so near as almost to touch him: nowhundreds of yards away, but always the same; behind him with his ghastlymangled head, came the form of his last victim, forward! forward! whilethe crashing thunder pealed above his head; he shook his impious handagainst the sky, and still darted onward, till the horse stopped, snorting on the beach; and there as the great sea, rolled in foaming andturgid, there, he saw it plain in yon glare of livid lightning, on thecrest of every curling wave, a dark haired lady lay, glaring at him witheyes that looked like coals of fire; a monster wave came rolling in, andthe frightened horse turned, and seizing the bit between his teeth spedhomeward, but still he saw them in the clouds behind, before, beckoningto him, calling to him, in the voice of the great wind; on, on, towardsthe castle gates, he looked up to the battlements; they were there, onevery turret's top, on every pointed arch, from every window, visible tohim, as though it had been bright daylight he saw them. The horse unableto check his momentum dashed against the castle gates, and falling overcrushed him in its fall; and there on the very spot where one of hisvictims had lain in the sleep of death, there lay the mangled and nowdying man, mingling his blood with that of the expiring animal. Daydawned, and when the red sun rose, it shone upon a corpse; the storm hadceased, but the wind had blown the snow from off it, and the laborer whofound the body, rushed from the spot in terror at the horribleexpression of the dead man's face. 

CHAPTER XI. 

CONCLUSION. 

Three years have passed away, --the young Earl has arrived at age, and iscoming to take possession of his domains--after finishing his educationat Oxford; great preparation has been made to welcome him. Foremost onthe occasion is Mrs. Alice Goodfellow, and as their Lord's reputed auntfor so many years, she is a person of no small importance:--stillsingle, but beginning to think of settling now, as her glass givesawkward reflections, --but still balancing the claims of her admirers, though she does give color to the report of shewing a preference for thesturdy blacksmith;--by her side, smartly dressed, are gamboling aboutthe young Johnsons, while their father, in a respectable suit of black, marshals the somewhat unruly procession of maidens and youths chosen toreceive the young Earl. He is now the steward, (agent is a name hewisely discards, ) and a great man, but young girls and boys from sixteento twenty have a trick of paying no attention to the wisdom of theirelders, and he is sorely put to it to maintain order. Spring has plantedher fair feet upon the daisied green, and a huge May-Pole has beenerected, as in the olden time, an ox is roasted whole upon the lawn, tables are spread out under the shade of the great elms and sturdy oaks, foaming barrels of mighty ale, such as Guy of Warwick drank, ere heencountered the dun cow, are seen with taps ready in them, --the childrenare dancing round the May-Pole in wild glee, --and now a scout posted ona rising ground comes tearing towards them as though life and deathdefended on his speed, --the carriage is coming, --a cheer arises, --it haspassed the gates, and is coming up the avenue. Johnson is full ofnervous excitement, the maidens cease giggling and pinching and allthose endearing little amusements, the young men try to look solemn andonly succeed in causing a burst of laughter from the sly girls, some ofwhom draw down their faces in imitation. They are nervous, too--what ifthe great man should see their dresses in disorder, and he a young man, too; the elder matrons and the farmers stand nearest the house, all isexpectation, he has come, the carriage has stopped at the very extremityof the line, a cheer, thrice repeated, peals through the air, as hedescends from the carriage, and it is a heartfelt one, for this theyknow has been among themselves, and shared their hopes and fears. He isfollowed by Captain Williams, in the full uniform of an American NavalOfficer; he is whiter headed than when we saw him last, but he looksable to wrestle any man upon the ground, a cheer bursts forth for himalso, though none recognize in him aught but the brave sailor who hadshown such sympathy at the grave of Mary Waters. They are received bythe Curate, Mr. Johnson, the Lawyer and the Clerk. The young Earl waveshis hand, and every door and window, in the spacious edifice is thrownopen. With a kind word for every one, a merry joke with one fair maiden, and a laughing glance at another, a cheerful nod to the young men, and ahearty shake of the hand to the old, and as he decorously salutes eachold matron on the cheek, he fairly rushes into the arms of his quondamaunt, who nearly goes into hysterics with joy, (which would have beenawkward, as she is stout, and has laced some, ) so she thinks better ofit, and cries over him, which does just as well. Such a shout arises asmakes the very welkin ring. He stops upon the top-most step, Capt. Williams and the others by his side. Every sound is hushed as he speaks. 'It is not outside, my friends, whom I hope I may never give reason toregret this day. It is not outside of my halls that I can give youthanks for my reception. There is no room in my house in which you arenot freely welcome, this night, and to him who will not accept the callof the Earl de Montford, I will send poor Edward Barnett. Ten years fromthis day, if such of you as are spared, and I am one, will meet me hereagain, I will render to you an account of my stewardship, and then ifyou can raise again the cheers with which you have this day greeted me, poor Edward Barnett will be more than rewarded for his trials, and theCount de Montford the happiest of his race. ' The glorious sun shone fullupon his manly form and handsome features, and as cheer upon cheerarose, not one that looked upon his open truthful countenance, feared hewould not redeem his promise, or disgrace the proud motto emblazoned onthe banners that waved high above his head on the battlements;--NulliSecundi, --Second to none. 

POSTSCRIPT. 

THE AUTHOR TO THE READER. 

Gentle reader! if thou hast been interested in this tale of human hopesand fears--of stern retribution on the wicked, if thou hast shed a tearover the fate of the gentle and the good--thou wilt perhaps be anxiousto know more of him, who at the close of our tale, we left--in life'syoung morning brightness--with wealth and power to aid in his path. Didhe fall from his high estate, did prosperity dim the lustre of hispromise, (and methinks some gentle maiden asks, how sped he in hislove. ) If thou hast borne with our tediousness, and hast notfainted--fear not, we will inflict upon thee yet more. 

 What all thy tediousness on me? (_Leonato_)

 Yes, please your worship. (_Dogberry_. )

If thou hast been disgusted at the gloomy record, and kicked the bookfrom thee, --Why then farewell, so end the hopes of poor

TOBY ACONITE, E SCRIBE.