THE LIGHT OF SCARTHEY

A Romance

by

EGERTON CASTLE

 Author of "The Pride of Jennico, " "Young April, " etc. 

"Take whichsoever way thou wilt--the ways are all alike;But do thou only come--I bade my threshold wait thy coming. From out my window one can see the graves, and on my lifeThe graves keep watch. " _Luteplayer's Song. _

New YorkFrederick A. Stokes CompanyMCM

Copyright, 1899, by Frederick A. Stokes Company. All rights reserved. 

Fourth Edition. 

 I Dedicate THIS BOOK TO THE MEMORY OF FREDERICK ANDREWS LARKING OF THE ROCKS, EAST MALLING, KENT THAT, SO LONG AS ANYTHING OF MINE SHALL ENDURE, THERE MAY ENDURE ALSO A RECORD OF OUR FRIENDSHIP AND OF MY SORROW

PREFACE TO THE AMERICAN EDITION. 

_Among the works of every writer of Fiction there are generally one ortwo that owe their being to some_ haunting _thought, long communedwith--a thought which has at last found a living shape in some storyof deed and passion. _

_I say one or two advisedly: for the span of man's active life isshort and such haunting fancies are, of their essence, solitary. As amatter of fact, indeed, the majority of a novelist's creations belongto another class, must of necessity (if he be a prolific creator) findtheir conception in more sudden impulses. The great family of the"children of his brain" must be born of inspirations ever new, and inalluring freshness go forth into the world surrounded by theatmosphere of their author's present mood, decked in the colours ofhis latest imaginings, strengthened by his latest passionalimpressions and philosophical conclusions. _

_In the latter category the lack of long intimate acquaintance betweenthe author and the friends or foes he depicts, is amply compensatedfor by the enthusiasm appertaining to new discoveries, as eachcharacter reveals itself, often in quite unforeseen manner, and theconsequences of each event shape themselves inevitably and sometimesindeed almost against his will. _

_Although dissimilar in their genesis, both kinds of stories can, inthe telling, be equally life-like and equally alluring to the reader. But what of the writer? Among his literary family is there not onenearer his heart than all the rest--his_ dream-child? _It may be thestoutest of the breed or it may be the weakling; it may be thefirst-born, it often is the Benjamin. Fathers in the flesh know thissecret tenderness. Many a child and many a book is brooded over with aspecial love even before its birth. --Loved thus, for no grace or meritof its own, this book is my dream-child. _

 * * * * *

_Here, by the way, I should like to say my word in honour of_Fiction_--"fiction" contradistinguished from what is popularly termed"serious" writing. _

_If, in a story, the characters and the events are truly convincing;if the former are appealingly human and the latter are so carefullydevised and described as never to evoke the idea of improbability, then it can make no difference in the_ intellectual pleasure _of thereader whether what he is made to realise so vividly is a record offact or of mere fancy. Facts we read of are of necessity past: what ispast, what is beyond the immediate ken of our senses, can only berealised in imagination; and the picture we are able to make of it forourselves depends altogether on the sympathetic skill of the recorder. Is not Diana Vernon, born and bred in Scott's imagination, to the fullas living now before us as Rob Roy Macgregor whose existence was soundeniably tangible to the men of his days? Do we not see, in ourmind's eye, and know as clearly the lovable "girt John Ridd" of_ LornaDoone _the romance as his contemporaries, Mr. Samuel Pepys of the hardand uncompromising_ Diary _or King James of_ English Annals?

_Pictures, alike of the plainest facts or of the veriest imaginings, are but pictures: it matters very little therefore whether the man orthe woman we read of but never can see in the flesh has really livedor not, if what we do read raises an emotion in our hearts. To thenovelist, every character, each in his own degree, is almost asliving as a personal acquaintance; every event is as clear as apersonal experience. And if this be true of the story written_ à lagrâce de la plume, _where both events and characters unfold themselveslike the buds of some unknown plant, how much more strongly is it thecase of the story that has so long been mused over that one day it hadto be told! Then the marking events of the actors' lives, theiradventures, whether of sorrow or of joy, their sayings and doings, noble or bright or mistaken, recorded in the book, are but a tithe ofthe adventures, sayings and doings with which the writer seems to befamiliar. He might write or talk about them, in praise orvindictiveness as he loves or dreads them, for many a longer day--buthe has one main theme to make clear to his hearers and must respectthe modern canons of the Story-telling Art. Among the many thingstherefore he could tell, an he would, he selects that only which willunravel a particular thread of fate in the tangle of endlessconsequences; which will render plausible the growth of passions onwhich, in a continuous life-drama, is based one particular episode. _

_Of such a kind is the story of Adrian Landale. _

_The haunting thought round which the tale of the sorelytempest-tossed dreamer is gathered is one which, I think, must at onetime or other have occurred to many a man as he neared the maturity ofmiddle-life:--What form of turmoil would come into his heart if, whenstill in the strength of his age but after long years of hopelessseparation, he were again brought face to face with the woman who hadbeen the one passion of his life, the first and only love of hisyouth? And what if she were still then exactly as he had last seenher--she, untouched by years even as she had so long lived in histhoughts: he, with his soul scarred and seamed by many encountersbravely sustained in the Battle of Life?_

_The problem thus propounded is not solvable, even in fiction, unlessit be by "fantastic" treatment. But perhaps the more so on thisaccount did it haunt me. And out of the travail of my mind around it, out of the changing shadows of restless speculation, graduallyemerged, clear and alive, the being of Adrian Landale and his twoloves. _

_Here then was a man, whose mind, moulded by nature for grace andcontemplation, was cast by fate amid all the turmoils of_ Romance _andaction. Here was one of those whose warm heart and idealisingenthusiasm must wreathe the beauty of love into all the beauties ofthe world; whose ideals are spent on one adored object; who, havinglost it, seems to have lost the very sense of love; to whom love nevercould return, save by some miracle. But fortune, that had been socruelly hard on him, one day in her blind way brings back to his doorthe miraculous restitution--and there leaves him to struggle along thenew path of his fate! It is there also that I take up the thread ofthe speculation, and watch through its vicissitudes the working of theproblem raised by such a strange circumstance. _

_The surroundings in a story of this kind are, of the nature ofthings, all those of_ Romance. _And by_ Romance, _I would point out, is not necessarily meant in tale-telling, a chain of events fraughtwith greater improbability than those of so-called real life. (Indeedwhere is now the writer who will for a moment admit, even tacitly, that his records are not of reality?) It simply betokens, aspecialisation of the wider genus_ Novel; _a narrative of strongaction and moving incident, in addition to the necessary analysis ofcharacter; a story in which the uncertain violence of the outsideworld turns the course of the actors' lives from the more obviouschannels. It connotes also, as a rule, more poignant emotions--emotionsborn of strife or peril, even of horror; it tells of the shock of armsin life, rather than of the mere diplomacy of life. _

_Above all_ Romance _depends upon picturesque and varied setting; uponthe scenery of the drama, so to speak. On the other hand it is notessentially (though this has sometimes been advanced) a narrative ofmere adventures as contrasted to the observation and dissection ofcharacter and manners we find in the true "novel. " Rather be it saidthat it is one in which the hidden soul is made patent under thetouchstone of blood-stirring incidents, of hairbreadth risks, ofrecklessness or fierceness. There are soaring passions, secrets of theinnermost heart, that can only be set free in desperatesituations--and those situations are not found in the tenor inevery-day, well-ordered life: they belong to Romance. _

_Spirit-fathers have this advantage that they can bring forth theirdream-children in what age and place they list: it is no times ofnow-a-days, no ordinary scenery, that would have suited suchadventures as befell Adrian Landale, or Captain Jack, or "MurtheringMoll the Second. "_

_Romantic enough is the scene, which, in a manner, framed the displayof a most human drama; and fraught it is, even to this day, in theeyes of any but the least imaginative, with potentialities for strangehappenings. [A] It is that great bight of Morecambe; that vast of brownand white shallows, deserted, silent, mysterious, and treacherous withits dreaded shifting sands; fringed in the inland distance by theCumbrian hills, blue and misty; bordered outwards by the Irish sea, cold and grey. And in a corner of that waste, the islet, small andgreen and secure, with its ancient Peel, ruinous even as the nobleabbey of which it was once the dependant stronghold; with its stillsturdy keep, and the beacon, whose light-keeper was once a Dreamer ofBeautiful Things. _

[Footnote A: _Those who like to associate fiction with definite placesmay be interested to know that the prototype of Scarthey is the_ Pielof Foudrey, _on the North Lancashire coast, near the edge of MorecambeBay, and that Pulwick was suggested by Furness Abbey. Barrow-in-Furnesswas then but a straggling village. A floating light, facing the mouthof the Wyre, now fulfils the duties devolving on the beacon of Scartheyat the time of this story. _]

_And romantic the times, if by that word is implied a freer scope thancan be found in modern years for elemental passions, for fighting andloving in despite of every-day conventions; for enterprise, risks, temptations unknown in the atmosphere of humdrum peace and order. Theyare the early days of the century, days when easy and rapid means ofcommunication had not yet destroyed all the glamour of distance, whena county like Lancashire was as a far-off country, with a spirit, alanguage, customs and ideas unknown to the Metropolis; days when, ifthere were no lifeboat crews, there could still be found ratherexperienced "wreckers, " and when the keeping of a beacon, to light adangerous piece of sea, was still within the province of apublic-spirited landlord. They are the days when the spread ofeducation had not even yet begun (for weal or for woe) its levellingwork; days of cruel monopolies and inane prohibitions, and ferociouspenal laws, inept in the working, baleful in the result; days ofkeel-hauling and flogging; when the "free-trader" still swung, tarredand in chains, on conspicuous points of the coast--even as thehighwayman rattled at the cross-road--for the encouragement of thebrotherhood; when it was naturally considered more logical (since hangyou must for almost any misdeed) to hang for a sheep than a lamb, andhuman life on the whole was held rather cheap in consequence. They arethe days when in Liverpool the privateers were daily fitting out orbringing in the "prizes, " and when, in Lord Street Offices, distantcargoes of "living ebony" were put to auction by steady, intenselyrespectable, Church-going merchants. But especially they are the daysof war and the fortunes of war; days of pressgangs, to kidnapunwilling rulers of the waves; of hulks and prisons filled tooverflowing, even in a mere commercial port like Liverpool, withFrench prisoners of war. _

_A long course of relentless hostilities, lasting the span of afull-grown generation, had cultivated the predatory instinct of allmen with the temperament of action, and seemed to justify it. Venturesome, hot-spirited youths, with their way to make in the world(who in a former age might have been reduced to "the road") took upprivateering on a systematic scale. In such an atmosphere there couldnot fail to return a belief in the good old_ border rule, _"the simpleplan: that they should take who have the power, and they should keepwho can. " And it must be remembered that an island country's border isthe enemy's coast! On that ethical understanding many privateer ownersbuilt up large fortunes, still enjoyed by descendants who in thesedays would look upon high-sea looting of non-combatants with definitehorror. _

_The years of the great French war, however, fostered a species ofnautical enterprise more venturesome even than privateering, raiding, blockade-running and all the ordinary forms of smuggling that areusual when two coast lines are at enmity. I mean that smuggling ofgold specie and bullion which incidentally was destined to affect thecourse of Sir Adrian's life so powerfully. _

 * * * * *

_As Captain Jack's last venture may, at this distance of time, appeara little improbable, it is well to state here some little-known factsconcerning the now rather incomprehensible pursuit of goldsmuggling--a romantic subject if ever there was one. _

_The existence at one time of this form of "free-trade" is all butforgotten. Indeed very little was ever heard of it in the world, except among parties directly interested, even at the time when itplayed an important part in the machinery of governments. Its riseduring the years of Napoleonic tyranny on the continent of Europe, andits continuance during the factitious calm of the First Restoration inFrance, were due to circumstances that never existed before and arelittle likely to occur again. _

_The accumulation of a fund of_ gold _coin, reserved against suddencontingency, was one of Bonaparte's imperial ideas. In a modified andmore modern form, this notion of a "war-chest, " untouched andunproductive in peace-time, is still adhered to by the Germans: theyhave kept to heart many of their former conqueror's lessons, lessonsforgotten by the French themselves--and the enormous treasure of goldbags guarded at Spandau is a matter of common knowledge. Napoleon, however, in his triumphant days never, and for obvious reasons, lackedmoney. It was less an actual treasure that he required and valued sohighly for political and military purposes, than an ever ready reserveof wealth easily portable, of paramount value at all times;"concentrated, " so to speak. And nothing could come nearer to thatdescription than rolls of English guineas. Indeed the vast numbers ofthese coins which fitfully appeared in circulation throughout Europejustified the many weird legends concerning the power of "BritishGold"_--l'or Anglais!

_There is every reason to believe that, in days when the nationalcurrency consisted chiefly of lumbering silver_ écus, _the Bourbongovernment also appreciated to the full the value of a_ private _goldreserve. At any rate it was at the time of the first Restoration thatthe golden guinea of England found in France its highest premium. _

_Without going into the vexed and dreary question of single or doublestandard, it will suffice to say that during the early years of thecentury now about to close, gold coin was leaving England at a ratewhich not only appeared phenomenal but was held to be injurious to thecommunity. _

_As a matter of fact most of it was finding its way to France, whilstGreat Britain was flooded with silver. It was then made illegal toexport gold coin or bullion. The prohibition was stringently, indeedat one time, ruthlessly, enforced. In this manner the new and highlyprofitable traffic in English guineas entered the province of the"free-trader"; the difference introduced in his practice being merelyone of degree. Whereas, in the case of prohibited imports, the chieftask lay in running the illicit goods and distributing them, in thecase of guinea-smuggling its arduousness was further increased by thedanger of collecting the gold inland and clearing from home harbours. _

_Very little, as I said, has ever been heard of this singular trade, and for obvious reasons. In the first place it obtained only for acomparatively small number of years, the latter part of the Great War:the last of it belonging to the period of the_ Hundred Days. _And inthe second it was, at all times, of necessity confined to a very smallnumber of free-trading skippers. Of adventurous men, in stirring days, there were of course a multitude. But few, naturally, were the men towhose honour the custody of so much ready wealth could safely beintrusted. "That is where, " as Captain Jack says sometimes in thisbook, "the 'likes of me' come in. "_

_The exchange was enormously profitable. As much as thirty-twoshillings in silver value could, at one time, be obtained on the otherside of the water for an English guinea. But the shipper and broker, in an illegal venture where contract could not be enforced, had to bea man whose simple word was warranty--and indeed, in the case of largeconsignments, this blind trust had to be extended to almost every manof his crew. What a romance could be written upon this theme alone!_

_In the story of Adrian Landale, however, it plays but a subsidiarypart. Brave, joyous-hearted Captain Jack and his bold venture for afortune appear only in the drama to turn its previous course tounforeseen channels; just as in most of our lives, the suddenintrusion of a new strong personality--transient though it may be, atempest or a meteor--changes their seemingly inevitable trend toaltogether new issues. _

 * * * * *

_It was urged by my English publishers that, in_ "The Light ofScarthey, " _I relate two distinct love-stories and two distinct phasesof one man's life; and that it were wiser (by which word I presume wasmeant more profitable) to distribute the tale between two books, oneto be a sequel to the other. Happily I would not be persuaded to cut afully composed canvas in two for the sake of the frames. "It is thefate of sequels, " as Stevenson said in his dedication of _Catriona_, "to disappoint those who have waited for them. " Besides, life isessentially continuous. --It may not be inept to state a truism of thiskind in a world of novels where the climax of life, if not indeed itsvery conclusion, is held to be reached on the day of marriage! Thereis often, of course, more than one true passion of love in a man'slife; and even if the second does not really kill the memory of thefirst, their course (should they be worth the telling) may well betold separately. But if, in the story of a man's love for two women, the past and the present are so closely interwoven as were the realityand the "might-have-been" in the mind of Adrian Landale, anyseparation of the two phases, youth and maturity, would surely havestultified the whole scheme of the story. _

_I have also been taken to task by some critics for having, the taleonce opened at a given time and place, harked back to other days andother scenes: an inartistic and confusing method, I was told. I amstill of contrary opinion. There are certain stories which_ belong, _by their very essence, to certain places. All ancient buildings have, if we only knew them, their human dramas: this is the very soul of thehidden but irresistible attraction they retain for us even whendeserted and dismantled as now the Peel of Scarthey. For the sake ofharmonious proportions, and in order to give it its proper atmosphere, it was imperative that in this drama--wherever the intermediate scenesmight be placed, whether on the banks of the Vilaine, on the open sea, or in Lancaster Castle--the Prologue should be witnessed on the greenislet in the wilderness of sands, even as the Crisis and the ClosingScene of rest and tenderness. _

 _E. C. , 49, Sloane Gardens, London, S. W. 

 October 1899. _

TABLE OF CONTENTS

PART I

SIR ADRIAN LANDALE, LIGHT-KEEPER OF SCARTHEY

 CHAP. PAGE

 I. The Peel of Scarthey 1 II. The Light-Keeper 6 III. Day Dreams: A Philosopher's Fate 16 IV. Day Dreams: A Fair Emissary 32 V. The Awakening 43 VI. The Wheel of Time 53 VII. Forebodings of Gladness 63 VIII. The Path of Wasted Years 70 IX. A Genealogical Epistle 85

PART II

"MURTHERING MOLL THE SECOND"

 X. The Threshold of Womanhood 97 XI. A Masterful Old Maid 113 XII. A Record and a Presentment 122 XIII. The Distant Light 136 XIV. The Tower of Liverpool: Master and Man 144 XV. Under the Light 156 XVI. The Recluse and the Squire 174

PART III

"CAPTAIN JACK, " THE GOLD SMUGGLER

 XVII. Gold Smuggler and the Philosopher 191 XVIII. "Love Gilds the Scene and Woman Guides the Plot" 211 XIX. A Junior's Opinion 224 XX. The Quick and the Dead 244 XXI. The Dawn of an Eventful Day 252 XXII. The Day: Morning 262 XXIII. The Day: Noon 276 XXIV. The Night 294 XXV. The Fight for the Open 309 XXVI. The Three Colours 323 XXVII. Under the Light Again: The Lady and the Cargo 335 XXVIII. The End of the Thread 349 XXIX. The Light Goes Out 364 XXX. Husband and Wife 375 XXXI. In Lancaster Castle 382 XXXII. The One He Loved and the One Who Loved Him 393 XXXIII. Launched on the Great Wave 406 XXXIV. The Gibbet on the Sands 413 XXXV. The Light Rekindled 430

PART I

SIR ADRIAN LANDALE, LIGHT-KEEPER OF SCARTHEY

 _We all were sea-swallowed, though some cast again; And by that destiny to perform an act, Whereof what's past is Prologue. _

 THE TEMPEST

THE LIGHT OF SCARTHEY

CHAPTER I

THE PEEL OF SCARTHEY

 He makes a solitude and calls it peace. 

 BYRON. 

Alone in the south and seaward corner of the great bight on theLancastrian coast--mournfully alone some say, gloriously alone to mythinking--rises in singular unexpected fashion the islet of Scarthey;a green oasis secure on its white rocky seat amidst the breezywilderness of sands and waters. 

There is, in truth, more sand than water at most times round Scarthey. For miles northward the wet strand stretches its silent expanse, tawnyat first, then merging into silver grey as in the dim distance itmeets the shallow advance of briny ripple. Wet sand, brown and dull, with here and there a brighter trail as of some undecided riverseeking an aimless way, spreads westward, deep inland, until stoppedin a jagged line by bluffs that spring up abruptly in successions ofwhite rocky steps and green terraces. 

Turn you seaward, at low tide there lies sand again and shingle(albeit but a narrow beach, for here a depth of water sinks rapidly)laved with relentless obstinacy by long, furling, growling rollersthat are grey at their sluggish base and emerald-lighted at theircurvetting crest. Sand yet again to the south, towards the nearercoast line, for a mile or perhaps less, dotted, along an irregularpath, with grey rocks that look as though the advance guard of a giantarmy had attempted to ford its insecure footing, had sunk into itstreacherous shifting pits, and left their blanching skull-tops halfemerging to record the disaster. 

On the land side of the bight, far away beyond the grandly desolate, silent, yellow tract, a misty blue fringe on the horizon heralds thepresence of the North Country; whilst beyond the nearer beach asprinkling of greenly ensconced homesteads cluster round some peacefuland paternal looking church tower. Near the salty shore a fishingvillage scatters its greystone cabins along the first terrace of thebluffs. 

Outwards, ever changing in colour and temper roll and fret the greywaters of the Irish Sea, turbulent at times, but generally lenientenough to the brown-sailed ketches that break the regular sweep of thewestern horizon as they toil at the perpetual harvest of the deep. 

Thus stands Scarthey. Although appearing as an island on the charts, at low tides it becomes accessible dry-foot from the land by a narrowcauseway along the line of the white shallow reefs, which connect themain pile to the rocky steps and terraces of the coast. But woe betideman or beast that diverges many feet from the one secure path! Thesands of the great bay have already but too well earned their sinisterreputation. 

During the greater part of the day, however, Scarthey justifies itsname--Skard- or Scarth-ey, the Knoll Island in the language of the oldScandinavian masters of the land. 

In fair weather, or in foul, whether rising out of sunny sands whenthe ebbing waters have retired, or assailed on all sides by rampingbreakers, Scarthey in its isolation, with its well-preserved ruins andits turret, from which for the last hundred years a light has beenburning to warn the seafarer, has a comfortable look of security andprivacy. 

The low thick wall which in warlike times encompassed the bailey (nowsurrounding and sheltering a wide paddock and neat kitchen gardens)almost disappears under a growth of stunted, but sturdy trees; dwarfalders and squat firs that shake their white-backed leaves, and swingtheir needle clusters, merrily if the breeze is mild, obstinately ifthe gale is rousing and seem to proclaim: "Here are we, well andsecure. Ruffle and toss, and lash, O winds, the faithless waters, _we_shall ever cling to this hospitable footing, the only kindly soilamid this dreariness; here you once wafted our seed; here shall welive and perpetuate our life. "

On the sea front of the bailey walls rise, sheer from the steep rock, the main body and the keep of the Peel. They are ruinous and shorn oftheir whilom great height, humbled more by the wilful destruction ofman than by the decay of time. 

But although from a distance the castle on the green island seemsutterly dismantled, it is not, even now, all ruin. And, at the timewhen Sir Adrian Landale, of Pulwick, eighth baronet, adopted it as hisresidence, it was far from being such. 

True, the greater portion of that mediæval building, half monastic, half military, exposed even then to the searching winds many bare androofless chambers; broken vaults filled with driven sands; more thanone spiral stair with hanging steps leading into space. But themassive square keep had been substantially restored. Although rooflessits upper platform was as firm as when it was first built; and in acorner, solidly ensconced, rose the more modern turret that shelteredthe honest warning light. 

The wide chambers of the two remaining floors, which in old warlikedays were maintained bare and free, and lighted only by narrowwatching loopholes on all sides, had been, for purposes of peacefultenanncy, divided into sundry small apartments. New windows had beenpierced into the enormous thickness of stone and cement; the barecoldness of walls was also hidden under more home-like panellings. Close-fitting casements and solid doors insured peace within; the windin stormy hours might moan or rage outside this rocky pile, might hissand shriek and tear its wings among the jagged ruins, bellow andthunder in and out of opened vaults, but it might not rattle a windowof the modern castellan's quarters or shake a latch of his chamberdoor. 

There, for reasons understood then only by himself, had Sir Adrianelected, about the "year seven" of this century and in the prime ofhis age, to transplant his lares and penates. 

The while, this Adrian Landale's ancestral home stood, in its placidand double pride of ancient and settled wealth, only some few milesaway as the bee flies, in the midst of its noble park, slightlyretired from the coast-line; and from its upper casements could bedescried by day the little green patch of Scarthey and the jaggedoutline of its ruins on the yellow or glimmering face of the greatbay, and by night the light of its turret. And there he was stillliving, in some kind of happiness, in the "year fourteen, " when, outof the eternal store of events, began to shape themselves the latterepisodes of a life in which storm and peace followed each other asabruptly as in the very atmosphere that he then breathed. 

For some eight years he had nested on that rock with no othercompanions but a dog, a very ancient housekeeper who cooked and washedfor "t' young mester" as she obstinately persisted in calling the manwhom she had once nursed upon her knee, and a singular sturdy foreignman (René L'Apôtre in the language of his own land, but known as RennyPotter to the land of his adoption); which latter was more thansuspected of having escaped from the Liverpool Tower, at that time thelawful place of custody of French war prisoners. 

His own voluntary captivity, however, had nothing really dismal forAdrian Landale. And the inhabited portions of Scarthey ruins hadcertainly nothing prison-like about them, nothing even that recalledthe wilful contrition of a hermitage. 

On the second floor of the tower (the first being allotted to the use, official and private, of the small household), clear of thesurrounding walls and dismantled battlements, the rooms were laid outmuch as they might have been up at Pulwick Priory itself, yonderwithin the verdant grounds on the distant rise. His sleeping quartersplainly, though by no means ascetically furnished, opened into a largechamber, where the philosophic light-keeper spent the best part of hisdays. Here were broad and deep windows, one to the south with a wideview of the bay and the nearer coast, the other to the west where theopen sea displayed her changeable moods. On three sides of this room, the high walls, from the white stone floor to the time-blackened beamsthat bore the ceiling, almost disappeared under the irregular rows ofmany thousand of volumes. Two wooden arm-chairs, bespeaking littleaversion to an occasional guest, flanked the hearth. 

The hearth is the chief refuge of the lone thinker; this was a cosyrecess, deep cut in the mediæval stone and mortar; within which, onchilly days, a generous heap of sea-cast timber and dried turf shotforth dancing blue flames over a mound of white ash and glowingcinders; but which, in warmer times, when the casements were unlatchedto let in with spring or summer breeze the cries of circling sea-fowlsand the distant plash of billows, offered shelter to such green plantsas the briny air would favour. 

At the far end of the room rose in systematical clusters the pipes ofa small organ, built against the walls where it bevelled off a corner. And in the middle of the otherwise bare apartment stood a broad andheavy table, giving support to a miscellaneous array of books, open orclosed, sundry philosophical instruments, and papers in orderlydisorder; some still in their virginal freshness, most, however, bearing marks of notemaking in various stages. 

Here, in short, was the study and general keeping-room of the masterof Scarthey, and here, for the greater part, daily sat Sir AdrianLandale, placidly reading, writing, or thinking at his table; or athis organ, lost in soaring melody; or yet, by the fireside, in hiswooden arm-chair musing over the events of that strange world ofthought he had made his own; whilst the aging black retriever withmuzzle stretched between his paws slept his light, lazy sleep, everand anon opening an eye of inquiry upon his master when the latterspoke aloud his thoughts (as solitary men are wont to do), and thenwith a deep, comfortable sigh, resuming dog-life dreams. 

CHAPTER II

THE LIGHT-KEEPER

 He who sits by the fire doth dream, Doth dream that his heart is warm. But when he awakes his heart is afraid for the bitter cold. 

 _Luteplayer's Song. _

The year 1814 was eventful in the annals of the political world. Little, however, of the world's din reached the little northernisland; and what there came of it was not willingly hearkened to. There was too much of wars past and present, too many rumours of warsfuture about it, for the ear of the recluse. 

Late in the autumn of that red-letter year which brought a shortrespite of peace to war-ridden Europe--a fine, but rather tumultuousday round Scarthey--the light-keeper, having completed the morning'smenial task in the light-turret (during a temporary absence of hisfactotum) sat, according to custom, at his long table, reading. 

With head resting on his right hand whilst the left held a page readyto turn, he solaced himself, pending the appearance of the mid-daymeal, with a few hundred lines of a favourite work--the didacticpoems, I believe, of a certain Doctor Erasmus Darwin, on the analogiesof the outer world. 

There was quite as little of the ascetic in Adrian Landale's physicalman as of the hermitage in his chosen abode. 

With the exception of the hair, which he wore long and free, and ofwhich the fair brown had begun to fade to silver-grey, the master ofScarthey was still the living presentment of the portrait which, evenat that moment, presided among the assembly of canvas Landales in thegallery of Pulwick Priory. Eight years had passed over the model sincethe likeness had been fixed. But in their present repose, the featuresclear cut and pronounced, the kindly thoughtful eyes looked, ifanything, younger than their counterfeit; indeed, almostincongruously young under the flow of fading hair. 

Clean shaven, with hands of refinement, still fastidious, his longyears of solitude notwithstanding, as to general neatness of attire, he might at any moment of the day have walked up the great stair ofhonour at Pulwick without by his appearance eliciting other remarksthan that his clothes, in cut and colour, belonged to fashions nowsome years lapsed. 

The high clock on the mantelshelf hummed and gurgled, and with muchdeliberation struck one. Only an instant later, lagging footstepsascended the wooden, echoing stairs without, and the door was pushedopen by the attendant, an old dame. She was very dingy as to garb, very wrinkled and feeble as to face, yet with a conscious achievementof respectability, both in appearance and manner, befitting her postas housekeeper to the "young master. " The young master, be it statedat once, was at that time fast approaching the end of his second scoreyears. 

"Margery, " said Adrian, rising to take the heavy tray from theknotted, trembling hands; "you know that I will not allow you to carrythose heavy things upstairs yourself. " He raised his voice tosing-song pitch near the withered old ear. "I have already told youthat when Renny is not at home, I can take my food in your kitchen. "

Margery paused, after her wont, to wait till the sounds had filteredas far as her intellect, then proceeded to give a few angryheadshakes. 

"Eh! Eh! It would become Sir Adrian Landale o' Pulwick--Barrownite--tohave 's meat i' the kitchen--it would that. Nay, nay, Mester Adrian, I'm none so old but I can do my day's work yet. Ah! an' it 'ud be wellif that gomerl, Renny Potter, 'ud do his'n. See here, now, MesterAdrian, nowt but a pint of wine left; and it the last, " pointing herwithered finger, erratically as the palsy shook it, at a cut-glassdecanter where a modicum of port wine sparkled richly under thefacets. "And he not back yet, whatever mischief's agate wi' him, though he kens yo like your meat at one. " And then circumstancesobliged her to add: "He is landing now, but it's ower late i' theday. "

"So--there, Margery, " sang the "Squire, " giving his old nurseaffectionate little taps on the back. "Never fash yourself; tidescannot always fit in with dinner-hours, you know. And as for poorRenny, I believe after all you are as fond of him, at the bottom ofyour heart, as I am. Now what good fare have you got for me to-day?"bending from his great height to inspect the refection, "Ah--hum, excellent. "

The old woman, after another pause for comprehension, retired battlingwith dignity against the obvious pleasure caused by her master'saffectionate familiarity, and the latter sat down at a small table infront of the south window. 

Through this deep, port-hole-like aperture he could, whilst disposingof his simple meal, watch the arrival of the yawl which did ferryingduty between Scarthey and the mainland. The sturdy little craft, heavily laden with packages, was being hauled up to its usual place ofsafety high on the shingle bank, under cover of a remnant of wallingwhich in the days of the castle's strength had been a securelanding-place for the garrison's boats, but which now was almostfilled by the cast-up sands and stone of the beach. 

This was done under the superintendence of René, man of all work, andwith the mechanical intermediary of rollers and capstan, by a smallwhite horse shackled to a lever, and patiently grinding his steadyrounds on the sand. 

His preliminary task achieved, the man, after a few friendly smacks, set the beast free to trot back to his loose pasture: proceedinghimself to unship his cargo. 

Through the narrow frame of his window, the master, with eyes ofapproval, could see the servant dexterously load himself with awell-balanced pile of parcels, disappearing to return after intervalsempty-handed, within the field of view, and select another burden, nowheavier now more bulky. 

In due course René came up and reported himself in person, and as hestopped on the threshold the dark doorway framed a not unstrikingpresentment; a young-looking man for his years (he was a trifle juniorto his master), short and sturdy in build, on whose very broadshoulders sat a phenomenally fair head--the hair short, crisp, andcurly, in colour like faded tow--and who, in smilingly respectfulsilence, gazed into the room out of small, light-blue eyes, brimful ofalertness and intelligence, waiting to be addressed. 

"Renny, " said Adrian Landale, returning the glance with one ofcomfortable friendliness, "you will have to make your peace withMargery; she considers that you neglect me shamefully. Why, you areactually twenty minutes late after three days' journeying, and perilsby land and sea!"

The Frenchman answered the pleasantry by a broader smile and a scrape. 

"And, your honour, " he said, "if what is now arriving on us had comehalf an hour sooner, I should have rested planted there" (with a jerkof the flaxen head towards the mainland), "turning my thumbs, tillto-morrow, at the least. We shall have a grain, number one, soon. "

He spoke English fluently, though with the guttural accent ofBrittany, and an unconquerable tendency to translate his own jargonalmost word for word. 

In their daily intercourse master and man had come for many years pastto eschew French almost entirely; René had let it be understood thathe considered his proficiency in the vernacular quite undeniable, andwith characteristic readiness Sir Adrian had fallen in with the littlevanity. In former days the dependant's form of address had been_Monseigneur_ (considering, and shrewdly so, an English landowner tostand in that relation to a simple individual like himself); in laterdays "Monseigneur" having demurred at the appellation, "My lord, " inhis own tongue, the devoted servant had discovered "Your honour" as ahappy substitute, and adhered to this discovery with satisfaction. 

"Oh, we are going to have a squall, say you, " interpreted the master, rising to inspect the weather-glass, which in truth had fallen deepwith much suddenness. "More than a squall, I think; this looks like ahurricane coming. But since you are safe home, all's well; we aresecure and sound here, and the fishing fleet are drawing in, I see, "peering through the seaward window. "And now, " continued Adrian, laying down his napkin, and brushing away a few crumbs from the foldsof a faultless silk stock, "what have you for me there--and whatnews?"

"News, your honour! Oh, for that I have news this time, " said Mr. Renny Potter, with an emphatic nod, "but if your honour will permit, Ishall say them last. I have brought the clothes and the linen, thewine, the brandy, and the books. Brandy and wine, your honour, Iheard, out of the last prize brought into Liverpool, and a Nantes shipit was, too"--this in a pathetically philosophical tone. Then after apause: "Also provisions and bulbs for the devil's pot, as Margery willcall it. But there is no saying, your honour eats more when I havebrought him back onions, eschalot, and _ail_; now do I lie, yourhonour? May I?" added the speaker, and forthwith took his answer fromhis master's smile; "may I respectfully see what the old one haskitchened for you when I was not there?"

And Adrian Landale with some amusement watched the Frenchman rise fromthe package he was then uncording to examine the platters on the tableand loudly sniff his disdain. 

"Ah, ah, boiled escallops again. Perfectly--boiled cabbage seasonedwith salt. Not a taste in the whole affair. Prison food--oh, yes, oldwoman! Why, we nourished ourselves better in the Tower, when we couldhave meat at all. Ah, your honour, " sighed the man returning to histalk; "you others, English, are big and strong, but you waste greatthings in small enjoyment!"

"Oho, Renny, " said the light-keeper squire, as he leant against thefireplace leisurely filling a long clay pipe, "this is one of yourepigrams; I must make a note of it anon; but let me see now what youreally have in those parcels of books--for books they are, are theynot? so carefully and neatly packed. "

"Books, " assented the man, undoing the final fold of paper. "Mr. Youngin the High Street of Liverpool had the packets ready. He says youmust have them all; and all printed this year. What so many people canwant to say, I for my count cannot comprehend. Three more parcels onthe stairs, your honour. Mr. Young says you must have them. But ittook two porters to carry them to the Preston diligence. "

Not without eagerness did the recluse of Scarthey bend over and fingerthe unequal rows of volumes arrayed on the table, and with a smile ofexpectation examine the labels. 

"The Corsair" and "Lara" he read aloud, lifting a small tome moredaintily printed than the rest. "Lord Byron. What's this? Jane Austen, a novel. 'Roderick, last of the Goths. ' Dear, dear, " his smile fadinginto blankness; "tiresome man, I never gave him orders for any suchthings. "

René, battling with his second parcel, shrugged his shoulders. 

"The librarian, " he explained, "said that all the world read thesebooks, and your honour must have them. "

"Well, well, " continued the hermit, "what else? 'Jeremy Bentham, ' anew work; Ricardo, another book on economy; Southey the Laureate, 'Life of Nelson. ' Really, Mr. Young might have known that naval deedshave no joy for me, hardly more than for you, Renny, " smiling grimlyon his servant. "'Edinburgh Review, ' a London magazine for the lastsix months; 'Rees's Cyclopædia, ' vols. 24-27; Wordsworth, 'TheRecluse. ' Ah, old Willie Wordsworth! Now I am anxious to see what hehas to say on such a topic. "

"Dear Willie Wordsworth, " mused Sir Adrian, sitting down to turn overthe pages of the 'Excursion, ' "how widely have our lives drifted apartsince those college days of ours, when we both believed in the comingmillennium and the noble future of mankind--noble mankind!"

He read a few lines and became absorbed, whilst René noiselesslybusied himself in and out of the chamber. Presently he got up, book inhand, slowly walked to the north window, and passively gazed at themisty distance where rose the blue outline of the lake hills. 

"So my old friend, almost forgotten, " he murmured, "that is where youindite such worthy lines. It were enough to tempt me out into men'sworld again to think that there would be many readers and loversabroad of these words of yours. So, that is what five and twenty yearshave done for you--what would you say to what they have done forme. . . ?"

It was a long retrospect. 

Sir Adrian was deeply immersed in thought when he became aware thathis servant had come to a standstill, as if waiting for a return ofattention. And in answer to the mute appeal he turned his head oncemore in René's direction. 

"Your honour, everything is in its place, " began the latter, with afitting sense of his own method. "I have now to report that I saw yourman of business in Lancaster, and he has attended to the matter of thebrothers Shearman's boat that was lost. I saw the young men themselvesthis morning. They are as grateful to Sir Adrian as people in thiscountry can express. " This last with a certain superiority. 

Sir Adrian received the announcement of the working of one of hisusual bounties with a quiet smile of gratification. 

"They also told me to say that they would bring the firewood and theturf to-morrow. But they won't be able to do that because we shallhave dirty weather. Then they told me that when your honour wants fishthey begged your honour to run up a white flag over the lantern--theythought that a beautiful idea--and they would bring some as soon aspossible. I took on myself to assure them that I could catch what fishyour honour requires; and the prawns, too . . . But that is what theyasked me to say. "

"Well, well, and so you can, " said the master, amused by the show ofsub-acute jealousy. "What else?"

"The books of the man of business and the banker are on the table. Ihave also brought gazettes from Liverpool. " Here the fellow'scountenance brimmed with the sense of his news' importance. "I knowyour honour cares little for them. But this time I think you will readthem. Peace, your honour, it is the peace! It is all explained inthese journals--the 'Liverpool Mercury. '"

Renny lifted the folded sheets from the table and handed them withcontained glee. "There has been peace these six months, and we neverknew it. I read about it the whole way back from the town. The Emperoris shut up on an island--but not so willingly as your Honour, ah, no!--and there is an end of citizen Bonaparte. Peace, France andEngland no longer fighting, it is hard to believe--and our old kingsare coming back, and everything to be again as in the old days. "

Sir Adrian took the papers, not without eagerness, and glanced overthe narrative of events, already months old, with all the surprise ofone who, having wilfully shut himself out from the affairs of theworld, ignored the series of disasters that had brought about thetyrant's downfall. 

"As you say, my friend, it is almost incredible, " he said, at length. Then thoughtfully: "And now you will be wanting to return home?" saidhe. 

René, who had been scanning his master's face with high expectation, felt his heart leap as he thought he perceived a hidden tone of regretin the question. 

He drew himself up to his short height, and with a very decided voicemade answer straightway:

"I shall go away from your honour the day when your honour dismissesme. If your honour decides to live on this rock till my hour, or his, strikes--on this rock with him I remain. I am not conceited, I hope, but what, pray, will become of your honour here without me?"

There was force in this last remark, simply as it was pronounced. Through the mist of interlacing thoughts suggested by the word Peace!(the end of the Revolution, that distant event which, nevertheless, had had such sweeping influence over the course of his whole life), itbrought a faint smile to Sir Adrian's lips. 

He took two steps forward and laid his hand familiarly on the man'sbroad shoulder, and, in a musing way, he said at intervals:

"Yes, yes, indeed, good Renny, what would become of me?--what wouldhave become of me?--how long ago it seems!--without you? And yet itmight have been as well if two skeletons, closely locked in embrace, blanched by the grinding of the waters and the greed of the crabs, nowreposed somewhere deep in the sands of that Vilaine estuary. . . . Thisscore of years, she has had rest from the nightmare that men have madeof life on God's beautiful earth. I have been through more of it, mygood Renny. "

René's brain was never equal to coping with his master's periodic fitsof pessimism, though he well knew their first and ever-present cause. In a troubled way he looked about the room, so peaceful, so retiredand studious; and Sir Adrian understood. 

"Yes, yes, you are right; I have cut off the old life, " he made answerto the unspoken expostulation, "and that I can live in my own smallworld without foregoing all my duties, I owe to you, my good friend;but startling news like this brings back the past very livingly, deadthough it be--dead. "

René hesitated; he was pondering over the advisability of disburdeninghimself of yet another strange item of information he had in reserve;but, as his master, rousing himself with an effort as if to dismisssome haunting thought, turned round again to the table, he decidedthat the moment was not propitious. 

"So you have seen to all these things, " said Sir Adrian wearily. "Good; I will look over them. "

He touched the neat pile of books and papers, listlessly, as he spoke, yet, instead of sitting down, remained as he was, with eyes that hadgrown wondering, staring out across the sea. 

"Look, " he said presently, in a low voice, and René noticed a rareflush of colour rise to the thin cheeks. "Look--is not this day justlike--one we both remember well. . . ? Listen, the wind is coming up asit did then. And look at yonder sky!"

And taking the man by the arm, he advanced slowly with him towards thewindow. 

In the west the heavens on the horizon had grown threateningly dark;but under the awe-inspiring slate-coloured canopy of clouds thereopened a broad archway filled with primrose light--the luminous arch, well known to seafarers, through which charge the furious southwesternsqualls. The rushing of the storm was already visible in the distanceover the grey waters, which having been swayed for days by a steadyAquilon were now lashed in flank by the sudden change of wind. 

The two men looked out for a while in silence at the spectacle of thecoming storm. In the servant's mind ran various trivial thoughtsbearing on the present--what a lucky matter it was that he should havereturned in time; only just in time it was; from the angry look of theouter world the island would now, for many a day be besieged by seasimpassable to such small craft as alone could reach the reef. Had hetarried but to the next tide (and how sorely he had been tempted toremain an hour more in the gatekeeper's lodge within sight and hearingof buxom Moggie, Margery's grand-daughter), had he missed the tide, for days, maybe for weeks, would the master have had to watch andtend, alone, the beacon fire. But here he was, and all was well; andhe had still the marvellous news to tell. Should he tell them now? No, the master was in one of his trances--lost far away in the past nodoubt, that past that terminated on such a day as this. And SirAdrian, with eyes fixed on the widening arch of yellow light, waslooking inwards on the far-away distance of time. 

Men, who have been snatched back to life from death in the deep, recall how, before seeming to yield the ghost, the picture of theirwhole existence passed in vivid light before the eye of their mind. Swift beyond the power of understanding are such revelations; in oneflash the events of a good or an evil life leap before the seeingsoul--moment of anguish intolerable or of sublime peace!

On such a boisterous day as this, some nineteen years before, by thesandy mouth of the river Vilaine, on the confines of Brittany andVendée had Adrian Landale been drowned; under such a sky, and underthe buffets of such an angry wind had he been recalled to life, and inthe interval, he had seen the same pictures which now, coursing backmany years in a few seconds, passed before his inward vision. 

CHAPTER III

DAY DREAMS: A PHILOSOPHER'S FATE

Le beau temps de ma jeunesse . . . Quand j'étais si malheureux. 

The borderland between adolescence and manhood, in the life of men ofrefined aspirations and enthusiastic mettle, is oftener than not anunconsciously miserable period--one which more mature years recall ashollow, deceiving, bitterly unprofitable. 

Yet there is always that about the memories of those far-off youngdays, their lofty dreams long since scattered, their virgin delightslong since lost in the drudgery of earthly experience, which ever andanon seizes the heart unawares and fills it with that infiniteweakness: that mourning for the dead and gone past, which yet is notregret. 

In the high days of the Revolutionary movement across the water, Adrian Landale was a dreamy student living in one of those venerableColleges on the Cam, the very atmosphere of which would seemsufficient to glorify the merits of past ages and past institutions. 

Amidst such peaceful surroundings this eldest scion of an ancient, north-country race--which had produced many a hardy fighter, thoughnever yet a thinker nor even a scholar--amid a society as prejudicedand narrow-minded as all privileged communities are bound to become, had nevertheless drifted resistlessly towards that unfathomable seawhither a love for the abstract beautiful, a yearning forsuper-earthly harmony and justice, must inevitably waft a youngintelligence. 

As the academical years glided over him, he accumulated much classicallore, withal read much latter-day philosophy and developed a fineyouthful, theoretical love for the new humanitarianism. He dippedæsthetically into science, wherein he found a dim kind of helptowards a more recondite appreciation of the beauties of nature. Hiswas not a mind to delight in profound knowledge, but rather in"intellectual cream. "

He solaced himself with essays that would have been voted brillianthad they dealt with things less extravagant than Universal Harmony andFraternal Happiness; with verses that all admitted to be highlypolished and melodious, but something too mystical in meaning for theunderstanding of an every-day world; with music, whereof he wasconceded an interpreter of no mean order. 

In fact the worship of his soul might have been said to be theBeautiful in the abstract--the Beautiful in all its manifestationswhich include Justice, Harmony, Truth, and Kindliness--the oneindispensable element of his physical happiness, the Beautiful in theconcrete. 

This is saying that Adrian Landale, for all his array of definiteaccomplishments, which might have been a never-failing source ofinterest in an easy existence, was fitted in a singularly unfortunatemanner for the life into which one sudden turn of fortune's wheelunexpectedly launched him. 

During the short halcyon days of his opening independence, however, hewas able to make himself the centre of such a world as he would haveloved to live in. He was not, of course, generally popular, either atcollege or at home; nor yet in town, except among that small set inwhose midst he inevitably found his way wherever he went; hisinferiors in social status perhaps, these chosen friends of his; buttheir lofty enthusiasms were both appreciative of and congenial to hisown. Most of them, indeed, came in after-life to add their names toEngland's roll of intellectual fame, partly because they had that inthem which Adrian loathed as unlovely--the instinct and will ofstrife, partly; it must be added, because they remained free in theircircumstances to follow the lead of their nature. Which freedom wasnot allotted to him. 

 * * * * *

On one magnificent frosty afternoon, early in the year 1794, theLondon coach deposited Adrian Landale in front of the best hostelry inLancaster, after more than a year's separation from his family. 

This separation was not due to estrangement, but rather to theinstigation of his own sire, Sir Thomas--a gentleman of the "fine oldschool"--who, exasperated by the, to him, incomprehensible andinsupportable turn of mind developed by his heir (whom he loved wellenough, notwithstanding, in his own way), had hoped, in goodutilitarian fashion, that a prolonged period of contact with theworld, lubricated by a plentiful supply of money, might shake his "bigsawney of a son" out of his sickly-sentimental views; that it wouldshow him that _gentlemen's_ society--and, "by gad, ladies' too"--wasnot a thing to be shunned for the sake of "wild-haired poets, dirtyfirebrands, and such cattle. "

The downright old baronet was even prepared, in an unformed sort ofway, to see his successor that was to be return to the paternal hearththe richer for a few gentlemanly vices, provided he left his nonsensebehind him. 

As the great lumbering vehicle, upon the box seat of which sat theyoung traveller, lost in dreamy speculation according to his wont, drew clattering to a halt, he failed at first to notice the centralfigure in the midst of the usual expectant crowd of inn guests and innretainers, called forward by the triumphant trumpeting which heraldsthe approach of the mail. There, however, stood the Squire of Pulwick, "Sir Tummus" himself, in portly and jovial importance. 

The father's eyes, bright and piercing under his bushy white brows, had already detected his boy from a distance; and they twinkled as hetook note, with all the pride of an author in his work, of thesymmetry of limb and shoulders set forth by the youth's faultlessattire--and the dress of men in the old years of the century wasindeed calculated to display a figure to advantage--of the lightnessand grace of his frame as he dismounted from his perch; in short ofthe increased manliness of his looks and bearing. 

But a transient frown soon came to overshade Sir Thomas's ruddycontent as he descried the deep flush (an old weakness) which mantledthe young cheeks under the spur of unexpected recognition. 

And when, later, the pair emerged from the inn after an hour'sconversation over a bottle of burnt sherry--conversation which, uponthe father's side, had borne, in truth, much the character ofcross-examination--to mount the phaeton with which a pair ofhigh-mettled bays were impatiently waiting the return homewards, therewas a very definite look of mutual dissatisfaction to be read upontheir countenances. 

Whiling away the time in fitful constrained talk, parcelled out bylong silences, they drove again through the gorgeous, frost-speckledscenery of rocky lands until the sheen of the great bay suddenlypeered between two distant scars, proclaiming the approach to thePulwick estate. The father then broke a long spell of muteness, andthus to his son, in his ringing country tones, as if pursuing aloudthe tenor of his thoughts:

"Hark'ee, Master Adrian, " said he, "that you are now a man of parts, as they say, I can quite see. You seem to have read a powerful lot ofthings that do not come our way up here. But let us understand eachother. I cannot make head or tail of these far-fetched new-fanglenotions you, somehow or other, have fallen in love with--your JamesFox, your Wilberforce, your Adam Smith, they may be very fine fellows, but to my humble thinking they're but a pack of traitors to king andcountry, when all is said and done. All this does not suit an Englishgentleman. You think differently; or perhaps you do not care whetherit does or not. I admit I can't hold forth as you do; nor string a lotof fine words together. I am only an old nincompoop compared to aclever young spark like you. But I request you to keep off thesetopics in the company I like to see round my table. They don't likeJacobins, you know, no more do I!"

"Nor do I, " said Adrian fervently. 

"Nor do you? Don't you, sir, don't you? Why, then what the devil haveyou been driving at?"

"I am afraid, sir, you do not understand my views. "

"Well, never mind; I don't like 'em, that's short, and if you bringthem out before your cousin, little Madame Savenaye, you will come offsecond best, my lad, great man as you are, and so I warn you!"

In tones as unconcerned as he could render them the young man soughtto turn the intercourse to less personal topics, by inquiring furtheranent this unknown cousin whose very name was strange to him. 

Sir Thomas, easily placable if easily roused, started willingly enoughon a congenial topic. And thus Adrian conceived his first impressionof that romantic being whose deeds have remained legendary in theFrench west country, and who was destined to exercise so strong aninfluence upon his own life. 

"Who is she?" quoth the old gentleman, with evident zest. "Ay. Allthis is news to you, of course. Well: she _was_ Cécile de Kermelégan. You know your mother's sister Mary Donoghue (murthering Moll, theycalled her on account of her killing eyes) married a M. De Kermelégan, a gentleman of Brittany. Madame de Savenaye is her daughter (firstcousin of yours), that means that she has good old English blood inher veins and Irish to boot. She speaks English as well as you or I, her mother's teaching of course, but she is French all the same; and, by gad, of the sort which would reconcile even an Englishman with thebreed!"

Sir Thomas's eyes sparkled with enthusiasm; his son examined him withgrave wonder. 

"The very sight of her, my boy, is enough to make a man's heart warm. Wait till you see her and she begins to talk of what the red-caps aredoing over there--those friends of yours, who are putting in practiceall your fine theories! And, bookworm as you are, I'll warrant she'llwarm your sluggish blood for you. Ha! she's a rare little lady. Shemarried last year the Count of Savenaye. "

Adrian assumed a look of polite interest. 

"Emigré, I presume?" he said, quietly. 

"Emigré? No, sir. He is even now fighting the republican rapscallions, d--n them, and thrashing them, too, yonder in his country. She stuckby his side; ay, like a good plucked one she did, until it becamepalpable that, if there was to be a son and heir to the name, she hadbetter go and attend to its coming somewhere else, in peace. Ho, ho, ho! Well, England was the safest place, of course, and, for her, thenatural one. She came and offered herself to us on the plea ofrelationship. I was rather taken aback at first, I own; but, gad, boy, when I saw the woman, after hearing what she had had to go through toreach us at all, I sang another song. Well, she is a finecreature--finer than ever now that the progeny has been satisfactorilyhatched; a brace of girls instead of the son and heir, after all! Twoof them; no less. Ho, ho, ho! And she was furious, the pretty dear!However, you'll soon see for yourself. You will see a woman, sir, whohas loaded and fired cannon with her own hands, when the last man toserve it had been shot. Ay, and more than that, my lad--she's braineda hulking sans-culotte that was about to pin her servant to the floor. The lad has told me so himself, and I daresay he can tell you more ifyou care to practise your French with master René L'Apôtre, that's thefellow! A woman who sticks to her lord and master in mud andpowder-smoke until there is precious little time to spare, when shemakes straight for a strange land, in a fishing-smack, with no otherprotector than a peasant; and now, with an imp of a black-eyed infantto her breast (Sally Mearson's got the other; you remember Sally, yourown nurse's daughter?), looks like a chit of seventeen. That's whatyou'll see, sir. And when she sails downstairs for dinner, dressed up, powdered and high-heeled, she might be a princess, a queen who hasnever felt a crumpled roseleaf in her life. Gad! I'm getting poetical, I declare. "

In this strain did the Squire, guiding his horses with strong, dexterous hand, expatiate to his son; the crisp air rushing past them, making their faces glow with the tingling blood until, burning theground, they dashed up the avenue that leads to the white mansion ofPulwick, and halted amidst a cloud of steam before its Palladianportico. 

What happened to Adrian the moment after happens, as a rule, only oncein a man's lifetime. 

Through the opening portals the guest, whose condensed biography theSquire had been imparting to his son (all unconsciously elicitingthereby more repulsion than admiration in the breast of thatfastidious young misogynist), appeared herself to welcome the returnof her host. 

Adrian, as he retired a pace to let his father ascend the steps, firstcaught a glimpse of a miraculously small and arched foot, clad in pinksilk, and, looking suddenly up, met fully the flash of great darkeyes, set in a small white face, more brilliant in their immenseblackness than even the glinting icicles pendant over the lintel thatnow shot back the sun's sinking glory. 

The spell was of the kind that the reason of man can never sanction, and yet that have been ever and will be while man is. This youth, virgin of heart, dreamy of head who had drifted to his twentiethyear, all unscathed by passion or desire, because he had never metaught in flesh and blood answering to his unconscious ideal, wasstruck to the depth of his soul by the presence of one, as unlike thissame ideal as any living creature could be; struck with fantasticsuddenness, and in that all-encompassing manner which seizes theinnermost fibres of the being. 

It was a pang of pain, but a revelation of glory. 

He stood for some moments, with paling cheeks and hotly-beating heart, gazing back into the wondrous eyes. She, yielding her cheek carelesslyto the Squire's hearty kiss, examined the new-comer curiously thewhile:

"Why--how now, tut, tut, what's this?" thundered the father, who, following the direction of her eyes, wheeled round suddenly todiscover his son's strange bearing, "Have you lost all the manners aswell as the notions of a gentleman, these last two years? Speak toMadame de Savenaye, sir!--Cécile, this is my son; pray forgive him, mydear; the fellow's shyness before ladies is inconceivable. It makes aperfect fool of him, as you see. "

But Madame de Savenaye's finer wits had already perceived somethingdifferent from the ordinary display of English shyness in the youngman, whose eyes remained fixed on her face with an intentness thatsavoured in no way, of awkwardness. She now broke the spell with abroader smile and a word of greeting. 

"You are surprised, " said she in tripping words, tinged with adistinct foreign intonation, "to see a strange face here, Mr. Adrian--or, shall I say cousin? for that is the style I should adoptin my Brittany. Yes, you see in me a poor foreign cousin, fleeing forprotection to your noble country. How do you do, my cousin?"

She extended a slender, white hand, one rosy nail of which, bendinglow, Adrian gravely kissed. 

"_Mais, comment donc!_" exclaimed the lady, "my dear uncle did youchide your son just now? Why, but these are Versailles manners--sogallant, so courtly!"

And she gave the boy's fingers, as they lingered under hers, first adiscreet little pressure, and then a swift flip aside. 

"Ah! how cold you are!" she exclaimed; and then, laughing, addedsweetly: "Cold hands, warm heart, of course. "

And with rapping heels she turned into the great hall and into thedrawing-room whither the two men--the father all chuckles, and the sonstill struck with wonder--followed her. 

She was standing by the hearth holding each foot alternately to thegreat logs flaming on the tiles, ever and anon looking over her shoulderat Adrian, who had advanced closer, without self-consciousness, butstill in silence. 

"Now, cousin, " she remarked gaily, "there is room for you here, big asyou are, to warm yourself. You must be cold. I know already all aboutyour family, and I must know all about you, too! I am very curious, Ifind them all such good, kind, handsome people here, and I am told toexpect in you something quite different from any of them. Now, wheredoes the difference come in? You are as tall as your father, but inface--no, I believe it is your pretty sisters you are like in face. "

Here the Squire interrupted with his loud laugh, and, clapping hishand on his stalwart son's head:

"You have just hit it, Cécile, it's here the difference lies. Adrian, I really believe, is a little mistake of Dame Nature; his brain wasmeant for a girl and was tacked on to that big body by accident, ho, ho, ho! He is quite lady-like in his accomplishments--loves music, andplays, by gad, better than our organist. Writes poetry, too. I foundsome devilish queer things on his writing-table once, which were not_all_ Latin verses, though he would fain I thought so. And as fordeportment, Madame Cécile, why there is more propriety, in thathobbedehoy, at least, more blushing in him, than in all thebread-and-butter misses in the county!"

Adrian said nothing; but, when not turned towards the ground, his gazestill sought the Countess, who now returned the look with a ripeningsmile open to any interpretation. 

"Surely, " she remarked, glancing then at the elder for an instant withsome archness, "surely you English gentlemen, who have so muchpropriety, would not rather . . . There was young Mr. Bradbury, we heardtalked of yesterday, whom every farmer with a red-cheeked lass of hisown--"

"No, no!" hastily interrupted the baronet, with a blush himself, whileAdrian's cheek in spite of the recent indictment preserved its smoothpallor--in truth, the boy, lost in his first love-dream, had notunderstood the allusion. "No, I don't want a Landale to be ablackguard, you know, but--" And the father, unable to split thisethical hair, to logical satisfaction, stopped and entered anotherchannel of grumbling vituperation, whilst the Countess, very muchamused by her private thoughts, gave a little rippling laugh, andresumed her indulgent contemplation of the accused. 

"What a pity, now, school-boy Rupert is not the eldest; there would bea country gentleman for you! Whereas, this successor that is to be ofmine is a man of books and a philosopher. Forsooth, a first-classbookworm; by gad, I believe the first of our race! And he might make aname for himself, I've been told, among that lot, though the pack o'nonsense he treats us to at times cannot, I'm thinking, really go downeven among those college fuzzle-heads. But I am confounded if thatchap will ever be of any use as a landlord whenever he steps into myshoes. He hates a gun, and takes more pleasure--what was it he saidlast time he was here?--oh, yes, more pleasure in watching a bird dartin the blue than bringing it down, be it never so neat a shot. Ho, ho!did ye ever hear such a thing? And though he can sit a horse--I willsay that for him (I should like to see a Landale that could not!)--Ihave seen this big boy of mine positively sicken, ay! and scandalisethe hunt by riding away from the death. Moreover, I believe that, whenI am gone, he will always let off any poaching scoundrel on the pleathat the vermin only take for their necessity what we preserve forsport. "

The little foreign lady, smiling no longer, eyed her big cousin withwondering looks. 

"Strange, indeed, " she remarked, "that a man should fail to appreciatethe boon of man's existence, the strength and freedom to dominate, tobe up and doing, to _live_ in fact. How I should long to be a manmyself, if I ever allowed myself to long for anything; but I am awoman, as you see, " she added, rising to the full height of herexquisite figure, "and must submit to woman's lot--and that is justnow to the point, for I must leave you to go and see to the wants ofthat _mioche_ of mine which I hear whining upstairs. But I do notbelieve my uncle's account of you is a complete picture after all, cousin Adrian. I shall get it out of you anon, catechise you in my ownway, and, if needs be, convert you to a proper sense of the gloriousprivileges of your sex. "

And she ran out of the room. 

"Well, my lad, " said Sir Thomas, that evening, when the ladies hadleft the two men to their decanter, "I thought my Frenchwoman wouldwake you up, but, by George, I hardly expected she would knock you allof a heap so quick. Hey! you're winged, Adrian, winged, or this is notport. "

"I cannot say, sir, " answered Adrian, musing. 

The old man caught up the unsatisfactory reply in an exasperatedburlesque of mimicry: "I cannot say, sir--you cannot say? Pooh, pooh, there is no shame in being in love with her. We all are more or less;pass the bottle. As for you, since you clapped eyes on her you havebeen like a man in the moon, not a word to throw to a dog, no eyes, noears but for your own thoughts, so long as madam is not there. Entermadam, you're alive again, by George, and pretty lively, too! Gad, Inever thought I'd ever see _you_ do the lady's man, all in your ownqueer way, of course; but, hang it all, she seems to like it, thelittle minx! Ay, and if she has plenty of smiles for the old man she'sready to give her earnest to you--I saw her, I saw her. But don't youforget she's married, sir, very much married, too. She don't forget iteither, I can tell you, though you may think she does. Now, what sortof game is she making of you? What were you talking about in thepicture gallery for an hour before dinner, eh?"

"To say the truth, " answered the son, simply, "it was about myselfalmost the whole time. "

"And she flattered you finely, I'll be bound, of course, " said hiselder, with a knowing look. "Oh, these women, these women!"

"On the contrary, sir, she thinks even less of me than you do. Thatwoman has the soul of a savage; we have not one thought in common. "

The father burst into a loud laugh. "A pretty savage to look at, anyhow; a well-polished one in the bargain, ho, ho, ho! Well, well, Imust make up my mind, I suppose, that my eldest son is a lunatic inlove with a savage. "

Adrian remained silent for a while, toying with his glass, his youngbrow contracted under a painful frown. At length, checking a sigh, heanswered with deliberation:

"Since it is so palpable to others, I suppose it must be love, as yousay. I had thought hitherto that love of which people talk so much wasa feeling of sweetness. What I feel in this lady's presence is muchmore kin to anguish; for all that, as you have noticed, I appear tolive only when she is nigh. "

The father looked at his son and gaped. The latter went on, afteranother pause:

"I suppose it is so, and may as well own it to myself and to you, though nothing can come of it, good or bad. She is married, and she isyour guest; and even if any thought concerning me could enter herheart, the merest show of love on my part would be an insult to herand treason to you. But trust me, I shall now be on my guard, since mybehaviour has already appeared strange. "

"Tut, tut, " said the Baronet, turning to his wine in some dudgeon, hisrubicund face clouding as he looked with disfavour at this strangeheir of his, who could not even fall in love like the rest of hisrace. "What are you talking about? Come, get out of that and see whatthe little lady's about, and let me hear no more of this. She'll notcompromise herself with a zany like you, anyhow, that I'll warrant. "

But Adrian with all the earnestness of his nature and his very youngfears was strenuously resolved to watch himself narrowly in hisintercourse with his too fascinating relative; little recking howinfinitesimal is the power of a man's free-will upon the conduct ofhis life. 

The next morning found the little Countess in the highest spirits. Particularly good news had arrived from her land with the earlycourier. True, the news were more than ten days old, but she had thatinsuperable buoyancy of hopefulness which attends active and healthynatures. 

The Breton peasants (she explained to the company round the breakfasttable), headed by their lords (among whom was her own _Seigneur etMaître_) had again crushed the swarms of ragged brigands that calledthemselves soldiers. From all accounts there was no hope for thelatter, their atrocities had been such that the whole land, fromNormandy to Guyenne, was now in arms against them. 

And in Paris, the hot pit whence had issued the storm of foulness thatblasted the fair kingdom of France after laying low the hallowed headsof a good king and a beautiful queen, in Paris, leaders and led werenow chopping each other's heads off, _à qui mieux mieux_. "Thosethinkers, those lofty patriots, _hein, beau cousin_, for whom, itseems, you have an admiration, " commented the lady, interrupting heraccount to sip her cup of cream and chocolate, with a little fingerdaintily cocked, and shoot a mocking shaft at the young philosopherfrom the depth of her black eyes. 

"Like demented wolves they are destroying each other--Pray the God ofJustice, " quoted she from her husband's letter, "that it may onlylast; in a few months, then, there will be none of them left, and thepeople, relieved from this rule of blood, will all clamour for thetrue order of things, and the poor country may again know peace andhappiness. Meanwhile, all has yet to be won, by much devotion andself-sacrifice in the cause of God and King; and afterwards will comethe reward!. . . 

"And the revenge, " added Madame de Savenaye, with a little, fiercelaugh, folding the sanguine budget of news. "Oh! they must leave us afew for revenge! How we shall make the hounds smart when the Kingreturns to his own! And then for pleasures and for life again. And wemay yet meet at the mansion of Savenaye, in Paris, " she went on gaily, "my good uncle and fair cousins, for the King cannot fail to recallhis faithful supporter. And there will be feasts and balls. And there, maybe, we shall be able to repay in part some of your kindness andhospitality. And you, cousin Adrian, you will have to take me throughpavanne and gavotte and minuet; and I shall be proud of my northerncavalier. What! not know how one dances the gavotte? _Fi donc!_ whatignorance! I shall have to teach you. Your hand, monsieur, " slippingthe missive from the seat of war into her fair bosom. "La! not thatway; with a _grace_, if you please, " making a profound curtsey. "Ah, still that cold hand; your great English heart must be a veryfurnace. Come, point your right foot--so. And look round at yourpartner with--what shall I say--_admiration sérieuse_!"

That she saw admiration, serious enough in all conscience in Adrian'seyes, there was little doubt. With sombre heart he failed not to markevery point of this all-human grace, but to him goddess-like beauty, the triumph and glory of youth. The coy, dainty poise of the adorablefoot--pointed _so_--and treading the ground with the softness of akitten at play; the maddening curve of her waist, which a sacque, depending from an exquisite nape, partly concealed, only to enhanceits lithe suppleness; the divinely young throat and bust; and aboveall the dazzling black rays from eyes alternately mocking, fierce orcaressing. 

Well might his hand be cold with all his young untried blood, bitingat his heart, singing in his head. Why did God place such creatures onHis earth to take all savour from aught else under the sun?

"Fair cousin, fair cousin, though I said serious admiration, I did notmean you to look as if you were taking me to a funeral. You aresupposed to be enjoying yourself, you know!"

The youth struggled with a ghastly smile; and the father laughedoutright. But Madame de Savenaye checked herself into gravity oncemore. 

"Alas! _Nous n'en sommes pas encore là_, " she said, and relinquishedher adorer's hand. "We have still to fight for it. . . . Oh! that I werefree to be up and doing!"

The impatient exclamation was wrung out of her, apparently, by theappearance of two nurses, each bearing an infant in long, white robesfor the mother's inspection; a preliminary to the daily outing. 

The elder of these matrons was Adrian's own old nurse who, muchoccupied with her new duties of attendant to Madame de Savenaye andone of her babies, now beheld her foster-son again for the first timesince his return. 

"Eh--but you've grown a gradely mon, Mester Adrian!" she cried, in herlong-drawn Lancastrian, dandling her bundle energetically from side toside in the excess of her admiration, and added with a laugh oftender delight: "Eh, but you're my own lad still, as how 'tis!" when, blushing, the young man crossed the room and stooped to kiss her, glancing shyly the while at the white bundle in her arms. 

"Well, and how are the little ones?" quoth Madame de Savenaye, swinging her dainty person up to the group and halting by beamingSally--the second nurse, who proudly held forth her charge--merely tolay a finger lightly on the infant's little cheek. 

"Ah, my good Sally, your child does you credit!--Now Margery, when youhave done embracing that fine young man, perhaps you will give me mychild, _hein_?"

Both the nurses blushed; Margery at the soft impeachment as shedelivered over the minute burden; her daughter in honest indignationat the insulting want of interest shown for her foster-babe. 

"No, I was not made to play with puppets like you, mademoiselle, " saidthe comtesse, addressing herself to the unconscious little being asshe took it in her arms, but belying her words by the grace andinstinctive maternal expertness with which she handled and soothed theinfant. "Yes, you can go, Sarah--_au revoir_, Mademoiselle Madeleine. Fie the little wretch, what faces she pulls! And you, Margery, youneed not wait either; I shall keep this creature for a while. Poorlittle one!" sang the mother, walking up and down, and patting thesmall back with her jewelled hand as she held the wee thing againsther shoulder, "indeed I shall have soon to leave you----"

"What's this--what's this?" exclaimed the master of the house withsudden sharpness. He had been surveying the scene from the hearthrug, chuckling in benevolent amusement at little Madam's ways. 

Yes, it was her intention to return to her place by the side of herlord, she explained, halting in her walk to face him gravely; she hadcome to that resolution. No doubt her uncle would take the childrenunder his care until better times--those good times that were so fastapproaching. Buxom Sally could manage them both--and to spare, too!

Adrian felt his heart contract at the unexpected announcement; a lookof dismay overspread Sir Thomas's face. 

"Why--what? what nonsense, child!" cried he again in rueful tones. "_You_, return to that place now . . . What good do you think you coulddo--eh?" But here recollecting himself, he hesitated and started upona more plausible line of expostulation. "Pooh, pooh! You can't leavethe little ones, your husband does not ask you to come back and leavethem, does he? In any case, " with assumed authority, "I shall not letyou go. "

She looked up with a smile. 

"Would _you_ allow your friends to continue fighting alone for all youlove, because you happened to be in safe and pleasant circumstancesyourself?" she asked. Then she added ingenuously: "I have heard yousay of one that was strong of will and staunch to his purpose, that hewas a regular Briton. I thought that flattering: I am a Briton, ofBrittany, you know, myself, uncle: would you have _me_ be a worthlessBriton? As to what a woman can do there--ah, you have no idea what itmeans for all these poor peasants of ours to see their lords remainamong them, sharing their hardship in defence of their cause. Concerning the children, " kissing the one she held and gazing into itsface with wistful look, "they can better afford to do without me thanmy husband and our men. A strong woman to tend them till we come back, is all that is wanted, since a good relative is willing to give themshelter. René cannot be long in returning now, with the last news. Indeed, M. De Savenaye says that he will only keep him a few dayslonger, and, according to the tidings he brings must I fix the datefor my departure. "

Sir Thomas, with an inarticulate growl, relapsed into silence; and sheresumed her walk with bent head, lost in thought, up and down thegreat room, out of the pale winter sunshine into the shadow, and backagain, to the tune of "Malbrook s'en va t'en guerre, " which she hummedbeneath her breath, while the baby's foolish little head, in its whitecap from which protruded one tiny straight wisp of brown hair, withits beady, unseeing black eyes and its round mouth dribblingpeacefully, bobbed over her shoulder as she went. 

Adrian stood in silence too, following her with his eyes, while thepicture, so sweet to see, so strange to one who knew all that wasbrewing in the young mother's head and heart, stamped itself upon hisbrain. 

At the door, at length, she halted a moment, and looked at them both. 

"Yes, my friends, " she said, and her eyes shot flame; "I must gosoon. " The baby bobbed its head against her cheek as if inaffirmative; then the great door closed upon the pair. 

CHAPTER IV

DAY DREAMS: A FAIR EMISSARY

Many guests had been convened to the hospitable board of Pulwick uponthe evening which followed Adrian's return home; and as, besides thefact that the fame of the French lady had spread enthusiasm in most ofthe male breasts of the district and anxious curiosity in gentlerbosoms, there was a natural neighbourly desire to criticise the youngheir of the house after his year's absence, the county had respondedin a body to the invitation. 

It was a goodly company therefore that was assembled in the greatwithdrawing rooms, when the Countess herself came tripping down theshallow oaken stairs, and found Adrian waiting for her in the hall. 

He glanced up as she descended towards him to cover her with an ardentlook and feast his eyes despairingly on her beauty; and she halted amoment to return his gaze with a light but meaning air of chiding. 

"Cousin!" she said, "you have very singular manners for one supposedto be so shy with ladies. Do you know that if my husband were here tonotice them you might be taken to task?"

Adrian ran up the steps to meet her. The man in him was growing apacewith the growth of a man's passion, and by the boldness of his answerbelying all his recent wise resolutions, he now astonished himselfeven more than her. 

"You are going back to him, " he said, with halting voice. "All iswell--for him; perhaps for you. For us, who remain behind there isnothing left but the bitterness of regret--and envy. "

Then in silence they descended together. 

As they were crossing the hall there entered suddenly to them, stumbling as he went, René, the young Breton retainer, whom the lordof Savenaye had appointed as squire to his lady upon her travels, andwho, since her establishment at Pulwick, had been sent to carry newsand money back to Brittany. 

No sooner had the boy--for such he was, though in intelligence andblind devotion beyond his years--passed into the light, than on hishaggard countenance was read news of disastrous import. Recent tearshad blurred his sunburnt cheek, and the hand that tore the hat fromhis head at the unexpected sight of his mistress, partly ininstinctive humility, partly, it seemed, to conceal some papers heheld against his breast, twitched with nervous anguish. 

"René!" cried the Countess, eagerly, in French. "What hast thoubrought? Sweet Jesu! Bad news--bad news? Give!"

For an instant the courier looked around like a hunted animal seekinga retreat, and then up at her in dumb pleading; but she stamped herfoot and held him to the spot by the imperiousness of her eye. 

"Give, I tell thee, " she repeated; and, striking the hat away, snatched the papers from his hand. "Dost thou think I cannot bear illnews--My husband?"

She drew nearer to a candelabra, and the little white handsimpatiently broke the seals and shook the sheets asunder. 

Sir Thomas, attracted by his favourite's raised tones and uneasy ather non-appearance, opened the drawing-room door and came forwardanxiously, whilst his assembled guests, among whom a sense thatsomething of importance was passing had rapidly spread, now gatheredcuriously about the open doorway. 

The Countess read on, unnoticing, with compressed lips and knittedbrows--those brows that looked so black on the fair skin, under thepowdered hair. 

"My husband! ah, I knew it, my André . . . The common fate of theloyal!" A sigh lifted the fair young bosom, but she showed no othersign of weakness. 

Indeed those who watched this unexpected scene were struck by thecontrast between the bearing of this young, almost girlish creature, who, holding the written sheets with firm hands to the light, readtheir terrible contents with dry eyes, and that of the man who hadsunk, kneeling, at her feet, all undone, to have had the bringing ofthe news. 

The silence was profound, save for the crackling of the pages as sheturned them over, and an occasional long-drawn sob from the messenger. 

When she came to the end the young widow--for such she wasnow--remained some moments absorbed in thought, absently refolding theletter into its original neatness. Then her eyes fell on René'sprostrate figure and she stooped to lay a kind hand for an instant onhis shoulder. 

"Bear up, my good René, " she said. At her voice and touch he draggedhis limbs together and stood humbly before her. 

"We must be brave, " she went on; "your master's task is done--ours, yours and mine, is not. "

He lifted his bloodshot eyes to her with the gaze of a faithful dog indistress, scraped an uncouth bow and abruptly turned away, brushingthe tears from his cheek with his sleeve, and hurrying, to relieve hischoking grief in solitude. She stood a while, again absorbed in herown reflection, and of those who would have rushed to speak gentlewords to her, and uphold her with tender hands, had she wept orswooned, there was none who dared approach this grief that gave nosign. 

In a short time, however, she seemed to recollect herself and awakento the consciousness of the many watching eyes. 

"Good uncle, " she said, going up to the old man and kissing his cheek, after sweeping the assembled company with dark, thoughtful gaze. "Hereare news that I should have expected sooner--but that I would notentertain the thought. It has come upon us at last, the fate of theothers . . . André has paid his debt to the king, like many hundreds oftrue people before--though none better. He has now his reward. I gloryin his noble death, " she said with a gleam of exaltation in her eyes, then added after a pause, between clenched teeth, almost in a whisper:

"And my sister too--she too is with him--but I will tell you of itlater; they are at rest now. "

Jovial Sir Thomas, greatly discomposed and fairly at a loss how todeal with the stricken woman, who was so unlike any womankind he hadever yet come across, patted her hand in silence, placed it within hisarm and quietly led her into the drawing-room, rolling, as he did so, uneasy eyes upon his guests. But she followed the current of herthoughts as her little feet kept pace beside him. 

"That is bad--but worse--the worst of all, the cause of God and kingis again crushed; everything to begin afresh. But, for the present, we"--here she looked round the room, and her eyes rested an instantupon a group of young men, who were surveying her from a corner withmingled admiration and awe--"we, that is René and I, have work to doin this country before we return. For you will keep us a littlelonger?" she added with an attempt at a smile. 

"Will I keep you a little longer?" exclaimed the squire hotly, "will Iever let you go, now!"

She shook her head at him, with something of her natural archness. Then, turning to make a grave curtsey to the circle of ladies aroundher:

"I and my misfortune, " she said, "have kept your company and yourdinner waiting, I hardly know how long. No doubt, in their kindnessthey will forgive me. "

And accepting again her uncle's arm which, delighted at the solutionof the present difficulty, and nodding to Adrian to start the otherguests, he hastened to offer her, she preceded the rest into thedining-hall with her usual alert bearing. 

The behaviour of the Countess of Savenaye, had affected the variousspectators in various ways. The male sex, to a man, extolled herfortitude; the ladies, however, condemned such unfeminine strength ofmind, while the more charitable prophesied that she would pay dearlyfor this unnatural repression. And the whispered remark of one of theprettier and younger damsels, that the loss of a husband did not seemto crush her, at any rate, met, on the whole, with covert approval. 

As for Adrian, who shall describe the tumult of his soul--the regret, the hungering over her in her sorrow, the wild unbidden hopes and hisshame of them? Careful of what his burning eyes might reveal, hehardly dared raise them from the ground; and yet to keep them longfrom her face was an utter impossibility. The whispered comments ofthe young men behind him, their admiration, and astonishment drove himto desperation. And the high-nosed dowager, whom it was his privilegeto escort to his father's table, arose from it convinced that SirThomas's heir had lost in his travels the few poor wits he everpossessed. 

The dinner that evening was without doubt the most dismal meal theneighbourhood had ever sat down to at the hospitable board of Pulwick, past funeral refections not excepted. The host, quite taken up withhis little foreign relative, had words only for her; and these, indeed, consisted merely in fruitless attempts to induce her topartake largely of every course--removes, relieves, side-dishes, joints, as their separate turn came round. Long spells of silence fellupon him meantime, which he emphasised by lugubriously clearing histhroat. Except for the pretty courtesy with which she would answerhim, she remained lost in her own thoughts--ever and anon consultingthe letter which lay beside her to fall again, it seemed, into adeeper muse; but never a tear glinted between her black lashes. 

More than once Adrian from his distant end of the table, met her eyes, fixed on him for a moment, and the look, so full of mysteriousmeanings made his heart beat in anguish, expecting he knew not what. 

Among the rest of the assembly, part deference to a calamity sostoutly borne, part amazement at such strange ways, part discomfort attheir positions as feasters in the midst of mourning, had reducedconversation to the merest pretence. The ladies were glad enough whenthe time came for them to withdraw; nor did most of the men view withreluctance a moment which would send the decanters gliding freely overthe mahogany, and relieve them from this unwonted restraint. 

Madame de Savenaye had, however, other interests in store for theselatter. 

She rose with the rest of the ladies, but halted at the door, andlaying her hand upon her uncle's arm, said an earnest word in his ear, in obedience to which he bundled out his daughters, as they hung backpolitely, closed the door upon the last skirt, and reconducted theCountess to the head of the table, scratching his chin in someperplexity, but ready to humour her slightest whim. 

She stood at her former place and looked for a moment in silence fromone to another of the faces turned with different expressions ofastonishment and anticipation towards her--ruddy faces most of them, young, or old, handsome or homely, the honest English stamp upon each;and distinct from them all, Adrian's pallid, thoughtful features andhis ardent eyes. 

Upon him her gaze rested the longest. Then with a little wave of herhand she prayed them to be seated, and waited to begin her say untilthe wine had passed round. 

"Gentlemen, " then quoth she, "with my good uncle's permission I shallread you the letter which I have this night received, so that Englishgentlemen may learn how those who are faithful to their God and theirKing are being dealt with in my country. This letter is from Monsieurde Puisaye, one of the most active partisans of the Royal cause, aconnection of the ancient house of Savenaye. And he begins by tellingme of the unexpected reverses sustained by our men so close upon theirsuccesses at Chateau-Gonthier, successes that had raised our loyalhopes so high. 'The most crushing defeat, ' he writes, 'has taken placenear the town of Savenaye itself, on your own estate, and yourhistoric house is now, alas! in ruins. . . . During the last obstinatefight your husband had been wounded, but after performing prodigies ofvalour--such as, it was hoped or trusted, the king should in time hearof--he escaped from the hands of his enemies. For many weeks with afew hundred followers he held the fields in the Marais, but he was atlast hemmed in and captured by one of the monster Thureau's _ColonnesInfernales_, those hellish legions with an account of whose deeds, ' sosays this gallant gentleman our friend, 'I will not defile my pen, butwhose boasts are like those of Attila the Hun, and who in their malicehave invented obscene tortures worthy of Iroquois savages for all whofall into their clutches, be they men, women, or children. . . . But, byHeaven's mercy, dear Madame, ' says M. De Puisaye to me, 'your noblehusband was too weak to afford sport to those demons, and so he hasescaped torment. He was hanged with all speed indeed, for fear hemight die first of his toils and his wounds, and so defeat them at thelast. '"

A rustling murmur of horror and indignation went round the table; butthe little woman faced the audience proudly. 

"He died, " she said, "as beseems a brave man. But this is not all. Ihad a sister, she was very fair--like me some people said, inlooks--she used to be the merry one at home in the days of peace, " shegave a little smile, far more piteous than tears would be--"She choseto remain among her people when they were fighting, to help thewounded, the sick. " Here Madame de Savenaye paused a moment and putdown the letter from which she had been reading; for the first timesince she had begun to speak she grew pale; knitting her black browsand with downcast eyes she went on: "Monsieur de Puisaye says he asksmy pardon humbly on his knees for writing such tidings to me, bereavedas I am of all I hold dear, but 'it is meet, ' he says, 'that thecivilised world should know the deeds these followers of _liberty_ and_enlightenment_ have wrought upon gallant men and highborn ladies, 'and I hold that he says well. "

She flashed once more her black gaze round upon the men, who withheads all turned towards her and forgetting their wine, hung upon herwords. "It is right that I should know, and you too! It is meet thatsuch deeds should be made known to the world: my sister was taken bythese men, but less fortunate than my husband she had life enough leftfor torture--she too is dead now; M. De Puisaye adds: Thank God! Andthat is all that I can say too--Thank God!"

There was a dead silence in the room as she ceased speaking, broken atlast, here and there, along the table by exclamations and groans and adeep execration from Sir Thomas, which was echoed deep-mouthed by hisguests. 

Adrian himself, the pacific, the philosopher, with both arms, stretched out on the table, clenched his hands, and set his teeth andgazed into space with murderous looks. 

Then the clear young voice went on again:

"You, who have honoured mothers and wives of your own, and have youngsweethearts, or sisters or daughters--you English gentlemen who loveto see justice, how long will you allow such things to be done whileyou have arms to strike? We are not beaten yet; there are Frenchhearts still left that will be up and doing so long as they have adrop of blood to shed. Our gallant Bretons and Vendéens are unitingonce more, our émigrés are collecting, but we want aid, brave Englishfriends, we want arms, money, soldiers. My task lies to my hand; thesacred legacy of my dead I have accepted; is there any of you here whowill help the widow to maintain the fight?"

She had risen to her feet; the blood glowed on her cheek as sheconcluded her appeal; a thousand stars danced in her eyes. 

Old men and young they leapt up, with a roar; pressing round her, pouring forth acclamations, asseverations and oaths--Would they helpher? By God--they would die for her--Never had the old rafters ofPulwick rung to such enthusiasm. 

And when with proud smiles and crimsoned face she withdraws at lastfrom so much ardour, the door has scarcely fallen behind her beforeSir Thomas proposes her health in a bellow, that trembles upon tears:

"Gentlemen, this lady's courage is such as might put most men'sstrength to shame. Here is, gentlemen, to Madame de Savenaye!"

And she, halting on the stairs for a moment, to still her high-beatingheart, before she lay her babe against it, hears the toast honouredwith three times three. 

 * * * * *

When the Lancastrian ladies had succeeded at length in collecting andcarrying off such among the hiccupping husbands, and maudlin sons, whowere able to move, Sir Thomas re-entering the hall, after speeding thelast departing chariot, and prudently leaning upon his tall son--forthough he had a seasoned head the night's potations had been deep andfiery--was startled well-nigh into soberness, at the sight of hisniece waiting for him at the foot of the stairs. 

"Why, Cis, my love, we thought you had been in bed this long while!why--where have you been then since you ran away from the dining-room?By George!" chuckling, "the fellows were mad to get another glimpse ofyou!"

His bloodshot eye hung over her fondly. There was not a trace offatigue upon that delicate, pretty face. 

"I wanted to think--I have much to think on now. I have had to readand ponder upon my instructions here, "--tapping her teeth with theletter, she still carried, "Good uncle, I would speak with you--yes, even now, " quick to notice Adrian's slight frown of disapproval (poorfellow, he was sober enough at any rate!), "there is no time like thepresent. I have my work to do, and I shall not rest to-night, till Ihave planned it in my head. "

Surely the brilliancy of those eyes was feverish; the little hands shelaid upon them to draw them into the dim-lit library were hot as fire. 

"Why, yes, my pretty, " quoth the good uncle, stifling a portentousyawn, and striving to look wondrous wise, "Adrian, she wants toconsult me, sir, hic!"

He fell into an arm-chair as he spoke, and she sank on her kneesbeside him, the firelight playing upon her eager face, while Adrian, in the shadow, watched. 

"Do you think, " she asked of the old man, eagerly, "that thesegentlemen, who spoke so kindly to me a few hours ago, will be as muchin earnest in the morning?"

"Why d--n them! if they go back on their word, I'll call them out!"thundered Sir Thomas, in a great rage all of a sudden. She surveyedhim inquiringly, and shot a swift keen glance from the placid, bulkyfigure in the chair, to Adrian pale and erect, behind it, then rose toher feet and stood a few paces off, as it were pondering. 

"What is now required of me--I have been thinking it well over, " shesaid at last, "can hardly be achieved by a woman alone. And yet, withproper help and support, I think I could do more than any man byhimself. There is that in a woman's entreaties which will win, when aman may fail. But I must have a knight at my side; a protector, at thesame time as a faithful servant. These are not the times to stand onconventional scruples. Do you think, among these gentlemen, any couldbe found with sufficient enthusiasm, for the Royal cause, hererepresented by me, to attend, and support me through all the fatigues, the endless errands, the interviews--ay, also the rebuffs, theridicule at times, perhaps the danger of the conjuration, which mustbe set on foot in this country--to do all that, without hope of otherreward than the consciousness of helping a good cause, and--and thegratitude of one, who may have nothing else to give?"

She stopped with a little nervous laugh: "No, it is absurd! no man, on reflection would enter into such a service unless it were for hisown country. "

As the last words fell from her lips, she suddenly turned to Adrianand met his earnest gaze. 

"Or for his kindred, " said the young man, coming up to her with gravesimplicity, "if his kindred required it. "

A gleam of satisfaction passed across her face. The father, who hadcaught her meaning--sharp enough, as some men can be in theircups--nodded his head with great vigour. 

"Yes, why should you think first of strangers, " he grumbled, "when youhave your own blood, to stand by you--blood is thicker than water, ain't it? Am I too old, or is he too young, to wait on you--hey, madam?"

She extended her hand, allowing it to linger in Adrian's grasp, whilstshe laid the other tenderly on the old man's shoulder. 

"My good uncle! my kind cousin! Have I the choice already between twosuch cavaliers? I am fortunate indeed in my misfortune. In othercircumstances to decide would be difficult between two men, each sogood; but, " she added, after a moment's hesitation, and looking atAdrian in a manner that made the young man's heart beat thickly, "inthis case it is obvious I must have some one whom I need not fear todirect. "

"Ay, ay, " muttered the baronet, "I'd go with you, my darling, to theworld's end; but there's that young philosopher of mine breaking hisheart for you. And when all's said and done, it's the young fellowthat'll be the most use to you, I reckon. Ay, you've chosen already, I'll be bound. The gouty old man had best stop at home. Ho, ho, ho!You've the luck, Adrian; more luck than you deserve. "

"It is I who have more luck than I deserve, " answered Madame deSavenaye, smiling upon her young knight as, taking heart of grace, hestooped to seal the treaty upon her hand. "To say the truth, I hadhoped for this, yet hardly dared to allow myself to count upon it. Andreally, uncle, you give your own son to my cause?--and you, cousin, you are willing to work for me? I am indeed strengthened at the outsetof my undertaking. I shall pray that you may never have cause toregret your chivalrous goodness. "

She dropped Adrian's hand with a faint pressure, and moved sighingtowards the door. 

"Do you wonder that I have no tears, cousin?" she said, a littlewistfully; "they must gather in my heart till I have time to sit downand shed them. "

Thus it was that a letter penned by this unknown M. De Puisaye fromsome hidden fastness in the Bocage of Brittany came to divert thecourse of Adrian Landale's existence into a channel where neither he, nor any of those who knew him, would ever have dreamed to see itdrift. 

CHAPTER V

THE AWAKENING

 Oh, what hadst thou to do with cruel Death, Who wast so full of life, or Death with thee?

 LONGFELLOW. 

Sir Adrian Landale, in his sea-girt fastness, still absorbed in dreamsof bygone days, loosed his grasp of faithful René's shoulder and fellto pacing the chamber with sombre mien; while René, to whom these fitsof abstraction in his master were not unfamiliar, but yet to hissuperstitious peasant soul, eerie and awe-inspiring visitations, slipped unnoticed from his presence. 

The light-keeper sate down by his lonely hearth and buried his gaze inthe glowing wood-embers, over which, with each fitful thundering rushof wind round the chimney, fluttered little eddies of silvery ash. 

So, that long strife was over, which had wrought such havoc to theworld, had shaped so dismally the course of his own life! The monsterof selfish ambition, the tyrannic, insatiable conqueror whose veryexistence had so long made peaceable pursuits unprofitable to mankind, the final outcome of that Revolution that, at the starting point, hadboded so nobly for human welfare--he was at last laid low, and all themisery of the protracted struggle now belonged to the annals of thepast. 

It was all over--but the waste! The waste of life and happiness, farand wide away among innocent and uninterested beings, the wasteremained. 

And, looking back on it, the most bitter portion of his own wreckedlife was the short time he had yet thought happy; three months, spentas knight-errant. 

How far they seemed, far as irrevocable youth, those days when, in thewake of that love-compelling emissary, he moved from intrigue tointrigue among the émigrés in London, and their English sympathisers, to bustling yet secret activity in seafaring parts!

The mechanical instrument directed by the ingenious mind of Cécile deSavenaye; the discreet minister who, for all his young years, securedthe help of some important political sympathiser one day, scoured thecountry for arms and clothing, powder and _assignats_ another; whotreated with smuggling captains and chartered vessels that were to runthe gauntlet on the Norman and Breton coast, and supply the means ofwar to struggling and undaunted loyalists. All this relentless work, little suited, on the whole, to an Englishman, and in a cause therights of which he himself had, up to then, refused to admit, was thenrepaid a hundredfold by a look of gratitude, of pleasure even, a fewsweet moments of his lady's company, before being sent hence againupon some fresh enterprise. 

Ah, how he loved her! He, the youth on the threshold of manhood, whohad never known passion before, how he loved this young widowed motherwho used him as a man to deal for her with men, yet so loftily treatedhim as a boy when she dealt with him herself. And if he loved her inthe earlier period of his thraldom, when scarce would he see her onehour in the twenty-four, to what all-encompassing fervour did thebootless passion rise when, the day of departure having dawned andsunk, he found himself on board the privateer, sailing away with hertowards unknown warlike ventures, her knight to protect her, herservant to obey!

On all these things mused the recluse of Scarthey, sinking deeper anddeeper into the past: the spell of haunting recollection closing onhim as he sat by his hearthside, whilst the increasing fury of thegale toiled and troubled outside fighting the impassable walls of histower. 

Could it have been possible that she--the only woman that had everexisted for him, the love for whom had so distorted his mind from itsnatural sympathies, had killed in him the spring of youth and thesavour of life--never really learnt to love him in return till thelast?

And yet there was a woman's soul in that delicious woman's body--itshowed itself at least once, though until that supreme moment of unionand parting, it seemed as if a man's mind alone governed it, becomingsterner, more unbendable, as hardships and difficulties multiplied. 

In the melancholy phantasm passing before his mind's eye, of a periodof unprecedented bloodshed and savagery, when on the one side Chouans, Vendéens, and such guerillas of which Madame de Savenaye was themoving spirit, and on the other the _colonnes infernales_ of therevolutionary leaders, vied with each other in ferocity and cunning, she stood ever foremost, ever the central point of thought, with avividness that almost a score of years had failed to dim. 

When the mood was upon him, he could unfold the roll of that storyburied now in the lonely graves of the many, or in the fickle memoriesof the few, but upon his soul printed in letters of fire and blood--toendure for ever. 

Round this goddess of his young and only love clustered the soleimpressions of the outer world that had ever stirred his heart: thegrandeur of the ocean, of the storm, the glory of sunrise over adishevelled sea, the ineffable melancholy of twilight rising from anunknown strand; then the solemn coldness of moonlight watches, thescent of the burnt land under the fierce sun, when all nature washushed save the dreamy buzz of insect-life: the green coolness ofunderwood or forest, the unutterable harmony of the sighing breeze, and the song of wild birds during the long patient ambushes ofpartisan war; the taste of bread in hunger, of the stream in the feverof thirst, of approaching sleep in exhaustion--and, mixed with these, the acrid emotions of fight and carnage, anguish of suspense, savageexultation of victory--all the doings of a life which he, bred tointellectual pleasures and high moral ideas, would have deemed anightmare, but which, lived as it was in the atmosphere of his longingand devotion, yet held for him a strange and pungent joy: a cup ofcruel memories, yet one to be lingered over luxuriously till thesavour of each cherished drop of bitterness be gathered to theuttermost. 

Now, in the brightness of the embers, between the fitful flames ofcrumbling wood, spreads before his eyes the dreary strand nearQuiberon, immense in the gathering darkness of a boisterous evening. Well hidden under the stone table of a Druidical men-hir glows a smallcamp-fire sedulously kept alive by René for the service of The Lady. She, wrapped up in a coarse peasant-cloak, pensively gazes into thecheerless smoke and holds her worn and muddy boots to the smoulderingwood in the vain hope of warmth. 

And Adrian stands silently behind her, brooding on many things--on thevicissitudes of that desultory war which has left them not a roofwhereunder they can lay their heads, during which the little Englishcontingent has melted from them one by one; on the critical action ofthe morrow when the republican columns, now hastening to oppose thelanding of the great royalist expedition to Quiberon (that supremeeffort upon which all their hopes centre) must be surprised and cutoff at whatever cost; on the mighty doings to follow, which are tocomplete the result of the recent sea fight off Ushant and crown theirdevoted toil with victory at last. . . . 

And through his thoughts he watches the pretty foot, in its hideousdisguise of patched, worn, ill-fitting leather, and he sees it as onthe first day of their meeting, in its gleaming slipper and daintysilken stocking. 

Now and then an owl-cry, repeated from point to point, tells ofunremitting guard, but for which, in the vast silence, none couldsuspect that a thousand men and more are lying stretched upon theplain all around them, fireless, well-nigh without food, yet patientlywaiting for the morrow when their chiefs shall lead them to death; northat, in a closer circle, within call, are some fifty _gars_, remnantof the indomitable "Savenaye band, " and tacitly sworn bodyguard to TheLady who came back from ease and safety over seas to share theirperil. 

No sound besides, but the wind as it whistles and moans over theheath--and the two are together in the mist which comes closing inupon them as if to shroud them from all the rest, for even René hascrept away, to sleep perhaps. 

She turns at last towards him, her small face in the dying light ofthis sullen evening, how wan and weather-beaten!

"Pensive, as usual, cousin?" she says in English, and extends herhand, browned and scratched, that was once so exquisite, and shesmiles, the smile of a dauntless soul from a weary body. 

Poor little hands, poor little feet, so cold, so battered, soill-used! He, who would have warmed them in his bosom, given his heartfor them to tread upon, breaks down now, for the first time; andfalling on his knees covers the cold fingers with kisses, and thenlays his lips against those pitiful torn boots. 

But she spurns him from her--even from her feet:

"Shame on you!" she says angrily; and adds, more gently, yet with somecontempt: "_Enfant, va!_--is this the time for such follies?"

And, suddenly recalled to honour and grim actuality, he realises withdismay his breach of trust--he, who in their earlier days in Londonhad called out that sprightly little émigré merely for the vulgarflippancy (aimed in compliment, too, at the grave aide-de-camp), "thatthe fate of the late Count weighed somewhat lightly upon Madame deSavenaye;" he, who had struck that too literary countryman of his ownacross the face--ay, and shot him in the shoulder, all in the secretearly dawn of the day they left England--for daring to remark withinhis hearing: "By George, the handsome Frenchwoman and her cousin maybe a little less than kin, but they are a little more than kind. "

But yet, as the rage of love contending in his heart withself-reproach, he rises to his feet in shame, she gives him her handonce more, and in a different voice:

"Courage, cousin, " says she, "perhaps some day we may both have ourreward. But will not my knight continue to fight for my bidding, evenwithout hope of such?"

Pondering on this enigmatic sentence he leaves her to her rest. 

 * * * * *

When next he finds himself by her side the anticipated action hasbegun; and it is to be the last day that those beautiful burning eyesshall see the glory of the rising sun. 

The Chouans are fighting like demons, extended in long skirmishinglines, picking out the cluster of gunners, making right deadly use oftheir English powder; imperceptibly but unflinchingly closing theirscattered groups until the signal comes and with ringing cries:"_Notre Dame d'Auray!_" and "_Vive le roi!_" they charge, undismayedby odds, the serried ranks of the Republicans. 

She, from the top of the druidical stone, watches the progress of theday. Her red, parted mouth twitches as she follows the efforts of themen. Behind her, the _gars_ of Savenaye, grasping with angry clutch, some a new musket, others an ancient straightened scythe, gazefiercely on the scene from under their broad felts. Now and then aflight of republican bullets hum about their ears, and they lookanxiously to Their Lady, but that fearless head never bends. 

Then the moment arrives, and with a fervent, "God be with you, bravepeople, " she hurls, by a stirring gesture, the last reserve on to thefight. 

And now he finds himself in the midst of the furious medley, strikingmechanically, his soul away behind on that stone, with her. Presently, as the frenzy waxes wilder, he is conscious that victory is not withthem, but that they are pressed back and encompassed, and that foreach blue coat cast down amidst the yells and oaths, two more seem tocome out of the rain and smoke; whilst the bare feet and wooden shoesand the long hair of his peasants are seen in ever-lessening ranks. And, in time, they find themselves thrown back to the men-hir; she isthere, still calm but ghastly white, a pistol in each hand. Aroundher, through the wet smoke, rise and fall with sickening thuds theclubbed muskets of three or four men, and then one by one these sinkto the ground too. With a wailing groan like a man in a nightmare, hesees the inevitable end and rushes to place his body before hers. Abullet shatters his sword-blade; now none are left around them but thebegrimed and sinister faces of their enemies. 

As they stand prisoners, and unheeding the hideous clamour, he, withdespair thinking of her inevitable fate at the hands of such victors, and scarcely daring to look at her, suddenly sees _that_ in her eyeswhich fills his soul to overflowing. 

"All is lost, " she whispers, "and I shall never repay you for all youhave done, cousin!"

The words are uttered falteringly, almost plaintively. 

"We are not long now for this world, friend, " she adds more firmly. "Give me your forgiveness. "

How often has Adrian heard this dead voice during the strangevicissitudes of these long, long years! And, hearing it whisper in thevivid world of his brain, how often has he not passionately longedthat he also had been able to yield his poor spark of life on the lastday of her existence. 

For the usual fate of Chouan prisoners swiftly overtakes the survivingleaders of the Savenaye "band of brigands, " as that doughty knot ofloyalists was termed by their arch-enemy, Thureau. 

A long journey towards the nearest town, in an open cart, under thepitiless rain, amidst a crowd of evil-smelling, blaspheming, woundedrepublicans, who, when a more cruel jolt than usual awakens theirwounds, curse the woman in words that should have drawn avenging boltsfrom heaven. She sits silent, lofty, tearless; but her eyes, when theyare not lost in the grey distance, ever wistfully seek his face. 

The day is drawing to a close; they reach their goal, a miserable, grey, draggled town at the mouth of the Vilaine, and are roughlybrought before the arbiter of their lives--Thureau himself, themonstrous excrescence of the times, who, like Marat and Carrier, seesnothing in the new freedom but a free opening for the lowest instinctsof ferocity. 

And before this monstrous beast, bedizened in his general's frippery, in a reeking tavern-room, stand the noble lady of Savenaye and theyoung heir of Pulwick. 

The ruffian's voice rings with laughter as he gazes on the silentyouthful pair. 

"Aha, what have we here; a couple of drowned rats? or have we trappedyou at last, the ci-devant Savenaye and her _godam_ from England? Iought really to send you as a present to the Convention, but I am toosoft-hearted, you see, my pigeons; and so, to save time and make sure, we will marry you to-day. "

One of the officers whispers some words in his ear, which Thureau, suddenly growing purple with rage, denies with a foul oath and anemphatic thump of his huge fist on the table. 

"Hoche has forbidden it, has he? Hoche does not command here. Hochehas not had to hunt down the brigands these last two years. Dead thebeast, dead the venom, I say. And here is the order, " scribblinghurriedly on a page torn from a pocket-book. "It shall not be saidthat I have had the bitch of Savenaye in my hands and trusted her onthe road again. Hoche has forbidden it! Call the cantineer and hop:the marriage and quick--the soup waits. "

Unable to understand the hidden meaning of the order, Adrian looks athis lady askance, to find that, with eyes closed upon the sight of thegrinning faces, she is whispering prayers and fervently crossingherself. When she turns to him again her face is almost serene. 

"They are going to drown us together; that is their republicanmarriage of aristocrats, " she says in soft English. "I had fearedworse. Thank heaven there is no time now for worse. We shall be firmto the last, shall we not, cousin?"

There is a pathetic smile on her worn weather-stained face, as thecantineer and a corporal enter with ropes and proceed to pinion theprisoners. 

But, as they are marched away once more under the slanting rain, areforced into a worn-out boat and lashed face to face, her fortitudemelts apace. 

"There, my turtle-doves, " sneers the truculent corporal, "anotherkindness of the general. The Nantes way is back to back, but hethought it would amuse you to see each other's grimaces. "

On the strand resounds the muffled roll of wet drums, announcing theexecution of national justice; with one blow of an axe the craft isscuttled; a push from a gaff sends it spinning on the swift swollenwaters into the estuary. Adrian's lips are on her forehead, but shelifts her face; her eyes now are haggard. 

"Adrian, " she sobs, "you have forgiven me? I have your death on mysoul! Oh, Adrian, . . . I could have loved you!"

Helpless and palsied by the merciless ropes, she tries passionately toreach her little mouth to his. A stream of fire rushes through hisbrain--maddening frenzy of regret, furious clinging to escapinglife!--Their lips have met, but the sinking craft is full, and, with asudden lurch, falls beneath the eddies. . . . A last roll of the drums, and the pinioned bodies of these lovers of a few seconds are silentlyswirling under the waters of the Vilaine. 

And now the end of this poor life has come--with heart-breaking sorrowof mind and struggle of body, overpowering horror at the writhings oftorture in the limbs lashed against his--and vainly he strives toforce his last breath into her hard-clenched mouth. 

Such was the end of Adrian Landale, aged twenty--the end that shouldhave been--The pity that it was not permitted!

After the pangs of unwelcome death, the misery of unwelcome return tolife. Oh, René, René, too faithful follower; thou and the other truemen who, heedless of danger, hanging on the flanks of the victoriousenemy, never ceased to watch your lady from afar. You would have savedher, could courage and faithfulness and cunning have availed! But, since she was dead, René, would thou hadst left us to drift on to theendless sea! How often have I cursed thee, good friend, who staked thylife in the angry bore to snatch two spent bodies from its mercilesstossing. It was not to be endured, said you, that the remains of theLady of Savenaye should drift away unheeded, to be devoured by thebeasts of the sea! They now repose in sacred ground, and I live on!Oh, hadst thou but reached us a minute later!--ah, God, or a minuteearlier!

Rarely had Sir Adrian's haunting visions of the past assumed suchlurid reality. Rising in torment from the hearth to pace unceasinglythe length and breadth of the restful, studious room, so closelysecure from the outer turmoil of heaven and earth, he is once moreback in the unknown sea-cave, in front of the angry breakers. Slowly, agonisingly, he is recalled to life through wheeling spaces of painand confusion, only that his bruised and smarting eyes may see theactual proof of his own desolateness--a small, stark figure wrapped incoarse sailcloth, which now two or three ragged, long-haired men aresilently lifting between them. 

He wonders, at first, vaguely, why the tears course down those wild, dark faces; and then, as vainly he struggles to speak, and is gentlyheld down by some unknown hand, the little white bundle is gone, andhe knows that _there_ was the pitiful relict of his love--that he willnever see her again!

 * * * * *

Sir Adrian halted in front of his seaward window, staring at thedriven rain, which bounded and plashed and spread in minute torrentsdown the glass, obscuring the already darkening vision of furious seaand sky. 

The dog, that for some moments had shown an anxious restlessness insingular concert with his master's, now rose at last to sniff beneaththe door. No sound penetrated the roar of the blast; but the oldretriever's uneasiness, his sharp, warning bark at length recalled SirAdrian's wandering thoughts to the present. And, walking up to thedoor, he opened it. 

Oh, God! Had the sea given up its dead?

Sir Adrian staggered back, fell on his knees and clapped his handstogether with an agonised cry:

"Cécile. . . !"

CHAPTER VI

THE WHEEL OF TIME

 And to his eye There was but one beloved face on earth, And that was shining on him. 

 BYRON. 

Upon the threshold she stood, looking in upon him with dark, luminouseyes; round the small wet face tangles of raven hair fell limp andstreaming; dark raiments clung to her form, diapered with sand andsea-foam, sodden with the moisture that dripped from them to thefloor; under the hem of her skirt one foot peered forth, shoeless inits mud-stained stocking. 

Sir Adrian stared up at her, his brain whirling with a frenzy of joy, gripped in its soaring ecstasy by terror of the incomprehensible. 

On the wings of the storm and the wind had she come to him, hislove--across the awful barriers that divide life and death? Had hislongings and the clamour of his desolate soul reached her, after allthese years, in the far-beyond, and was her sweet ghost here to bidhim cease from them and let her lie at rest? Or, yet, had she come tocall him from the weary world that their souls might meet and be oneat last?. . . Then let her but lay her lips against his, as once in thebitterness of death, that his sorely-tried heart may break with theexquisite pang and he, too, may die upon their kiss. 

Swift such thoughts were tossing in the turmoil of his mind when thevision smiled . . . A young, rosy, living smile; and then reason, memory, the wonder of her coming, the haunting of her grave went fromhim; possessed by one single rapturous certainty he started up andgathered the wet form into his strong arms--yet gently as if he fearedto crush the vision into void--and showered kisses on the wet face. 

Not death--but life! A beating heart beneath his; a lithe young formunder his hand, warm lips to his kisses, . . . Merciful Heaven! Were, then, these twenty years all an evil, fevered dream, and was he awakeat length?

She turned her face from him after a moment and put her hand againsthis breast to push him from her; and as she did so the wonder in thelovely, familiar eyes turned to merriment, and the lips parted intolaughter. 

The sound of the girlish laughter broke the spell. Sir Adrian steppedback, and passed his hand across his forehead with a dazed look. 

And still she laughed on. 

"Why, cousin Landale, " she said, at length between the peals; "I cameto throw myself upon your kindness for shelter from the storm, but--Ihad not anticipated such a reception. "

The voice, clear and sweet, with just a tinge of outlandishintonation, struck Adrian to the heart. 

"I have not heard, " he faltered, "that voice for twenty years. . . !"

Then, coming up to her, he took her hands; and, drawing her towardsthe firelight, scanned her features with eager, hungering eyes. 

"Do not think me mad, child, " he said at last; "tell me who youare--what has brought you here? Ah, God, at such a moment! Who is it, "he pursued, as if to himself, whilst still she smiled mockingly andanswered not; "who is it, then, since Cécile de Savenaye is dead--andI am not dreaming--nor in fever? No vision either--this is flesh andblood. "

"Yes, indeed, " mocked the girl with another burst of merriment; "fleshand blood, please, and very living! Why, cousin Landale, you that knewCécile de Savenaye so well have you forgotten two babes that were bornat your own house of Pulwick? I believe, 'tis true, I have somewhataltered since you saw me last. "

And again the old room echoed to the unwonted sound of a girl'slaughter. 

Now was the hallucination clearing; but the reality evoked a new andalmost as poignant tenderness. Cécile--phantom of a life-time's love, reborn in the flesh, young as on the last day of her earthlyexistence, coming back into his life again, even the same as she hadleft it! A second wonder, almost as sweet as the first! He clung toit as one clings to the presence of a dream, and, joy unspeakable, thedream did not melt away, but remained, smiling, beautiful, unchanged. 

"Cécile's daughter . . . " he murmured: "Cécile's self again; but she wasnot so tall, I think, " and drew trembling, reverent hands from herhead to her straight young shoulders. And then he started, crying in achanged voice:

"How wet and cold you are! Come closer to the fire--sit you into thischair, here, in the warmth. "

He piled up the hearth with faggots till the flames roared again. Shedropped into the proffered chair with a little shiver; now that herecalled her to it, she was wet and cold too. 

He surveyed her with gathering concern. 

"My child, " he began, and hesitated, continuing, after a short pauseof musing--for the thought struck him as strange--"I may call you so, I suppose; I that am nearly old enough to be your father; my mind wasso unhinged by your sudden appearance, by the wonderful resemblance, that I have neglected all my duties as host. You will suffer fromthis--what shall we do to comfort you? Here, Jem, good dog! CallRené!"

The old retriever who, concluding that the visitor was welcome, hadreturned to his doze, here gathered his stiff limbs together, hobbledout through the doorway to give two or three yelping barks at somepoint on the stairs, and then crawl back to his cosy corner by thehearth. 

The girl laughed again. It was all odd, new, exciting. Adrian lookeddown at her. Cécile, too, had had a merry heart, even through periland misfortune. 

And now there were hasty steps upon the stairs, creaking above theouter tumult of sea and wind; and, in accordance with thelong-established custom of summoning him, René appeared upon thethreshold, holding a pair of candles. 

At the sight of the figure sitting by the fire he halted, as if rootedto the ground, and threw up his hands, each still clutching itscandle. 

"Mademoiselle. . . !" he ejaculated. "Mademoiselle here!" Then, rapidlyrecovering his quick wits, he deposited his burden of light upon thetable, advanced towards the lady, made an uncouth but profound bow, and turned to his master. 

"And this, your honour, " he remarked, oracularly, and in his usualmanner of literal adaptation, "was also part of the news I had foryour honour from my last journey; but, my faith, I did not know how totake myself to it, as your honour was so much occupied with old timesthis evening. But I had seen Mademoiselle at the castle, asMademoiselle can tell you herself. And if your honour, " he added, witha look of astonishment, "will have the goodness to say how it ispossible that Mademoiselle managed to arrive here on our isle, in thisweather of all the devils--reverence speaking, and I humbly beg thepardon of Mademoiselle for using such words--when it was with pain Icould land myself, and that before the storm--I should be grateful toyour honour. For I avow I cannot comprehend it at all. Ah, yourhonour!" continued René, with an altered tone, "'tis a strange thing, this!"

The looks of master and man crossed suddenly, and in the frank blueeyes of the Breton peasant, Sir Adrian read a reflex of his ownthoughts. 

"Yes, " he said, more in answer to the look than to the exclamation, "yes, it is a strange thing, friend. "

"And his Honour cannot read the riddle any more than you yourself, René, " quoth Mademoiselle de Savenaye, composedly from her corner;"and, as for me, I can give no explanations until I am a littlewarmer. "

"Why, truly, " exclaimed Sir Adrian, striking his forehead, "we are avery pair of dolts! Hurry, Renny, hurry, call up Margery, and bid herbring some hot drink--tea, broth, or what she has--and blankets. Stay!first fetch my furred cloak; quick, René, every moment is precious!"

With all the agitation of a rarely excited man Sir Adrian threw morewood on the fire, hunted for a cushion to place beneath her feet, andthen, seizing the cloak from René's hands, he helped her to rise, andwrapped its ample folds round her as carefully as if she were tooprecious almost to be touched. 

Thus enveloped she sank back in the great arm-chair with a cosy, deliberate, kitten-like movement, and stretched out her feet to theblaze, laying the little shoeless one upon Jem's grey muzzle. 

Adrian knelt beside her, and began gently to chafe it with both hands. And, as he knelt, silence fell between them, and the storm howled outyonder; he heard her give a little sigh--that sigh which would escapefrom Cécile's weariness in moments of rest, which had once been sofamiliar and so pathetic a sound in his ear. And once more the powerof the past came over him; again he was upon the heath near Quiberon, and Cécile was sitting by him and seeking warmth by the secret fire. 

"Oh, my darling, " he murmured, "your poor little feet were so cold;and yet you would not let me gather them to my breast. " And, stoopingslowly, he kissed the pretty foot in its torn, stained stocking with apassion he had not yet shown. 

The girl looked on with an odd little smile. It was a novelexperience, to inspire--even vicariously--such feelings as these; andthere was something not unpleasant in the sense of the power which hadbrought this strange handsome man prostrate before her--a maidenlytremor, too, in the sensation of those burning lips upon her feet. 

He raised his eyes suddenly, with the old expectation of a rebuff; andthen, at the sight of the youthful, curious face above him, betookhimself to sighing too; and, laying the little foot back tenderly uponthe cushion, he rose. 

From between the huge fur collar which all but covered her head, theblack eyes followed him as alertly as a bird's; intercepting the softmelancholy of his gaze, she smiled at him, mischievous, confident, anduncommunicative, and snuggled deeper into the fur. 

Leaning against the high mantel-board, he remained silent, broodingover her; the clock ticked off solemnly the fleeting moments of thewonderful hour; and ever and anon the dog drew a long breath ofcomfort and stretched out his gaunt limbs more luxuriously to theheat. After a while Sir Adrian spoke. 

"He who has hospitality to dispense, " said he, smiling down at hermutinous grace, "should never ask whence or how the guest came to hishearth . . . And yet--"

She made a slight movement of laziness, but volunteered nothing; andhe continued, his look becoming more wistful as he spoke:

"Your having reached this rock, during such weather, is startlingenough; it is God's providence that there should live those in theseruins who are able to give you succour. But that you should come in tome at the moment you did--" He halted before the bold inquisitivebrightness of her eyes. "Some day perhaps you will let me explain, " hewent on, embarrassed. "Indeed I must have seemed the most absolutemadman, to you. But he who thinks he sees one returned from death inangry waters, may be pardoned some display of emotion. "

The girl sat up briskly and shook herself as if in protest against thesadness of his smile and look. 

"I rise indeed from a watery grave, " she said lightly, "or at leastfrom what should have been my grave, had I had my deserts for myfoolishness; as it has turned out I do not regret it now; though Idid, about midway. "

The red lips parted and the little teeth gleamed. "I have found suchkindness and welcome. " She caressed the dog who, lazily, tried to lickher hand. "It is all such an adventure; so much more amusing thanPulwick; so much more interesting than ever I fancied it might be!"

"Pulwick; you come from Pulwick?" said Sir Adrian musing; "true, Renéhas said it but just now. Yet, it is of a piece with the strangenessof it all. "

"Yes, " said Mademoiselle de Savenaye, once more collecting her cloak, which her hurried movement had thrown off her shoulder. "Madelon and Iare now at Pulwick--I am Molly, cousin, please to remember--or ratherI am here, very warm now, and comfortable, and she is somewhere alongthe shore--perhaps--she and John, as wet as drowned rats. Well, well, I had best tell you the tale from the beginning, or else we nevershall be out of the labyrinth. --We started from Pulwick, for a ride bythe shore, Madelon and I. When we were on the strand it came on torain. There was smoke out of your chimney. I proposed a canter as faras the ruins, for shelter. I knew very well Madelon would not follow;but I threw poor Lucifer--you know Lucifer, Mr. Landale has reservedhim for me; of course you know Lucifer, I believe he belongs to you!Well, I threw him along the causeway. John, he's the groom you know, and Madelon, shrieked after me. But it was beautiful--this magnificenttearing gallop in the rain--I was not going to stop. --But when wewere half way, Lucifer and I, I saw suddenly that the foam seemed tocover the sand in front of me. Then I pulled up quick and turned roundto look behind me. There was already a frightful wind, and the sandand the rain blinded me almost, but there was no mistake--the sea wasrunning between the shore and me. Oh! my God! but I was frightenedthen; I beat poor Lucifer until my whip broke, and he started awaywith a will. But when his feet began to splash the water he too becamefrightened and stopped. I did not know what to do; I pulled out mybroach to spur him with the pin, but, at the first prick I gave him, he reared, and swerved and I fell right on my face in the froth. I gotup and began to run through the water; then I came to some stones andI knew I was saved, though the water was up to my knees and rushing bylike a torrent. When I had clambered up the beach I thought again ofpoor Lucifer. I looked about and saw him a little way off. He wasshaking and tossing his dear black head, and neighing, though I reallydid not hear him, for the wind was in my ears; his body was stockstill, I could not see his legs. . . . And gradually he sank lower, andlower, and lower, and at last the water passed over his head. Oh! itwas horrible, horrible!"

The girl shuddered and her bright face clouded. After a moment sheresumed:

"It was only then I thought of the moving sands they spoke of theother day at Pulwick--and that was why Madelon and that poltroon groomwould not follow me! Yet perhaps they were wise, after all, for thethought of being buried alive made me turn weak all of a sudden. Myknees shook and I had to sit down, although I knew I had passedthrough the danger. But I was so sorry for poor Lucifer! I thought ifI had come down and led him, poor fellow, he might have come with me. Death is so awful, so hideous; he was so full of life and carried meso bravely, only a few minutes before! Is it not a shame that thereshould be such a thing as death?" she cried, rebelliously, and lookedup at the man above her, whose face had grown white at the thought ofthe danger she had barely escaped. 

"I waited, " she resumed at length, "till I thought he must be quitedead, there below, and came up to the ruins, and looked for anentrance. I knocked at some doors and called, but the wind was soloud, no one heard. And then, at last, there was one door I couldopen, so I entered and came up the stairs and startled you, as youknow. And that is how I came here and how Lucifer is drowned. "

As she finished her tale at last, she looked up at her companion. ButSir Adrian, who had followed her with ever-deepening earnestness ofmien, remained silent; noticing which she added quickly and with acertain tinge of defiance:

"And now, no doubt, you are not quite so pleased as you seemed atfirst with the apparition which has caused you the loss of one of yourbest horses!"

"Why child, " cried Sir Adrian, "so that you be safe you might haveleft all Pulwick at the bottom of the sands for me!" And René whoentered the room at that moment, heading the advance of Dame Margerywith the posset, here caught the extraordinary sound of a laugh on hismaster's lips, and stepped back to chuckle to himself and rub hishands. 

"Who would have believed that!" he muttered, "and I who was afraid totell his honour! Oh, yes, there are better times coming. Now in withyou, Mother Margery, see for yourself who is there. "

Holding in both hands a fragrant, steaming bowl, the old crone madeher slow entrance upon the scene, peering with dim eyes, and droppingtremulous curtseys every two or three steps. 

"Renny towd me as you wanted summat hot for a lady, " she begancautiously; and then having approached near for recognition at last, burst forth into a long-drawn cry!

"Eh, you never says! Eh, dear o' me, " and was fain to relinquish thebowl to her fellow-servant who narrowly watching, dived forward justin time to catch it from her, that she might clasp her aged handstogether once and again with ever-renewed gestures of astonishment. "An' it were truth then, an' I that towd Renny to give over hisnonsense--I didn't believe it, I welly couldn't. Eh, Mester Adrian, but she's like the poor lady that's dead and gone, the spit an' imageshe is--e-eh, she is!"

Molly de Savenaye laughed aloud, stretched out her hand for the bowl, and began with dainty caution to sip its scalding contents. 

"Ah, my dear Margery, " said the master, "we little thought what aguest the sea would cast up at our doors to-night! and now we must doour best for her; when she's finished your comforting mixture I shallgive her into your charge. You ought to put her to bed--it will not bethe first time. "

"Ah! it will not, and a troublesome child she was, " replied Margery, after the usual pause for the assimilation of his remark, turning tothe speaker from her palsied yet critical survey of her whilomnursling. 

"And I'll see to her, never fear, I'll fettle up a room for her atonce--blankets is airing already, an' sheets, an' Renny he's seen tothe fire, so that as soon as Miss, here, is ready, I am. "

Upon which, dropping a last curtsey with an assumed dignity whichwould have befitted a mistress of the robes, she took her departure, leaving Adrian smiling with amusement at her specious manner ofannouncing that his own bedroom--the only one available for thepurpose in the ruins--was being duly converted into a lady's bower. 

"It grieves me to think, " mused he after a pause, while René stillbursting with ungratified curiosity, hung about the further end of theroom, "of the terrible anxiety they must be in about you at Pulwick, and of our absolute inability to convey to them the good news of yoursafety. "

The girl gave a little laugh, with her lips over the cup, and shruggedher shoulders but said nothing. 

"My God, yes, " quoth René cheerfully from his corner. "Notre Damed'Auray has watched over Mademoiselle to-day. She would not permit thedaughter to die like the mother. And now we have got her ladyship weshall keep her too. This, if your honour remembers his sailor'sknowledge, looks like a three-days' gale. "

"You are right, I fancy, " said Sir Adrian, going over to him andlooking out of the window. "Mademoiselle de Savenaye will have to takeup her abode in our lighthouse for a longer time than she bargained. Ido not remember hearing the breakers thunder in our cave so loud formany years. I trust, " continued the light-keeper, coming down to hisfair guest again, "that you may be able to endure such roughhospitality as ours must needs be!"

"It has been much more pleasant and I feel far more welcome alreadythan at Pulwick, " remarked Mademoiselle, between two deliberate sips, and in no way discomposed, it seemed, at the prospect held out to her. 

"How?" cried Sir Adrian with a start, while the unwonted flush mountedto his forehead, "you, not welcome at Pulwick! Have they not welcomeda child of Cécile de Savenaye at Pulwick?. . . Thank God, then, for theaccident that has sent you to me!"

The girl looked at him with an inquisitive smile in her eyes; therewas something on her lips which she restrained. Surrendering her cup, she remarked demurely:

"Yes, it was a lucky accident, was it not, that there was some oneto offer shelter to the outcast from the sea? It is like a tale ofold. It is delightful. Delightful, too, not to be drowned, safe andsound . . . And welcome in this curious old place. "

She had risen and, as the cloak fell from her steaming garments, againshe shivered. 

"But you are right, " she said, "I must go to bed, and get these dampgarments off. And so, my Lord of Scarthey, I will retire to myapartments; my Lady in Waiting I see yonder is ready for me. "

With a quaint mixture of playfulness and gravity, she extended herhand, and Adrian stooped and kissed it--as he had kissed fair Cécilede Savenaye's rosy finger-tip upon the porch of Pulwick, twenty yearsbefore. 

CHAPTER VII

FOREBODINGS OF GLADNESS

Molly de Savenaye in her improvised bedroom, wet as she was, couldhardly betake herself to disrobing, so amused was she in surveying thefresh and romantic oddity of her surroundings, with their mixture ofbarbarous rudeness and almost womanish refinement. 

Old Margery's fumbling hands were not nimble either, and it was longsince she had acted as attendant upon one of her own sex. And so thematter progressed but slowly; but the speed of Margery's tongue wasapparently not affected by its length of service. It waggedceaselessly; the girl between her own moods of curious speculationvouchsafing an amused, half-contemptuous ear. 

Presently, however, as the nurse's reminiscences wandered from theless interesting topic of her own vicissitudes, the children she hadreared or buried, and the marvellous ailments she had endured, to anaccount of those days when she had served the French Madam and herbabes, Molly, slowly peeling a clinging sleeve from her arm, turned amore eager and attentive face to her. 

"Ah, " quoth Margery, appraising her with blear eyes, "it's a queerthing how ye favour your mother, miss. She had just they beautifulshoulders and arms, as firm an' as white; but you're taller, I think, and may be so, to speak, a stouter make altogether. Eh, dear, you werealways a fine child and the poor lady set a deal of store on you, shedid. She took you with her and left your sister with my Sally, whenshe was trapesing up to London and back with Mester Adrian, ay, and mewith ye. And many the day that I wished myself safe at Pulwick! And Imind the day she took leave of you, I do that, well. "

Here Dame Margery paused and shook her head solemnly, then pursued inanother key:

"See now, miss, dear, just step out of they wet things, will ye now, and let me put this hot sheet round ye?"

"But I want to hear about myself, " said Molly, gratefully wrapping thehot linen round her young beauty, and beginning to rub her black locksenergetically. "Where was it my mother parted from me?"

"Why, I'll tell you, miss. When Madam--we allus used to call herMadam, ye know--was goin' her ways to the ship as was to take her toFrance, I took you after her mysel' down to the shore that she mighthave the very last of ye. Eh, I mind it as if it were yesterday. Mester Adrian was to go with her--Sir Adrian, I should say, but he wasbut Mester Adrian then--an' a two three more o' th' gentry as was allfur havin' a share o' th' fightin'. Sir Thomas himsel' was theer--Ilike as if I could see him now, poor owd gentleman, talkin' an'laughin' very hard an' jov'al, an' wipin' 's e'en when he thoughtnobody noticed. Eh, dear, yes! I could ha' cried mysel' to see th'bonny young lady goin' off fro' her bairns. An' to think she nivercame back to them no more. Well, well! An' Mester Adrian too--such afine well-set-up young gentleman as he were--and _he_ niver comed backfor ten year an' when he did, he was that warsened--" she stopped, shook her head and groaned. 

"Well, but how about me, nurse, " observed Molly, "what about _me_?"

"Miss, please it was this way. Madam was wantin' a last look at herbairn--eh, she did, poor thing! You was allus her favoryite, ye know, miss--our Sally was wet-nurse to Miss Maddyline, but Madam had youhersel'. Well, miss, I'd brought you well lapped up i' my shawl an'William Shearman--that was Thomas Shearman's son, feyther to Williaman' Tom as lives over yonder at Pulwick village--well, William wasstandin' in 's great sea-boots ready to carry her through th' surfinto the boat; an' Mester Adrian--Sir Adrian, I mean--stood it mightbe here, miss, an' there was Renny, an' yon were th' t'other gentry. Well, Madam stopped an' took you out o' my arms, an' hugged you to herbreast--an' then she geet agate o' kissin' you--your head an' yourlittle 'ands. An' you was jumpin' an' crowin' in her arms--the windhad blown your cap off, an' your little downy black hair was standingback. (Just let me get at your hair now, miss, please--Eh! it's cruelfull of sand, my word, it is. )"

"It's 'ard, when all's said an' done, to part wi' th' babe ye'vesuckled, an' Madam, though there was niver nought nesh about 'er sameas there is about most women, an' specially ladies--she 'ad th'mother's 'eart, she 'ad, miss, an when th' time coom for her to leaveth' little un, I could see, as it were, welly burstin'. There we stoodwi' th' wind blowin' our clothes an' our 'air, an' the waves roarin', an' one bigger nor th' t'others ran up till th' foam reached Madam'slittle feet, but she niver took no notice. Then all of a sudden shegets th' notion that she'd like to take you with 'er, an' she turnsan' tells Mester Adrian so. 'She shall come with me, ' she says, quitesharp an' determined, an' makes a sign to William Shearman to carry'em both over. 'No, no, ' says Mester Adrian, 'quite impossible, ' sayshe, as wise as if he'd been an owd man i' stead o' nobbut a lad, yemight say. 'It would be madness both for you an' th' child. Now, ' hesays, very quiet an' gentle, 'if I might advise, I should say stayhere with the child. ' Eh, I couldn't tell ye all he said, an' then SirTummas coom bustlin' up, 'Do, now, my dear; think of it, ' he says, pattin' her o' th' hand. 'Stay with us, ' he says, 'ye'll be welcome asth' flowers in May!' An' there was Renny wi' 's 'at off, an' th' tearspourin' down his face, beggin' an' prayin' Madam to stop--at least, Ireckoned that was what he were sayin' for it was all in 's ownoutlandish gibberish. The poor lady! she'd look from one to th't'other an' a body a' must think she'd give in--an' then she'dunbethink hersel' again. An' Sir Thomas, he'd say, 'Do now, my dear, 'an' then when she'd look at him that pitiful, he'd out wi' 's red'andkercher an' frown over at Mester Adrian, an', says he, 'I wonderye can ax her!' Well, all of a sudden off went th' big gun in th'ship--that was to let 'em know, miss, do ye see--an' up went Madam'shead, an' then th' wind fetched th' salt spray to her face, an' a kindo' change came over her. She looked at the child, then across at theship--an' then she fair tossed ye back to me. Big William catched herup in his arms just same as another bairn, an' carried her to theboat. "

"Yes, " said Molly, gazing into the burning logs with brilliant eyes, but speaking low, as if to herself, so that her attendant's deaf earsfailed to catch the meaning of the words. "Ah, that was life indeed!Happy mother to have seen such life--though she did die young. "

"As ye say, miss, " answered Margery, making a guess at the most likelycomment from a daughter's lips, "it was cruel hard--it was that. 'Come, make haste!' cries the other young gentlemen: my word, theywere in a hurry lest Madam happen to change her mind. I could wellyhave laughed to see their faces when Mester Adrian were trying topersuade her to stop at Pulwick, and let the men go alone. 'T wern'tfor that they reckoned to go all that road to France, ye may think, miss. Well, miss, in a few minutes they was all out i' the boat wi'th' waves tossin' 'em--an' I stood watchin' with you i' my arms, cryin' and kickin' out wi' your little legs, an' hittin' of me wi'your little 'ands, same as if ye knowed summat o' what was agate, poorlamb, an' was angry wi' me for keepin' ye. Then in a little while thebig, white sails o' th' ship went swellin' out an' soon it was gone. An' that was th' last we saw o' Madam. A two-three year arter you an'Miss Maddyline was fetched away, to France, as I've been towd. I doubtyou didn't so much as think there was such a place as Pulwick, thoughmany a one there minds how they dandled and played wi' you when youwas a wee bairn, miss. "

"Well, I am very glad to be back in England, anyhow, " said Molly, nimbly slipping into bed. "Oh, Margery, what delicious warm sheets, and how good it is to be in bed alive, dry, and warm, after all!"

A new atmosphere pervaded Scarthey that night. The peaceful monotonyof years, since the master of Pulwick had migrated to his "ruins, " wasbroken at last, and happily. A warm colour seemed to have crept uponthe hitherto dun and dull surroundings and brightened all theprospects. 

At any rate René, over his busy work in the lantern, whistled andhummed snatches of song with unwonted blithesomeness, and, afterlighting the steady watch-light and securing all his paraphernaliawith extra care, dallied some time longer than usual on the outerplatform, striving to snatch through the driven wraith a glance of thedistant lights of Pulwick. For there, in the long distance, ensconcedamong the woods, stood a certain gate-lodge of greystone, much coveredwith ivy, which sheltered, among other inmates, the gatekeeper'sblue-eyed, ripe and ruddy daughter--Dame Margery's pet grandchild. 

The idea of ever leaving the master--even for the sake of thehappiness to be found over yonder--was not one to be entertained byRené. But what if dreams of a return to the life of the world shouldarise after to-day in the recluse's mind? Ah, the master's eyes hadbeen filled with light!. . . And had he not actually laughed?

René peered again through the wind, but nothing could be seen of theworld abroad, save grey, tumbling waters foaming at the foot of theislet; fretful waters coalescing all around with the driven, mistyair. A desolate view enough, had there been room for melancholythoughts in his heart. 

Blithely did he descend the steep wooden stairs from the roaring, weather-beaten platform, to the more secure inhabited keep; and, humming a satisfied tune, he entered upon Margery in her flamingkitchen, to find the old lady intent on sorting out a heap of femininegarments and spreading them before the fire. 

René took up a little shoe, sand-soiled and limp, and reverentiallyrubbed it on his sleeve. 

"Well, mother, " he said, cheerfully, "it is a long while since you hadto do with such pretty things. My faith, these are droll doings, ah--and good, too! You will see, Mother Margery, there will be goodout of all this. "

But Margery invariably saw fit, on principle, to doubt all theopinions of her rival. 

Eh, she didn't hold so much wi' wenches hersel', an' Mester Adrian, she reckoned, hadn't come to live here all by himsel' to have visitorsbreaking in on him that gate!

"There be visitors _and_ visitors, mother--I tell you, I who speak toyou, that his honour is happy. "

Margery, with a mysterious air, smoothed out a long silk stocking andgave an additional impetus to the tremor Nature had already bestowedupon her aged head. 

Well, it wasn't for her to say. She hoped and prayed there was nowtbad a coomin' on the family again; but sich likenesses as that of Missto her mother was not lucky, to her minding; it was not. Nowt good hadcome to Mester Adrian from the French Madam. Ah, Mester Adrian hadbeen happy like with her too, and she had taken him away from hishome, an' his people, an' sent him back wi'out 's soul in the end. 

"And now her daughter has come to give it him back, " retorted René, as he fell to, with a zest, on the savoury mess he had concocted forhis own supper. 

"Eh, well, I hope nowt bad's i' the road, " said Margery with senileiteration. "They do say no good ever comes o' saving bodies fromdrowning; not that one 'ud wish the poor Miss to have gone into thesands--an' she the babby I weaned too!"

René interrupted her with a hearty laugh. "Yes, every one knows itcarries misfortune to save people from the drowning, but there, yousee, her ladyship, she saved herself--so that ought to bring goodfortune. Good-night, Mother Margery, take good care of the lady. . . . Ah, how I wish I had the care of her!" he added simply, and, seizinghis lantern, proceeded to ascend once more to his post aloft. 

He paused once on his way, in the loud sighing stairs, struck with afresh aspect of the day's singular events--a quaint thought, born ofhis native religious faith: The Lady, the dear Mistress had justreached Heaven, no doubt, and had straightway sent them the young oneto console and comfort them. Eh bien! they had had their time ofPurgatory too, and now they might be happy. 

Pleasant therefore were René's musings, up in the light watcher'sbunk, underneath the lantern, as, smoking a pipe of rest, he listenedcomplacently to the hissing storm around him. 

And in the master's sleeping chamber beneath him, now so curiouslyturned into a feminine sanctum, pleasant thoughts too, if less formed, and less concerned with the future, lulled its dainty occupant torest. 

Luxuriously stretched between the warm lavender-scented sheets, watching from her pillow the leaping fire on the hearth, Miss Mollywondered lazily at her own luck; at the many possible results of theday's escapade; wondered amusedly whether any poignant sorrow--except, indeed poor Madeleine's tears--for her supposed demise, reallydarkened the supper party at Pulwick this evening; wondered agreeablyhow the Lord of the Ruined Castle would meet her on the morrow, afterhis singular reception of her this day; how long she would remain inthese romantic surroundings and whether she would like them as well atthe end of the visitation. 

And as the blast howled with increasing rage, and the cold night drewcloser on, and the great guns in the sea-cave boomed more angrily withthe risen tide, she dimly began to dwell upon the thought of poorLucifer being sucked deeper into his cold rapacious grave, whilst shewas held in the warm embrace of a man whose eyes were masterful andyet gentle, whose arm was strong, whose kisses were tender. 

And in the delight of the contrast, Mademoiselle de Savenaye fell intothe profound slumber of the young and vigorous. 

CHAPTER VIII

THE PATH OF WASTED YEARS

 And I only think of the woman that weeps; But I forget, always forget, the smiling child. _Luteplayer's Song. _

That night, even when sheer fatigue had subdued the currents of bloodand thought that surged in his head, Sir Adrian was too restless toavail himself of the emergency couch providently prepared by René in acorner. But, ceasing his fretful pacing to and fro, he sat down in thearm-chair by the hearth where she had sat--the waif of thesea--wrapped round him the cloak that had enfolded the young body, hugging himself in the salt moisture the fur still retained, to spendthe long hours in half-waking, firelight dreams. 

And every burst of tempest rage, every lash of rain at the window, every thud of hurricane breaking itself on impassable ramparts, andshriek of baffled winds searching the roofless halls around, found astrangely glad echo in his brain--made a sort of burden to histhoughts:

Heap up the waters round this happy island, most welcome winds--heapthem up high and boiling, and retain her long captive in these lonelyruins!

And ever the image in his mind's eye was, as before, Cécile--Cécilewho had come back to him, for all sober reason knew it was but thechild. 

The child----! Why had he never thought of the children these wearyyears? They, all that remained of Cécile, were living and might havebeen sought. Strange that he had not remembered him of the children!

Twenty years since he had last set eyes upon the little livingcreature in her mother's arms. And the picture that the memory evokedwas, after all, Cécile again, only Cécile--not the queer littleblack-eyed puppet, even then associated with sea-foam and saltybreeze. Twenty years during which she was growing and waxing inbeauty, and unawares, maturing towards this wonderful meeting--and hehad never given a thought to her existence. 

In what sheltered ways had this fair duplicate of his love beengrowing from a child to womanhood during that space of life, so longto look back upon--or so short and transient, according to the mood ofthe thinker?

And, lazily, in his happier and tender present mood he tried tomeasure once again the cycles of past discontent, this time in termsof the girl's own lifetime. 

It is bitter in misery to recall past misery--almost as bitter, forall Dante's cry, as to dwell on past happiness. But, be the pastreally dead, and a new and better life begun, the scanning back of asombre existence done with for ever, may bring with it a kind ofsecret complacency. 

Truly, mused Sir Adrian, for one who ever cherished ideal aspirations, for the student, the "man of books" (as his father had beenbanteringly wont to term him), worshipper of the muses, intellectualEpicurean, and would-be optimist philosopher, it must be admitted hehad strangely dealt, and been dealt with, since he first beheld thatface, now returned to light his solitude! Ah, God bless the child!Pulwick at least nursed it warmly, whilst unhappy Adrian, ragged anddegraded into a mere fighting beast, roamed through the Marais withChouan bands, hunted down by the merciless revolutionists, likevermin; falling, as months of that existence passed over him, from hishigh estate to the level of vermin indeed; outlawed, predatory, cunning, slinking, filthy--trapped at last, the fit end of vermin!

Scarcely better the long months of confinement in the hulks ofRochelle. How often he had regretted it, then, not to have been one ofthe chosen few who, the day after capture, stood in front of sixlevelled muskets, and were sped to rest in some unknown charnel!Then!--not now. No, it was worth having lived to this hour, to know ofthat fair face, in living sleep upon his pillow, under the safeguardof his roof. 

Good it was, that he had escaped at last, though with the blood of oneof his jailors red upon his hands; the blood of a perhaps innocentman, upon his soul. It was the only time he had taken a life otherthan in fair fight, and the thought of it had been wont to fill himwith a sort of nausea; but to-night, he found he could face it, notonly without remorse, but without regret. He was glad he had listenedto René's insidious whispers--René, who could not endure the captivityto which his master might, in time, have fallen a passive, hopelessslave, and yet who would have faced a thousand years of it rather thanescape alone--the faithful heart!

Yes, it was good, and he was glad of it, or time would not have comewhen she (stay, how old was the child then?--almost three years, andstill sheltered and cherished by the house of Landale)--when she wouldreturn, and gladden his eyes with a living sight of Cécile, while Renéwatched in his tower above; ay, and old Margery herself lay once morenear the child she had nursed. 

Marvellous turn of the wheel of fate!

But, who had come for the children, and where had they been taken? Totheir motherland, perhaps; even it might have been before he himselfhad left it; or yet to Ireland, where still dwelt kinsfolk of theirblood? Probably it was at the breaking up of the family, caused by thedeath of Sir Thomas, that these poor little birds had been removedfrom the nest, that had held them so safe and close. 

That was in '97, in the yellow autumn of which year Adrian Landale, then French fisherman, parted from his brother René L'Apôtre upon thesea off Belle Isle; parted one grizzly dawn after embracing, asbrothers should. Oh, the stealthy cold of that blank, cheerlessdaybreak, how it crept into the marrow of his bones, and chilled thelittle energy and spirits he had left! For a whole year they hadfruitlessly sought some English vessel, to convey this Englishgentleman back to his native land. He could remember how, at themoment of separation, from the one friend who had loved both him andher, his heart sank within him--remember how he clambered from aboardthe poor little smack, up the forbidding sides of the English brig;how René's broken words had bidden God bless him, and restore himsafely home (home!); remember how swiftly the crafts had moved apart, the mist, the greyness and desolateness; the lapping of the waters, the hoarse cries of the seamen, all so full of heart-piercingassociations to him, and the last vision of René's simple face, withtears pouring down it, and his open mouth spasmodically trying to giveout a hearty cheer, despite the sobs that came heaving up to it. Howlittle the simple fellow dreamed of what bitterness the future was yetholding for his brother and master, to end in these reunions at last!

The vessel which had taken Adrian Landale on board, in answer to thefrantic signals of the fishing-smack, that had sailed from Belle Isleobviously to meet her, proved to be a privateer, bound for the WestIndies, but cruising somewhat out of her way, in the hope of outgoingprizes from Nantes. 

The captain, who had been led to expect something of importance fromthe smack's behaviour, in high dudgeon at finding that so much bustleand waste of time was only to burden him with a mere castaway seekinga passage home--one who, albeit a countryman, was too ragged anddisreputable in looks to be trusted in his assurances ofreward--granted him indeed the hospitality of his ship, but on thecondition of his becoming a hand in the company during the forthcomingexpedition. 

There was a rough measure of equity in the arrangement, and Adrianaccepted it. The only alternative, moreover, would have been a jumpoverboard. And so began a hard spell of life, but a few shades removedfrom his existence among the Chouan guerillas; a predatory cruiselasting over a year, during which the only changes rung in the gamutof its purpose were the swooping down, as a vulture might, uponunprotected ships; flying with superior speed from obviously strongercrafts; engaging, with hawk-like bravery, everything afloat thatdisplayed inimical colours, if it offered an equal chance of fight. 

And this for more than a year, until the privateer, much battered, butsafe, despite her vicissitudes made Halifax for refitting. Here, atthe first suitable port she had touched, Adrian claimed and obtainedhis release from obligations which made his life almost unendurable. 

Then ensued a period of the most absolute penury; unpopular with mostof his messmates for his melancholy taciturnity, despised by the morebrutal as one who had as little stomach for a carouse as for a bloodyfight, he left the ship without receiving, or even thinking of hisshare of prize-money. And he had to support existence with such meanmechanical employment as came in his way, till an opportunity wasoffered of engaging himself as seaman, again from sheer necessity, ona homeward-bound merchantman--an opportunity which he seized, if noteagerly, for there was no eagerness left in him, yet under thepressure of purpose. 

Next the long, slowly plodding, toilsome, seemingly eternal courseacross the ocean. 

But even a convoy, restricted to the speed of its slowest member, ifit escape capture or natural destruction, must meet the opposite shoreat length, and the last year of the century had lapsed in the evenrace of time when, after many dreary weeks, on the first of January1801, the long low lines of sandhills on the Lancastrian coast loomedin sight. The escort drew away, swiftly southwards, as if in joyfulrelief from the tedious task, leaving the convoy to enter the Mersey, safe and sound. 

That evening Adrian, the rough-looking and taciturn sailor, set foot, for a short while, on his native land, after six years of an exilewhich had made of him at five and twenty a prematurely aged andhopelessly disillusioned man. 

And Sir Adrian, as he mused, wrapped in the honoured fur cloak, witheyes half closed, by his sympathetic fire, recalled how little of joythis return had had for him. It was the goal he had striven to reach, and he had reached it, that was all; nay, he recalled how, when athand, he had almost dreaded the actual arrival home, dreaded, with theinfinite heart-sickness of sorrow, the emotions of the family welcometo one restored from such perils by flood and field--if not indeedalready mourned for and forgotten--little wotting how far that returnto Pulwick, that seemed near and certain, was still away in the dimfuture of life. 

Yet, but for the fit of hypochondriacal humour which had fallen blackupon him that day of deliverance and made him yearn, with an intensityincreasing every moment, to separate himself from his repugnantassociates and haste the moment of solitude and silence, he might havebeen rescued, then and for ever, from the quagmire in which perversecircumstances had enslaved him. 

"Look'ee here, matey, " said one of his fellow-workers to him, in atransient fit of good-fellowship which the prospect of approachingsprees had engendered in him even towards one whom all on board hadfelt vaguely to be of a different order, and disliked accordingly, "you don't seem to like a jolly merchantman--but, maybe, you wouldn'ttake more kindly to a man-o'-war. Do you see that there ship?--afrigate she is; and, whenever there's a King's ship in the Mersey thatmeans that it's more wholesome for the likes of us to lie low. Youtake a hint, matey, and don't be about Liverpool to-night, or untilshe's gone. Now, I know a crib that's pretty safe, Birkenhead way;Mother Redcap's, we call it--no one's ever been nabbed at MotherRedcap's, and if you'll come along o' me--why then if you won't, goyour way and be damned to you for a----"

This was the parting of Adrian Landale from his fellow-workers. Theidea of spending even one night more in that atmosphere of rum andfilth, in the intimate hearing of blasphemous and obscene language, was too repulsive to be entertained, and he had turned away from theoffer with a gesture of horror. 

With half a dozen others, in whose souls the attractions of the townat night proved stronger than the fear of the press party, hedisembarked on the Lancashire side, and separating from hiscompanions, for ever, as he thought, ascended the miserable lanesleading from the river to the upper town. 

His purpose was to sleep in one of the more decent hotels, to call thenext day for help at the banking-house with which the Landales haddealt for ages past, and thence to take coach for Pulwick. But he hadplanned without taking reck of his circumstances. No hotel of reputewould entertain this weather-beaten common sailor in the meanest ofwork-stained clothes. After failing at various places even to obtain ahearing, being threatened with forcible ejectment, derisively referredto suitable cribs in Love Lane or Tower Street, he gave up theattempt; and, in his usual dejection of spirit, intensified byunavowed and unreasonable anger, wandered through the dark streets, brooding. Thus aimlessly wandering, the remembrance of his youngUtopian imaginings came back to him to mock him. Dreams of universalbrotherhood, of equality, of harmony. He had already seen the apostlesof equality and brotherhood at work--on the banks of the Vilaine. Andrealising how he himself, now reduced to the lowest level in thesocial scale, hunted with insult from every haunt above that level, yet loathed and abhorred the very thought of associating again withhis recent brothers in degradation, he laughed a laugh of bitterself-contempt. 

But the night was piercing cold; and, in time, the question arosewhether the stench and closeness of a riverside eating-house would notbe more endurable than the cutting wind, the sleet, and the sharperpangs of hunger. 

His roaming had brought him once more to that quarter of the town"best suited to the likes of him, " according to the innkeeper'sopinion, and he found himself actually seeking a house ofentertainment in the slimy, ill-lighted narrow street, when, from outthe dimness, running towards him, with bare feet paddling in thesludge, came a slatternly girl, with unkempt wisps of red hair hangingover her face under the tartan shawl. 

"Run, run, Jack, " she cried, hoarsely, as she passed by breathless, "t' gang's comin' up. . . . "

A sudden loathly fear seized Adrian by the heart. He too, took to hisheels by the side of the slut with all the swiftness his tired framecould muster. 

"I'm going to warn my Jo, " she gasped, as, jostling each other, theydarted through a maze of nameless alleys. 

And then as, spent with running, they emerged at last into a broaderstreet, it was to find themselves in the very midst of another partyof man-of-war's men, whose brass belt-buckles glinted under theflickering light of the oil-lamp swinging across the way. 

Adrian stopped dead short and looked at the girl in mute reproach. 

"May God strike me dead, " she screamed, clapping her hands together, "if I knew the bloody thieves were there! Oh, my bonny lad, I meant tosave ye!" And as her words rang in the air two sailors had Adrian bythe collar and a facetious bluejacket seized her round the waist withhideous bantering. 

A very young officer, wrapped up in a cloak, stood a few paces apartcalmly looking on. To him Adrian called out in fierce, yet anguished, expostulation:

"I am a free and independent subject, sir, an English gentleman. Idemand that you order your men to release me. For heaven's sake, " headded, pleadingly, "give me but a moment's private hearing!"

A loud guffaw rang through the group. In truth, if appearances makethe gentleman, Adrian was then but a sorry specimen. 

The officer smiled--the insufferable smile of a conceited boy raisedto authority. 

"I can have no possible doubt of your gentility, sir, " he said, withmocking politeness, and measuring, under the glimmering light, firstthe prisoner, from head to foot, and then the girl who, scratching andblaspheming, vainly tried to make her escape; "but, sir, as afree-born English gentleman, it will be your duty to help his Majestyto fight his French enemies. Take the English gentleman along, mylads!"

A roar of approbation at the officer's facetiousness ran through theparty. 

"An' his mother's milk not dry upon his lips, " cried the girl, with acrow of derisive fury, planting as she spoke a sounding smack on abroad tanned face bent towards her. The little officer grew pink. "Come, my men, do your duty, " he thundered, in his deepest bass. 

A rage such as he never had felt in his life suddenly filled Adrian'swhole being. He was a bigger man than any of the party, and the roughlife that fate had imposed on him, had fostered a strength of limbbeyond the common. A thrust of his knee prostrated one of his captors, a blow in the eye from his elbow staggered the other; the next instanthe had snatched away the cutlass which a third was drawing, and withit he cleared, for a moment, a space around him. 

But as he would have bounded into freedom, a felling blow descended onhis head from behind, a sheet of flame spread before his eyes, andbehind this blaze disappeared the last that Adrian Landale was to seeof England for another spell of years. 

When he came back to his senses he was once more on board ship--aslave, legally kidnapped; degraded by full and proper warrant from hislegitimate status for no crime that could even be invented againsthim; a slave to be retained for work or war at his master's pleasure, liable like a slave to be flogged to death for daring to assert hislight of independence. 

 * * * * *

The memory of that night's doing and of the odious bondage to whichit was a prelude, rarely failed to stir the gall of resentment in SirAdrian; men of peaceable instincts are perhaps the most prone to thefeeling of indignation. 

But, to-night, a change had come over the spirit of his dreams; hecould think of that past simply as the past--the period of time whichwould have had to be spent until the advent of the wonder-workingpresent: these decrees of Fate had had a purpose. Had the past, by onejot, been different, the events of this admirable day might never havebeen. 

The glowing edifice on the hearth collapsed with a darting of suddenflame and a rolling of red cinders. Sir Adrian rose to rebuild hisfire for the night; and, being once roused, was tempted by theruddiness of the wine, glinting under the quiet rays of the lamp, toadvance to the table and partake of his forgotten supper. 

The calm atmosphere, the warmth and quiet of the room, in which hebroke his bread and sipped his wine, whilst old Jem stretched by thehearth gazed at him with yellow up-turned eyes full of lazy inquiryconcerning this departure from the usual nightly regularity; theserene placidity of the scene indoors as contrasting with the angryvoices of elements without, answered to the peace--the strangepeace--that filled the man's soul, even in the midst of suchuncongenial memories as now rose up before him in vivid concatenation. 

She was then five years old. Where was she, when he began thatseemingly endless cruise with the frigate _Porcupine_? He tried tofancy a Cécile five years old--a chubby, curly-headed mite, nursingdolls and teasing kittens, whilst he was bullied and browbeaten bycoarse petty officers, shunned and hated by his messmates, and floggedat length by a tyrannizing captain for obduracy--but he could only seea Cécile in the spring of womanhood, nestling in the arm-chair yonderby the fire and looking up at him from the folds of a fur cloak. 

She was seven years old when he was flogged. Ah, God! those had beendays! And yet, in the lofty soul of him he had counted it no disgrace;and he had been flogged again, ay, and a third time for that obstinatehead that would not bend, that obstinate tongue that would persist indemanding restitution of liberty. The life on board the privateer hadbeen a matter of bargain; he had bartered also labour and obediencewith the merchantman for the passage home, but the king had no rightto compel the service of a free man!

She was but twelve years old when he was finally released fromthraldom--it had only lasted four years after all; yet what a cyclefor one of his temper! Four years with scarce a moment ofsolitude--for no shore-leave was ever allowed to one who openlyrepudiated any service contract: four years of a life, where the soleprospect of change was in these engagements, orgies of carnage, soeagerly anticipated by officers and men alike, including himself, though for a reason little suspected by his companions. But even thehistoric sea-fights of the _Porcupine_, so far as they affected AdrianLandale, formed in themselves a chain of monotony. It was ever thesame hurling of shot from ship to ship, the same fierce exchange ofcutlass-throws and pike-pushes between men who had never seen eachother before; the same yelling and execrations, sights, sounds, andsmells ever the same in horror; the same cheers when the enemy'scolours were lowered, followed by the same transient depression; thecleansing of decks from stains of powder and mire of human blood, thecasting overboard of human bodies that had done their life's work, broken waste and other rubbish. For weeks Adrian after would tasteblood, smell blood, dream blood, till it seemed in his nausea that allthe waters of the wide clean seas could never wash the taint from himagain. And before the first horrid impressions had time to fade, thenext occasion would have come round again: it was not the fate ofAdrian Landale that either steel or shot, or splintered timber orfalling tackles should put an end to his dreary life, welcome as suchan end would have been to him then. 

Then . . . But not now. Remembering now his unaccountable escape fromthe destruction which had swept from his side many another whoseeagerness for the fray had certes not sprung, like his own, from adesire to court destruction, he shuddered. And there arose in his mindthe trite old adage:

"Man proposeth. . . "

God had disposed otherwise. 

It was not destined that Adrian Landale should be shot on the highseas any more than he should be drowned in the rolling mud of theVilaine--he was reserved for this day as a set-off to all thebitterness that had been meted out to him; he was to see the image ofhis dead love rise from the sea once more. And, meanwhile, his verydespair and sullenness had been turned to his good. It would not besaid, if history should take count of the fact, that while the Lord ofPulwick had served four years before the mast, he had ever disgracedhis name by cowardice. . . . 

Whether such reasonings were in accordance even with the mostoptimistic philosophy, Sir Adrian himself at other times might havedoubted. But he was tender in thought this stormy night, with thegrateful relaxation that a happy break brings in the midst oflong-drawn melancholy. 

Everything had been working towards this end--that he should be thelight-keeper of Scarthey on the day when out of the raging watersCécile would rise and knock and ask for succour at his chamber. 

Cécile! pshaw!--raving again. 

Well, the child! Where was she on the day of the last engagement ofthat pugnacious _Porcupine_, in the year 1805, when England was freedfrom her long incubus of invasion? She was then twelve. 

It had seemed if nothing short of a wholesale disaster could terminatethat incongruous existence of his. 

The last action of the frigate was a fruitless struggle againstfearful odds. After a prolonged fight with an enemy as dauntless asherself, with two-thirds of her ship's company laid low, and commandedat length by the youngest lieutenant, she was tackled as the sun wentlow over the scene of a drawn battle, by a fresh sail errant; and, hadit not been for a timely dismasting on board the new-comer, would havebeen captured or finally sunk then and there. But that fate was onlyheld in reserve for her. Bleeding and disabled, she had drawn awayunder cover of night from her two hard-hit adversaries, to encounter asquall that further dismantled her, and, in such forlorn conditions, was met and finally conquered by the French privateer _Espoir deBrest_, that pounced upon her in her agony as the vulture upon hisprey. 

Among the remainder of the once formidable crew, now seized andbattened down under French hatches, was of course Adrian Landale--hebore a charmed life. And for a short while the only change probable inhis prospects was a return to French prisons, until such time as itpleased Heaven to restore peace between the two nations. 

But the fortune of war, especially at sea, is fickle and fitful. 

The daring brig, lettre de marque, _L'Espoir de Brest_, soon after herunwonted haul of English prisoners, was overtaken herself by one ofher own species, the _St. Nicholas_ of Liverpool, from whose swiftnessnothing over the sea, that had not wings, could hope to escape if shechose to give the chase. 

Again did Adrian, from the darkness among his fellow-captives, hearthe familiar roar and crash of cannon fight, the hustling and the thudof leaping feet, the screams and oaths of battle, and, finally, thetriumphant shouts of English throats, and he knew that the Frenchmanwas boarded. A last ringing British cheer told of the Frenchman'ssurrender, and when he and his comrades were once more free to breathea draught of living air, after the deathly atmosphere under hatches, Adrian learned that the victor was not a man-of-war, but a free-lance, and conceived again a faint hope that deliverance might be at hand. 

It was soon after this action, last of the fights that Adrian thepeace-lover had to pass through, and as the two swift vessels, nowsailing in consort, and under the same colours cleaved the waters, bound for the Mersey, that a singular little drama took place on boardthe _Espoir de Brest_. 

Among the younger officers of the English privateer, who were left incharge of the prize, was a lad upon whom Adrian's jaded eyes restedwith a feeling of mournful sympathy, so handsome was he, and so young;so full of hope and spirits and joy of life, of all, in fact, of whichhe himself had been left coldly bare. Moreover, the ring of the merryvoice, the glint of the clear eye awakened in his memory some fitfulchord, the key of which he vainly sought to trace. 

One day, as the trim young lieutenant stood looking across the waters, with his brave eager gaze that seemed to have absorbed some of theblue-green shimmer of the element he loved, all unnoting the haggardsailor at his elbow, a sudden flourish of the spy-glass which he, withan eager movement, swung up to bear on some distant speck, sent hiswatch and seals flying out of his fob upon the deck at Adrian's feet. 

Adrian picked them up, and as he waited to restore them to theirowner, who tarried some time intent on his distant peering, he hadtime to notice the coat and crest engraved upon one of the massivetrinkets hanging from their black ribbons. 

When at last the officer lowered his telescope, Adrian came forwardand saluted him with a slight bow, all unconsciously as unlike theaverage Jack Tar's scrape to his superior as can be well imagined:

"Am I not, " he asked, "addressing in you, sir, one of the Cochranes ofthe Shaws?"

The question and the tone from a common sailor were, of course, enoughto astonish the young man. But there must be more than this, as Adriansurmised, to cause him to blush, wax angry, and stammer like a veryschool-boy found at fault. Speaking with much sharpness:

"My name is Smith, my man, " cried he, seizing his belongings, "andyou--just carry on with that coiling!"

"And my name, sir, is Adrian Landale, of Pulwick Priory. I would likea moment's talk with you, if you will spare me the time. The Cochranesof the Shaws have been friends of our family for generations. "

A guffaw burst from a group of Adrian's mates working hard by, at thisrecurrence of what had become with them a standing joke; but theofficer, who had turned on his heels, veered round immediately, andstood eyeing the speaker in profound astonishment. 

"Great God, is it possible! Did you say you were a Landale of Pulwick?How the devil came you here then, and thus?"

"Press-gang, " was Adrian's laconic answer. 

The lad gave a prolonged whistle, and was lost for a moment incogitation. 

"If you are really Mr. Landale, " he began, adding hastily, as if tocover an implied admission--"of course I have heard the name: it iswell known in Lancashire--you had better see the skipper. It must havebeen some damnable mistake that has caused a man of your standing tobe pressed. "

The speaker ended with almost a deferential air and the smile that hadalready warmed Adrian's heart. At the door of the Captain's quartershe said, with the suspicion of a twinkle in his eye:

"A curious error it was you made, I assure you my name is Smith--JackSmith, of Liverpool. "

"An excusable error, " quoth Adrian, smiling back, "for one of yourseals bear unmistakably the arms of Cochrane of the Shaws, doubtlesssome heirloom, some inter-marriage. "

"No, sir, hang it!" retorted Mr. Jack Smith of Liverpool, his boyishface flushing again, and as he spoke he disengaged the trinket fromits neighbours, and jerked it pettishly overboard, "I know nothing ofyour Shaws or your Cochranes. "

And then he rapped loudly at the cabin-door, as if anxious to avoidfurther discussion or comment on the subject. 

The result of the interview which followed--interview during whichAdrian in a few words overcame the skipper's scepticism, and wasbidden with all the curiosity men feel at sea for any novelty, torelate, over a bottle of wine, the chain of his adventures--was hispassing from the forecastle to the officers' quarters, as an honouredguest on board the _St. Nicholas_, during the rest of her cruise. 

Thinking back now upon the last few weeks of his sea-going life, SirAdrian realised with something of wonder that he had always dwelt onthem without dislike. They were gilded in his memory by the rays ofhis new friendship. 

And yet that this young Jack Smith (to keep for him the nondescriptname he had for unknown reasons chosen to assume) should be the firstman to awaken in the misanthropic Adrian the charm of humanintercourse, was singular indeed; one who followed from choice theodious trade of legally chartered corsair, who was ever ready tobarter the chance of life and limb against what fortune might bring inhis path, to sacrifice human life to secure his own end of enrichment. 

Well, the springs of friendship are to be no more discerned thanthose of love; there was none of high or low degree, with theexception of René, whose appearance at any time was so welcome to therecluse upon his rock, as that of the privateersman. 

And so, turning to his friend in to-night's softened mood, Sir Adrianthought gratefully that to him it was that he owed deliverance fromthe slavery of the King's service, that it was Jack Smith who had madeit possible for Adrian Landale to live to this great day and await itscoming in peace. 

The old clock struck two; and Jem shivered on the rug as thelight-keeper rose at length from the table and sank in his arm-chaironce more. 

Visions of the past had been ever his companions; now for the firsttime came visions of the future to commingle with them. As if caughtup in the tide of his visitor's bright young life, it seemed as thoughhe were passing at length out of the valley of the shadow of death. 

 * * * * *

René, coming with noiseless bare feet, in the angry yellow dawn of thesecond day of the storm, to keep an eye on his master's comfort, foundhim sleeping in his chair with a new look of rest upon his face and asmile upon his lips. 

CHAPTER IX

A GENEALOGICAL EPISTLE

 . . . And braided thereupon All the devices blazoned on the shield, In their own tinct, and added, of her wit, A border fantasy of branch and flower. 

 _Idylls of the King. _

Pulwick Priory, the ancestral home of the Cumbrian Landales, adignified if not overpoweringly lordly mansion, rises almost on theridge of the green slope which connects the high land with the sandystrand of Morecambe; overlooking to the west the great brown breezybight, whilst on all other sides it is sheltered by its wooded park. 

When the air is clear, from the east window of Scarthey keep, the tallgarden front of greystone is visible, in the extreme distance, againstthe darker screen of foliage; whitely glinting if the sun is high;golden or rosy at the end of day. 

As its name implies, Pulwick Priory stands on the site of an extinctreligious house; its oldest walls, in fact, were built from the spoilsof once sacred masonry. It is a house of solid if not regularproportions, full of unexpected quaintness; showing a medley ofdistinct styles, in and out; it has a wide portico in the bestapproved neo-classic taste, leading to romantic oaken stairs; herewide cheerful rooms and airy corridors, there sombre vaulted basementsand mysterious unforeseen nooks. 

On the whole, however, it is a harmonious pile of buildings, thoughgathering its character from many different centuries, for it has beenmellowed by time, under a hard climate. And it was, in the days of thepride of the Landales, a most meet dwelling-place for that ancientrace, insomuch as the history of so many of their ancestors waswritten successively upon stone and mortar, brick and tile, as wellas upon carved oak, canvas-decked walls, and emblazoned windows. 

 * * * * *

Exactly one week before the disaster, which was supposed to havebefallen Mademoiselle Molly de Savenaye on Scarthey sands, the actingLord of Pulwick, if one may so term Mr. Rupert Landale, had received aletter, the first reading of which caused him a vivid annoyance, followed by profound reflection. 

A slightly-built, dark-visaged man, this younger brother of SirAdrian, and vicarious master of his house and lands; like to therecluse in his exquisite neatness of attire, somewhat like also in themould of his features, which were, however, more notably handsome thanSir Adrian's; but most unlike him, in an emphasised artificiality ofmanner, in a restless and wary eye, and in the curious twist of a thinlip which seemed to give hidden sarcastic meaning even to the mostordinary remark. 

As now he sat by his desk, his straight brows drawn over hisamber-coloured eyes, perusing the closely written sheets of thistroublesome missive, there entered to him the long plaintive figure ofhis maiden sister, who had held house for him, under his own minutedirections, ever since the death in premature child-birth of his youngyear-wed wife. 

Miss Landale, the eldest of the family, had had a disappointment inher youth, as a result of which she now played the ungrateful _rôle_of old maid of the family. She suffered from chronic toothache, aswell as from repressed romantic aspirations, and was the _âme damnée_of Rupert. One of the most melancholy of human beings, she was terselycharacterised by the village folk as a "_wummicky_ poor thing. "

At the sight of Mr. Landale's weighted brow she propped up her ownlong sallow face, upon its aching side, with a trembling hand, and, full of agonised prescience, ventured to ask if anything had happened. 

"Sit down, " said her brother, with a sort of snarl--He possessed anextremely irritable temper under his cool sarcastic exterior, a temperwhich his peculiar anomalous circumstances, whilst they combined toexcite it, forced him to conceal rigidly from most, and it was arelief to him to let it out occasionally upon Sophia's meek, ringletedhead. 

Sophia collapsed with hasty obedience into a chair, and then Mr. Landale handed to her the thin fluttering sheets, voluminously crossedand re-crossed with fine Italian handwriting:

"From Tanty, " ejaculated Miss Sophia, "Oh my dear Rupert!"

"Read it, " said Rupert peremptorily. "Read it aloud. "

And throwing himself back upon his chair, he shaded his mouth with oneflexible thin hand, and prepared himself to listen. 

"CAMDEN PLACE, BATH, October 29th, " read the maiden lady in thoseplaintive tones, which seemed to send out all speech upon the breathof a sigh. "MY DEAR RUPERT, --You will doubtless be astonished, butyour invariably affectionate Behaviour towards myself inclines me tobelieve that you will also be _pleased_ to hear, from these few lines, that very shortly after their receipt--if indeed not before--you mayexpect to see me arrive at Pulwick Priory. "

Miss Landale put down the letter, and gazed at her brother throughvacant mists of astonishment. 

"Why, I thought Tanty said she would not put foot in Pulwick againtill Adrian returned home. "

Rupert measured the innocent elderly countenance with a dark look. Hehad sundry excellent reasons, other than mere family affection, forremaining on good terms with his rich Irish aunt, but he had likewisereasons, these less obvious, for wishing to pay his devoirs to heranywhere but under the roof of which he was nominal master. 

"She has found it convenient to change her mind, " he said, with histwisting lip. "Constancy in your sex, my dear, is merely a matter ofconvenience--or opportunity. "

"Oh Rupert!" moaned Sophia, clasping the locket which contained herdead lover's hair with a gesture with which all who knew her were veryfamiliar. Mr. Landale never could resist a thrust at the faithfulfoolish bosom always ready to bleed under his stabs, yet neverresenting them. Inexplicable vagary of the feminine heart! MissSophia worshipped before the shrine of her younger brother, to theabsolute exclusion of any sentiment for the elder, whose generosityand kindness to her were yet as great as was Rupert's tyranny. 

"Go on, " said the latter, alternately smiling at his nails and bitingthem, "Tanty O'Donoghue observes that I shall be surprised to hearthat she will arrive very shortly after this letter, if not before it. Poor old Tanty, there can be no mistake about her nationality. Havethe kindness to read straight on, Sophia. I don't want to hear anymore of your interesting comments. And don't stop till you havefinished, no matter how amazed you are. "

Again he composed himself to listen, while his sister plunged at theletter, and, after several false starts, found her place andproceeded:

"Since, owing to his most _unfortunate_ peculiarity of Temperament andconsequent strange choice of abode, I cannot apply to my nephewAdrian, _à qui de droit_ (as Head of the House) I must needs addressmyself to you, my dear Rupert, to request hospitality for myself andthe two young Ladies now under my Charge. "

The letter wavered in Miss Sophia's hand and an exclamation hung uponher lip, but a sudden movement of Rupert's exquisite crossed legsrecalled her to her task. 

"These young ladies are _Mesdemoiselles de Savenaye_, and thedaughters of Madame la Comtesse de Savenaye, who was my sister Mary'schild. She and I, and Alice your mother, were sister co-heiresses asyou know, and therefore these young ladies are _my_ grand-nieces andyour _own_ cousins once removed. Of Cécile de Savenaye, her _strange_adventures and ultimate _sad_ Fate in which your own brother wasimplicated, you cannot but have heard, but you may probably haveforgotten even to the _very existence_ of these charming young women, who were nevertheless born at Pulwick, and whom you must at some timeor other have beheld as infants during your _excellent_ and _lamented_father's lifetime. They are, as you are doubtless also unaware--for Ihave remarked a _growing_ Tendency in the younger generations toneglect the study of Genealogy, even as it affects their ownFamilies--as well born on the father's side as upon the maternal. M. De Savenaye bore _argent à la fasce-canton d'hermine_, with an_augmentation of the fleurs de lis d'or_, _cleft in twain_ for hisancestor's _memorable_ deed at the siege of Dinan. "

"There is Tante O'Donoghue fully displayed, _haut volante_ as shemight say herself, " here interrupted Mr. Landale with a laugh. "Alwaysthe same, evidently. The first thing I remember about her is herlecturing me on genealogy and heraldry, when I wanted to go fishing, till, school-boy rampant as I was, I heartily wished her impaled anddebruised on her own Donoghue herse proper. For God's sake, Sophia, donot expect me to explain! Go on. "

"He was entitled to eighteen quarters, and related to such as Coucyand Armagnac and Tavannes, " proceeded Miss Sophia, controlling herbewilderment as best she might, "also to Gwynne of Llanadoc in thiskingdom--Honours to which Mesdemoiselles de Savenaye, being soleheiresses both of Kermelégan and Savenaye, not to speak of their ownmother's share of O'Donoghue, which now-a-days is of greatersubstance--are personally entitled. 

"If I am the _sole_ Relative they have left in these Realms, Adrianand you are the next. I have had the charge of my two young Kinswomenduring the last six months, that is since they left the Couvent desDames Anglaises in Jersey. 

"Now, I think it is time that your Branch of the Family should incurthe share of the _responsibility_ your relationship to them entails. 

"If Adrian were _as_ and _where_ he should be, I feel sure he wouldembrace this opportunity of doing his duty as the Head of the Housewithout the smallest hesitation, and I have no doubt that he wouldoffer the _hospitality_ of Pulwick Priory and his _Protection_ tothese amiable young persons for as long as they _remain unmarried_. 

"From you, my dear Nephew, who have undertaken under these melancholyfamily circumstances to fill your Brother's place, I do not, however, _expect_ so much; all I ask is that you and my niece Sophia be kindenough to _shelter_ and _entertain_ your cousins for the space of twomonths, while I remain at Bath for the benefit of my Health. 

"At my age (for it is of no use, nephew, for us to deny our years whenany Peerage guide must reveal them pretty closely to the curious), and I am this month passing sixty-nine, at my _age_ the charge of twohigh-spirited young Females, in whom conventional education has failedto subdue Aspirations for worldly happiness whilst it has left themsomewhat inexperienced in the Conventions of Society, I find a _littletrying_. It does not harmonise with the retired, peaceful existence towhich I am accustomed (and at my time of life, I think, entitled), inwhich it is my humble endeavour to wean myself from this earth whichis so full of Emptiness and to prepare myself for that other and_better_ Home into which we must all resign ourselves to enter. Andhappy, indeed, my dear Rupert, such of us as will be found worthy; forcome to it we all must, and the longer we live, the sooner we mayexpect to do so. 

"The necessity of producing them in Society, is, however, rendered amatter of greater responsibility by the fact of the _handsome_Fortunes which these young creatures possess already, not to speak oftheir expectations. "

Rupert, who had been listening to his aunt's letter, through theintermediary of Miss Sophia's depressing sing-song, with an abstractedair, here lifted up his head, and commanded the reader to repeat thislast passage. She did so, and paused, awaiting his further pleasure, while he threw his handsome head back upon his chair, and closed hiseyes as if lost in calculations. 

At length he waved his hand, and Miss Sophia proceeded after the usualfloundering:

"A neighbour of mine at Bunratty, Mrs. Hambledon of Brianstown, a_lively_ widow (herself one of the Macnamaras of the Reeks, and thus adistant connection of the Ballinasloe branch of O'Donoghues), and whomI had reason to believe I could trust--but I will not anticipate--tooka prodigious fancy to Miss Molly and proposed, towards the beginningof the Autumn, carrying her away to Dublin. At the same time the wetsummer, producing in me an acute recurrence of that Affection fromwhich, as you know, I suffer, and about which you _never fail_ to makesuch kind Enquiries at Christmas and Easter, compelled me to call inMr. O'Mally, the apothecary, who has been my very _obliging_ medicaladviser for so many years, and who strenuously advocated an immediatecourse of waters at Bath. In short, my dear Nephew, thus the matterwas settled, your cousin Molly departed _radiant_ with _good_ spirits, and _good_ looks for a spell of gayety in Dublin, while your cousinMadeleine, prepared (with _equal_ content) to accompany her old auntto Bath. It being arranged with Mrs. Hambledon that she should herselfconduct Molly to us later on. 

"We have been here about three weeks. Though persuaded by good Mr. O'Mally that the waters would benefit my old bones, I was actuated, Imust confess, by another motive in seeking this Fashionable Resort. Insuch a place as this, thronged as it is by all the Rank and Family ofEngland, one can at least know _who is who_, and I was not withouthopes that my nieces, with their faces, their name, and theirfortunes, would have the opportunity of contracting suitableAlliances, and thus relieve me of a charge for which I am, I fear, little fitted. 

"But, alas! my dear Rupert, I was most woefully mistaken. Bath is_distinctly not_ the place for two beautiful and unsophisticatedHeiresses, and I am certainly neither possessed of the Spirits, nor ofthe Health to guard them from fortune-hunters and _needy nameless_Adventurers. While it is my desire to impress upon you, and my nieceSophia, that the conduct of these young ladies has been _quite_ beyondreproach, I will not conceal from you that the attentions of a certainperson, of the name of _Smith_, known here, and a favorite in thecircles of frivolity and fashion as _Captain Jack_, have already madeMadeleine _conspicuous_, and although the dear girl conducts herselfwith the utmost propriety, there is an air of _Romance_ and _mystery_about the Young Man, not to speak of his unmistakable good looks, which have determined me to remove her from his vicinity before herAffections be _irreparably_ engaged. As for Molly, who is a thoroughO'Donoghue and the image of her grandmother, that celebratedMurthering Moll (herself the toast of Bath in our young days), whoseelopement with the Marquis de Kermelégan, after he had killed anEnglish rival in a duel, was once a nine-days' wonder in this verytown, and of whom you must have heard, Mrs. Hambledon restored her tomy care only three days ago, and she has already twenty Beaux to herString, though favouring _nobody_, I am bound to say, but her ownamusement. Yesterday she departed under Mrs. Hambledon's chaperonage, in the Company of a dozen of the highest in rank here, on anexpedition to Clifton; the while my demure Madeleine spends the day atthe house of her dear friend Lady Maria Harewood, whither, I onlylearnt upon her return at ten o'clock under his escort, _CaptainJack_--in my days that sort of _captain_ would have been stronglysuspected, of having a shade too much of the _Heath_ or the _LondonRoad_ about him--had likewise been convened. It was long aftermidnight when, with a great _tow-row_, a coach full of very merrycompany (amongst whom the widow Hambledon struck me as over-merry, perhaps) landed my other Miss _sur le perron_. 

"This has decided me. We shall decamp _sans tambou ni trompette_. To-morrow, without allowing discussion from the girls (in which Ishould probably be worsted), we pack ourselves into my travellingcoach, and find our Way to you. But, until we are fairly on the Road, I shall not even let these ladies know _whither_ we are bound. 

"With your kind permission, then, I shall remain a few days atPulwick, to recruit from the _fatigues_ of such a long Journey, beforeleaving your fair cousins in your charge, and in that of the gentleSophia (whom I trust to entertain them with something besides herusual melancholy), till the time comes for me to bring them back withme to Bunratty. 

"Unless, therefore, you should hear to the contrary, you will knowthat on Tuesday your three _unprotected_ female relatives will behoping to see your travelling carriage arrive to fetch them at theCrown in Lancaster. 

"Your Affectionate Aunt, "ROSE O'DONOGHUE. "

As Miss Landale sighed forth the concluding words, she dropped thelittle folio on her lap, and looked at her brother with a world ofapprehension in her faded eyes. 

"Oh, Rupert, what shall we do?"

"Do, " said Mr. Landale, quickly turning on her, out of his absorption, "you will kindly see that suitable rooms are prepared for your auntand cousins, and you will endeavour, if you please, to show theseladies a cheerful countenance, as your aunt requests. "

"The oak and the chintz rooms, I suppose, " Sophia timidly suggested. "Tanty used to say she liked the aspect, and I daresay the youngladies will find it pleasant to look out on the garden. "

"Ay, " returned Rupert, absently. He had risen from his seat, andfallen to pacing the room. Presently a short laugh broke from him. "Tolerably cool, I must say, " he remarked, "tolerably cool. It seemsto be a tradition with that Savenaye family, when in difficulties, togo to Pulwick. "

Miss Landale looked up with relief. Perhaps Rupert would think betterof it, and make up his mind to elude receiving the unwelcome visitorsafter all. But his next speech dashed her budding hopes. 

"Ay, as in the days of their mother before them, when she came here tolay her eggs, like a cuckoo in another bird's nest--I wish they hadbeen addled, I do indeed--we may expect to have the whole place turnedtopsy-turvy, I suppose. It is a pretty assortment, _faith_ (as Tantysays herself); an old papist, and two young ones, fresh from a conventschool--and of these, one a hoyden, and the other lovesick! Faugh!Sophia you will have to keep your eyes open when the old lady is gone. I'll have no unseemly pranks in this house. "

"Oh, Rupert, " with a moan of maidenly horror, and consciousincompetence. 

"Stop that, " cried the brother, with a contained intensity ofexasperation, at which the poor lady jumped and trembled as if she hadbeen struck. "All your whining won't improve matters. Now listen tome, " sitting down beside her, and speaking slowly and impressively, "you are to make our relatives feel welcome, do you understand?Everything is to be of the best. Get out the embroidered sheets, andsee that there are flowers in the rooms. Tell the cook to keep backthat haunch of venison, the girls won't like it, but the old ladyknows a good thing when she gets it--let there be lots of sweet thingsfor the young ones too. I shall be giving some silver out thisafternoon. I leave it to you to see that it is properly cleaned. Whatare you mumbling about to yourself? Write it down if you can'tremember, and now go, go--I am busy. "

PART II

"MURTHERING MOLL THE SECOND"

 _Then did the blood awaken in the veins Of the young maiden wandering in the fields. _

 LUTEPLAYER'S SONG. 

CHAPTER X

THE THRESHOLD OF WOMANHOOD

 Onward floweth the water, onward through meadows broad, "How happy, " the meadows say, "art thou to be rippling onward. " "And my heart is beating, beating beneath my girdle here;" "O Heart, " the girdle saith, "how happy art thou that thou beatest. "

 _Luteplayer's Song. _

DUBLIN, _October 15th, 1814_. --This day do I, Molly de Savenaye, beginmy diary. 

Madeleine writes to me from Bath that she has purchased a very finebook, in which she intends to set forth each evening all that hashappened her since the morning; she advises me to do so too. She saysthat since _real life_ has begun for us; life, of which everysucceeding day is not, as in the convent, the repetition of theprevious day, but brings some new discovery, pleasure, or pain, weought to write down and preserve their remembrance. 

It will be so interesting for us to read when a new life once morebegins for us, and we are _married_. Besides it is the _fashion_, andall the young ladies she knows do it. And she has, she says, alreadyplenty to write down. Now I _should_ like to know what about. 

When ought one to start such a record? Surely not on a day like this. 

"Why _demme_" (as Mrs. Hambledon's nephew says), "_what the deyvil_have I got to say?"

_Item:_ I went out shopping this morning with Mrs. Hambledon, and, bearing Madeleine's advice in mind, purchased at Kelly's, in SackvilleStreet, an album book, bound in green morocco, with clasp and lock, which Mr. Kelly protests is quite secure. 

_Item:_ We met Captain Segrave of the Royal Dragoons (who was soattentive to me at Lady Rigtoun's rout, two days ago). He looked verywell on his charger, but how conceited! When he saw me, he rolled hiseyes and grew quite red; and then he stuck his spurs into his horse, that we might admire how he could sit it; which he did, indeed, toperfection. 

Mrs. Hambledon looked vastly knowing, and I laughed. If ever I try tofancy myself married to such a man I cannot help laughing. 

This, however, is not diary. --_Item:_ We returned home because itbegan to rain, and to pass the time, here am I at my book. 

But is _this_ the sort of thing that will be of interest to readhereafter? I have begun too late; I should have written in those dayswhen I saw the dull walls of our convent prison for the last time. Itseems so far back now (though, by the calendar it is hardly sixmonths), that I cannot quite recall how it felt to live in prison. Andyet it was not unhappy, and there was no horror in the thought we bothhad sometimes then, that we should pass and end our lives in the cage. It did not strike us as hard. It seemed, indeed, in the nature ofthings. But the bare thought of returning to that existence now, toresume the placid daily task, to fold up again like a plant that hasonce expanded to sun and breeze, to have never a change of scene, ofimpression, to look forward to nothing but _submission_, sleep, and_death_; oh, it makes me turn cold all over!

And yet there are women who, of their own will, give up the _freedomof the world_ to enter a convent _after_ they have tasted life! Oh, Iwould rather be the poorest, the ugliest peasant hag, toiling fordaily bread, than one of these cold cloistered souls, so that the freeair of heaven, be it with the winds or the rain, might beat upon me, so that I might live and love _as I like_, do right _as I like_; ay, and do wrong _if_ I liked, with the free will which is my _own_. 

We were told that the outer world, with all its sorrows and trials, and dangers--how I remember the Reverend Mother's words and face, andhow they impressed me then, and how I should laugh at them, _now!_--that the world was but a valley of tears. We were warned thatall that awaited us, if we left the fold, was _misery_; that the joysof this world were _bitter_ to the taste, its pleasures _hollow_, andits griefs _lasting_. 

We believed it. And yet, when the choice was actually ours to make, we chose all we had been taught to dread and despise. Why? I wonder. For the same reason as Eve ate the apple, I suppose. I would, if I hadbeen Eve. I almost wish I could go back now, for a day, to the coolwhite rooms, to see the nuns flitting about like black and whiteghosts, with only a jingle of beads to warn one of their coming, seethe blue sky through the great bare windows, and the shadows of thetrees lengthening on the cold flagged floors, hear the bells goingding-dong, ding-dong, and the murmur of the sea in the distance, andthe drone of the school, and the drone of the chapel, to go back, andfeel once more the dull sort of content, the calmness, the rest!

But no, no! I should be trembling all the while lest the blessed doorsleading back to that _horrible_ world should never open to me again. 

The sorrows and trials of the world! I suppose the Reverend Motherreally meant it; and if I had gone on living there till my face waswrinkled like hers, poor woman, I might have thought so too, in theend, and talked the same nonsense. 

Was it really I that endured such a life for seventeen years? O God! Iwonder that the sight of the swallows coming and going, the sound ofthe free waves, did not drive me mad. Twist as I will my memory, Icannot recall _that_ Molly of six months ago, whose hours and dayspassed and dropped all alike, all lifeless, just like the slow tac, tac, tac of our great horloge in the Refectory, and were to go on asslow and as alike, for ever and ever, till she was old, dried, wrinkled, and then died. The real Molly de Savenaye's life began onthe April morning when that dear old turbaned fairy godmother of ourscarried us, poor little Cinderellas, away in her coach. Well do Iremember my birthday. 

I have read since in one of those musty books of Bunratty, that_moths_ and _butterflies_ come to life by shaking themselves out, onefine day, from a dull-looking, shapeless, ugly thing they call a_grub_, in which they have been buried for a long time. They unfoldtheir wings and fly out in the sunshine, and flit from flower toflower, and they look beautiful and happy--the world, the wickedworld, is open to them. 

There were pictures in the book; the ugly grub below, dreary andbrown, and the lovely _butterfly_ in all its colours above. I showedthem to Madeleine, and said: "Look, Madeleine, as we were, and as weare. "

And she said: "Yes, those brown gowns they made us wear were ugly; butI should not like to put on anything so bright as red and yellow. Would you?"

That is the worst of Madeleine; she never realises in the least what Imean. And she _does_ love her clothes; that is the difference betweenher and me, she loves fine things because they are fine and dainty andall that--I like them because they make _me_ fine. 

And yet, how she did weep when she left the convent. Madeleine wouldhave made a good nun after all; she does so hate anything ugly orcoarse. She grows quite white if she hears people fighting; if thereis a "row" or a "shindy, " as they say here. Whereas Tanty and I thinkit all the fun in the world, and would enjoy joining in the frayourselves, I believe, if we dared. I know _I_ should; it sets my bloodtingling. But Madeleine is a real princess, a sort of Ermine; and yetshe enjoys her new life, too, the beauty of it, the refinement, beingwaited upon and delicately fed and clothed. But although she hasceased to weep for the convent, if it had not been for me she would bethere still. The only thing, I believe, that could make me weep nowwould be to find one fine morning that this had only been a dream, andthat I was once more _the grub_! To find that I could not open mywindow and look into the wide, wide world over to the long, greenhills in the distance, and know that I could wander or gallop up tothem, as I did at Bunratty, and see for myself _what liesbeyond_--surely that was a taste of heaven that day when Tanty Rosefirst allowed me to mount her old pony, and I flew over the turf withthe wind whistling in my ears--to find that I could not go out when Ipleased and hear new voices and see new faces, and men and women who_live each their own life_, and not the _same_ life as mine. 

When I think of what I am now, and what I might have remained, Ibreathe deep and feel like singing; I stretch my arms out and feellike flying. 

Our aunt told us she thought Bunratty would be dull for us, and so itwas in comparison with this place. Perhaps _this_ is dull incomparison with what _may_ come. For good Tanty, as she likes us tocall her, is intent on doing great things for us. 

"Je vous marierai, " she tells us in her funny old French, "Je vousmarierai bien, mes filles, si vous êtes sages, " and she winks botheyes. 

_Marriage!_ _That_, it is quite evident, is the goal of every properlyconstituted young female; and every respectable person who has thecare of said young female is consequently bent upon her reaching thatgoal. 

So marriage is _another_ good thing to look forward to. And _love_, that love all the verses, all the books one reads are so full of;_that_ will come to us. 

They say that _love is life_. Well, all I want is to live. But with agrey past such as we have had, the present is good enough to ponderupon. We now can lie abed if we have sweet dreams and pursue themwaking, and be lazy, yet not be troubled with the self-indulgence aswith an enormity; or we can rise and breathe the sunshine at our owntime. We can be frivolous, and yet meet with smiles in response, dressour hair and persons, and be pleased with ourselves, and with beingadmired or envied, yet not be told horrid things about death andcorruption and skeletons. And, above all--oh, above _all_, we canthink of the future as different from the past, as _changing_, be iteven for the worse; as unknown and fascinating, not as a repetition, until death, of the same dreary round. 

In Mrs. Hambledon's parlour here are huge glasses at either end;whenever you look into them you see a never-ending chain of rooms withyourself standing in the middle, vanishing in the distance, every onethe same, with the same person in the middle, only a little smaller, alittle more insignificant, a little darker, till it all becomes_nothing_. It always reminds me of life's prospects in the convent. 

I dislike that room. When I told Mrs. Hambledon the reason why, shelaughed, and promised me that, with my looks and disposition, my lifewould be eventful enough. I have every mind that it shall. 

 * * * * *

_October 18th. _--Yesterday, I woke up in an amazing state ofhappiness, though for no particular reason that I can think of. Itcould not be simply because we were to go out for a visit to thecountry and see new people and places, for I have already learned tofind that most new people are cut out on the same pattern as those onealready knows. It must have been rather because I awoke under theimpression of one of my lovely dreams--such dreams as I have only hadsince I left my _grub_ state; dreams of space, air, long, long viewsof beautiful scenery, always changing, always wider, such as swallowsflying between sky and earth might see, under an exquisite andbrilliant light, till for very joy I wake up, my cheeks covered withtears. 

This time, I was sitting on the prow of some vessel with lofty whitesails, and it was cutting through the water, blue as the sky, withwreaths of snow-like foam, towards some unknown shores, ever fasterand faster, and I was singing to some one next to me on the prow--someone I did not know, but who felt with me--singing a song so perfect, so sweet (though it had no human words) that I thought _it explainedall_: the blue of the heaven, the freshness of the breeze, thefragrance of the earth, and why we were so eagerly pressing onwards. Ithought the melody was such that when once heard it could never beforgotten. When I woke it still rang in my ears, but now I can no morerecall it. How is it we never know such delight in waking hours? Isthat some of the joy we are to feel in Heaven, the music we are tohear? And yet it can be heard in this life if one only knew where togo and listen. And this life is beautiful which lies in front of us, though they would speak of it as a sorrowful span not to be reckoned. It is good to be young and think of the life still to come. Everymoment is precious for its enjoyment, and yet sometimes I find thatone only knows of a pleasure when it is just gone. One ought to tryand be more awake at each hour to the happiness it may bring. I shalltry, and you, my diary, shall help me. 

This is really _no_ diary-keeping. It is not a bit like those onereads in books. It ought to tell of other people and the events ofeach day. But other people are really very uninteresting; as forevents, well, so far, they are uninteresting too; it is only what theycause to spring up in our hearts that is worth thinking upon; and thatis so difficult to put in words that mostly I spend my time merelypondering and not writing. 

Last night Mrs. Hambledon took me to the _play_. It was for the firsttime in my life, and I was full of curiosity. It was a long drama, pretty enough and sometimes very exciting. But I could see that thoughthe actress was very handsome and mostly so unhappy as to draw tearsfrom the spectators, there were people, especially some gentlemen, whowere more interested in looking at the box where I sat with Mrs. Hambledon. Indeed, I could not pretend, when I found myself before myglass that night, that I was not amazingly prettier than that Mrs. Colebrook, about whose beauty the whole town goes mad. 

When I recalled the hero's ravings about his Matilda's eyes andcheeks, and her foot and her sylph-like waist, and her raven hair, Iwondered what _that_ young man would say of me if he were my lover andI his persecuted mistress. The Matilda was a pleasing person enough;but if I take her point by point, it would be absurd to speak of hercharms in the same breath with mine. Oh, my dear Molly, how beautifulI thought you last night! How happy I should be, were I a dashingyoung lover and eyes like _yours_ smiled on me. I never before thoughtmyself prettier than Madeleine, but now I do. 

Lovers, love, mistress, bride; they talked of nothing else in theplay. And it was all ecstasy in their words, and nothing but _misery_in fact (just as the Reverend Mother would have had it). 

The young man who played the hero was a very fine fellow; and yet whenI conceive _him_ making love to me as he did last night to Mrs. Colebrook, the notion seems really _too_ ludicrous!

What sort of man then is it I would allow to love me? I do not mindthe thought of lovers sighing and burning for me (as some do nowindeed, or pretend to) I like to feel that I can crush them with afrown and revive them with a smile; I like to see them fighting for myfavour. But to give a man the right to love me, the right to mysmiles, the _right to me_! Indeed, I have yet seen _none_ who couldmake me bear the thought. 

And yet I think that I could love, and I know that the man that I amto love must be living somewhere till fate brings him to me. He doesnot think of me. He does not know of me. And neither of us, I suppose, will taste life as life is till the day when we meet. 

CAMDEN PLACE, BATH, _November 1st_. --Bath at last, which, must pleasepoor Mrs. Hambledon exceedingly, for she certainly did _not_ enjoy thetransit. I cannot conceive how people can allow themselves to be soutterly distraught by illness. I feel I can never have any respect forher again; she moaned and lamented in such cowardly fashion, was sopeevish all the time on board the vessel, and looked so very begrimedand untidy and _plain_ when she was carried out on Bristol quay. Thecaptain called it _dirty_ weather, but I thought it _lovely_, and Idon't think I ever enjoyed myself more--except when Captain Segrave'sBlack Douglas ran away with me in Phoenix Park. 

It was beautiful to see our brave boat plough the sea and quiver withanger, as if it were a living thing, when it was checked by some greatgreen wave, then gather itself again under the wind and dash on to thefight, until it conquered. And when we came into the river and the sunshone once more it glided on swiftly, though looking just a littletired for a while until its decks and sails were dry and clean again, and I thought it was just like a bird that has shaken and plumeditself. I was sorry to leave it. The captain and the mate and thesailors, who had wrapped me up in their great, stiff tarpaulin coatsand placed me in a safe corner where I could sit out and look, werealso sorry that I should go. 

But it was good to be with Madeleine again and Tanty Donoghue, whoalways has such a kind smile on her old wrinkled face when she looksat me. 

Madeleine was astonished when I told her I had loved the storm at seaand when I mimicked poor Mrs. Hambledon. She says she also thought shewas dying, so ill was she on her crossing, and that she was quite aweek before she got over the impression. 

It seems odd to think that we are sisters, and twin sisters too; in somany things she is different from me. She has changed in manner sinceI left her. She seems so absorbed in some great thought that all herwords and smiles have little meaning in them. I told her I had triedto keep my diary, but had not done much work, and when I asked to seehers (for a model) Madeleine blushed, and said I should see it thisday year. 

_Madeleine is in love_; that is the only way I can account for thatblush. I fear she is a sly puss, but there is such a bustle around us, and so much to do and see, I have no time to make her confess. So Isaid I would keep mine from her for that period also. 

It seems a long span to look ahead. What a number of things willhappen before this day year!

BATH, _November 3rd_. --Bath is delightful! I have only been here twodays, and already I am what Tanty, in her old-fashioned way, calls_the belle_. Already there are a dozen sparks who declare that my eyeshave _shot death_ to them. This afternoon comes my Lord of Manningham, nicknamed _King of Bath_, to "drink a dish of tea, " as he has it, withhis "dear old friend Miss O'Donoghue. "

Tanty has been here three weeks, and he has only just discovered herexistence, and remembered their tender friendship. Of course, I knowvery well what has really brought him. He is Lord Dereham'sgrandfather on the mother's side, and Lord Dereham, who is the son ofthe Duke of Wells, is "the catch, " as Mrs. Hambledon vows, of thefashionable world this year. And Lord Dereham has seen me twice, and_is in love with me_. 

But as Lord Dereham is more like a little white rat than a man, andswears more than he converses--which would be very shocking if it werenot for his lisp, which makes it very funny--needless to say, my diarydear, your Molly is not in love with him--He has no chance. 

And so Lord Manningham comes to tea, and Tanty orders me to remain andsee her "old friend" instead of going to ride with the widowHambledon. The widow Hambledon and I are everywhere together, and sheknows all the most entertaining people in Bath, whereas Madeleine, whom I have hardly seen at all except at night, when I am so deadtired that I go to sleep as soon as my head touches the pillow (I vowTanty's manner of speech is catching), Miss Madeleine keeps to her ownselect circle, and turns up her haughty little nose at _my_ friends. 

So now Madeleine is punished, for Tanty and I have had the honour ofreceiving the _King of Bath_, and I have been vouchsafed the stamp ofhis august approval. 

"My dear Miss O'Donoghue, " he cried, as I curtsied, "do my sensesdeceive me, or do I not once more behold _Murthering Moll_?"

"I thought you could not fail to notice the likeness; my niece is, indeed, a complete O'Donoghue, " says Tanty, amazingly pleased. 

"Likeness, ma'am, " cried the old wretch, bowing again, and scatteringhis snuff all over the place, while I sweep him another splendidcurtsey, "likeness, ma'am, why this is no feeble copy, no humbleimitation, 'tis _Murdering Moll herself_, and glad I am to see heragain. " And then he catches me under the chin, and peers into my facewith his dim, wicked old eyes. "And so you are Murdering Moll'sdaughter, " says he, chuckling to himself. "Ay, she and I were verygood friends, my pretty child, very good friends, and that not so longago, either. Ay, _Mater pulchra, filia pulchrior_. "

"But I happen to be her grand-daughter, please my lord, " said I, andthen I ran to fetch him a chair (for I was dreadfully afraid he wasgoing to kiss me). But though no one has ever accused me of speakingtoo modestly to be heard, my lord had a sudden fit of deafness, and Isaw Tanty give me a little frown, while the old thing--he must be mucholder than Tanty even--tottered into a chair, and went on mumbling. 

"I was only a boy in those days, my dear, only a boy, as your goodaunt will tell you. I can remember how the bells rang the threebeautiful Irish sisters into Bath, and I and the other dandies stoodto watch them drive by. The bells rang in the _belles_ in those days, my dear, he, he, he! only we used to call them 'toasts' then, and yourmother was the most beautiful of 'the three Graces'--we christenedthem 'the three Graces'--and by gad she led us all a pretty dance!"

"Ah, my lord, " says Tanty, and I could see her old eyes gleam thoughher tone was so pious, "I fear we were three wild Irish girls indeed!"

Lord Manningham was too busy ogling me to attend to her. 

"Your mother was just such another as you, and she had just such apair of dimples, " said he. 

"You mean my grandmother, " shouted I in his ear, just for fun, thoughTanty looked as if she were on pins and needles. But he only pinchedmy cheek again and went on:

"Before she had been here a fortnight all the bucks in the town wereat her feet. And so was I, so was I. Only, by gad, I was too young, you know, as Miss O'Donoghue here will tell you. But she liked me; sheused to call me her 'little manny. ' I declare I might have marriedher, only there were family reasons, and I was such a lad, you know. And then Jack Waterpark, some of us thought she would have had _him_in the end--being an Irishman, and a rich man, and a marquis toboot--he gave her the name of _Murthering Moll_, because of herkilling eyes, young lady--he! he! he!--and there was Ned Cuffe readyto hang himself for her, and Jim Denham, and old Beau Vernon, ay, anda score of others. And then one night at the Assembly Rooms, after thedancing was over and we gay fellows were all together, up getsWaterpark, he was a little tipsy, my dear, and by gad I can hear himspeak now, with that brogue of his. 'Boys, ' he says, 'it's no use yourtrying for her any more, for by God _I've won her_. ' And out of hisbreast-pocket he pulls a little knot of blue ribbon. Your mother, mydear, had worn a very fine gown that evening, with little knots ofblue ribbon all over the bodice of it. The words were not out of hismouth when Ned Cuffe starts to his feet as white as a sheet: 'It's adamned lie, ' he cries, and out of his pocket _he_ pulls another littleknot. 'She gave it to me with her own hands, ' he cried and glaresround at us all. And then Vernon bursts out laughing and flourishes athird little bow in our eyes, and I had one too, I need not tell you, and so had all the rest, all save a French fellow--I forget hisname--and it was he she had danced with the most of all. Ah, MissO'Donoghue, how the little jade's eyes sparkle! I warrant you havenever told her the story for fear she would want to copy her mother inother ways besides looks--Hey? Well, my pretty, give me your littlehand, and then I shall go on--pretty little hand, um--um--um!" andthen he kissed my hand, the horrid, snuffy thing! but I allowed it, for I did so want to hear how it all ended. 

"And then, and then, " I said. 

"And then, my dear, this French fellow, your papa he must havebeen--so I suppose I must not abuse him, and he was a very fine youngman after all, and a man of honour as well--he stood and cursed usall. "

"'You English fools, ' he said, 'you braggards--cowards. ' And heseized a glass of wine from the table and with a sweep he dashed it atus and ended by flinging the empty glass in Lord Waterpark's face. Itwas the neatest thing you ever saw, for we all got a drop exceptWaterpark, and he got the glass. 'I challenge you all, ' said theFrenchman, 'I'll fight you one by one, and I shall have her into thebargain. ' And so he did, my dear, he fought us all, one after theother; there were five of us; he was a devil with the sword, but NedCuffe ran him through for all that--and he was a month getting overit, but as soon as he could crawl again he vowed himself ready forWaterpark, and weak as he was he ran poor Waterpark through the lungs. Some said Jack spitted himself on his sword--but dead he was anyhow, and monsieur your father--what was his name? Kerme-something--was offwith your mother before the rest of us were well out of bed. "

"Fie, fie, my lord, " said Tanty, "you should not recall old stories inthis manner!"

"Gad, ma'am, I warrant this young lady is quite ready to provide youwith a few new ones, " chuckled my lord; and as there was no more to beextracted from him but foolish old jokes and dreadful smiles, Icontrived to free my "pretty little hand, " and sit down demurely byTanty's side like the modest retiring young female I should be. 

But my blood was dancing in my veins--the blood of MurtheringMoll--doddering old idiot as he is, Lord Manningham is right for once, I mean to take quite as much out of life as she did. That indeed isworth being young and beautiful for! We know nothing of our family, save that both father and mother were killed in Vendée. Tanty neverwill tell us anything about them (except their coats of arms), and Iam afraid even to start the subject, for she always branches off uponheraldry and then we are in for hours of it. But after Lord Manninghamwas gone I asked her when and how my grandmother died. 

"She died when your mother was born, my dear, " said Tanty, "she wasnot as old as you are now, and your grandfather never smiled again, orso they said. "

That sobered me a little. Yet she lived her life so well, while shedid live, that I who have wasted twenty precious years can find in myheart rather to envy than to pity my beautiful grandmother. 

 * * * * *

_November 5th. _--It is _three o'clock in the morning_, but I do notfeel at all inclined to go to bed. Madeleine is sleeping, poor prettypale Madeleine! with the tears hardly dry upon her cheeks and I canhear her sighing in her sleep. 

I was right, she is in love, and the gentleman she loves is notapproved of by Tanty and the upshot of it all is we are to leave dearBath, delightful Bath, to-morrow--to-day rather--for some unknownpenitential region which our stern relative as yet declines to name. Iam longing to hear more about it; but Tanty, who, though she talks somuch, can keep her own counsel better than any woman I know, will notgive me any further information beyond the facts that the delinquentwho has dared to aspire to my sister is a person of _the name ofSmith_, and that it would not do at all. 

I have not the heart to wake Madeleine to make her tell me more, thoughI really ought to pinch her well for being so secretive--besides, myhead is so full of my own day that I want to get it all written down, and I shall never have done so unless I begin at the beginning. 

Yesterday, then, at 3 o'clock in the afternoon Lord Dereham's coachand four came clattering up to our door to call for me. Mrs. Hambledonwas already installed and Lady Soames and a dozen other of the_fashionables_ of Bath. My little Lord Marquis had kept the box seatfor me, at which the other ladies, even my dear friend and chaperon, looked rather green. The weather was glorious, and off we went with aflourish of trumpets and whips, and I knew I should enjoy myselfmonstrously. 

And so I did. But it was the drive back that was the _best_ of all. Wenever started till near nine o'clock, and Lord Dereham insisted on mysitting beside him again--at which all the ladies looked daggers _atme_ and all the gentlemen daggers _at him_. And then we sang songs andtore along uphill and down dale, under the beautiful moonlight, through the still air, till all at once we found we had lost our way. We had to drive on till we came to an inn and we could make inquiries. There the gentlemen opened another hamper of wine, and when we setoff again I promise you they were all pretty _lively_ (and most ofthe ladies too, for the matter of that). As for me, who never drankanything but milk or water till six months ago, I have not learnt tolike wine yet, so, though I sipped out of the glass to keep the fungoing, I contrived to dispose of the contents, quietly over the sideof the coach, when no one was looking. 

It was a drive to remember. We came to a big hill, and as we weregoing down it at a smart pace the coach began to sway, then the ladiesbegan to screech, and even the men looked so scared that I laughedoutright. Lord Dereham was perfectly tipsy and he did not know theroad a bit, but he drove in beautiful style and was extraordinarilyamusing; as soon as the coach took to swaying, instead of slackeningspeed as they all begged him, he _lashed_ the horses into a tearinggallop, looking over his shoulder at the rest and cursing them withthe greatest energy, grinning with rage, and looking more like alittle white rat than _ever_. 

"Give me the whip, " said I, "and I shall whip the team while youdrive. "

"_Cuth me_, " cried he, "if you are not worth the whole coach-load adozen times over. "

On we went; the coach rocked, the horses galloped, and I knew at anymoment the whole thing might upset, and I flourished my whip andlashed at the steaming flanks and I never felt what it was to reallyenjoy myself before. 

Presently, although we were tearing along so fast, the coach steadieditself and went as straight as an arrow; and this, it seems, it wouldnever have done had not Lord Dereham kept up the pace. 

And all the rest of the drive his lordship wanted to kiss me. I wasnot a bit frightened, though he was drunk, but every time he grew tooforward I just flicked at the horses with the whip, and I think he sawthat I would have cracked him across the face quite as readily if hedared to presume. 

No doubt a dozen times during the day I could have secured a coronetfor myself, not to speak of future 'strawberry leaves, ' as my auntsays, if I had cared to; but who could think of loving a man like_that_? He can manage four horses, and he has shot two men in a duel, and he can drink three bottles of wine at a sitting, and when onetries to find something more to say for him, lo! that is all!

When we at length arrived at Camden Place, for I vowed they must leaveme home the first, there was the rarest sport. My lord's grooms mustset to blow the horns, for they were as drunk as their master, whileone of the gentlemen played upon the knocker till the whole crescentwas aroused. 

Then the doors opened suddenly, _and Tanty appears_ on the threshold, holding a candle. Her turban was quite crooked, with the birds ofParadise over one eye, and I never saw her old nose look so hooked. All the gentlemen set up a shout, and Sir Thomas Wrexham began to crowlike a cock for no reason on earth that I can think of. The servantswere holding up lanterns, but the moon was nigh as bright as day. 

Tanty just looked round upon them one after another, and in spite ofher crooked turban I think they all grew frightened. Then she caughthold of me, and just whisked me behind her. Next she spied out Mrs. Hambledon, who had been asleep inside the coach, and now tumbledforth, yawning and gaping. 

"And so, madam, " cries Tanty to her, not very loud, but in a voicethat made even me tremble; "so, madam, this is how you fulfil theconfidence I placed in you. A pretty chaperon you are to have thecharge of a young lady; though, indeed, considering your years, madam, I might have been justified in trusting you. "

Mrs. Hambledon, cut short in the middle of a loud yawn by this attack, was a sight to see. 

"Hoighty-toighty, ma'am!" she cried, indignantly, as soon as she couldget her voice; "here's a fine to-do. It is my fault, of course, thatLord Dereham should mistake the road. And my fault too, no doubt, thatyour miss should make an exhibition of herself riding on the box withthe gentlemen at this hour of night, when I implored her to comeinside with me, were it only for the sake of common female propriety. "

"Common female indeed!" echoed Tanty, with a snort; "the poor childknew better. "

"Cuth the old cats! they'll have each other'th eyeth out, " here criedmy lord marquis, interposing his little tipsy person between them. Hehad scrambled down the box after me, and was listening with an air ofprofound wisdom that made me feel fit to die laughing. "Don't you mindher, old lady, " he went on, addressing Tanty; "Mith Molly ith quiteable to take care of herself--damme if she'th not. "

Aunt Donoghue turned upon him majestically. 

"And then that is more than can be said for you, my poor young man, "she exclaimed; and I vow he looked as sobered as if she had flung abucket of cold water over him. Upon this she retired and shut thedoor, and marched me upstairs before her without a word. 

Before my room door she stopped. 

"Mrs. Dempsey has already packed your sister's trunks, " she said, in avery dry way; "and she will begin to pack yours early--I was going tosay to-morrow--but you keep such hours, my dear--it will be _to-day_. "

I stared at her as if she had gone mad. 

"You and your sister, " she went on, "have got beyond me. I have takenmy resolution and given my orders, and there is not the least usemaking a scene. "

And then it came out about Madeleine. At first I thought I would gointo a great passion and refuse to obey, but after a minute or two Isaw it was, as she said, no use. Tanty was as cool as a cucumber. ThenI thought perhaps I might mollify her if I could cry, but I couldn'tpump up a tear; I never can; and at last when I went into my room andsaw poor Madeleine, who has cried herself to sleep, evidently, Iunderstood that there was nothing for us but to do as we were told. 

And now I can hear Tanty fussing about her room still--she has beenwriting, too--cra, cra, cra--this last hour. I wonder who to? Afterall there is some fun in being taken off mysteriously we don't knowwhere. I should like to go and kiss her, but she thinks I am abed. 

CHAPTER XI

A MASTERFUL OLD MAID

No contrary advice having reached Pulwick since Miss O'Donoghue's_letter of invoice_, as Mr. Landale facetiously described it, he droveover to Lancaster on the day appointed to meet the party. 

And thus it came to pass that through the irresistible management ofMiss O'Donoghue, who put into the promotion of her scheme all theenergy belonging to her branch of the family, together with the longhabit of authority of the _Tante à héritage_, the daughters of Cécilede Savenaye returned to that first home of theirs, of which they hadforgotten even the name. 

Mr. Landale had not set eyes on his valuable relative for many years, but her greeting, at the first renewal of intercourse which took placein the principal parlour of the Lancaster Inn, was as easily detachedin manner as though they had just met again after a trifling absenceand she was bringing her charges to his house in accordance with amutual agreement. 

"My dear Rupert, " cried she, "I am glad to see you again. I need notask you how you are, you look so extremely sleek and prosperous. Adrian's wide acres are succulent, hey? I should have known youanywhere; though to be sure, you are hardly large enough for thebreed, you have the true Landale stamp on you, the unmistakableLandale style of feature. _Semper eadem. _ In that sense, at least, onecan apply your ancient and once worthy motto to you; and you know, nephew, since you have conveniently changed your faith, both to Godand king, this sentiment strikes one as a sarcasm amidst theachievements of Landale, you backsliders! Ah, we O'Donoghues havebetter maintained our device, _sans changier_. "

Rupert, to whom the well-known volubility of his aunt was mostparticularly disagreeable, but who had nevertheless saluted thestalwart old lady's cheek with much affection, here bent his suppleback with a sort of mocking gallantry. 

"You maintain your _device_, permit me to say, my dear aunt, asostentatiously in your person as we renegade Landales ourselves. "

"Pooh, pooh! I am too old a bird to be caught by such chaff, nephew;it is pearls before. . . . I mean it is too late in the day, my dear. Keep it for the young things. And indeed I see the sheep's eyes youhave been casting in their direction. Come nearer, young ladies, andmake your cousin's acquaintance, " beckoning to her nieces, who, arrayed in warm travelling pelisses and beaver bonnets of fashionableappearance, stood in the background near the fireplace. 

"They are very like, are they not?" she continued. "Twins always are;as like as two peas. And yet these are as different as day and nightwhen you come to know them. Madeleine is the eldest; that is she inthe beaver fur; Molly prefers bear. Without their bonnets you willdistinguish them by their complexion. Molly has raven hair (she is thetruest O'Donoghue), whilst Madeleine is fair, _blonde_, like herBreton father. "

The sisters greeted their new-found guardian, each in her own way. And, in spite of the disguising bonnets and their surprisingsimilarity of voice, height, and build, the difference was more markedthan that of beaver and bear. 

Madeleine acknowledged her kinsman's greeting with a dainty curtseyand little half-shy smile, marked by that air of distinction andbreeding which was her peculiar characteristic. Molly, however, whothought she had reasonable cause for feeling generally exasperated, and who did not see in Mr. Rupert Landale, despite his good looks andhis good manner, a very promising substitute for her Bath admirers(nor in the prospect of Pulwick a profitable exchange for Bath), cameforward with her bolder grace to flounce him a saucy "reverence, "measuring him the while with a certain air of mockery which histhin-skinned susceptibility was quick to seize. 

He looked back at her down the long tunnel of her bonnet, appraisingthe bloom and beauty within with cold and curious gaze, and then heturned to Madeleine and made to her his courteous speech of welcome. 

This was sufficient for Miss Molly, who, for six months alreadyaccustomed to compel admiration at first sight from all specimens ofthe male sex that came across her path, instantly vowed a deadlyhatred to her cousin, and followed the party into the Landale familycoach--Rupert preceding, with a lady on each arm--in a temper as blackas her own locks. 

It fell to her lot to sit beside the objectionable relative on theback seat, while, by the right of her minute's seniority, Madeleinesat beside Tanty in the front. The projecting wings of her headgeareffectively prevented her from watching his demeanour, unless, indeed, she had turned to him, which was, of course, out of the question; butcertain fugitive conscious blushes upon the young face in front ofher, certain castings down of long lashes and timid upward glances, made Molly shrewdly conjecture that Mr. Landale, through all theapparent devotion with which he listened to Tanty's continuous flow ofobservations, was able to bestow a certain amount of attention uponher pretty neighbour. 

Tanty herself conducted the conversation with her usual high hand, feigning utter oblivion of the thundercloud on Molly's countenance;and, if somewhat rambling in her discourse, nevertheless contriving toplant her points where she chose. 

Thus the long drive wore to its end. The sun was golden upon Pulwickwhen the carriage at length drew up before the portico. Miss Sophiareceived them in the hall, in a state of painful flutter and timidity. She had a constitutional terror of her aunt's sharp eyes, and, thoughshe examined her young cousins wistfully, Madeleine's unconscious airof dignity repelled her as much as Molly's deliberate pertness. 

Rupert conducted his aunt upstairs, and down the long echoing corridortowards her apartment. 

"Ha, my old quarters, " quoth Tanty, disengaging herself briskly fromher escort to enter the room and look round approvingly, "and verycomfortable they are. And my two nieces are next door, I see, as gayas chintz can make them. Thank you, nephew, I shall keep you nolonger. We shall dine shortly, I feel sure. Well, well, I do notpretend I am not quite ready to do justice to your excellentfare--beyond doubt, it will be excellent! Go to your room, girls, yourbaggage is coming up, you see; I shall send Dempsey to assist youpresently. No, not you, Sophia, I was speaking to the young ones. Ishould like to have a little chat with you, my dear, if you have noobjection. "

One door closed upon Rupert as he smiled and bowed himself out, theother upon Molly hustling her sister before her. 

Tanty in the highest good humour, having accomplished her desire, andsuccessfully "established a lodgment" (to use a military term notinappropriate to such a martial spirit) for her troublesome nieces inthe stronghold of Pulwick, once more surveyed her surroundings: thedim old walls, the great four-post bed, consecrated, of course, bytradition to the memory of some royal slumberer, the damask hangings, and the uncomfortable chairs, with the utmost favour, ending up with ahumorous examination of the elongated figure hesitating on thehearthrug. 

"Be seated, Sophia. I am glad to stretch my old limbs after thatterrible drive. So here we are together again. What are you sighingfor? Upon my soul, you are the same as ever, I see, the same tombstoneon your chest, and blowing yourself out with sighs, just as you used. That will never give you a figure, my poor girl; it is no wonder youare but skin and bones. Ah, can't you let the poor fellow rest in hisgrave Sophia? it is flying in the face of Providence, I call it, to goon perpetually stirring up his ashes like that. I hope you mean to tryand be a little more cheerful with those poor girls. But, there, Ibelieve you are never so happy as when you are miserable. And it's apoor creature you would be at any time, " added the old lady toherself, after a second thoughtful investigation of Miss Landale'scountenance, which had assumed an expression of mulishness in additionto an increase of dolefulness during this homily. 

Here, to Miss Landale's great relief, the dying sunset, wavering intocrimson and purple, from its first glory of liquid gold, attracted heraunt's attention, and Miss O'Donoghue went over to the window. 

Beneath her spread the quaint garden, with its clipped box edges, andbeyond the now leafless belt of trees, upon the glimmer of the bay, the outline of Scarthey, a dark silhouette rose fantastically againstthe vivid sky. Even as she gazed, there leapt upon its fairy turret aminute point of white. 

The jovial old countenance changed and darkened. 

"And Adrian is still at his fool's game over there, I suppose, " shesaid irately turning upon Sophia. "When have you seen him last? Howoften does he come here? I gather Master Rupert is nothing if not themaster. Why don't you answer me, Sophia?"

 * * * * *

The dinner was as well cooked and served a meal as any under Rupert'srule, which is saying a good deal, and if the young ladies failed toappreciate the "floating island, " the "golden nests, " and "silverweb, " so thoughtfully provided for them, Tanty did ample justice tothe venison. 

Indeed the cloud which had been visible upon her countenance at thebeginning of dinner, and which according to that downright habit ofmind, which rendered her so terrible or so delightful a companion, shemade no attempt to conceal, began to lift towards the first remove, and altogether vanished over her final glass of port. 

After dinner she peremptorily ordered her grand-nieces into theretirement of their bedchambers, unblushingly alleging their exhaustedcondition in front of the perfect bloom of their beautiful youngvigour. 

She then, over a cup of tea, luxuriously stretching her thin frame inthe best arm-chair the drawing-room could afford, gave Rupert a briefcode of directions as to the special attentions and care she desiredto be bestowed upon her wards, during their residence at Pulwick, descanting generously upon their various perfections, glidingdexterously over her reasons for wishing to be rid of them herself, and concluding with the hint--either pregnant or barren of meaning ashe chose to take it--that if he made their stay pleasant to them, shewould not forget the service. 

Then, as Mr. Landale began, with apparent guilelessness, to put a fewlittle telling questions to her anent the episodes which had made Bathundesirable as a residence for these young paragons, the old ladysuddenly became overwhelmed with fatigue and sleepiness, and professedherself ready to be conducted to her bower immediately. 

 * * * * *

Meanwhile, despite the _moue de circonstance_ which Molly thought itincumbent on her to assume, neither she nor Madeleine regretted theircompulsory withdrawal from the social circle downstairs. 

Madeleine had her own thoughts to follow up, and that these were bothengrossing and pleasant was easily evident; and Molly, bursting with asense of injury arising from many causes, desired a specialexplanation with her sister, which the presence in and out upon themof Tanty's woman had prevented her from indulging in before dinner. 

"So here we are at last, " cried she, indignantly, after she had walkedround and severely inspected her quarters, pausing to "pull a lip" ofextreme disfavour at the handsome portrait of Mr. Landale that hungbetween the windows, "we are, Madeleine, at last, kidnapped, imprisoned, successfully disposed of, in fact. "

"Yes, here we are at last, " echoed Madeleine, abstractedly, warmingher slender ankles by the fire. 

"Have you made out yet what particular kind of new frenzy it was thatseized chère Tante?" asked Miss Molly, with great emphasis, as she satdown at her toilet-table. "You are the cause of it all, my dear, andso you ought to know. It is all very well for Tanty to pretend that Ihave brought it on myself by not coming home till three o'clock (as ifthat was _my_ fault). She cannot blink the fact that her Dempseycreature had orders to pack my boxes before bedtime. Your Smith mustbe a desperately dangerous individual. Well, " she continued, lookinground over her shoulder, "why don't you say something, youlackadaisical thing?"

But Madeleine answered nought and continued gazing, while only thelittle smile, tilting the corners of her lips, betrayed that she hadheard the petulant speech. 

The smile put the finishing touch to Molly's righteous anger. Brandishing a hairbrush threateningly, she marched over to her sisterand looked down upon the slender figure, in its clinging white dress, with blazing eyes. 

"Look here, " she cried, "there must be an end of this. I can put upwith your slyness no longer. How _dare_ you have secrets from me, miss?--your own twin sister! You and I, who used never to have athought we did not share. How dare you have a lover, and not tell meall about him? What was the meaning of your weeping like a fountainall the way from Bath to Shrewsbury, and then, without rhyme or reasonapparently, smiling to yourself all the way from there to Lancaster. You have had a letter, don't attempt to deny it, it is of no use. . . . Oh, it is base of you, it is indeed! And to think that it is allthrough you that I am forced into this exile, through your _airspenchés_, and your sighing and dreaming, and your mysterous_Smith_. . . . To think that to-night, this very night, is the ball ofthe season, and we are going to bed! Oh, and to-morrow and to-morrow, and to-morrow, with nothing but a knave and a fool to keep uscompany--for I don't think much of your female cousin, Madeleine, and, as for your male cousin, I perfectly detest him--and all the tabbiesof the country-side for diversion, with perhaps a country buck on highdays and holidays for a relish! Pah!"

Molly had almost talked her ill-humour away. Her energetic naturecould throw off most unpleasant emotions easily enough so long as itmight have an outlet for them; she now laid down the threateningbrush, and, kneeling beside her, flung both her arms round Madeleine'sshoulders. 

"Ma petite Madeleine, " she coaxed, in the mother tongue, "tell thylittle sister thy secrets. "

A faint flush crept to Madeleine's usually creamy cheeks, a light intoher eyes. She turned impulsively to the face near hers, then, as ifbethinking herself, pursed her lips together and shook her headslightly. 

"Do you remember, ma chèrie, " she said, at last, "that French taleMrs. Hambledon lent us in which it is said _'Qui fuit l'amour, l'amoursuit. '_"

"Well?" asked Molly, eagerly, her lips parted as if to drink in theexpected confidence. 

"Well, " replied the other, "well, perhaps things may not be so badafter all. Perhaps, " rising from her seat, and looking at her sisterwith a little gentle malice, while she, too, began to disrobe herfairer beauty for the night, "some of your many lovers may come afteryou from Bath! Oh, Molly!" with a little scream, for Molly, with eyesflashing once more, had sprung up from her knees to inflict a viciouspinch upon the equivocator's arm. 

"Yes, miss, you shall be pinched till you confess. " Then flouting herwith a sudden change of mood, "I am sure I don't want to know yourwonderful secret, "--seizing her comb and passing it crackling throughher hair with quite unnecessary energy--"Mademoiselle la Cachotière. Anyhow, it cannot be very interesting. . . . _Mrs. Smith!_ Fancy caringfor a man called Smith! If you smile again like that, Madeleine, Ishall beat you. "

The two sisters looked at each other for a second as if hesitating onthe brink of anger, and then both laughed. 

"Never mind, I shall pay you out yet, " quoth Molly, tugging at herblack mane. "So our lovers are to come after us, is _that_ it? Do youknow, Madeleine, " she went on, calming down, "I almost regret now thatI would not listen to young Lord Dereham, simpleton though he be. Helooked such a dreadful little fright that I only laughed at him. . . . Ishould have laughed at him all my life. But it would perhaps have beenbetter than this dependence on Tanty, with her sudden whims andscampers and whisking of us away into the wilderness. Then I shouldhave had my own way always. Now it's too late. Tanty told me yesterdaythat she sees he is a dissolute young man, and that his dukedom isonly a Charles II. Creation, and 'We know what that means, ' she added, and shook her head. I am sure I had not a notion, but I shook my headtoo, and said, 'Of course, that made it impossible. ' I was reallyafraid she would want me to marry him. She was dreadfully pleased andsaid I was a true O'Donoghue. Oh, dear! I don't know _anything_ aboutlove. I can't imagine being in love; but one thing is certain, I couldnever, never, never allow a horrid little rat like Lord Dereham tomake love to me, to kiss me, nor, indeed, any man--oh, horror! How youare blushing, my dear! Come here into the light. It would be good foryour soul, indeed it would, to confess!"

But Madeleine, burying her hot cheeks in her sister's neck andclasping her with gentle caresses, was not to be drawn from herreticence. Molly pushed her off at last, and gave a hard littlegood-night kiss like a bird-peck. 

"Very well; but you might as well have confessed, for I shall find outin the long run. And who knows, perhaps you may be sorry one day thatyou did not tell me of your own accord. "

CHAPTER XII

A RECORD AND A PRESENTMENT. 

The gallery of family portraits at Pulwick is one of the mostremarkable features of that ancient house. 

It was a custom firmly established at the Priory--ever since the firstheralds' visitation in Lancashire, when some mooted point of claims tocertain quarterings had been cleared in an unexpected way by thetestimony of a well-authenticated ancestral portrait--for eachsuccessive representative to add to the collection. One of the firstcares of every Landale, therefore, on succeeding to the title was tobe painted, with his proper armorial and otherwise distinguishinghonours jealously delineated, and thus hung in the place of honourover the high mantelshelf of the gallery--displacing on the occasionhis own immediate and revered predecessor. 

The chain was consequently unbroken from the Elizabethan descendantsof the first acquirers of ecclesiastical property at Pulwick, down tothe present Light-keeper of Scarthey. 

But whilst the late Sir Thomas appeared in all the majesty ofdeputy-lieutenant, colonel of Militia, magistrate, and sundry otherhonourable offices, in his due place on the right of the presentbaronet, the latter figured in a character so strange and soincongruous that it seemed as if one day the dignified array ofLandales--old, young, middle-aged, but fine gentlemen, all ofthem--must turn their backs upon their degenerate kinsman. 

Over the chimney-piece, in the huge carved-oak frame (now already twocenturies old), a common sailor, in the striped loose trousers, theblue jacket with red piping of a man-of-war's man, with pigtail andcoarse open shirt--stood boldly forth as the representative of thepresent owner of Pulwick. 

Proud of their long line of progenitors, it was a not unusual thingfor the Landales to entertain their guests at breakfast in a certainsunny bow-window in the portrait gallery rather than in the breakfastparlour proper, which in winter, unmistakably harboured more damp thanwas pleasant. 

It was, therefore, with no surprise that Miss Landale received anearly order from her brother to have a fire lighted in the apartmentsacred to the family honours, and the matutinal repast served there indue course. 

Whether Mr. Landale was actuated by a regard for the rheumatism of hisworthy relative, or merely a natural family pride, or by some otherand less simple motive, he saw no necessity for informing his docilehousewife on the matter. 

As Sophia was accustomed to no such condescension on his part even incircumstances more extraordinary, she merely bundled out of bedunquestioningly in the darkness and cold of the morning to see hisorders executed in the proper manner; which, indeed, to her credit wasso successfully accomplished that Tanty and her charges, when theymade their entry upon the scene, could not fail to be impressed withthe comfortable aspect of the majestic old room. 

Mr. Landale examined his two young uninvited guests with new keennessin the morning light. Molly was demure enough, though there was alurking gleam in her dark eye which suggested rather armed truce thanaccepted peace. As for Madeleine, though to be serene was an actualnecessity of her delicate nature, there was more than resignation inthe blushing radiance of her look and smile. 

"Portraits of their mother, " said Rupert, bringing his critical surveyto a close, and stepping forward with a nice action of the legs topresent his arm to his aunt. "Portraits of their mother both ofthem--I trust to that miniature which used to grace our collection inthe drawing-room rather than to the treacherous memory of a school-boyfor the impression--but portraits by different masters and indifferent moods. "

There was something patronising in the tone from so young a man, whichMolly resented on the spot. 

"Oh, we should be as like as two peas, only that we are as differentas day and night, as Tanty says, " she retorted, tossing her white chinat her host, while Miss O'Donoghue laughed aloud at her favourite'ssauciness. 

"And after all, " said Rupert, as he bestowed his venerable relative onher chair, with an ineffable air of politeness, contradicted, thoughonly for an instant, by the look which he shot at Molly from the lighthazel eyes, "Tanty is not so far wrong--the only difference betweennight and day is the difference between the _brunette_ and the_blonde_, " with a little bow to each of the sisters, "an Irish bull, if one comes to analyse it, is but the expression of the too rapidworking of quick wits. "

"Faith, nephew, " said Tanty, sitting down in high good humour to theinnumerable good things in which her Epicurean old soul delighted, "that is about as true a thing as ever you said. Our Irish tongues areapt to get behind a thing before it is there, and they call thatmaking a bull. "

Rupert's sense of humour was as keen as most of his other faculties, and at the unconscious humour of this sally his laugh rang outfrankly, while Molly and Madeleine giggled in their plates, and MissO'Donoghue chuckled quietly to herself in the intervals of eating anddrinking, content to have been witty, without troubling to discoverhow. 

Sophia alone remained unmoved by mirth; indeed, as she raised herdrooping head, amazed at the clamour, an unwary tear trickled down herlong nose into her tea. She was given to revelling in anniversaries ofdead and gone joys or sorrows; the one as melancholy to her to lookback upon as the other; and upon this November day, now very manyyears ago, had the ardent, consumptive rector first hinted at hislove. 

"And now, " said Miss O'Donoghue, who, having disposed of the mostserious part of the breakfast, pushed away her plate with one handwhile she stirred her second cup of well-creamed tea lazily with theother, "Now, Rupert, will you tell me the arrangements you propose tomake to enable me to see your good brother?"

Rupert had anticipated being attacked upon this subject, and had fullyprepared himself to defend the peculiar position it was his interestto maintain. To encourage a meeting between his brother and the oldlady (to whom the present position of affairs was a grievous offence)did not, certainly, enter into his plan of action; but Tanty had putthe question in an unexpected and slightly awkward shape, and for asecond or two he hesitated before replying. 

"I fear, " said he then, gliding into the subject with his usual easyfluency, "that you will be disappointed if you have been reckoningupon an interview with Adrian, my dear aunt. The hermit will not bedrawn from his shell on any pretext. "

"What, " cried Tanty, while her withered cheek flushed, "do you mean totell me that my nephew, Sir Adrian Landale, will decline to come a fewhundred yards to see his old aunt--his mother's own sister--who hascome three hundred miles, at seventy years of age, to see him in hisown house--_in his own house_?" repeated the irate old lady, rattlingthe spoon with much emphasis against her cup. "If you _mean_ this, Rupert, it is an insult to me which I shall never forget--_never_. "

She rose from her seat as she concluded, shaking with the tremulousanger of age. 

"For God's sake, Tanty, " cried Rupert, throwing into his voice all thegenerous warmth he was capable of simulating, "do not hold meresponsible for Adrian in this matter. His strange vagaries are not ofmy suggesting, heaven knows. "

"Well, nephew, " said Miss O'Donoghue, loftily, "if you will kindlysend the letter I am about to write to your brother, by a safemessenger, immediately, I shall believe that it is _your_ wish totreat me with proper respect, whatever may be Adrian's subsequentbehaviour. "

Mr. Landale's countenance assumed an expression of very genuinedistress; this was just the one proof of dutiful attachment that hewas loth to bestow upon his cherished aunt. 

"I see how it is, " he exclaimed earnestly, coming up to the old lady, and laying his hand gently upon her arm, "you entirely misunderstandthe situation. I am not a free agent in this matter. I cannot do whatyou ask; I am bound by pledge. Adrian is, undoubtedly, morethan--peculiar on certain points, and, really, I dare not, if I would, thwart him. "

"Oh!" cried Tanty, shooting off the ejaculation as from a pop-gun. Then, shaking herself free of Rupert's touch, she sat down abruptly inher chair again, and began fanning herself with her handkerchief. Noteven in her interchange of amenities with Mrs. Hambledon, had Mollyseen her display so much indignation. 

"You want me to believe he is mad, I suppose?" she snapped, at last. 

"Dear me! No, no, no!" responded the other, in his airy way. "I didnot mean to go so far as that; but--well, there are very painfulmatters, and hitherto I have avoided all discussion upon them, evenwith Sophia. My affection for Adrian----"

"Fiddlesticks!" interrupted Tanty. "You meant something, I suppose;either the man's mad, or he is not. And I, for one, don't believe aword of it. The worst sign about him, that I can see, is the blindconfidence the poor fellow seems to put in you. "

Here Molly, who had been listening to the discussion "with all herears"--anything connected with the mysterious personality of theabsent head of the house was beginning to have a special fascinationfor her--gave an irrepressible little note of laughter. 

Rupert looked up at her quickly, and their eyes met. 

"Hold your tongue, Miss, " cried Miss O'Donoghue, sharply; aware thatshe had gone too far in her last remark, and glad to relieve heroppression in another direction, "how dare you laugh? Sophia, this isa terrible thing your brother wants me to believe--may I ask what_your_ opinion is? Though I'll not deny I don't think that will beworth much. "

Sophia glanced helplessly at Rupert, but he was far too carefullypossessed of himself to affect to perceive her embarrassment. 

"Come, come, " cried Miss O'Donoghue, whose eyes nothing escaped, "youneed not look at Rupert, you can answer for yourself, I suppose--youare not absolutely a drivelling idiot--_all_ the Landales are notripening for lunatic asylums--collect your wits, Sophia, I know youhave not got any, but you have _enough_ to be able to give a plainanswer to a plain question, I suppose. Do you think your brother mad, child?"

"God forbid, " murmured Sophia, at the very extremity of those wits ofwhich Miss O'Donoghue had so poor an opinion. "Oh, no, dear aunt, not_mad_, of course, not in the least _mad_. "

Then, gathering from a restless movement of Rupert's that she was notupon the right tack she faltered, floundered wildly, and finally drewforth the inevitable pocket-handkerchief, to add feelingly ifirrelevantly from its folds, "And indeed if I thought such a calamityhad really fallen upon us--and of course there _are_ symptoms, nodoubt there are symptoms. . . . "

"What are his symptoms--has he tried to murder any of you, hey?"

"Oh, my dear aunt! No, indeed, dear Adrian is gentleness itself. "

"Does he bite? Does he gibber? Oh, away with you, Sophia! I am sure Icannot wonder at the poor fellow wanting to live on a rock, betweenyou and Rupert. I am sure the periwinkles and the gulls must bepleasant company compared to you. That alone would show, I shouldthink, that he knows right well what he is about. Mad indeed! Therenever was any madness among the O'Donoghues except your poor uncleMichael, who got a box on the ear from a windmill--and _he_ wasn't anO'Donoghue at all! You will be kind enough, nephew, to have deliveredto Sir Adrian, no later than to-day, the letter which I shall thismoment indite to him. "

"Perhaps, " said Rupert, "if you will only favour me with yourattention for a few minutes first, aunt, and allow me to narrate toyou the circumstances of my brother's return here, and of hissubsequent self-exile, you will see fit to change your opinion, bothas regards him and myself. "

A self-controlled nature will in the long run, rightly or wrongly, always assume the ascendency over an excitable one. The moderatenessof Rupert's words, the coolness of his manner, here brought Tantyrapidly down from her pinnacle of passion. 

Certainly, she said, she was not only ready, but anxious to hear allthat Rupert could have to say for himself; and, smoothing down herblack satin apron with a shaking hand, the old lady prepared to listenwith as much judicial dignity as her flustered state allowed her toassume. Rupert drew his chair opposite to hers and leant his elbow onthe table, and fixed his bright, hard eyes upon her. 

"You remember, of course, " he began after a moment's pause, "how atthe time of my poor father's death, Adrian was reported to have losthis life in the Vendée war--though without authoritativeconfirmation--at the same time as the fair and unhappy Countesse deSavenaye, to whose fortune he had so chivalrously devoted himself. "

Tanty bowed her head in solemn assent; but Molly, watching with themost acute attention, felt her face blaze at the indefinable shade ofmockery she thought to catch upon the speaker's curling lip. 

"It was, " continued he, "the constant strain, the long months ofwatching in vain for tidings, that told upon my father, rather thanthe actual grief of loss. When he died, the responsibilities of theheadship of the house devolved naturally upon me, the only malerepresentative left, seemingly, to undertake them. The months went by;to the most sanguine the belief in Adrian's death became inevitable. Our hopes died slowly, but they died at last; we mourned for him, "here Rupert cast down his eyes till the thick black lashes which wereone of his beauties swept his cheek; his tone was perfect in itssimple gravity. "At length, urged thereto by all the family, if Iremember rightly by yourself as well, dear aunt, I assumed the titleas well as the position which seemed mine by right. I was very youngat the time, but I do not think that either then, or during the tenyears that followed, I unworthily filled my brother's place. "

There was a proud ring of sincerity in the last words, and the oldlady knew that they were true; that during the years of his absolutepower as well as of his present more restricted mastership, Rupert'smanagement of the estate was unimpeachable. 

"Certainly not, my dear Rupert, " she said in softer tones than she hadhitherto used to him, "no one would dream of suggesting such athing--pray go on. "

"And so, " pursued the nephew, with a short laugh, relapsing into thatlight tone of banter which was his most natural mode of expression;"when, one fine day, a hired coach clattered up Sir Rupert Landale'savenue and deposited upon his porch a tattered mariner who announcedhimself, in melancholy tones that would have befitted the ghost nodoubt many took him for, as the rightful Sir Adrian, erroneouslysupposed defunct, I confess that it required a little persuasion tomake me recognise my long-lost brother--and yet there could be nodoubt of it. The missing heir had come to his own again; the dead hadcome back to life. Well, we killed the fatted calf, and all the restof it--but I need not inflict upon you the narrative of ourrejoicing. "

"Faith, no, " said Tanty, drily, "I can see it with half an eye. "

"You know, too, I believe, the series of extraordinary adventures, ormisadventures, which had kept him roaming on the high seas while we athome set up tablets to his memory and 'wore our blacks' as people herecall it, and cultivated a chastened resignation. There was a good dealof correspondence going on at the time between Pulwick and Bunratty, if I remember aright, and you heard all about Adrian's divers attemptsto land in England, about his fight with the King's men, his crack onthe head and final impressment. At least you heard as much as we couldgather ourselves. Adrian is not what one would call a garrulous personat the best of times. It was really with the greatest difficulty thatwe managed to extract enough out of him to piece together a coherenttale. "

"Well, well, " quoth Tanty, with impatience, "you are glib enough fortwo anyhow, my dear! All this does not tell me how Adrian came to liveon a lighthouse, and why you put him down as a lunatic. "

"Not as a lunatic, " corrected Rupert, gently, "merely as slightlyeccentric on certain points. Though, indeed, if you had seen himduring those first months after his return, I think even you with youroptimistic spirit would have feared, as we did, that he was fallinginto melancholia. Thank heaven he is better now. But, dear me, what wewent through! I declare I expected every morning to be informed thatSir Adrian's corpse had been found hanging from his bedpost ordiscovered in a jelly at the bottom of the bluffs. And, indeed, whenat length he disappeared for three days, after he had been lastobserved mooning along the coast, there was a terrible panic lest heshould have sought a congenial and soothing end in the embraces ofthe quicksands. . . . It turned out, however, that he had merely strolledover to Scarthey--where, as you know, my father established a beaconand installed a keeper to warn boats off our shoals--and, finding theplace to his liking, had remained there, regardless of our feelings. "

"Tut, tut!" said Tanty; but whether in reproof of Rupert's flippantlanguage or of her elder nephew's erratic behaviour, it would havebeen difficult to determine. 

"Of course, " went on Rupert, smoothly, "I had resolved, after a decentperiod, to remove my lares and penates from a house where I was nolonger master and to establish myself, with my small patrimony (Ibelieve I ought to call it _matrimony_, as we younger children benefitby our O'Donoghue mother) in an independent establishment. But when Ifirst broached the subject, Adrian was so vastly distressed, expressedhimself so well satisfied with my management of the estate and beggedme so earnestly to consider Pulwick as my home, vowing that he himselfwould never marry, and that all he looked forward to in life was tosee me wedded and with future heirs to the name springing around me, that it would have been actual unkindness to resist. Moreover, as youcan imagine, Adrian is not exactly a man of business, and hisspasmodic interferences in the control of the property being alreadythen of a very injudicious nature, I confess that, having nursed itmyself for eleven years with some success, I dreaded to think what itwould become under his auspices. And so I agreed to remain. But theposition increased in difficulty. Adrian's moroseness seemed to growupon him; he showed an exaggerated horror of company; either flyingfrom visitors as from the pest, and shutting himself up in his ownapartments, or (on the few disastrous occasions when my persuasionsinduced him to show himself to some old family friends) entertainingthem with such unusual sentiments concerning social laws, themagistracy, the government, his Majesty the King himself, that themost extraordinary reports about him soon spread over the wholecounty. This was about the time--as you may remember--of my ownmarriage. "

Here an alteration crept into Mr. Landale's voice, and Molly lookedat him curiously, while Miss Sophia gave vent to an audible sniff. 

"To be sure, " said Tanty, hastily. Comfortably egotistic old ladieshave an instinctive dislike to painful topics. And that Rupert'ssorrow for his young wife had been, if self-centred and reserved, ofan intense and prolonged nature was known to all the family. 

The widower himself had no intention of dilating upon it. His wife'sname he never mentioned, and no one could guess, heavily as the blowwas known to have fallen upon him, the seething bitterness that herloss had left in his soul, nor imagine how different a man he mighthave been if that one strong affection of his life had been spared tosoften it. 

"Adrian fled from the wedding festivities, as you may remember, foryou were our honoured guest at the time, and greatly displeased at hisabsence, " he resumed, after a few seconds of darkling reflection. "None of us knew where he had flown to, for he did not evidentlyconsider his owl's nest sufficiently remote; but we had his fraternalblessing to sustain us. And after that he continued to make periodicaldisappearances to his retreat, stopping away each time longer andlonger. One fine day he sent workmen to the island with directions torepair certain rooms in the keep, and he began to transfer theretofurniture, his books and his organ. A dilapidated little Frenchprisoner next appeared on the scene (whom my brother had extractedfrom the Tower of Liverpool, which was then crammed with such gentry), and finally we were informed that, with this worthy companion, SirAdrian Landale was determined to take up his abode altogether atScarthey, undertaking the duties of the recently defunct light-keeper. So off he went, and there he is still. He has extracted from us asolemn promise that his privacy is to be absolutely respected, andthat no communications, or, above all, visits are to be made to him. Occasionally, when we least expect it, he descends upon us from histower, upsets all my accounts, makes the most absurd concessions tothe tenants, rides round the estate with his eyes on the ground anddisappears again. _Et voilà_, my dear aunt, how we stand. "

"Well, nephew, " said Miss O'Donoghue, "I am much obliged to you, I amsure, for putting me _au courant_ of the family affairs. It is allvery sad--very sad and very deplorable; but----"

But Mr. Landale was quite aware that Tanty was not yet convinced tothe desired extent. He therefore here interrupted her to play his lastcard--that ace he had up his sleeve, in careful preparation for thistrial of skill with his keen-witted relative, and to the suitableproduction of which he had been all along leading. 

Rising from his chair with slow, deliberate movement, he proceeded, asif following his own train of thought, without noticing that MissO'Donoghue was intent on speech herself:

"You have not seen him, I believe, since he was quite a lad. You wouldhave some difficulty in recognising him, though he bears, like therest of us, what you call the unmistakable Landale stamp. His portraitis here, by the way--duly installed in its correct position. That, "with a laugh, "was one of his freaks. It was his duty to keep up thefamily traditions, he said--and there you will approve of him, nodoubt; but hardly, perhaps, of the manner in which he has had thatlaudable intention carried out. My own portrait was, of course, deposed (like the original), " added Mr. Landale, with something of asneer; "and now hangs meekly in some bedroom or other--in that, if Imistake not, at present hallowed by my fair cousins' presence. Well, it is good for the soul of man to be humbled, as we are taught tobelieve from our earliest years!"

Tanty was fumbling for her eye-glasses. She was glad to hear thatAdrian had remembered some of his obligations (she observed, sententiously, as she hauled herself stiffly out of her chair toapproach the chimney-piece); it was certainly a sign that he was moremindful of his duties as head of the house than one would expect froma person hardly responsible, such as Rupert had represented him to be, and . . . 

Here, the glasses being adjusted and focussed upon the portrait, MissO'Donoghue halted abruptly with a dropping jaw. 

"There is a curious inscription underneath the escutcheon, " said Mr. Landale composedly, "which latter, by the way, you may notice is theonly one in the line which has no room for an impaled coat (Adrian'sway of indicating not only that he is single, but means to remainsuch); Adrian composed it himself and indeed attached a markedimportance to it. Let me read it for you, dear Tanty, the picturehangs a little high and those curveting letters are hard to decipher. It runs thus:

_Sir Adrian William Hugh Landale, Lord of Pulwick and Scarthey in theCounty Palatine of Lancaster, eighth Baronet, born March 12th, 1775. Succeeded to the title and estate on the 10th February 1799, whilstabroad. Iniquitously pressed into the King's service on the day of hisreturn home, January 2nd, 1801. Twice flogged for allegedinsubordination, and only released at last by the help of a friendafter five years of slavery. Died_ [Here a space for the date. ] It isa record with a vengeance, is it not? Notice my brother'sdetermination to die unmarried and to retire, once for all, from allor any of the possible honours connected with his position!"

They had all clustered in front of the picture; even Madeleine rousedfrom her sweet day-dreams to some show of curiosity; Miss Landale'sbosom, heaving with such sighs as to make the tombstone rise and falllike a ship upon a stormy sea; Molly with an eagerness she did notattempt to hide; and Miss O'Donoghue still speechless with horror andindignation. 

Mr. Landale had gauged his aunt's temperament correctly enough. To onewhose ruling passion was pride of family, this mockery of aconsecrated family custom, this heirloom destined to carry down arecord of degradation into future generations, was an insult to thename only to be explained to her first indignation by deliberatemalice--or insanity. 

And from the breezy background of blue sky and sea, contrasting asstrangely with the dark solemnity of the other portraits as did thefigure itself in its incongruous sailor dress, the face of the eighthbaronet looked down in melancholy gravity upon the group gathered injudgment upon him. 

"Disgraceful! Positively disgraceful!" at length cried the lastrepresentative of the O'Donoghues of Bunratty, in scandalised tones. "My dear Rupert, you should have a curtain put up, that thisexhibition of folly--of madness, I hardly know what to call it--be notexposed to every casual visitor. Dear me, dear me, that I should liveto see any of my kin deliberately throw discredit on his family, ifindeed the poor fellow is responsible! Rupert, my good soul, can youascribe any reason for this terrible state of affairs . . . That blow onthe head?"

"In part perhaps, " said Mr. Landale. "And yet there have been othercauses at work. If I could have a private word in your ear, " glancingmeaningly over his shoulder at the two young girls who were bothlistening, though with very different expressions of interest andfavour, "I could give you my opinion more fully. "

"Go away now, my dear creatures, " hereupon said Miss O'Donoghue, promptly addressing her nieces. "It is a fine morning, and you willlose your roses if you don't get the air. I don't care if it has begunto rain, miss! Go and have a game of battledore and shuttlecock then. Young people _must_ have exercise. Well, my dear Rupert, well!"--whenMolly, with a pettish "battledore and shuttlecock indeed!" had takenher sister by the arm and left the room. 

"Well, my dear aunt, the fact is, I believe my unhappy brother hasnever recovered from--from his passion for Cécile de Savenaye, thatearly love affair, so suddenly and tragically terminated--well, itseems to have turned his brain!"

"Pooh, pooh! why that was twenty years ago. Don't tell me it is in aman to be so constant. "

"In no _sane_ man perhaps; but then, you know, Tanty, that is just thepoint. . . . Remember the circumstances. He loved her madly; he followedher, lived near her for months and she was drowned before his eyes, Ibelieve. I never heard, of course, any details of that strange periodof his life, but we can imagine. " This was a difficult, vague, subjectto deal with, and Mr. Landale wisely passed on. "Moreover, hisbehaviour when in this house on his return at first has left me nodoubt. I watched him closely. He was for ever haunting those roomswhich she had inhabited. When he found her miniature in thedrawing-room he went first as white as death, then he took it in hishand and stood gazing at it (I am not exaggerating) for a whole hourwithout moving; and, finally, he carried it off, and I know he used totalk to it in his room. And now, even if I had not given my poorbrother my word of honour never to disturb his chosen solitude, Ishould have felt it a heavy responsibility to promote a meeting whichwould inevitably bring back past memories in a troublous manner uponhim. In fact, were he to come across the children of his deadlove--above all Molly, who must be startlingly like her mother--whatmight the result be? I hardly like to contemplate it. The human brainis a very delicately balanced organ, my dear aunt, and once it getsever so slightly out of order one cannot be too careful to avoidrisk. "

He finished his say with an expressive gesture of the hand. MissO'Donoghue remained for a moment plunged in reflection, during whichthe cloud upon her countenance gradually lifted. 

"It is a strange thing, " she said at last, "but constancy seems to runin the family. There is no denying that. Here is Sophia, a ridiculousspectacle--and you yourself, my dear Rupert. . . . And now poor Adrian, too, and his case of mere calf-love, as one would have thought. "

"A calf may grow into a fine bull, you know, " returned Mr. Landale, who had winced at his aunt's allusion to himself and now spoke in themost unemotional tone he could assume, "especially if it is wellfostered in its youth. "

"And I suppose, " said Miss O'Donoghue, with a faint smile, "you thinkI ought to know all about bulls. " She again put up her glasses tosurvey the portrait with critical deliberation; after which, recommending him once more strenuously to have a curtain erected, sheobserved, that it would break her heart to look at it one momentlonger and requested to be conducted from the room. 

Mr. Landale could not draw any positive conclusion from his aunt'smanner of receiving his confidence, nor determine whether she hadaltogether grasped the whole meaning of what he had intendeddelicately to convey to her concerning his brother's past as well aspresent position; but he had said as much as prudence counselled. 

CHAPTER XIII

THE DISTANT LIGHT

In spite of their first petulant or dolorous anticipation, and of thecontrast between the even tenor of country life and the constantstream of amusement which young people of fashion can find in a placelike Bath, the two girls discovered that time glided pleasantly enoughover them at Pulwick. 

Instead of the gloomy northern stronghold their novel-fed imaginationhad pictured (the more dismally as their sudden removal from towngaieties savoured distantly of punishment at the hand of their irateaunt), they found themselves delivered over into a bright, admirably-ordered house, replete with things of beauty, comfortable tothe extremity of luxury; and allowed in this place of safety to enjoyalmost unrestricted liberty. 

The latter privilege was especially precious, as the sisters at thattime had engrossing thoughts of their own they wished to pursue, andfound more interest in solitary roamings through the wide estate thanin the company of the hosts. 

On the fifth day Miss O'Donoghue took her departure. Her owntravelling coach had rumbled down the avenue, bearing her and herwoman away, in its polished yellow embrace, her flat trunk strappedbehind, and the good-natured old face nodding out of the window, tillMolly and Madeleine, standing (a little disconsolate) upon the porchto watch her departure, could distinguish even the hooked nose nolonger. Mr. Landale, upon his mettled grey, a gallant figure, as Mollyherself was forced to admit, in his boots and buckskins, had canteredin the dust alongside, intent upon escorting his aged relative to thesecond stage of her journey. 

That night, almost for the first time since their arrival, there wasno company at dinner, and the young guests understood that thehousehold would now fall back into its ordinary routine. 

But without the small flutter of seeing strangers, or Tanty's livelyconversation, the social intercourse soon waned into exceedingdulness, and at an early hour Miss Molly rose and withdrew to herroom, pretexting a headache, for which Mr. Landale, with his usualhigh courtesy, affected deep concern. 

As she was slowly ascending the great oaken staircase, she crossedMoggie, the gatekeeper's daughter, who in her character offoster-sister to one of the guests had been specially allotted to themas attendant, during the remainder of their visit to Pulwick. 

Molly thought that the girl eyed her hesitatingly, as if she wished tospeak:

"Well, Moggie?" she asked, stopping on her way. 

"Oh, please, miss, " said the buxom lass, blushing and dropping acurtsey, "Renny Potter, please, miss, is up at our lodge to-night, hedon't care to come to the 'ouse so much, miss. But when he heard aboutyou, miss, you could have knocked him down with a feather he was sosurprised and that excited, miss, we have never seen him so. And he'sso set on being allowed to see ye both!"

Molly as yet failed to connect any memories of interest with thepossessor of the patronymic mentioned, but the next phrase mentionedaroused her attention. 

"He is Sir Adrian's servant, now, miss, and goes back yonder to theisland, that is where the master lives, to-morrow morning. But hewould be so happy to see the young ladies before he goes, if theliberty were forgiven, he says. He was servant to the Madam yourmother, miss. 

"Well, Moggie, " answered Miss Molly, smiling, "if that is all that isrequired to make Renny Potter happy, it is very easily done. TellRenny Potter: to-morrow morning. " And she proceeded on her waypondering, while the successful emissary pattered down to the lodge inhigh glee to gather her reward in her sweetheart's company. 

 * * * * *

When later on Madeleine joined her sister, she found her standing bythe deep recessed window, the curtains of which were drawn back, resting her head on her hand against the wainscot, and gazing abroadinto the night. 

She approached, and passing her hand round Molly's waist looked outalso. 

"Again at your window?"

"It is a beautiful night, and the view very lovely, " said Molly. Andindeed the moon was riding high in a deep blue starry heaven, andshimmered on the strip of distant sea visible from the windows. 

"Yes, but yesterday the night was not fine, and nothing was to be seenbut blackness; and it was the same the day before, and yet you staredout of this window, as you have every night since our coming. It isstrange to see _you_ so. What is it, why don't you tell me?"

"Madeleine, " said Molly, suddenly, after a lengthy pause, "I am simply_haunted_ by that light over yonder, the Light of Scarthey. There is amystery about those ruins, on which I keep meditating all day long. Iwant to know more. It draws me. I would give anything to be able, now, to set sail and land there all unknown to any one, and see what mannerof life is led where that light is burning. "

But Madeleine merely gave a pout of little interest. "What do youthink you would find? A half-witted middle-aged man, mooning among alitter of books, with an old woman, and a little Frenchman to lookafter him. Why, Mr. Landale himself takes no trouble to conceal thathis poor brother is an almost hopeless lunatic. "

"Mr. Landale--" Molly began, with much contempt; but she interruptedherself, and went on simply, "Mr. Landale is a very fine gentleman, with very superior manners. He speaks like a printed book--but for allthat I _would_ like to know. "

Madeleine laughed. "The demon of curiosity has a hold of you, Molly;remember the fable they made us repeat: _De loin c'est quelque chose, et de près ce n'est rien. _ Now you shall go straight into your bed, and not take cold. "

And Miss Madeleine, after authoritatively closing the curtains, kissedher sister, and was about to commence immediate disrobing, when shecaught sight of the shagreen-covered book, lying open on the table. 

"So your headache was your diary--how I should like to have a peep. "

"I daresay!" said Molly, sarcastically, and then sat down and, pen inhand, began to re-read her night's entry, now and then casting atantalising glance over her shoulder at her sister. The lines, in theflowing convent hand, ran thus:

"Aunt O'Donoghue left us this morning, and so here we are, planted inPulwick; and she has achieved her plan, fully. But what is odd is thatneither Madeleine nor I seem to mind it, now. What has come overMadeleine is her secret, and she keeps it close; but that _I_ shouldlike being here is strange indeed. 

"And yet, every day something happens to make me feel connected withPulwick--something more, I mean, than the mere fact that we were bornhere. So many of the older people greet me, at first, as if they knewme--they all say I am so like 'the Madam;' they don't see the samelikeness in Madeleine for all her _grand air_. There was Mrs. Mearson, the gatekeeper, was struck in amazement. And the old housekeeper, whenever she has an opportunity tries to entertain me about thebeautiful foreign lady and the grand times they had at Pulwick whenshe was here, and 'Sir Tummas' was still alive. 

"But, though we are made to feel that we are more than ordinaryguests, it is not on account of Mr. Landale, but _on account of SirAdrian_--the Master, as they call him, whom we never see, and whom hisbrother would make out to be mad. Why is he so anxious that Sir Adrianshould not know that Aunt Rose has brought us here? He seemed willingenough to please her, and yet nothing that she could say of her wishcould induce him even to send a messenger over to the rock. And now wemay be here all these two months and never even have caught a sight ofthe _Master_. I wonder if he is still like that portrait--whether hebears that face still as he now sits, all alone, brooding as hisbrother says, up in those ruined chambers, while the light burns calmand bright in the tower! What can this man of his have to say to me?"

Molly dotted her last forgotten "i, " blotted it, closed and carefullylocked the book. Then, rising, she danced over to her sister, andforced her into a pirouette. 

"And now, " she cried gaily, "our dear old Tanty is pulling on hernightcap and weeping over her posset in the stuffy room at Lancasterregretting _me_; and I should be detesting her with all my energiesfor leaving me behind her, were it not that, just at present, Iactually find Pulwick more interesting than Bath. "

Madeleine lifted her heavy-lidded eyes a little wonderingly to hersister's face, as she paused in her gyration. 

"What fly stings thee now?" she inquired in French. 

"You do not tell me about _your_ wounds, my dear, those wounds whichlittle Dan Cupid has made upon your tender heart, with his naughtylittle arrow, and which give you such sweet pain, apparently, that yourevel in the throes all day long. And yet, I am a good child; youshall guess. If you guess aright, I shall tell you. So now begin. "

They stood before the fire, and the leaping tongues of light playedupon their white garments, Madeleine's nightgear scarcely moretreacherously tell-tale of her slender woman's loveliness than theevening robe that clung so closely to the vigorous grace of Molly'slithe young figure. 

The elder, whose face bore a blush distinct from the reflected glow ofthe embers, fell to guessing, as commanded, a little wildly:

"You begin to find the _beau cousin_ Rupert a little more interestingthan you anticipated. "

"Bah, " cried Molly, with a stamp of her sandalled foot, "it is notpossible to guess worse! He is more insufferable to me, hour by hour. "

"I think him kind and pleasant, " returned Madeleine simply. 

"Ah, because he makes sweet eyes at you, I suppose--yet no--I expressmyself badly--he could not make anything sweet out of those hard, hardeyes of his, but he is very--what they call here in England--attentiveto you. And he looks at you and ponders you over when you little thinkit--you poor innocent--lost in your dream of . . . _Smith_! There, Iwill not tease you. Guess again. "

"You are pleased to remain here because you are a trueweather-cock--because you like one thing one day another thenext--because the country peace and quiet is soothing to you after thefolly and noise of the great world of Bath and Dublin, and reminds yourefreshingly, as it does me, of our happy convent days. " The glimmerof a dainty malice lurked in the apparent candour of Madeleine'sgrave blue eyes, and from thence spread into her pretty smile at thesight of Molly's disdainful lip, "Well then, I give it up. You havesome mischief on foot, of that at least I am sure. "

"No mischief--a work of righteousness rather. Sister Madeleine, youheard all that that gallant gentleman you think so highly of--yourcousin Rupert, my dear" (it was a little way of Molly's to throw theresponsibility of anything she did not like, even to an obnoxiousrelationship, upon another person's shoulders), "narrated of hisbrother Sir Adrian, and how he persuaded Tanty that he was, as yousaid just now, a hopeless madman--"

"But yes--he does mad things, " said the elder twin, a littlewonderingly. 

"Well, Madeleine, it is a vile lie. I am convinced of it. "

"But, my darling----"

"Look here, Madeleine, there is something behind it all. I attackedthat creature, that rag, you cannot call her a woman, that femalecousin of yours, Sophia, and I pressed her hard too, but she could notgive me a single instance about Sir Adrian that is really the leastlike insanity; and last night, when the young fool who escorted me todinner, Coventry his name was, told me that every one says Sir Adrianis shut up on the island and that his French servant is really hiskeeper, and that it was a shame Rupert was not the eldest brother, Iquite saw the sort of story Master Rupert likes to spread--don'tinterrupt, please! When you were wool-gathering over the fire lastnight (in the lively and companionable way, permit me to remark inparenthesis, that you have adopted of late), and you thought I waswith Tanty, I had marched off with my flat candlestick to the picturegallery to have a good look at the so-called lunatic. I dragged over achair and lit the candles in the candelabra each side of thechimney-piece, and then standing on my perch still, I held up my owntorch and I saw the sailor really well. I think he has a beautifulface and that he is no more mad than I am. But he looks so sad, sosad! I longed to make those closed lips part and tell me their secret. And, as I was looking and dreaming, my dear, just as you might, Iheard a little noise, and there was Rupert, only a few yards off, surveying me with such an angry gaze--Ugh!" (with a shiver) "I hatesuch ways. He came in upon me with soft steps like some animal. Lookat his portrait there, Madeleine!--Stay! I shall hold up the light asI did last night to Sir Adrian--see, it flickers and glimmers andmakes him seem as if he were alive--oh, I wish he were not hanging infront of our beds, staring out at us with those eyes! You think themvery fine, I daresay, that is because his lashes are as thick and darkas a woman's--but the look in them, my dear--do you know what itreminds me of? Of the beautiful, cruel greyhound we saw at thecoursing at that place near Bunratty (you remember, just before theystarted the hare), when he stood for a moment motionless, looking outacross the plain. I can never forget the expression of thoseyellow-circled eyes. And, when I see Rupert look at you as if he werefixing something in the far distance, it gives me just the feeling ofhorror and sickness I had then. (You remember how dreadful it was?)Rupert makes me think of a greyhound, altogether he is so lithe and soclean-cut, and so full of eagerness, a sort of trembling eagernessunderneath his seeming quiet, and I think he could be cruel. "

Molly paused with an unusually grave and reflective look; Madeleineyawned a little, not at all impressed. 

"How you exaggerate!" she said. "Well what happened when he came inand caught you? The poor man! I suppose, he thought you were settingthe house on fire. "

"My dear, I turned as red as a poppy and began blowing out all myillumination, feeling dreadfully guilty, and then he helped me off mychair with such an air of politeness that I could have struck him withpleasure, but I soon gathered my wits again. And, vexed with myselffor being a ninny, I just dropped him a little curtsey and said, 'I'vebeen examining my mad cousin. ' 'Well, and what do you think of him?'he asked me, smiling (his abominable smile!). But I can keep mythoughts to myself as well as other people. 'I think he is veryhandsome, ' I answered, and then I wagged my head and added, 'Poorfellow, ' just as if I thought he was really mad. 'Poor fellow!' saidcousin Rupert, still with his smile. Whereupon we interchangedgood-nights, and he ceremoniously reconducted me to my door. What washe spying after me for, like that? My dear, your cousin has a badconscience. --But I can spy too--I have been questioning the servantsto-day, and some of the people on the estate. "

"Oh, Molly!"

"Come, don't be so shocked. It was diplomatically, of course, but I amdetermined to find out the truth. Well, so far from looking upon SirAdrian as a lunatic, they all adore him, it seems to me. He comes hereperiodically--once every three months or so--and it is like the King'sJustices, you know--St. Louis of France--he redresses all wrongs, andlistens to grievances and gives alms and counsel, and every one cancome with his story, down to the poorest wretch on the estate, andthey certainly gave me to understand that they would fare prettyhardly under Mr. Landale if it were not for that mild beneficentrestraining influence in his tower yonder. It is very romantic, do youknow (you like romance, Madeleine). I wonder if Sir Adrian will comeover while we are here. Oh, I hope, I hope he will. I shall never resttill I have seen him. "

"Silly child, " said Madeleine, "and so that is the reason you are gladto remain here?"

"Even so, my dear, " answered the other, skipped into the big four-postbed, carefully ascertained and selected the softest pillow, and then, smiling sweetly at her sister from under a frame of dark curls, lether white lids drop over the lustre of her eyes and so intimated shedesired to sleep. 

CHAPTER XIV

THE TOWER OF LIVERPOOL: MASTER AND MAN

 A prison is a house of care, A place where none can thrive, A Touchstone True to try a friend, A Grave for man alive. Sometimes a place of right, Sometimes a place of wrong, Sometimes a place of rogues and thieves, And honest men among. 

 _Old Inscription. _

It was soon after sunrise--at that time of year an hour notexorbitantly early--when Molly awoke from a tangle of fantastic dreamsin which the haunting figure of her waking thoughts, the hermit ofScarthey, appeared to her in varied shapes; as an awe-inspiring, saintly ascetic with long, white hair; as a young, beautiful, imprisoned prince; even as a ragged imbecile staring vacantly at alantern, somewhere in a dismal sea-cave. 

The last vision was uppermost in her mind when she opened her eyes;and the girl, under the impression of so disgusting a disillusion, remained for a while pondering and yawning, before making up her mindto exchange warmth and featherbed for her appointment without. 

But the shafts of light growing through the chinks in the shuttersever brighter and more full of dancing motes, decided her. 

"A beautiful morning, Madeleine, " she said, leaning over and pullingone of the long fair strands upon her neighbour's pillow with sisterlyauthority. "Get up, lazy-bones, and come and have a walk with mebefore breakfast. "

The sleeping sister awoke, smiled with her usual exquisite serenity oftemper, and politely refused. Molly insisted, threatened, coaxed, butto no avail. Madeleine was luxuriously comfortable, and was not to bedisturbed either mentally or bodily; and Molly, aware of the resistingpower of will hidden under that soft exterior, at length petulantlydesisted; and wrapped up in furs, with hands plunged deep into therecesses of a gigantic muff, soon sallied forth herself alone into thepark. 

Half-way down the avenue she met blue-eyed Moggie with round faceshining out of the sharp, exhilarating atmosphere like a small sun. The damsel was overcome with blushes and rapture at her youngmistress's unexpected promptitude in carrying out her promise, and ranback to warn her sweetheart of that lady's approach. 

 * * * * *

As Molly drew near the keeper's lodge--a sort of Doric temple, quaintly standing in the middle of a hedge-enclosed garden, andhalf-buried under thickly-clustering, interlacing creepers--from theside of the enormous nest of evergreen foliage there emerged, in astate of high excitement strenuously subdued, a short, square-builtman (none other than René L'Apôtre), whilst between the boughs of thegarden-hedge peeped forth the bashful, ruddy face of the lady of hisfancy, eager to watch the interview. 

René ran forward, then stopped a few paces away, hat in hand, scrapingand bowing in the throes of an overwhelming emotion that strove hardwith humility. 

"Ah, Mademoiselle, Mademoiselle!" he ejaculated between spells ofamazed staring, and seemed unable to bring forth another word. 

"And so you have known my mother, René, " said Miss Molly (in hernative tongue) with a smile. 

At the sound of the voice and of the French words, René's face grewpale under its bronze, and the tears he had so strongly combated, glistened in his eyes. 

"If I had not heard last night, " he said at length, "that these ladieshad come back--it was Moggie Mearson who told me, who was fostersister to you, or was it Mademoiselle your sister? and proud she is ofit--if I had not known that the young ladies were here again, when Isaw Mademoiselle I would have thought that my lady herself hadreturned to us (may the good God have her soul!). Ah, to think that Ishould ever see her again in the light of the sun!"

He stopped, suffocated with the sob that his respect would not allowhim to utter. 

But Molly, who had had other objects in view when she rose from hercouch this cold, windy morning, than to present an objective to aserving-man's emotion, now thought the situation had lasted longenough for her enjoyment and determined to put an end to it. 

"Eh bien, René, " she said gaily, "or should I call you MonsieurPotter? which, by the way, is a droll name for a Frenchman, I am veryglad to see that you are pleased to see me. If you would care to havesome talk with me you may attend me if you like. But I freeze standinghere, " stamping her feet one after the other on the hard ground. "Imust absolutely walk; and you may put on your hat again, please; forit is very cold for you too, " she added, snuggling into her muff andunder her fur tippet. 

The man obeyed after another of his quaint salutes, and as Mollystarted forward, followed her respectfully, a pace in rear. 

"I daresay you will not be sorry to have a little talk with acompatriot in your own tongue, all English as you may have grown, "said the young lady presently; "and as Moggie has told me that youwere in my mother's service, there is a whole volume of things which, I believe, you alone can relate to me. You shall tell me all that, oneday. But what seems to me the most curious, first of all, is yourpresence here. We ourselves are only at Pulwick by chance. "

"Mademoiselle, " said René in an earnest voice, "if you knew the wholestory, you would soon understand that, since it was not to be, that Ishould remain the humble servitor of Monseigneur le Comte de Savenaye, Mademoiselle's father, or of Madame, who followed him to heaven, notwithstanding all our efforts to preserve her, it is but naturalthat I should attach myself (since he would allow it) to my presentmaster. "

"Mr. Landale?" asked Molly, affecting ignorance. 

"No, Mademoiselle, " cried the Frenchman, hotly. "My master is SirAdrian. Had Mr. Landale remained the lord of this place, I should havebeen left to die in my prison--or at least have remained there untilthis spring, for it seems there is peace again, and the Tower ofLiverpool is empty now. "

"_Voyons, voyons, conte moi cela_, René, " said Molly, turning herface, beautifully glowing from the caress of the keen air, eagerly toher companion. And he, nothing loth to let loose a naturally garruloustongue in such company, and on such a theme, started off upon a longstory illustrated by rapid gesticulation. 

"I will tell you, " cried he, and plunged into explanation with moreenergy than coherence, "it was like this:

"I had been already two years in that prison; we were some hundreds ofprisoners, and it was a cruel place. A cruel place, Mademoiselle, almost as bad as that where we were shut up, my master and I together, years before, at La Rochelle--and that I will tell you, if you wish, afterwards. 

"I had been taken by the marine conscription, when their Republicbecame the French Empire. And a sailor I was then (just, as I heardlater, as Sir Adrian also was at the time; but that I did not know, you understand), for they took all those that lived on the coast. NowI had only served with the ship six months, when she was taken by theEnglish, and, as I say, we were sent to the prison in Liverpool, wherewe found so many others, who had been already there for years. When Iheard it was Liverpool, I knew it was a place near Pulwick, and I atonce thought of Mr. Landale, not him, of course, they _now_ call Mr. Landale, but him who had followed my mistress, Madame your mother, tohelp to fight the Republicans in the old time. And I thought I wassaved: I knew he would get me out if it was possible to get any oneout. For, you see, I thought his honour was home again, after we hadbeen beaten, and there was no more to be done for my lady. We hadcontrived to find an English ship to take him home, and he had goneback, as I thought, Mademoiselle. Well, a prisoner becomes cunning, and besides, I had been in prison before; I managed to make up aletter, and as I knew already some English, I ended by persuading aman to carry it to Pulwick for me. It was a long way, and I had nomoney, but I made bold to assure him that Mr. Landale--oh, no! not_this_ one, " René interrupted himself again with a gesture eloquent ofresentful scorn, "but my master; I assured the man that he wouldreceive recompence from him. You see, Mademoiselle, I knew his heartwas so good, that he would not allow your mother's servant to rot inthe tower. . . . But days afterwards the man came back. Oh, he was angry!terribly angry with me, and said he should pay me out--And so he did, but it is useless to tell you how. He had been to Pulwick, he said, and had seen Mr. Landale. Mr. Landale never knew anything of anyFrench prisoner, and refused to give any money to the messenger. Ah, Mademoiselle, it was very sad! I had not signed my letter for fear ofits getting into wrong hands, but I spoke of many things which I knewhe could not have forgotten, and now I thought that he would nottrouble his mind about such a wretch as René--triple brute that I wasto conceive such thoughts, I should have deserved to remain there forever!. . . I did remain, Mademoiselle, more than three years; many andmany died. As for me, I am hard, but I thought I should never neverwalk free again; nor would I, Mademoiselle, these seven years, but forhim. "

"He came, then?" said the girl with sympathetic enthusiasm. She waslistening with attention, carried away by the speaker's earnestness, and knew instinctively to whom the "him, " and the "he" referred. 

"He came, " said René with much emphasis. "Of course he came--themoment he knew. " And after a moment of half-smiling meditation hepursued:

"It was one May-day, and there was some sun; and there was a smell ofspring in the air which we felt even in that dirty place. Ah, how Iremember me of it all! I was sitting against the wall in the courtyardwith two others who were Bretons, like you and me, Mademoiselle, shifting with the sun now and then, for you must know a prisoner lovesthe sun above all; and there, we only had it a few hours in the day, even when it did shine. I was carving some stick-heads, andbread-plates in wood--the only thing I could do to put a little morethan bread, into our own platters, " with a grin, "and whistling, whistling, for if you can't be gay, it is best to play at it. . . . Well, that day into our courtyard there was shown a tall man--and I knew himat once, though he was different enough in his fine coat, and hat andboots, from the time when I had last seen him, when he was like me, inrags and with a woollen cap on his head, and no stockings under hisshoes--I knew him at once! And when I saw him I stood still, with mymouth round, but not whistling more. My blood went phizz, phizz, allover my body, and suddenly something said in my head: 'René, he hascome to look for you. ' He was searching for some one, for he wentround with the guardian looking into each man's face, and giving moneyto all who begged--and seeing that, they all got up, and surroundedhim, and he gave them each a piece. But I could not get up; it was asif some one had cut out my knees and my elbows. And that was how hesaw me the sooner. He noticed I remained there, looking at him like adog, saying nothing. When he saw me, he stood a moment quite quiet;and without pretending anything he came to me and looked downsmiling. --'But if I am not mistaken I know this man, ' he said to theguardian, pretending to be astonished. 'Why, this is René L'Apôtre?Who would have thought of seeing you here, René L'Apôtre?' says he. And then he smiled again, as much as to say, 'You see I have come atlast, René. ' And once more, as if to explain: 'I have only lately comeback to England, ' in a gentle way, all full of meaning. . . . I don'tknow what took me, but I cried like an infant, in my cap. And theguardian and some of the others laughed, but when I looked up again, his eyes shone also. He looked so good, so kind, Mademoiselle, that itwas as if I understood in words all he meant, but thought better notto say at the time. Then he spoke to the guardian, who shook his headdoubtfully. And after saying, 'Have good courage, René L'Apôtre, ' andgiving me the rest of his money, he went away--but I knew I was notforgotten, and I was so happy that the black, black walls were no moreblack. And I sang, not for pretence this time, ah no! and I spent allmy money in buying a dinner for those at our end of the prison, and weeven had wine! You may be sure we drank to his happiness. "

Here the man, carried away by his feelings, seized his hat and wavedit in the air. Then, ashamed of his ebullition, halted and glanceddiffidently at the young lady. But Molly only smiled in encouragement. 

"Well, and then?" she asked. 

"Well, Mademoiselle, " he resumed, "it was long before I saw him again;but I kept good courage, as I was told. One day, at last, the guardiancame to fetch me and took me to the governor's cabinet; and my masterwas there--I was told that my release had been obtained, though notwithout trouble, and that Sir Adrian Landale, of Pulwick Priory, hadgone warranty for me that I should not use my liberty to the prejudiceof His Majesty, the King of England, and that I was to be grateful toSir Adrian. I almost laughed at him, Mademoiselle. Oh! he took care toadvise me to be grateful!" And here René paused ironically, but therewas a quiver on his lips. "Ah, he little knew, Monsieur the Governor, that when my master had taken me to an inn, and the door was closedover the private room, he who had looked so grand and careless beforethe governor, took me by both hands and then, in his fine clothes, embraced me--me the dirty prisoner--just as he did when he left me inthe old days, and was as poor and ragged as I was! And let me weepthere on his breast, for I had to weep or my heart would have broken. But I wander, Mademoiselle, you only wanted to know how I came to bein his service still. That is how it was; as I tell you. "

Molly was moved by this artless account of fidelity and gratitude, andas she walked on in attentive silence, René went on:

"It was then his honour made me know how, only by accident, and monthsafter his own return, he chanced to hear of the letter that some onehad sent to Mr. Landale from the Tower of Liverpool, and that Mr. Landale had said he knew nothing of any French prisoner and hadthought it great impudence indeed. And how he--my master--had suddenlythought (though my letter had been destroyed) that it might be fromme, the servant of my lady your mother, and his old companion in arms(for his honour will always call me so). He could not sleep, he toldme, till he had found out. He started for Liverpool that very night. And, having discovered that it was me, Mademoiselle, he never restedtill he had obtained my liberty. "

 * * * * *

Walking slowly in the winter sunshine, the one talking volubly, theother intently listening, the odd pair had reached a rising knoll inthe park where, under the shelter of a cluster of firs, stood a row ofcarved stone seats that had once been sedillas in the dismantledPriory Church. 

From this secluded spot could be obtained the most superb view of thewhole country-side. At the end of the green, gently-sloping stretch ofpasture-land, which extended, broken only by irregular clusters oftrees, down to the low cliffs forming the boundary of the strand, laythe wide expanse of brown sand, with its streamlets and salt poolsscintillating under the morning sun. 

Further in the western horizon, a crescent of deep blue sea, sharplydefined under a lighter blue sky and fringed landwards with astraggling border of foam, advanced slowly to the daily conquest ofthe golden bay. In the midst of that frame the eye was irresistiblydrawn, as to the chief object in the picture, to the distant rock ofScarthey--a green patch, with the jagged red outline of the ruinsclear cut against the sky. 

Since this point of view in the park had been made known to her, onthe first day when she was piloted through the grounds, Molly had morethan once found her way to the sedillas, yielding to the fascinationof the mysterious island, and in order to indulge in the fanciessuggested by its ever-changing aspect. 

At the fall of day the red glow of the sinking sun would glint throughthe dismantled windows; and against the flaming sky the ruins wouldstand out black and grim, suggesting nought but abandonment anddesolation until suddenly, as the gloom gathered upon the bay, thelight of the lamp springing to the beacon tower, would reverse theimpression and bring to mind a picture of faithful and patientwatching. 

When the sun was still in the ascendant, the island would be green andfresh to the gaze, evoking no dismal impression; and as the raysglanced back from the two or three glazed windows, and from the roofedbeacon-tower, the little estate wore a look of solid security andprivacy in spite of its crumbling walls, which was almost astantalising to her romantic curiosity. 

It was with ulterior motives, therefore, that she had again wended herway to the knoll this sunny, breezy morning. She now sat down and lether eyes wander over the wide panorama, whilst René stood at a humbledistance, looking with eyes of delight from her to the distant abodeof his master. 

"And now you live with Sir Adrian, in that little isle yonder, " saidshe, at length. "How came it that you never sought to go back to yourcountry?"

"There was the war then, Mademoiselle, and it was difficult toreturn. "

"But there has been peace these six months, " insisted Molly. 

"Yes, Mademoiselle, though I only learned it yesterday. But then, bah!What is that? His honour needs me. I have stopped with him sevenyears, and my faith, I shall stop with him for ever. "

There was a long silence. 

"Does any one know, " asked Molly, at length, with a vague air ofaddressing the trees, mindful, as she spoke, of the manner in whichMr. Landale had practically dismissed her and her sister at a certainpoint of his version of his brother's history, "_why_ Sir Adrian hasshut himself up in that place instead of living at the Hall all thistime?"

A certain dignity seemed to come over the servant's squat figure. Hehesitated for a moment, and then said very simply, his honest eyesfixed upon the girl's face: "I am only his humble servant, Mademoiselle, and it is enough for me that it is his pleasure to livealone. "

"You are indeed faithful, " said Molly, with a little generous flush ofshame at this peasant's delicacy compared to her own curiosity. And, after another pause, she added, pensively: "But tell me, does SirAdrian never leave his solitude? I confess I should like to meet onewho had known my mother, who could talk of her to me. "

René looked at the young girl with a wistful countenance, as thoughthe question had embarked him on a new train of thought. But heanswered evasively: "His honour comes rarely to Pulwick--rarely. "

Molly, with a little movement of pique, rose abruptly from her seat. But quickly changing her mood again she turned round as she was aboutto depart, and smiling: "Thank you, René, " she said, and held out herdainty hand, which he, blushing, engulfed in his great paw, "I amgoing in, I am dreadfully hungry. We shall be here two months or more, and I shall want to see you again . . . If you come back to Pulwick. "

She walked quickly away towards the house. René followed theretreating figure with a meditative look, so long as he could keep herin sight, then turned his gaze to the island and there stood lost in adeep muse, regardless of the fact that his sweetheart, Moggie, wasawaiting a parting interview at the lodge, and that the tide thatwould wait for no man was swelling under his boat upon the beach. 

 * * * * *

A sudden resolution was formed in Molly's mind as the immediate resultof this conversation, and she framed her behaviour that morning solelywith a view to its furtherance. 

Breakfast was over when, glowing from her morning walk, she enteredthe dining-room; but, regardless of Mr. Landale's pointedly elaboratecourtesy in insisting upon a fresh repast being brought to her, hissarcastically overacted solicitude, intended to point out what a dealof avoidable trouble she gave to the household, Molly remainedperfectly gracious, and ate the good things, plaintively set beforeher by Miss Landale, with the most perfect appetite and good humour. 

She expatiated in terms of enthusiasm on the beauty of the estate andthe delight of her morning exploration, and concluded thiscondescending account of her doings (in which the meeting with Renédid not figure) with a request that Mr. Landale should put horses atthe disposal of herself and her sister for a riding excursion thatvery afternoon. And with determined energy she carried the point, declaring, despite his prognostications of coming bad weather, thatthe sunshine would last the day. 

In this wise was brought about the eventful ride which cost the lifeof Lucifer, and introduced such heart-stirring phantasmagories intothe even tenor of Sir Adrian Landale's seclusion. 

 * * * * *

That evening the news rapidly spread throughout Pulwick that the cruelsands of the bay had secured yet another victim. 

In an almost fainting condition, speechless with horror, and hardlyable yet to realise to the full her own anguish, Madeleine wasconducted by the terrified groom, through the howling wind anddrenching rain, back to the Priory. 

And there, between the fearful outcries of Miss Landale, and the deepfrowning gravity of her brother, the man stammered out his tale. --Howthe young lady when the rain first began, had insisted, notwithstanding his remonstrances, upon taking the causeway to theisland, and how it was actually by force that he prevented the otherlady from following so soon as she understood the danger into whichher sister was running. 

There was no use, he had thought (explained the man, halfapologetically), for two more to throw away their lives, just for nogood, that way. And so they had sat on their horses and watched interror, as well as they could through the torrents of rain. They hadseen in the distance Lucifer break from the young lady's control, andswerve from the advancing sea. And then had come the great gust thatblew the rain and the sand in their faces and set their horsesdancing; and, when they could see again, all traces of horse and riderhad disappeared, and there lay nothing before them but the advancingtide, though the island and its tower were still just visible throughthe storm. 

No amount of cross-examination could elicit any further information. The girl's impulse seemed to have been quite sudden, and she had onlylaughed back at the groom over her shoulder upon his earnest shout ofwarning, though she had probably expected them to follow her. And asthere could be no doubt about the calamity which had ensued, and nopossible rescue even of the body, he had returned home at once tobring the disastrous news. 

Madeleine had been carried completely unconscious to her bed, butpresently Miss Sophia was summoned to her side as the girl showedsigns of returning animation, and Rupert was left alone. 

He fell to pacing the room, lost in a labyrinth of complicated andfar-reaching reflections. 

Beyond doubt he was shocked and distressed by the sudden and horribledisaster; and yet as an undercurrent to these first natural thoughts, there ran presently a distinct notion that he would have felt thegrievousness of it more keenly had Madeleine perished in that cruelmanner and her sister survived to bring the tale home. 

The antagonism which his cousin, in all the insolence of her youngbeauty and vigorous self-esteem, had shown for him had been mutual. Hehad instinctively felt that she was an enemy, and more than that--adanger to him. This danger was now removed from his path, and by nointervention or even desire of his own. 

The calamity which had struck the remaining sister into suchprostration would make her rich indeed; by anticipation one of thegreat heiresses in England. 

"Sorrow, " thought Mr. Landale, and his lip curled disdainfully, "agirl's sorrow, at least, is a passing thing. Wealth is an everlastingbenefit. "

Madeleine was a desirable woman upon all counts, even pecuniaryconsiderations apart, or would be to one who had a heart to give--andeven if the heart was dead. . . ?

Altogether the sum of his meditations was assuming a not unpleasingaspect; and the undercurrent in time assumed almost the nature ofself-congratulation. Even the ordeal which was yet to come when hewould have to face Miss O'Donoghue and render an account of his shorttrust, could not weigh the balance down on the wrong side. 

And yet a terrible ordeal it would be; women are so unreasonable, andAunt Rose so much more so even than the average woman. Still it had tobe done; the sooner the better; if possible while the storm lasted andwhile roaring waters kept all ill news upon land and the interlopingheir on his island. 

And thus that very evening, whilst Madeleine sobbed on her pillow andMolly was snugly enjoying the warm hospitality of Scarthey, a mountedmessenger departed from the Priory to overtake Miss O'Donoghue on theroad to Bath and acquaint her with the terrible fatality that hadbefallen her darling and favourite. 

CHAPTER XV

UNDER THE LIGHT

DECEMBER 16TH. --Again I separate your green boards, my diary. No onehas opened you; for your key, now a little rusty, still hangs upon mywatch--my poor watch whose heart has ceased to beat, who, unlike itsmistress, has _not_ survived the ordeal by sand and water! What isbetter, no one has attempted to force your secrets from you; which, since it appears that it had been agreed that Molly de Savenaye wasdead and buried in Scarthey sands, speaks well for all concerned. Butshe is not dead. She is very much alive; and very happy to be so. 

This will indeed be an adventure worth reading, in the days to come;and it must be recounted--though were I to live to a hundred years Ido not think I could ever forget it. Tanty Rose (she has not yetstopped scolding everybody for the fright she has had) is in the nextroom with Madeleine, who, poor dear, has been made quite ill by thisprank of mine; but since after the distress caused by her Molly'sdeath she has had the joy of finding her Molly alive again, things arebalanced, I take it; and all being well that ends well, the wholeaffair is pleasant to remember. It has been actually as interesting asI expected--now that I think it over--even more. 

Of all the many pictures that I fancied, not one was at all like thereality--and this reality I could not have rested till I had found. Itwas René's account decided me. I laid my plans very neatly to pay therecluse a little visit, and plead necessity for the intrusion. Mymachinations would have been perfect if they had not caused Madeleineand poor old Tanty unnecessary grief. 

But now that I know the truth, I cannot distinctly remember what itwas that I _did_ expect to find on that island. 

If it had not been that I had already gone through more excitementthan I bargained for to reach that mysterious rock, how exciting Ishould have found it to wander up to unknown ruins, to knock at theclosed doors of an enchanted castle, ascend unknown stairs and engagein devious unknown passages--all the while on the tiptoe ofexpectation!

But when I dragged myself giddy and faint from the boiling breakersand scrambled upon the desolate island under the rain that beat melike the lashes of a whip, pushing against a wind that bellowed andrushed as though determined to thrust me back to the waters I hadcheated of their prey, my only thoughts were for succour and shelter. 

Such warm shelter, such loving welcome, it was of course impossiblethat I could for a moment have anticipated!

Conceive, my dear diary, the feelings of a poor, semi-drownedwanderer, shivering with cold, with feet torn by cruel stones, whosuddenly emerges from howl and turmoil into a warm, quiet room to bereceived as a long and eagerly expected guest, whose advent bringshappiness, whose presence is a highly prized favour; in fact not asone who has to explain her intrusion, but as one who in the situationholds the upper hand herself. 

And _this_ was my welcome from him whose absence from Pulwick was morehaunting than any presence I can think of!

Of course I knew him at once. Even had I not expected to see him--hadI not come to seek him in fact--I should have known him at once fromthe portrait whose melancholy, wide-open eyes had followed me aboutthe gallery. But I had not dreamed to see him so little altered. Now, apart from the dress, if he is in any way changed from the picture, itis in a look of greater youth and less sombreness. The portrait ishandsome, but the original is better. 

Had it not been so, I imagine I might have felt vastly different whenI was seized and enfolded and--kissed! As it was I cannot rememberthat, even at the moment of this extraordinary proceeding, I wasotherwise than pleased, nor that the dark hints of Mr. Landaleconcerning Sir Adrian's madness returned to disturb my mind in theleast. 

And yet I found myself enveloped in great strong arms out of which Icould not have extricated myself by the most frantic efforts--althoughthe folding was soft and tender--and I loved that impression. Why? Icannot say. 

His words of love were not addressed to me; from his exclamation Iknew that the real and present Molly was not the true object of hissudden ecstasy. 

And yet I am glad that this is the first man who has been able to kissMolly de Savenaye. It is quite incomprehensible; I ought to beindignant. 

Now the whole secret of my reception is plain to see, and it ispathetic; Sir Adrian Landale was in love with my mother; when she wasan unprotected widow he followed her to our own country; if she hadnot died soon after, he would have married her. 

What a true knight must this Sir Adrian be, to keep so fresh fortwenty years the remembrance of his boyish love that when I came inupon him to look at him with _her_ eyes, it was to find him ponderingupon her, and to fill his soul with the rapturous thought that hislove had come back to him. Though I was aware that all this fervourwas not addressed to me, there was something very gratifying in beingso like one who could inspire such long-lived passion. --Yes, it wasunexpectedly pleasant and comforting to be so received. And the tendercare, the thoughtful solicitude next bestowed on the limp anddishevelled waif of the sea by my _beau ténébreux_ were unmistakablymeant for Molly and no one else, whatever his first imaginings mayhave been, and they were quite as interesting to receive. 

The half-hour I spent, cosily ensconced by his hands, and waited uponby his queer household, was perhaps the best I have ever known. Hestood by the fireplace, looking down from his great height, with awondering smile upon me. I declare that the loving kindness of hiseyes, which he has wide, grey, and beautiful, warmed me as much as thepyramid of logs he had set burning on the hearth!

I took a good reckoning of the man, from under the gigantic collar, inwhich, I felt, my head rested like a little egg at the bottom of awarm nest. "And so, " I thought, "here is the Light-keeper of ScartheyIsland!" And I was obliged to confess that he was a moreromantic-looking person than even in my wildest dreams I had picturedto myself--that in fact I had found out for the first time _the man_really approved of. 

And I congratulated myself on my own cleverness--for it was evidentthat, just as I had suspected from René's reticent manner, even by himour existence at Pulwick had not been mentioned to "the master. "

And as Mr. Landale was quite determined to avail himself of hisbrother's _sauvagerie_ not to let him know anything about us, on hisside, but for me we might have remained at and departed from Pulwickunknown to the head of the house! And what a pity that would havebeen!

Now, _why_ did not Mr. Landale wish his brother to know? Did he think(as indeed has happened) that the Light-keeper would take too kindlyto the Savenaye children? Or to one of them? If so, he will be _bienattrappé_, for there is no doubt that my sudden and dramatic arrivalupon his especial domain has made an impression on him that no meetingprepared and discussed beforehand could have produced. 

Adrian Landale may have been in love with our beautiful mamma in hisboyish days, but now, Sir Adrian, the _man_ is in love with thebeautiful Molly!

That is positive. 

I was a long time before I could go to sleep in the tower; it was tooperfect to be in bed in such a place, safe and happy in the midst ofthe rage I could hear outside; to have seen the unknown, to have foundhim such as he is--to be under _the Light_!

What would have happened if my cousin had really been mad (and Renéhis keeper, as that stupid country-side wit suggested in my ear theother night at dinner)? It would have been still more of an adventureof course, but not one which even "Murthering Moll the Second" canregret. Or if he had been a dirty, untidy hermit, as Madeleinethought? That would have spoilt all. 

Thus in the owl's nest, as Mr. Landale (spiteful creature!) called itto Tanty, there lives not owl any more than lunatic. A polishedgentleman, with white, exquisite hands, who, when he is discovered bythe most unexpected of visitors, is shaven as smooth as Ruperthimself; has the most unexceptionable of snowy linen andold-fashioned, it is true, but most well-fitting clothes. 

As for the entertainment for the said casual visitor, not even Pulwickwith all its resources (where housekeeping, between the fussy brotherand the docile sister is a complicated science) could have producedmore real comfort. 

In the morning, when I woke late (it was broad daylight), feeling asif I had been beaten and passed through a mangle, for there was not aninch of my poor body that was not sore, I had not turned round and sogiven sign of life, before I heard a whisper outside my door; thencomes a sturdy knock and in walks old Margery, still dignified as aqueen's housekeeper, bearing a bowl of warm frothy milk. 

And this being gratefully drunk by me, she gravely inquires, in herqueer provincial accent, how I am this morn; and then goes to reportto some anxious inquirer (whom?--I can easily guess) that with theexception of my cut foot I am very well. 

Presently she returns and lights a blazing fire. Then in come my dressand linen and my one shoe, all cleaned, dried and mended, only my poorhabit is so torn and so stiff that I have to put up with Margery'sbest striped skirt in lieu of it, till she has time to mend and washit. As it is she must have been at work all night upon these repairsfor me. 

Again she goes out--for another consultation, I suppose--and comesback to find me half clad, hopping about the room; this time she hasgot nice white linen bandages and with them ties up my little foot, partly for the cuts, partly for want of a sandal, till it is twice thesize of its companion. But I can walk on it. 

Then my strange handmaid--who by the way is a droll, grumbling oldsoul, and orders me about as if she were still my nurse--dresses meand combs my hair, which will not yet awhile be rid of all its sand. And so, in due course, Molly emerges from her bower, as well tendedalmost as she might have been at Bath, except that Margery's stripedskirt is a deal too short for her and she displays a little more ofone very nice ankle and one gouty foot than fashion warrants. 

And in this manner the guest goes to meet her host in the great room. 

He was walking up and down as if impatiently expecting me, and when Ihobbled in, he came forward with a smile on his face which, once more, I thought beautiful. 

"God be praised!" he said, taking both my hands and kissing one ofthem, with his fine air of gallantry which was all the more delightfulon account of his evident earnestness, "you seem none the worse forthis terrible adventure. I dreaded this morning to hear that you werein a fever. You know, " he added so seriously that I had to smile, "youmight easily have had a fever from this yesterday's work; and whatshould we have done without doctor and medicines!"

"You have a good surgeon, at least, " said I laughing and pointing atmy swaddled extremity. He laughed too at the _enmitouflage_. "I triedto explain how it was to be done, " he said, "but I think I could havemanaged it more neatly myself. "

Then he helped me to the arm-chair, and René came in, and, after aprofound bow (which did not preclude much staring and smiling at meafterwards), laid, on a dazzling tablecloth, a most temptingbreakfast, explaining the while, in his odd English, "The bread isstale, for we bake only twice a month. But there are some cakes hotfrom the fire, some eggs, new laid last evening, some fresh milk, sometea. It was a happy thing I arrived yesterday for there was no moretea. The butter wants, but Mistress Margery will have some madeto-morrow, so that the demoiselle will not leave without having tastedour Scarthey butter. "

All the while Sir Adrian looked on with a sort of dreamy smile--ahappy smile!

"Poor René!" he said, when the man had left the room, "one would thinkthat you have brought to him almost as much joy as to me. "

I wondered what Mr. Landale would have said had he through some magicglass been able to see this little feast. I never enjoyed a meal more. As for my host, he hardly touched anything, but, I could see, was allabsorbed in the delight of looking at me; and this he showed quiteopenly in the most child-like manner. 

Not one of the many fine gentlemen it has been my fate to meet in mysix months' apprenticeship to the "great world, " not cousin Ruperthimself with all his elaborate politeness (and Rupert has de _grandesmanières_, as Tanty says), could have played the host with a moreexquisite courtesy, and more true hospitality. So I thought, at least. Now and again, it is true, while his eyes were fixed on me, I wouldsee how the soul behind them was away, far in the past, and then at aword, even at a movement, back it would come to me, with the tenderestsoftening I have ever seen upon a human face. 

 * * * * *

It was only at the end of breakfast that he suddenly adverted to theprevious day. 

"Of course, " he said, hesitatingly, but keeping a frank gaze on mine, "you must have thought me demented when--when you first entered, yesterday. "

Now, I had anticipated this apology as inevitable, and I was preparedto put him at his ease. 

"I----? Not at all, " I said quite gravely; and, seeing the puzzledexpression that came upon his face, I hastened to add in lower tones:"I know I am very like my mother, and it was her name you called outupon seeing me. " And then I stopped, as if that had explainedeverything. 

He looked at me with a wondering air, and fell again into a muse. After a while he said, with his great simplicity which seems somehowin him the last touch of the most perfect breeding: "Yes, such anapparition was enough to unhinge any one's mind for the moment. Younever knew her, child, and therefore never mourned her death. Butwe--that is, René and I, who tried so hard to save her--though it isso long ago, we have not forgotten. "

It was then I asked him to tell me about the mother I had never known. At first it was as if he could not; he fell into a great silence, through which I could feel the working of his old sorrow. So then Isaid to him quickly, for I feared he thought me an indiscreettrespasser upon sacred ground, that he must remember my right to knowmore than the vague accounts I had been given of my mother's history. 

"No one will tell me of her, " I said. "It is hard, for I am her owndaughter. "

"It is wrong, " he said very gently; "you ought to know, for you areindeed, most verily, her own daughter. "

And then by fragments he tried to tell me a little of her beauty, herloving heart, her faithfulness and bravery. At first it was withgreat tripping sighs as if the words hurt him, but by and by it cameeasier, and with his eyes fixed wistfully on me he took me, as itwere, by his side through all their marvellous adventures. 

And thus I heard the stirring story of the "Savenaye band, " and I feltprouder of my race than I had ever been before. Hitherto, being aSavenaye only meant the pride our aunt tried to instil into us ofbeing undeniably _biennées_ and connected with numbers of greatfamilies. But the tale of the deeds mine had done for the King'scause, and especially the achievements of my own mother in startingsuch an expedition after my father's death, and following its fortunesto the bitter end, made my blood tingle with a new emotion. 

Little wonder that Sir Adrian should have devoted his life to herservice. How madly enthralled I should have been, being a man, andfree and strong, by the presence of a woman such as my mother. I, too, would have prostrated myself to worship her image returning tolife--and I am that living, living portrait!

When he came to the story of her death, he hesitated and finallystopped. It must have been horrible. I could see it in his eyes, and Idared not press him. 

Now, I suppose I am the only one in the world, besides René, who knowsthis man as he is. And I am proud of it. 

And it is for this constancy, which no vulgar soul of them canunderstand, that Rupert and his class have dubbed the gallantgentleman a madman. It fills me with scorn of them. I do not yet knowwhat love is, therefore of course I cannot fathom its grief; but thismuch I know--that if I loved and yet could not reach as high as everlove may reach both in joy and sorrow, I should despise myself. I, too, would draw the utmost from life that life can give. 

He never even hinted at his love for my mother; speaking of himselfthroughout as René might, as of her humble devoted servant merely. Andthen the question began to gnaw at me. "Did she love him?" andsomehow, I felt as if I could not rest till I knew; and I had it on mylips twenty times to cry out to him: "I know you loved her: oh! tellme, did she love you?" And yet I dared no more have done so, andoverstepped the barrier of his gentle, reticent dignity, than I couldhave thrust the lighthouse tower down; and I could not think, either, whether I should be glad to hear that she had loved him, or that shehad not. Not even here, alone with myself, can I answer that question. 

But though I respect him because he is as I have found him, andunderstand how rare a personality it takes to achieve such refinementof faithfulness, it seems to me, that to teach this constant lover toforget the past in the present, would be something worth livingfor--something worthy of _me_!

Molly!--What is the meaning of this? You have never before put thatthought in words, even to yourself! But let me be frank, or else whatis the use of this diary?

Looking back to those delightful three days, did not the _thought_come to me, if not the words? Well, well, it is better, sometimes, Ibelieve, to let oneself drift, than to try and guide the boat; and Imust hurry back to Scarthey or I shall never have told my story. . . . 

How swiftly time had flown by us! I sitting in the arm-chair, with theold dog's muzzle on my lap, and Sir Adrian standing by his greatchimney; the clock struck twelve, in the midst of the long silence, and I had thought that barely an hour had passed. 

I got up, and, seeing me limp in my attempt to walk, Sir Adrian gaveme his arm; and so we went round the great room _bras dessus_, _brasdessous_, and it already seemed quite natural to feel like an intimatefriend in that queer dwelling. 

We paused a long time in silence by the window, the tempest wind wasstill raging, but the sky was clear, and all round us was a wonderfulsight; the sea, as far as eyes could reach, white with foam, lashedand tossing in frenzy round the rock on which we stood so safely, andrising in long jets of spray, which now and then dashed as far as ourwindow; and when I looked down nearer, I could see the little stuntedtrees, bending backwards and forwards under the blast, and an odd ideacame to my mind:--they looked to me when they caught my sight, asthough they were bowing deep, hurriedly and frantically greeting meamong them. 

I glanced up at my silent companion, the true knight, and found hiswide grey eyes fixed upon me with the same expression that wasalready familiar to me, which I had especially noted as he told me hislong tale of olden times. 

This time I felt the look go to my heart. _And then the thought firstcame to my mind, all unformed, but still sweet. _

I don't know exactly why, but in answer to his sad look, I smiled athim, without a word, upon which he suddenly grew pale. After a whilehe gave a sigh, and, as he drew my arm again through his, I fancy hishand trembled a little. 

When he had taken me back to my chair, he walked to and fro insilence, looking at me ever and anon. 

A long time we passed thus, without speaking; but it seemed as if ourthoughts were intermixing in harmony in the midst of our silence. Andthen the spell was broken by René, who never came in without making mehis great scrape, trying hard not to beam too obtrusively in thedelight that evidently overtakes him whenever he sets eyes on me. 

It was after a prolonged talk between him and the master, I fancy, concerning the means of attending fitly upon my noble and delicateperson, that Sir Adrian, brought back, evidently, to the considerationof present affairs, began to be exercised about the best means ofwhiling away my time. When he hinted at the difficulty, I very soondisposed of it. 

I told him I had never been so happy in my life before--that the hourswent all too quickly--I told him there was so much he and René had yetto tell me of their wonderful adventures, that I thought I should haveto carry them back to Pulwick with me. At the mention of Pulwick hisbrow darkened, and René turned away to cough into his hand, and I sawthat I had gone too fast. (N. B. --Pulwick is evidently a sore subject;I am sure I am not surprised. I can conceive how Rupert and Sophiawould drive a man of Sir Adrian's sensitiveness nearly to desperation. Yet I _have_ brought Sir Adrian back to Pulwick, in spite of all. Isnot that a feather in my cap?)

But to return; I next made René laugh aloud and Sir Adrian give hisindulgent smile--such as a father might give to his child--by addingthat when I was bored I would soon let them know. "I always do, " Isaid, "for I consider that a duty to myself. "

"God knows, " said this strange man then, half smiling, "I would wecould keep you here for ever. "

It was almost a declaration, but his eyes were far off--it was notaddressed to me. 

I soon found that the recollection of all the extraordinary incidentsSir Adrian had lived through, is one neither of pride nor pleasure tohim, but, all the same, never has anything in books seemed to me sostirring, as the tale of relentless fate, of ever-recurring battlesand struggles and misfortunes told by the man who, still in thestrength of life, has now chosen to forego everything that might forthe remainder of his days have compensated him. 

Willing as he was to humour me, however, and disproportionatelyanxious to amuse me, it was little more than the dry bones of hishistory, I was able to obtain from him. 

With René's help, however, and my own lively imagination I have beenable to piece together a very wonderful skeleton, from these same drybones, and, moreover, endow it with flesh and blood and life. 

René was very willing to descant upon his master's exploits, as far ashe knew them: "Whew, Mademoiselle should have seen him fight!" hewould say, "a lion, Mademoiselle, a real lion!"

And then I would contrast the reposeful, somewhat immobilecountenance, the dreaming eye, the almost womanly softness of hissmile, with the picture, and find the contrast piquant in the extreme. 

Concerning his present home Sir Adrian was more willing to speak--Ihad told him how the light on the little island had fascinated me fromthe distance, and all the surmises I had made about it. 

"And so, it was in order to see what sort of dungeon they kept themadman in, " he said, laughing quietly, "that you pushed thereconnaissance, which nearly sent you into the jaws of death!"

I was so struck, at first, by his speaking of himself as the reputed"madman" that I could not answer. To think of him as serenelycontemptuous of the world's imputation--and an imputation so gallingas this one of being irresponsible for his actions--and deliberatelycontinuing his even way without taking the trouble to refute it, hasgiven me an insight into his nature, that fills me with admiration, and yet, at the same time, with a sort of longing to see himreinstated in his proper place, and casting out those slanderinginterlopers. 

But, as he was waiting to be answered, I had to collect my thoughtsand admit, not without a little bashfulness, that my first account ofmy exploit had contained a slight prevarication. 

In all he has to say about his little Scarthey domain, about theexistence he has made for himself there, I cannot help noticing withwhat affection he speaks of René. René, according to Sir Adrian, iseverything and everywhere; a perfect familiar genius; he is counselloras well as valet, plays his master's game of chess as well as shaveshim, can tune his organ, and manage his boat, and cast his nets, forhe is fisherman as well as gardener; he is the steward of thiswonderful little estate, and its stock of one pony, one cow, andtwelve hens; he tends the light, and can cook a dinner a great dealbetter than his great rival, old Margery. 

Of this last accomplishment we had good proof in the shape of variousdainties that appeared at our dinner. For when I exclaimed inastonishment, the master said, well pleased, and pointing to theattentive major-domo: "This is René's way of spoiling me. But now hehas surpassed himself to celebrate so unique an occasion. "

And René's face was all one grin of rapture. I observe that onoccasions his eyes wander quite tenderly from me to his master. 

Shall I ever enjoy dinners again like those in that old ruined tower!Or hours like those during which I listened to tales of peril andadventure, or to the music that pealed forth from the distant corner, when Sir Adrian sat down to his organ and made it speak the wordlesslanguage of the soul: that language that made me at times shiver witha mad yearning for life, more life; at times soothed my heart with acaress of infinite softness. 

How is it that our organ-songs at the convent _never_ moved me in thisfashion?

Ah! those will be days to remember; all the more for being certainthat they will not be forgotten by him. Yes, those days have broughtsome light into his melancholy life. 

Even René knows that. "Oh, my lady, " said he to me as he was leavingthe island yesterday. "You have come like the good fairy, you havebrought back the joy of life to his honour: I have not heard himreally laugh--before this year passed I did not believe he knew anymore how to laugh--what you can call laugh!"

It is quite true. I had made some droll remark about Tanty and CousinSophia, and when he laughed he looked like a young man. 

He was quick enough in grasping at a pretext for keeping me yetanother day. Yesterday the wind having suddenly abated in the night, there was quite a bevy of little fishing-boats sailing merrily away. And the causeway at low water was quite visible. As we looked out Iknow the same idea came to both our minds, though there was no wordbetween us. At last it was I who spoke. "The crossing is quite safe, "said I. And I added, as he answered nothing, "I almost wish now it wasnot. How quick the time has gone by, here!"

His countenance when I looked up was darker. He kept his eyes fixed inthe distance. At last he said in a low voice:

"Yes, I suppose it is high time you should go back. "

"I am sure I don't wish it, " I said quite frankly--he is not the sortof man with whom one would ever think of _minauderie_, "but Madeleinewill be miserable about me. "

"And so you would really care to stop here, " said he, with a smile ofwonder on his face, "if it were not for that reason?"

"Naturally I would, " said I. "I feel already as cosy as a tame cathere. And if it were not for Madeleine, poor little Madeleine, whomust be breaking her heart!--But then how can I go back?--I have nowraps and only one shoe?"

His face had cleared again. He was walking up and down in his usualway, whilst I hopped back, with more limping than was at allnecessary, to my favourite arm-chair. 

"True, true, " he said, as if speaking to himself, "you cannot walk, with one shoe and a bandaged foot. And your clothes are too thin forthe roundabout sea journey in this cold wind. This is what we shalldo, child, " he went on, coming up to me with a sage expression thatstruggled with his evident eager desire. "René shall go off, as soonas the tide permits, carrying the good news of your safety to yoursister, and bring back some warm things for you to wear to-morrowmorning, and I shall write to Rupert to send a carriage, to wait foryou on the strand. "

And so, pleased like two children who have found a means of securing afurther holiday, we wrote both our letters. I wonder whether itoccurred to Sir Adrian, as it did to me, that, if we had been so veryanxious that I should be restored to the care of Pulwick with thebriefest delay, I might have gone with René that same day, wrapped upin a certain cloak which had done good warming service already; andthat, as René had constructed with his cunning hands a sufficient ifnot very pretty sandal for my damaged foot out of some old piece offelt, I might have walked from the beach to the fishing village; andthat there, no doubt, a cart or a donkey might have conveyed me homein triumph. 

Perhaps it did _not_ occur to him; and certainly I had no desire tosuggest it on my side. 

Thus, soon after mid-day, Master René departed alone. And Sir Adrianand I, both very glad of our reprieve, watched, leaning side by sideupon the window-sill, the brave little craft glide away on the stillruffled waters, until, when it had grown very small in the distance, we saw the sail lowered and knew René had reached mainland. 

And that was perhaps the best day of the three. René having beenunexpectedly despatched, we had to help to do everything ourselveswith old Margery, who is rather feeble. The sky was clear andbeautiful; and, followed gravely by Jem the dog, we went round thelittle outer domain. I fed the hens, and Sir Adrian carried the pailwhen Margery had milked the cow; we paid a visit in his wide paddockto the pony, who trotted up to his master whinnying with pleasure. Welooked at the waters rushing past like a mill race on the further sideof the island, as the tide was rising, and he explained to me that itwas this rush which makes the neighbourhood of Scarthey so dangerousto unwary crafts; we went down into the sea-caves which penetrate deepunder the ruins. --They say that in olden days there was a passageunder the rocky causeway that led as far as the old Priory, but alltraces of it have been effaced. 

Then, later on, Sir Adrian showed me in detail his library. 

"I was made to be a man of books, " he said, when I wondered at thenumber he had accumulated around him--there must be thousands, "a manof study, not of action. And you know how fate has treated me. Thesehave been my one consolation of late years. "

And it marvelled me to think that one who had achieved so many manlydeeds, should love musty old tiresome things so much. He really turnedthem over quite reverentially. I myself do not think much of books ascompanions. 

When I made that little confession he smiled rather sadly, and saidthat one like me never would lack the suitable companions of youth andhappiness; but that a creature of his unfortunate disposition couldfind, in these long rows of folded leaves, the society of the best andthe loftiest minds, not of our age, but of all ages, and, what wasmore, could find them ready for intercourse and at their best humour, just in those hours when he himself was fit and disposed for suchintercourse--and this without dread of inflicting his own misery anddulness upon them. 

But I could not agree with his appreciation. I felt my nose curl withdisdain at the breath of dust and must and age these old tomes gaveforth, and I said again it was, to my mind, but a poor and tame sortof fellowship. 

He was perched on his ladder and had some odd volume in his hand, fromwhich he was about to give an example in point; on hearing, however, this uncongenial sentiment he pushed back the book and came downquickly enough to talk to me. And this was the last of our excursionsamong the bookshelves. 

Of this I was glad, for I confess it was there I liked Sir Adrian theleast. 

When the end of the short day drew near it was time to go and attendto the beacon. We ascended the ladder-like wooden stairs leading tothe platform. Then I had the _reverse_ of that view that for so manydays had engrossed my interest. 

_Pulwick from Scarthey!. . . _ What a long time it seemed then since Ihad left those rooms the windows of which now sent us back the rays ofthe setting sun! and I had no desire to return, though return I muston the morrow. 

René, of course, had left everything in his usual trim order, so allwe had to do was to see to the lamp. It pleased my fantasy to lightthe beacon of Scarthey myself, and I struck the steel and kindled thebrimstone and set fire to the huge, ill-smelling wicks until they gavea flame as big as my hand; and "there is the light of Scarthey atclose quarters, " I thought. And the Light-keeper was bending over mewith his kindly look, humouring me like a child. 

As we sat there silently for a while in the twilight, there came fromthe little room adjoining the turret an odd sound of flapping anduncanny, melancholy cries. Sir Adrian rose, and we remembered theseagull by which he had played the part of good Samaritan. 

It had happened on the second day, as the storm was at its height. There had come a great crash at the window, and we saw something whitethat struggled on the sill outside; Sir Adrian opened the casement(when we had a little tornado of our own inside, and all his papersbegan dancing a sarabande in the room), and we gathered in the poorcreature that was hurt and battered and more than half stunned, opening alternately its yellow bill and its red eyes in the mostabsurd manner. 

With a solicitude that it amused me to watch, Sir Adrian had tendedthe helpless, goose-like thing and then handed it to René's furthercare. 

René, it seemed, had thought of trying to tame the wild bird, and hadconstructed a huge sort of cage with laths and barrel-hoops, andinstalled it there with various nasty, sea-fishy, weedy things, suchas seagulls consider dainty. But the prisoner, now its vigour hadreturned, yearned for nothing but the free air, and ever and anonalmost broke its wings in sudden frenzy to escape. 

"I wonder at René, " said Sir Adrian, contemplating the animal with hisgrave look of commiseration; "René, who, like myself, has been aprisoner! He will be disappointed, but we shall make one of God'screatures happy this day. There is not overmuch happiness in thisworld. "

And, regardless of the vicious pecks aimed at his hands, he withfirmness folded the great strong wings and legs and carried the gulloutside on the parapet. 

There the bird sat a moment, astonished, turning its head round at itsbenefactor before taking wing; and then it rose flying away in greatswoops--flap, flap--across the waves till we could see it no longer. Ugly and awkward as the creature looked in its cage, it was beautifulin its joyful, steady flight, and I was glad to see it go. I must havebeen a bird myself in another existence, for I have often that longingto fly upon me, and it makes my heart swell with a great impatiencethat I cannot. 

But I could not help remarking to Sir Adrian that the bird's last lookround had been full of anger rather than gratitude, and his answer, ashe watched it sweep heavily away, was too gloomy to please me:

"Gratitude, " said he, "is as rare as unselfishness. If it were not sothis world would be different indeed. As it is, we have no more rightto expect the one than the other. And, when all is said and done, ifdoing a so-called kind action gives us pleasure, it is only a specialform of self-indulgence. "

There is something wrong about a reasoning of this kind, but I couldnot exactly point out where. 

We both stood gazing out from our platform upon the darkening waters. Then across our vision there crept, round the promontory, a beautifulship with all sails set, looking like some gigantic white bird;sailing, sailing, so swiftly yet so surely by, through the dim light;and I cried out in admiration: for there is something in the sight ofa ship silently gliding that always sets my heart beating. But SirAdrian's face grew stern, and he said: "A ship is a whitenedsepulchre. "

But for all that he looked at it long and pensively. 

Now it had struck me before this that Sir Adrian, with all hiskindness of heart, takes but a dismal view of human nature and humandestiny; that to him what spoils the face of this world is that strifeof life--which to me is as the breath of my nostrils, the absence ofwhich made my convent days so grey and hateful to look back upon. 

I did not like to feel out of harmony with him, and so almost angrilyI reproached him. 

"Would you have every one live like a limpet on a rock?" cried I. "Great heavens! I would rather be dead than not be up and doing. "

He looked at me gravely, pityingly. 

"May _you_ never see what I have seen, " said he. "May you never learnwhat men have made of the world. God keep your fair life from suchways as mine has been made to follow. "

The words filled me, I don't know why, with sudden misgiving. Is thislife, I am so eager for, but horror and misery after all? Would it bebetter to leave the book unopened? They said so at the convent. Butwhat can they know of life at a convent?

He bent his kind face towards mine in the thickening gloom, as thoughto read my thoughts, and his lips moved, but he did not speak aloud. Then, above the song of the waves as they gathered, rolled in, andfell upon the shingle all around, there came the beat of oars. 

"Hark, " said Sir Adrian, "our good René!"

His tone was cheerful again, and, as he hurried me away down thestairs, I knew he was glad to divert me from the melancholy into whichhe had allowed himself to drift. 

And then "good René" came, bringing breezy life and cheerfulness withhim, and a bundle and a letter for me. 

Poor Madeleine! It seems she has been quite ill with weeping forMolly; and, indeed, her dear scrawl was so illegible that I couldhardly read it. René says she was nearly as much upset by the joy asby the grief. Mr. Landale was not at home; he had ridden to meet Tantyat Liverpool, for the dear old lady has been summoned back in hothaste with the news of my decease!

He for one, I thought to myself, will survive the shock of relief atlearning that Molly has risen from the dead!

 * * * * *

Ting, ting, ting. . . . There goes my little clock, fussily counting thehour to tell me that I have written so long a time that I ought to betired. And so I am, though I have not told you half of all I meant totell!

CHAPTER XVI

THE RECLUSE AND THE SQUIRE

I thought I should never get away from supper and be alone! Rupert'sair of cool triumph--it was triumph, however he may have wished tohide it--and Tanty's flow of indignation, recrimination, speculation, and amazement were enough to drive me mad. But I held out. I pretendedI did not mind. My cheeks were blazing, and I talked _à tort et àtravers_. I should have _died_ rather than that Rupert should haveguessed at the tempest in my heart. Now I am alone at last, thank God!and it will be a relief to confide to my faithful diary the feelingsthat have been choking me these last two hours. 

"Pride must have a fall. " Thus Rupert at supper, with reference, it istrue, to some trivial incident, but looking at me hard and full, andpointing the words with his meaning smile. The fairies who attended atmy birth endowed me with one power, which, however doubtful a blessingit may prove in the long run, has nevertheless been an unspeakablecomfort to me hitherto. This is the reverse of what I heard a Frenchgentleman term _l'esprit de l'escalier_. Thanks to this fairygodmother of mine, the instant some one annoys or angers me thererises on the tip of my tongue the most galling rejoinder that canpossibly be made in the circumstances. And I need not add: _I makeit_. 

To-night, when Rupert flung his scoff at me, I was ready for him. 

"I trust the old adage has not been brought home to you, _Sir_Rupert, " said I, and then pretending confusion. "I beg your pardon, " Iadded, "I have been so accustomed to address the head of the housethese last days that the word escaped me unawares. " The shot told_well_, and I was glad--glad of the murderous rage in Rupert's eyes, for I knew I had hit him on the raw. Even Tanty looked perturbed, butRupert let me alone for the rest of supper. 

He is right nevertheless, that is what stung me. I am humbled, _and Icannot bear it_!

Sir Adrian has left. 

I was so triumphant to bring him back to Pulwick this morning, to havecircumvented Rupert's plans, and (let me speak the truth, ) so happy tohave him with me that I did not attempt to conceal my exultation. Andnow he has gone, gone without a word to me; only this miserable letterof determined farewell. I will copy it--for in my first anger I haveso crumpled the paper that it is scarcely readable. 

"My child, I must go back to my island. The world is not for me, noram I for the world, nor would I cast the shadow of my gloomy lifefurther upon your bright one. Let me tell you, however, that you haveleft me the better for your coming; that it will be a good thought tome in my loneliness to know of your mother's daughters so close to me. When you look across at the beacon of Scarthey, child, through thedarkness, think that though I may not see you again I shall everfollow and keep guard upon your life and upon your sister's, and that, even when you are far from Pulwick, the light will burn and the heartof Adrian Landale watch so long as it may beat. "

I have shed more tears--hot tears of anger--since I received this thanI have wept in all my life before. Madeleine came in to me just now, too full of the happiness of having me back, poor darling, to be ableto bear me out of sight again; but I have driven her from me with suchcross words that she too is in tears. I must be alone and I mustcollect myself and my thoughts, for I want to state exactly all thathas happened and then perhaps I shall be able to see my way moreclearly. 

 * * * * *

This morning then, early after breakfast, I started across the watersbetween René and Sir Adrian, regretting to leave the dear hospitableisland, yet with my heart dancing within me, as gaily as did ourlittle boat upon the chopping waves, to be carrying the hermit backwith me. I had been deadly afraid lest he should at the last momenthave sent me alone with the servant; but when he put on his big cloak, when I saw René place a bag at the bottom of the boat, I knew hemeant to come--perhaps remain some days at Pulwick, and my spiritswent up, up!

It was a lovely day, too; the air had a crisp, cold sparkle, and thewaters looked so blue under the clear, frosty sky. I could have sungas we rowed along, and every time I met Sir Adrian's eye I smiled athim out of the happiness of my heart. His look hung on me--we Frenchhave a word for that which is not translatable, _Il me couvait desyeux_--and, as every day of the three we had spent together I hadthought him younger and handsomer, so this morning out in the brightsunlight I said to myself, I could never wish to see a more noble man. 

When we landed--and it was but a little way, for the tide waslow--there was the carriage waiting, and René, all grins, handed overour parcels to the footman. Then we got in, the wheels began slowlydragging across the sand to the road, the poor horses pulling andstraining, for it was heavy work. And René stood watching us by hisboat, his hand over his eyes, a black figure against the dazzlingsunshine on the bay; but I could see his white teeth gleam in thatbroad smile of his from out of his shadowy face. As, at length, wereached the high road and bowled swiftly along, I would not let SirAdrian have peace to think, for something at my heart told me he hatedthe going back to Pulwick, and I so chattered and fixed his attentionthat as the carriage drew up he was actually laughing. 

When we stopped another carriage in front moved off, and there on theporch stood--Rupert and Tanty!

Poor Tanty, her old face all disfigured with tears and a great blackbonnet and veil towering on her head. I popped _my_ head out of thewindow and called to them. 

When they caught sight of me, both seemed to grow rigid withamazement. And then across Rupert's face came such a look of fury, andsuch a deathly pallor! I had thought, certainly, he would not weep theeyes out of his head for me; but that he should be stricken with_anger_ to see me alive I had hardly expected, and for the instant itfrightened me. 

But then I had no time to observe anything else, for Tanty collapsedupon the steps and went off into as fine a fit of hysterics as I haveever seen. But fortunately it did not last long. Suddenly in themiddle of her screams and rockings to and fro she perceived Sir Adrianas he leant anxiously over her. With the utmost energy she clutchedhis arm and scrambled to her feet. 

"Is it you, me poor child?" she cried, "Is it you?"

And then she turned from him, as he stood with his gentle, earnestface looking down upon her, and gave Rupert a glare that might haveslain him. I knew at once what she was thinking: I had experiencedmyself that it was impossible to see Sir Adrian and connect hisdignified presence for one second with the scandalous impressionRupert would have conveyed. 

As for Rupert, he looked for the first time since I knew himthoroughly unnerved. 

Then Tanty caught me by the arm and shook me:

"How _dare_ you, miss, how dare you?" she cried, her face was flaming. 

"How dare I what?" asked I, as I hugged her. 

"How dare you be walking about when it is dead you are, and give usall such a fright--there--there, you know what I mean. --Adrian, " shewhimpered, "give me your arm, my nephew, and conduct me into yourhouse. All this has upset me very much. But, oh, am I not glad to seeyou both, my children!"

In they went together. And my courage having risen again to its usualheight, I waited purposely on the porch to tease Rupert a little. Ihad a real pleasure in noticing how he trembled with agitation beneathhis mask. 

"Well, are you glad to see me, Cousin Rupert?" said I. 

He took my hand; his fingers were damp and cold. 

"Can you ask, my fair cousin?" he sneered. "Do you not see me overcomewith joy? Am I not indeed especially favoured by Providence, for isnot this the second time that a beloved being has been restored intomy arms like Lazarus from the grave?"

I was indignant at the heartlessness of his cynicism, and so theanswer that leaped to my lips was out before I had time to reflectupon its unladylikeness. 

"Ay, " said I, "and each time you have cried in your soul, like Martha, 'Behold, he stinketh. '"

My cousin laughed aloud. 

"You have a sharp tongue, " he said, "take care you are not cut with ityourself some day. "

Just then the footmen who had been unpacking Tanty's trunks from thefirst carriage laid a great wooden box upon the porch, and one of themasked Rupert which room they should bring it to. 

Rupert looked at it strangely, and then at me. 

"Take it where you will, " he exclaimed at last. "There lies goodmoney-value wasted--though, after all, one never knows. "

"What is it?" said I, struck by a sinister meaning in his accents. 

"Mourning, beautiful Molly--mourning foryou--crape--gowns--weepers--wherewith to have dried your sister'stears--but not needed yet, you see. "

He bared his teeth at me over his shoulder--I could not call it asmile--and then paused, as he was about to brush past into the hall, to give me the _pas_, with a mocking bow. 

He does not even attempt now to hide his dislike of me, nor to drawfor me that cloak of suave composure over the fierce temper that isalways gnawing at his vitals as surely as fox ever gnawed littleSpartan. He sees that it is useless, I suppose. As I went upstairs togreet Madeleine, I laughed to myself to think how Fate hadcircumvented the plotter. 

Alas, how foolish I was to laugh! Rupert is a dangerous enemy, and Ihave made him mine; and in a few hours he has shuffled the cards, andnow he holds the trumps again. For that there is _du Rupert_ in thissudden departure of my knight, I am convinced. Of course, _his_reasons are plain to see. It is the vulgarest ambition that promptshim to oust his brother for as long as possible--for ever, if he can. 

And now, _I_ am outwitted. _Je rage. _

I have never been so unhappy. My heart feels all crushed. I see nohelp anywhere. I cannot in common decency go and seek Sir Adrian uponhis island again, and so I sit and cry. 

 * * * * *

Immediately upon his arrival Tanty was closeted with Sir Adrian in thechamber allotted to her for so long a space of time that Rupert, watching below in an inward fever, now flung back in his chair bitinghis nails, now restlessly pacing the room from end to end, his mindworking on the new problem, his ears strained to catch the least soundthe while, was fain at last to ring and give orders for the immediatesounding of the dinner bell (a good hour before that meal might beexpected) as the only chance of interrupting a conference which bodedso ill to his plans. Meanwhile Madeleine sobbed out the story of hergrief and joy on Molly's heart; and Miss Sophia, who thusinconsiderately arrested in the full congenial flow of a new grief, was thrown back upon her old sorrows for consolation, had feltimpelled to pay a visit to the rector's grave with the watering-can, and an extra pocket-handkerchief. 

Never perhaps since that worthy clergyman had gasped out his laststruggling breath upon her bosom had she known more unmixedsatisfaction than during those days when she hovered round poorprostrate Madeleine's bed and poured into her deaf ear the tale of herown woes and the assurances of her thoroughly understanding sympathy. She had been looking forward, with a chastened eagerness, to thearrival of the mourning, and had already derived a good deal ofpleasure from the donning of certain aged weeds treasured in herwardrobe; it was therefore a distinct though quite unconsciousdisappointment when the news came which put an untimely end to allthese funereal revels. 

At the shrill clamour of the bell, as Rupert anticipated, Adrianemerged instantly from his aunt's room, and a simultaneous jingle ofminor bells announced that the ladies' attention was in all hastebeing turned to toilet matters. 

Whatever had passed between his good old relative and his sensitivebrother, Rupert's quick appraising glance at the latter's face, as hewent slowly down the corridor to his own specially reserved apartment, was sufficient to confirm the watcher in his misgiving that matterswere not progressing as he might wish. 

Sir Adrian seemed absorbed, it is true, in grave thought, but hiscountenance was neither distressed nor gloomy. With a spasm of fierceannoyance, and a bitter curse on the meddling of old females andyoung, Rupert had to admit that never had he seen his brother lookmore handsome, more master of the house and of himself, more _sane_. 

A few minutes later the guests of Pulwick assembled in the library oneby one, with the exception of Sophia, still watering the lastresting-place of the Rev. Herbert Lee. 

Adrian came first, closely followed by Tanty, who turned a markedshoulder upon her younger nephew and devoted all her attention to theelder--in which strained condition of affairs the conversation betweenthe three was not likely to be lively. Next the sisters, attired alikein white, entered together, bringing a bright vision of youth andloveliness into the old room. 

At sight of them Adrian sprang to his feet with a sudden sharpejaculation, upon which the two girls halted on the threshold, halfshy, half smiling. For the moment, in the shadow of the doorway, theywere surprisingly like each other, the difference of colouring beinglost in their curious similarity of contour. 

My God, were there then two Céciles?

Beautiful, miraculous, consoling had been to the mourner in hisloneliness the apparition of his dead love restored to life, everytime his eyes had fallen upon Molly during these last few blesseddays; but this new development was only like a troublous mockingdream. 

Tanty turned in startled amazement. She could feel the shudder thatshook his frame, through the hand with which he still unconsciouslygrasped at the back of her chair. An irrepressible smile crept toRupert's lips. 

The little interlude could not have lasted more than a few secondswhen Molly, recovering her usual self-possession, came boldly forward, leading her sister by the tips of her fingers. 

"Cousin Adrian, " she said, "my sister Madeleine has many things to sayto you in thanks for your care of my valuable person, but just now sheis too bashful to be able to utter one quarter of them. "

As the girls emerged into the room, and the light from the greatwindows struck upon Madeleine's fair curls and the delicate pallor ofher cheek; as she extended her hand, and raised to Adrian's face, while she dropped her pretty curtsey, the gaze of two unconsciouslyplaintive blue eyes, the man dashed the sweat from his brow with agesture of relief. 

Nothing could be more unlike the dark beauty of the ghost of hisdreams or its dashing presentment now smiling confidently upon himfrom Tanty's side. 

He took the little hand with tender pressure: Cécile's daughter mustbe precious to him in any case. Madeleine, moreover, had a certainappealing grace that was apt to steal the favour that Molly won bystorm. 

"But, indeed, I could never tell Sir Adrian how grateful I am, " saidshe, with a timidity that became her as thoroughly as Molly'sfearlessness suited her own stronger personality. 

At the sound of her voice, again the distressful nightmare-likefeeling seized Sir Adrian's soul. 

Of all characteristics that, as the phrase is, "go in families, "voices are generally the most peculiarly generic. 

When Molly first addressed Sir Adrian, it had been to him as a voicefrom the grave; now Madeleine's gentle speech tripped forth upon thatself-same note--Cécile's own voice!

And next Molly caught up the sound, and then Madeleine answered again. What they said, he could not tell; these ghosts--these speakingghosts--brought back the old memories too painfully. It was thusCécile had spoken in the first arrogance of her dainty youth andloveliness; and in those softer tones when sorrow and work and failurehad subdued her proud spirit. And now she laughs; and hark, the laughis echoed! Sir Adrian turns as if to seek some escape from thisstrange form of torture, meets Rupert's eye and instinctively braceshimself into self-control. 

"Come, come, " cried Miss O'Donoghue, in her comfortable, commonplace, cheerful tone: "This dinner bell of yours, Adrian, has raised falsehopes, which seem to tarry in their fulfilment. What are we waitingfor, may I ask?"

Adrian looked at his brother. 

"Rupert, you know, my dear aunt, " he said, "has the ordering of thesematters. "

"Sophia is yet absent, " quoth Rupert drily, "but we can proceedwithout her, if my aunt wishes. "

"Pooh, yes. Sophia!" snorted Miss O'Donoghue, grasping Sir Adrian'sarm to show herself quite ready for the march, "Sophia! We all knowwhat she is. Why, my dear Adrian, she'll never hear the bell till ithas stopped this half hour. "

"Dinner, " cried Rupert sharply to the butler, whom his pull of thebell-rope had summoned. And dinner being served, the guests troopedinto that dining-room which was full of such associations to SirAdrian. It was a little thing, but, nevertheless, intensely galling toRupert to have to play second gentleman, and give up his privileges ashost to his brother. Usually indeed Adrian cared too little to standupon his rights, and insisted upon Rupert's continuing to act in hispresence as he did in his absence; but this afternoon Tanty had lefthim no choice. 

Nevertheless, as Mr. Landale sat down between the sisters, and turnedsmiling to address first one and then the other, it would have taken avery practised eye to discern under the extra urbanity of hisdemeanour the intensity of his inward mortification. He talked a greatdeal and exerted himself to make the sisters talk likewise, banteringMolly into scornful and eager retorts, and preventing Madeleine fromrelapsing into that state of dreaminess out of which the rapidsuccession of her recent sorrow and joy had somewhat shaken her. 

The girls were both excited, both ready to laugh and jest. Tanty, satisfied to see Adrian preside at the head of the table with a grave, courteous, and self-contained manner that completely fulfilled hernotions of what family dignity required of him, cracked her jokes, ateher dinner, and quaffed her cup with full enjoyment, laughingindulgently at her grand-nieces' sallies, and showing as marked adisfavour to Rupert as she deemed consistent with good manners. 

The poor old lady little guessed how the workings in each brother'smind were all the while, silently but inevitably, tending towards thedestruction of her newly awakened hopes. 

 * * * * *

There was silence between Sir Adrian and Rupert when at last they wereleft alone together. The elder's gaze wandering in space, his absenthand softly beating the table, his relaxed frame--all showed that hismind was far away from thought of the younger's presence. The reliefto be delivered from the twin echoes of a haunting voice--once thedearest on earth to him--was immense. But his whole being was stillquivering under the first acuteness of so disturbing an impression. 

His years of solitude, moreover, had ill prepared him for socialintercourse; the laughter, the clash of conversation, the noise onevery side, the length of the meal, the strain to maintain a fit andproper attitude as host, had tried to the utmost nerves by naturehypersensitive. 

Rupert, who had leisure to study the suddenly lined and tiredlineaments of the abstracted countenance before him, noted withself-congratulation the change that a few hours seemed to have wroughtupon it, and decided that the moment had come to strike. 

"So, Adrian, " he said, looking down demurely as he spoke into theglass of wine he had been toying with--Rupert was an abstemious man. "So, Adrian, you have been playing the chivalrous rôle of rescuer ofdistressed damsels--squire of dames and what not. The last one wouldhave ascribed to you at least at this end of your life. Ha, " throwingup his head with a mirthless laugh; "how little any of us would havethought what a blessing in disguise your freak of self-exile wasdestined to become to us!"

At the sound of the incisive voice Adrian had returned with a slightshiver from distant musing to the consciousness of the other'spresence. 

"And did you not always look upon my exile as a blessing undisguised, Rupert?" answered he, fixing his brother with his large grave gaze. 

Rupert's eyelids wavered a little beneath it, but his tone was coollyinsolent as he made reply:

"If it pleases you to make no count of our fraternal affection foryou, my dear fellow; if by insisting upon _our_ unnatural depravityyou contrive a more decent excuse for your own vagaries, you have myfull permission to dub me Cain at once and have done with it. "

A light sigh escaped the elder man, and then he resolutely closed hislips. It was by behaviour such as this, by his almost diabolicalingenuity in the art of being uncongenial, that Rupert had so largelycontributed to make his own house impossible to him. But where was theuse of either argument or expostulation with one so incapable of evenunderstanding the mainsprings of his actions? Moreover (_he_, aboveall, must not forget it) Rupert had suffered through him in pride andself-esteem. And yet, despite Sir Adrian's philosophic mind, despitehis vast, pessimistic though benevolent tolerance for erring humannature, his was a very human heart; and it added not a little to thesadness of his lot at every return to Pulwick (dating from that firstmost bitter home-coming) to feel in every fibre of his being howlittle welcome he was where the ties of flesh and blood alone, not tospeak of his most ceaseless yet delicate generosity, should haveensured him a very different reception. 

Again he sighed, this time more deeply, and the corners of Rupert'slips, the arch of his eyebrows, moved upwards in smilinginterrogation. 

"It must have given you a shock, " said Mr. Landale, carelessly, "tosee the resemblance between Molly and poor Cécile; not, of course, that _I_ can remember her; but Tanty says it is something startling. "

Adrian assented briefly. 

"I daresay it seems quite painful to you at first, " proceeded Rupert, much in the same deliberate manner as a surgeon may lay bare a wound, despite the knowledge of the suffering he is inflicting, "I noticedthat you seemed upset during dinner. But probably the feeling willwear off. "

"Probably. "

"Madeleine resembles her father, I am told; but then you never saw the_feu Comte_, did you? Well, they are both fine handsome girls, full oflife and spirits. It is our revered relative's intention to leave themhere--as perhaps she has told you--for two months or so. "

"I have begged her, " said Sir Adrian gravely, "to make them understandthat I wish them to look upon Pulwick as their home. "

"Very right, very proper, " cried the other; "in fact I knew that waswhat you would wish--and your wishes, of course, are my law in thematter. By the way, I hope you quite understand, Adrian, how ithappened that I did _not_ notify to you the arrival of these guestsextraordinary--knowing that you have never got over their mother'sdeath, and all that--it was entirely from a wish to spare you. Besides, there was your general prohibition about my visitors; I didnot dare to take the responsibility in fact. And so I told Tanty. "

"I do not wish to doubt the purity of your motives, though it wouldhave grieved me had _these_ visitors (no ordinary ones as you yourselfadmit) come and gone without my knowledge. As it fell out, however, even without that child's dangerous expedition, I should have beeninformed in any case--René knew. "

"René knew?" cried Rupert, surprised; and "damn René" to himself withheart-felt energy. 

That the infernal little spy, as he deemed his brother's servant, should have made a visit to Pulwick without his knowledge wasunpleasant news, and it touched him on his tenderest point. 

But now, replenishing his half-emptied glass to give Adrian no excusefor putting an end to the conference before he himself desired it, heplunged into the heart of the task he had set himself without furtherdelay:

"And what would you wish me to do, Adrian, " he asked, with a prettyair of deference, "in the matter of entertaining these ladies? I havethought of several things likely to afford them amusement, but, sinceyou are here, you will readily understand that I should like yourauthorisation first. I am anxious to consult you when I can, " headded, apologetically. "So forgive my attacking you upon businessto-night when you seem really so little fitted for it--but you knowone cannot count upon you from one minute to another! What would yousay if I were to issue invitations for a ball? Pulwick was noted forits hospitality in the days of our fathers, and the gloom that hashung over the old home these last eight years has been (I suppose)unavoidable in the circumstances--but none the less a pity. No fearbut that our fair cousins would enjoy such a festivity, and I think Ican promise you that the sound of our revels should not reach as faras your hermitage. "

A slow colour had mounted to Adrian's cheeks; he drew his browstogether with an air of displeasure; Rupert, quick to read thesesymptoms, hastened to pursue the attack before response should bemade:

"The idea does not seem to please you, " he cried, as if in hurtsurprise. "'Tis true I have now no legal right to think of revivingthe old hospitable traditions of the family; but you must remember, Adrian, you yourself have insisted on giving me a moral right to acthost here in your absence--you have over and over again laid stressupon the freedom you wished me to feel in the matter. Hitherto I havenot made use of these privileges; have not cared to do so, beyond anoccasional duty dinner to our nearest neighbours. A lonely widowerlike myself, why should I? But now, with these gay young things in thehouse--so near to us in blood--I had thought it so much our duty toprovide fitting entertainment for them that your attitude isincomprehensible to me. Come! does it not strike you as savouring alittle of the unamiable dog in the fable? I know you hate companyyourself, and all the rest of it; but how can these things here affectyou upon your island? As for the budget, it will stand it, I assureyou. I speak hotly; pray excuse me. I own I have looked forward to thethought of seeing once more young and happy faces around me. "

"You mistake me, " said Sir Adrian with an effort; "while you areacting as my representative you have, as you know, all liberty toentertain what guests you choose, and as you see fit. It is natural, perhaps, that you should now believe me anxious to hurry back to thelighthouse, and I should have told you before that it is my intentionthis time to remain longer than my wont, in which circumstance thearrangements for the entertaining of our relatives will devolve uponmyself. "

Rupert broke into a loud laugh. 

"Forgive me, but the idea is too ludicrous! What sort of funeralfestivities do you propose to provide to the neighbourhood, with youand Sophia presiding, the living images of mourning and desolation?There, my dear fellow, I _must_ laugh. It will be the skeleton at thefeast with a vengeance. Why, even to-night, in the bosom of yourfamily, as it were, your presence lay so like a wet blanket upon usall that, 'pon my soul, I nearly cracked my voice trying to keep thosegirls from noticing it! Seriously, I am delighted, of course, that youshould feel so sportive, and it is high time indeed that theneighbourhood should see something of you, but I fear you arereckoning beyond your strength. Anyhow, command me. I shall be anxiousto help you all I can in this novel departure. What are your plans?"

"I have laid no plans, " answered Sir Adrian coldly, after a slightpause, "but you do not need me to tell you, Rupert, that to surroundmyself with such gaiety as you suggest is impossible. "

"You mean to make our poor little cousins lead as melancholy anexistence as you do yourself then, " cried Rupert with an angry laugh. Matters were not progressing as he could have wished. "I fear thiswill cause a good deal of disappointment, not only to them but to ourrevered aunt--for she is very naturally anxious to see her chargesmarried and settled, and she told me that she more or less countedupon my aid in the matter. Now as you are here of course I have, thankHeaven, nothing more to say one way or another. But you will surelythink of asking a few likely young fellows over to the house, occasionally? We are not badly off for eldest sons in theneighbourhood; Molly, who is as arrant a little flirt, they tell me, as she is pretty, will be grateful to you for the attention, on thescore of amusement at least. "

Mr. Landale, speaking somewhat at random out of his annoyance to havefailed in immediately disgusting the hermit of the responsibilitieshis return home might entail, here succeeded by chance in producingthe desired impression. 

The idea of Molly--Cécile's double--marrying--worse still, makinglove, coquetting before his eyes, was intolerable to Adrian. To haveto look on, and see _Cécile's_ eyes lavish glances of love; _her_lips, soft words and lingering smiles, upon some country fool; to havehimself to give this duplicate of his love's sweet body to oneunworthy perhaps--it stung him with a pain as keen as it wasunreasonable. It was terrible to be so made, that the past was ever asliving as the present! But he must face the situation, he must grapplewith his own weakness. Tender memories had lured him from his retreatand made him for a short time almost believe that he could live withthem, happy a little while, in his own home again; but now it wasthese very memories that were rising like avengers to drive him hence. 

Of course the child must marry if there her happiness lay. Ay, andboth Cécile's children must be amused, made joyful, while they stillcould enjoy life--Rupert was right--right in all he said--but he, Adrian, could not be there to see. That was beyond his endurance. 

It was impossible of course, for one so single-minded himself, tofollow altogether the doublings of such a mind as Rupert's; butthrough the melancholy relief of this sudden resolution, Adrian wasdistinctly conscious of the underlying duplicity, the unworthy motiveswhich had prompted his brother's arguments. 

He rose from the table, and looked down with sad gaze at the younger'sbeautiful mask of a face. 

"God knows, " he said, "God knows, Rupert, I do not so often inflict mypresence upon you that you should be so anxious to show me how muchbetter I should do to keep away. I admit nevertheless the justice ofall you say. It is but right that Mesdemoiselles de Savenaye should besurrounded with young and cheerful society; and even were I in a stateto act as master of the revels (here he smiled a little dreamily), myvery presence, as you say, would cast a gloom upon theirmerrymaking--I will go. I will go back to the island to-night--I canrely upon you to assist me to do so quietly without unnecessary scenesor explanations--yes--yes--I know you will be ready to facilitatematters! Strange! It is only a few hours ago since Tanty almostpersuaded me that it was my duty to remain here; now you have made mesee that I have no choice but to leave. Have no fear, Rupert--I go. Ishall write to Tanty. But remember only, that as you treat Cécile'schildren, so shall I shape my actions towards you in future. "

Slowly he moved away, leaving Rupert motionless in his seat; and longdid the younger brother remain moodily fixing the purple bloom of thegrapes with unseeing eyes. 

PART III

"CAPTAIN JACK, " THE GOLD SMUGGLER

CHAPTER XVII

THE GOLD SMUGGLER AND THE PHILOSOPHER

On the evening of the day which had seen Miss Molly's departure forthe main land, René, after the usual brisk post-prandial altercationwith old Margery by her kitchen fire, was cheerfully finding his way, lantern in hand, to his turret, when in the silence of the night heheard the door of the keep open and close, and presently recognisedSir Adrian's tread echoing on the flagged steps beneath him. 

Astonished at this premature return and full of vague dismay, hehurried down to receive his master. 

There was a cloud on Sir Adrian's face, plainly discernible in spiteof the unaltered composure of his manner. 

"I did not expect your honour back so soon, " said René, tentatively. 

"I myself did not anticipate to return. I had thought I might perhapsstay some days at Pulwick. But I find there is no home like this onefor me, René. "

There was a long silence. But when René had rekindled a blaze upon thehearth and set the lamp upon the table, he stood a moment beforewithdrawing, almost begging by his look some further crumb ofinformation. 

"My room is ready, I suppose?" inquired Sir Adrian. 

"Yes, your honour, " quoth the man ruefully, "Margery and I put it backexactly as--as before. "

"Good-night then, good-night!" said the master after a pause, warminghis hands as the flames began to leap through the network of twigs. "Ishall go to bed, I am tired; I had to row myself across. You will takethe boat back to-morrow morning. "

René opened his mouth to speak; caught the sound of a sigh coming fromthe hearthside, and, shaking his head, in silence obeyed the implieddismissal. And bitterly did he meditate in his bunk, that night, uponthe swift crumbling of those air-castles he had built himself sogaily erstwhile, in the rose and blue atmosphere that _La Demoiselle_had seemed to bring with her to Scarthey. 

 * * * * *

From the morrow the old regular mode of life began again in the keep. 

Sir Adrian read a good deal, or at least appeared so to do; but René, who kept him more than ever under his glances of wistful sympathy, noted that far from being absorbed, as of old, in the pages of hisbook, the recluse's eyes wandered much off its edges into space; thatwhen writing, or at least intent on writing, his pen would linger longin the bottle and hover listlessly over the paper; that he was moreabstracted, even than his wont, when looking out of the easternwindow; and that on the platform of the beacon it was the landwardview which most drew his gaze. 

There was also more music in the keep than was the custom in evenerdays. Seated at his organ the light-keeper seemed to find a voice forsuch thoughts as were not to be spoken or written, and relief for thenameless pity of them. But never a word passed between the two men onthe subject that filled both their hearts. 

It was Sir Adrian's pleasure that things at Scarthey should seem to beexactly the same as before, and that was enough for René. 

"And yet, " mused the faithful fellow, within his disturbed mind, "theruins now look like a house the day after an interment. If we werelonely before, my faith, now we are desolate?" and, trying to findsomething or somebody to charge with the curse of it, he invariablyfell to upon Mr. Landale's sleek head, why, he could hardly haveexplained. 

Three new days had thus passed in the regularity, if not the serenityof the old--they seemed old already, buried far back in the past, those days that had lapsed so evenly before the brightness of youthfuland beautiful life had entered the keep for one brief moment, anddeparting, again left it a ruin indeed--when the retirement ofScarthey was once more invaded by an unexpected visitor. It was aboutsundown of the shortest day. Sir Adrian was at his organ, almostunconsciously interpreting his own sadness into music. In time theyearning of his soul had had expression, the echo of the last sighingchord died away in the tranquil air, yet the musician, with head bentupon his breast, remained lost in far-away thoughts. 

A slight shuffling noise disturbed him; turning round to greet René ashe supposed, he was astonished to see a man's figure lolling in hisown arm-chair. 

As he peered inquiringly into the twilight, the intruder rose to hisfeet, and cried with a voice loud and clear, pleasant withal to theear:

"Sir Adrian, I am sorry you have stopped so soon; I never heardanything more beautiful! The door was ajar, and I crept in like a cat, not to disturb you. "

Still in doubt, but with his fine air of courtesy, the light-keeperadvanced towards the uninvited guest. 

"Am I mistaken, " he said, with some hesitation, "surely this is HubertCochrane's voice?"

"Jack Smith's voice, my dear fellow; Jack Smith, at your service, please to remember, " answered the visitor, with a genial ring oflaughter in his words. "Not that it matters much here, I suppose! HadI not heard the peal of your organ I should have thought Scartheydeserted indeed. I could find no groom of the chambers to announce mein due form. "

As he spoke, the two had drawn near each other and clasped handsheartily. 

"Now, to think of your knowing my voice in this manner! You have adevilish knack of spotting your man, Sir Adrian. It is almost fouryears since I was here last, is it not?"

"Four years?--so it is; and four years that have done well by you, itwould appear. What a picture of strength and lustiness! It reallyseems to regenerate one, and put heart of grace in one, only to takeyou by the hand. --Welcome, Captain Smith!"

Nothing could have more succinctly described the outer man of him whochose to be known by that most nondescript of patronymics. Sir Adrianstood for a moment, contemplating, with glances of approval such as heseldom bestowed on his fellow-man, the symmetrical, slender, yetvigorous figure of his friend, and responding with an unwontedcheerfulness to the smile that lit up the steel-blue eyes, and partedthe shapely, strong, and good-humoured mouth of the privateersman. 

"Dear me, and what a buck we have become!" continued the baronet, "what splendid plumage! It is good to see you so prosperous. And sothis is the latest fashion? No doubt it sets forth the frame of agoodly man, though no one could guess at the 'sea dog' beneath such aset of garments. I used to consider my brother Rupert the mostespecial dandy I had ever seen; but that, evidently, was my limitedexperience: even Rupert cannot display so perfect a fit inbottle-green coats, so faultless a silken stock, buckskins of suchmatchless drab!"

Captain Jack laughed, blushed slightly under the friendly banter, andallowed himself to be thrust back into the seat he had just vacated. 

"Welcome again, on my lonely estate. I hope this is not to be a mereflying visit? You know my misanthropy vanishes when I have yourcompany. How did you come? Not by the causeway, I should say, " smilingagain, and glancing at the unblemished top-boots. 

"I have two men waiting for me in the gig below; my schooner, the_Peregrine_, lies in the offing. "

The elder man turned to the window, and through the grey curtain ofcrepuscule recognised the rakish topsail schooner that had excitedMolly's admiration some days before. He gazed forth upon it a fewmeditative moments. 

"Not knowing whether I would find you ready to receive me, " pursuedthe captain, "I arranged that the _Peregrine_ was to wait for me if Ihad to return to-night. "

"Which, of course, is not to be heard of, " said Sir Adrian. "Here isRenny; he will carry word that with me you remain to-night. . . . Come, Renny, do you recognise an old acquaintance?"

Already well disposed towards any one who could call this note ofpleasure into the loved voice, the Breton, who had just entered, turned to give a broad stare at the handsome stranger, then burst intoa guffaw of pure delight. "By my faith, it is Mr. The Lieutenant!" heejaculated; adding, as ingeniously as Tanty herself might have done, that he would never have known him again. 

"It is Mr. The Captain now, Renny, " said that person, and held out astrong hand to grip that of the little Frenchman, which the latter, after the preliminary rubbing upon his trousers that his code ofmanners enjoined, readily extended. 

"Ah, it is a good wind that sent you here this day, " said he, with asigh of satisfaction when this ceremony had been duly gone through. 

"You say well, " acquiesced his master, "it has ever been a good windthat has brought Captain Jack across my path. "

And then receiving directions to refresh the gig's crew and dismissthem back to their ship with instructions to return for orders on themorrow, the servant hurried forth, leaving the two friends once morealone. 

"Thanks, " said Captain Jack, when the door had closed upon themessenger. "That will exactly suit my purpose. I have a good manythings to talk over with you, since you so kindly give me theopportunity. In the first place, let me unburden myself of a debtwhich is now of old standing--and let me say at the same time, " addedthe young man, rising to deposit upon the table a letter-case which hehad taken from his breast-pocket, "that though my actual debt is nowmet, my obligation to you remains the same and will always be so. Yousaid just now that I looked prosperous, and so I am--owing somewhat togood luck, it is true, but owing above all to you. No luck would haveavailed me much without _that_ to start upon. " And he pointed to thecontents of the case, a thick bundle of notes which his host was nowsmilingly turning over with the tip of his fingers. 

"I might have sent you a draft, but there is no letter-post that Iknow of to Scarthey, and, besides, it struck me that just as thesefour thousand pounds had privately passed between you and me, youmight prefer them to be returned in the same manner. "

"I prefer it, since it has brought you in person, " said Sir Adrian, thrusting the parcel into a drawer and pulling his chair closertowards his guest. "Dealings with a man like you give one a taste ofan ideal world. Would that more human transactions could be carriedout in so simple and frank a manner as this little business of ours!"

Captain Jack laughed outright. 

"Upon my word, you are a greater marvel to me every time I seeyou--which is not by any means often enough!"

The other raised his eyebrows in interrogation, and the sailor wenton:

"Is it really possible that it is to _my_ mode of dealing that youattribute the delightful simplicity of a transaction involving alittle fortune from hand to hand? And where pray, in this terraqueoussublunary sphere--I heard that good phrase from a literary exquisiteat Bath, and it seems to me comprehensive--where, then, on thisterraqueous sublunary globe of ours, Sir Adrian Landale, could oneexpect to find another person ready to lend a privateersman, tradingunder an irresponsible name, the sum of four thousand pounds, withoutany other security than his volunteered promise to return it--ifpossible?"

Sir Adrian, ignoring the tribute to his own merits, arose and placedhis friendly hand on the speaker's shoulder: "And now, my dear Jack, "he said gravely, "that the war is over, you will have to turn yourenergies in another direction. I am glad you are out of that unworthytrade. "

Captain Jack bounded up: "No, no, Sir Adrian, I value your opinion toomuch to allow such a statement to pass unchallenged. Unworthy trade!We have not given back those French devils one half of the harm theyhave done to our own merchant service; it was war, you know, and youknow also, or perhaps you don't--in which case let me tell you--thatmy _Cormorant_ has made her goodly name, ay, and brought her commandera fair share of his credit, by her energy in bringing to an incrediblenumber of those d----d French sharks--beg pardon, but you know thepestilent breed. Well, we shall never agree upon the subject I fear. As for me, the smart of the salt air, the sting of the salt breeze, the fighting, the danger, they have got into my blood; and even now itsometimes comes over me that life will not be perfect life to mewithout the dancing boards under my feet and the free waves around me, and my jolly boys to lead to death or glory. Yet, could you but knowit, this is the veriest treason, and I revoke the words a thousandtimes. You look amazed, and well you may: ah, I have much to tell you!But I take it you will not care to hear all I have been able toachieve on the basis of your munificent help at my--ahem, unworthytrade. "

"Well, no, " said Sir Adrian smiling, "I can quite imagine it, andimagine it without enthusiasm, though, perhaps, as you say, suchthings have to be. But I should like to know of these presentcircumstances, these prospects which make you look so happy. No doubtthe fruits of peace?"

"Yes, I suppose in one way they may be called so. Yet without the warand your helping hand they would even now hang as far from me as thegrapes from the fox. --When I arrived in England three months after thepeace had been signed, I had accumulated in the books of certain banksa tolerably respectable account, to the credit of a certain person, whose name, oddly enough, you on one or two occasions have applied, absently, to Captain Jack Smith. I was, I will own, already feelinginclined to discuss with myself the propriety of assuming the name inquestion, when, there came something in my way of which I shall tellyou presently; which something has made me resolve to remain CaptainSmith for some time longer. The old _Cormorant_ lay at Bristol, andbeing too big for this new purpose, I sold her. It was like cuttingoff a limb. I loved every plank of her; knew every frisk of her! Sheserved me well to the end, for she fetched her value--almost. Next, having time on my hands, I bethought myself of seeing again a littleof the world; and when I tell you that I drove over to Bath, you mayperhaps begin to see what I am coming to. "

Sir Adrian suddenly turned in his chair to face his friend again, witha look of singular attention. 

"Well, no, not exactly, and yet--unless--? Pshaw! impossible----!"upon which lucid commentary he stopped, gazing with anxious inquiryinto Captain Jack's smiling eyes. "Ah, I believe you have just aglimmer of the truth with that confounded perspicacity of yours, "saying which the sailor laughed and blushed not unbecomingly. "This ishow it came about: I had transactions with old John Harewood, thebanker, in Bristol, transactions advantageous to both sides, butperhaps most to him--sly old dog. At any rate, the old fellow took amonstrous fancy to me, over his claret, and when I mentioned Bath, recommended me to call upon his wife (a very fine dame, who prefersthe fashion of the Spa to the business of Bristol, and consequentlylives as much in the former place as good John Harewood will allow). Well, you wonder at my looking prosperous and happy. Listen, for hereis the _hic_: At Lady Maria Harewood's I met one who, if I mistakenot, is of your kin. Already, then, somewhere at the back of my memorydwelt the name of Savenaye----Halloa, bless me! I have surely saidnothing to----!"

The young man broke off, disconcerted. Sir Adrian's face had becomeunwontedly clouded, but he waved the speaker on impatiently: "No, no, I am surprised, of course, only surprised; never mind me, my thoughtswandered--please go on. So you have met her?"

"Ay, that I have! Now it is no use beating about the bush. You whoknow her--you do know her of course--will jump at once to the onlypossible conclusion. Ah, Adrian!" Captain Jack pursued, pacingenthusiastically about, "I have been no saint, and no doubt I havefancied myself as a lover once or twice ere this; but to see thatgirl, sir, means a change in a man's life: to have met the light ofthose sweet eyes is to love, to love in reality. It is to feel ashamedof the idiotic make-believes of former loves. To love her, even invague hope, is to be glorious already; and, by George, to have hertroth, is to be--I cannot say what . . . To be what I am now!"

The lover's face was illumined; he walked the room like one treadingon air as the joy within him found its voice in words. 

Sir Adrian listened with an extraordinary tightness at his heart. Hehad loved one woman even so; that love was still with him, as thescent clings to the phial; but the sight of this young, joyful lovemade him feel old in that hour--old as he had never realised before. There was no room in his being for such love again. And yet. . . ? Therewas a tremulous anxiety in the question he put, after a short pause. "There are _two_ Demoiselles de Savenaye, Jack; which is it?"

Captain Jack halted, turned on his heels, and exclaimedenthusiastically: "To me there is but one--one woman in theworld--Madeleine!" His look met that of Sir Adrian in full, and evenin the midst of his own self-centred mood he could not fail to noticethe transient gleam that shot in the elder's eyes, and the suddenrelaxation of his features. He pondered for a moment or two, scanningthe while the countenance of the recluse; then a smile lighted up hisown bronzed face in a very sweet and winning way. "As her kinsman, have I your approval?" he asked and proceeded earnestly: "To tell thetruth at once, I was looking to even more than your approval--to yoursupport. "

Sir Adrian's mood had undergone a change: as a breeze sweeping from anew quarter clears in a moment a darkening mist from the face of theearth, Captain Jack's answer had blown away for the nonce theatmosphere of misgiving that enveloped him. He answered promptly, andwith warmth: "Being your friend, I am glad to know of this; being herkinsman, I may add, my dear _Hubert_"--there was just a tinge ofhesitation, followed by a certain emphasis, on the change of name--"Ipromise to support you in your hopes, in so far as I have anyinfluence; for power or right over my cousin I have none. "

The sailor threw himself down once more in his arm-chair; and, tappinghis shining hessians with the stem of his long clay in smilingabstraction, began, with all a lover's egotism, to expatiate on thetheme that filled his heart. 

"It is a singular, an admirable, a never sufficiently-to-be-praisedconjunction of affairs which has ultimately brought me near you when Iwas pursuing the Light o' my Heart, ruthlessly snatched away by acunning and implacable dragon, known to you as Miss O'Donoghue. I say_dragon_ in courtesy; I called her by better names before I realisedwhat a service she was unconsciously rendering us by this suddenremoval. "

"Known to me!" laughed Sir Adrian. "My own mother's sister!"

"Then I still further retract. Moreover, seeing how things have turnedout, I must now regard her as an angel in disguise. Don't look sosurprised! Has she not brought my love under your protection? Ithought I was tolerably proof against the little god, but then he hadnever shot his arrows at me from between the long lashes of Madeleinede Savenaye. Oh, those eyes, Adrian! So unlike those southern eyes Ihave known so well, too well in other days, brilliant, hard, challenging battle from the first glance, and yet from the firstpromising that surrender which is ever so speedy. Pah! no more of suchmemories. Before _her_ blue eyes, on my first introduction, Ifelt--well, I felt as the novice does under the first broadside. "

The speaker looked dreamily into space, as if the delicious momentrose again panoramically before him. 

"Well, " he pursued, "that did me no harm, after all. Lady MariaHarewood, who, I have learned since, deals strongly in sentiment, and, being unfortunately debarred by circumstances from indulgence in thesoothing luxury on her own behalf, loves to promote matches morepoetical--she calls it more 'harmonious'--than her own very prosaicone, she, dear lady, was delighted with such a rarity as a bashfulprivateersman--her 'tame corsair, ' as I heard her call your humbleservant. --I was a hero, sir, a perfect hero of romance in the courseof a few days! On the strength of this renown thrust upon me I foundgrace before the most adorable blue eyes; had words of sympathy fromthe sweetest lips, and smiles from the most bewitching little mouth inall the world. So you see I owe poor Lady Maria a good thought. . . . Youlaugh?"

Sir Adrian was smiling, but all in benevolence, at the artlessness ofthis eager youth, who in all the unconscious glory of his looks andstrength, ascribed the credit of his entrance into a maiden's heart tothe virtue of a few irresponsible words of recommendation. 

"Ah! those were days! Everything went on smoothly, and I was debatingwith myself whether I would not, at once, boldly ask her to be thewife of Hubert Cochrane; though the casting of Jack Smith's skin wouldhave necessitated the giving up of several of his free-tradingengagements. "

"Free trading! You do not mean to say, man alive, that you have turnedsmuggler now!" interrupted Sir Adrian aghast. 

"Smuggler, " cried Jack with his frank laugh, "peace, I beg, friend!Miscall not a gentleman thus. Smuggler--pirate? I cut a pretty figureevidently in your worship's eyes. Lucky for me you never would besworn as a magistrate, or where should I be . . . And you too, betweenduty and friendship?--But to proceed: I was about, as I have said, togive that up for the reasons I mentioned, when, upon a certain fineevening, I crossed the path of one of the most masterful old maids Ihave ever seen, or even heard of; and, would you believe it?"--thiswith a quizzical look at his host's grave face--"this misguided oldlady took such a violent dislike to me at first sight, and expressedit so thoroughly well, that, hang me if I was not completely broughtto. And all for escorting my dear one from Lady Maria's house to herown! Well, the walk was worth it--though the old crocodile was on thewatch for us, ready to snap; had got wind of the secret, somehow, asecret unspoken even between us two. This first and last interviewtook place on the flags, in front of No. 17 Camden Place, Bath. Oh! Itwas a very one-sided affair from the beginning, and ended abruptly ina door being banged in my face. Then I heard about Miss O'Donoghue'speculiarities in the direction of exclusiveness. And then, also, oddlyenough, for the first time, of the great fortune going with myMadeleine's hand. Of course I saw it all, and, I may say, forgave theold lady. In short, I realised that, in Miss O'Donoghue's mind, I amnothing but an unprincipled fortune-seeker and adventurer. Now you, Adrian, can vouch that, whatever my faults, I am none such. "

Sir Adrian threw a quiet glance at his friend, whose eyes sparkled asthey met it. 

"God knows, " continued the latter, "that all I care for, concerningthe money, is that _she_ may have it. This last venture, the biggestand most difficult of all, I then decided to undertake, that I mightbe the fitter mate for the heiress--bless her! Oh, Adrian, man, couldyou have seen her sweet tearful face that night, you would understandthat I could not rest upon such a parting. In the dawn of the nextmorning I was in the street--not so much upon the chance of meeting, though I knew that such sweetness would have now to be all stolen--butto watch her door, her window; a lover's trick, rewarded by lover'sluck! Leaning on the railings, through the cold mist (cold it was, though I never felt it, but I mind me now how the icicles broke undermy hand), what should I see, before even the church-bells had set tochiming, or the yawning sluts to pull the kitchen curtains, but abloated monster of a coach, dragging and sliding up the street tohalt at her very door. Then out came the beldam herself, and twomuffled-up slender things--my Madeleine one of course; but I had aregular turn at sight of them, for I swear I could not tell which waswhich! Off rattled the chariot at a smart pace; and there I stood, friend, feeling as if my heart was tied behind with the trunks. "

The sailor laughed, ran his fingers through his curls and stamped inlively recollection. 

"Nothing to be drawn from their landlady. But I am not the man toallow a prize to be snatched from under my very nose. So, anathematising Miss O'Donoghue's family-tree, root, stem, andbranch--except that most lovely off-shoot I mean to transplant (youwill forgive this heat of blood; it was clearing for action so tospeak)--I ran out and overtook the ostler whom I had seen putting thefinishing touch to the lashing of boxes behind! _'Gloucester!'_ sayshe. The word was worth the guinea it cost me, a hundred timesover. --In less than an hour I was in the saddle, ready for pursuit, cantering boot to boot with my man--a trusty fellow who knows how tohold his tongue, and can sit a horse in the bargain. Neither atGloucester, nor the next day, up to Worcester, could we succeed indoing more than keep our fugitives in view. When they had alighted atone inn, as ascertained by my squire, we patronised the oppositionhostelry, and the ensuing morning cantered steadily in pursuit, on_our_ new post-horses half an hour after they had rumbled away with_their_ relays. But the evening of our arrival at Worcester, my fellowfound out, at last, what the next stage was to be, and--clever chap, he lost nothing for his sharpness--that the Three Kings' Heads hadbeen recommended to the old lady as the best house in Shrewsbury. Thistime we took the lead, and on to Shrewsbury, and were at the gloriousold Kings' Heads (I in a private room, tight as wax) a good couple ofhours before the chariot made its appearance. And there, man, there!my pretty one and I met again!"

"That was, no doubt, " put in Sir Adrian, in his gentle, indulgent way, "what made the Kings' Heads so glorious?"

"Ay. Right! And yet it was but a few seconds, on the stair, under asmoky lamp, but her beauty filled the landing with radiance as herkindness did my soul. --It was but for a moment, all blessed moment, too brief, alas! Ah, Adrian, friend--old hermit in your cell--_you_have never known life, you who have never tasted a moment such asthat! Then we started apart: there was a noise below, and she had onlytime to whisper that she was on her way to Pulwick to somerelatives--had only heard it that very day--when steps came up thestairs, creaking. With a last promise, a last word of love, I leapedback into my own chamber, there to see (through the chink between doorand post) the untimely old mischief-maker herself pass slowly, sourand solemn, towards her apartments, leaning upon her other niece'sarm. How could I have thought _that_ baggage like my princess?Handsome, if you will; but, with her saucy eye, her raven head, herbrown cheek, no more to be compared to my stately lily than brass togold!"

The host listening wonderingly, his eyes fixed with kindly gravityupon the speaker as he rattled on, here gave a slight start, allunnoticed of his friend. 

"The next morning, when I had seen the coach and its precious freightmove on once more northward, I began the retreat south, hugging myselfupon luck and success. I had business in Salcombe--perhaps you mayhave heard of the Salcombe schooners--in connection with the fittingout of that sailing wonder, the _Peregrine_. And so, " concludedCaptain Jack, laughing again in exuberance of joy, "you may possiblyguess one of the reasons that has brought her and me round by yourisland. "

There ensued a long silence, filled with thoughts, equally pressingthough of widely different complexion, on either side of the hearth. 

 * * * * *

During the meal, which was presently set forth and proclaimed ready byRené, the talk, as was natural in that watchful attendant's presence, ran only on general topics, and was in consequence fitful andunspontaneous. But when the two men, for all their difference of age, temper, and pursuits so strongly, yet so oddly united in sympathy, were once more alone, they naturally fell back under the influence ofthe more engrossing strain of reflection. Again there was silence, while each mused, gazing into space and vaguely listening to theplash of high water under the window. 

"It must have been a strong motive, " said Sir Adrian, after his dreamyfashion, like one thinking aloud, "to induce a man like you to abandonhis honourable name. "

Captain Jack flushed at these words, drew his elbows from the table, and shot a keen, inquiring glance at his friend, which, however, fellpromptly before the latter's unconscious gaze and was succeeded by oneof reflective melancholy. Then, with a slight sigh, he raised hisglass to the lamp, and while peering abstractedly through the ruby, "The story of turning my back upon my house, " he said musingly, "shaking its very dust off my feet, so to speak, and starting lifeafresh unbeholden to my father (even for what he could not take awayfrom me--my own name), --is a simple affair, although pitiful enoughperhaps. But memories of family wrongs and family quarrels are oftheir nature painful; and, as I am a mirth-loving fellow, I hate tobring them upon me. But perhaps it has occurred to you that I may havebrought some disgrace upon the name I have forsaken. "

"I never allowed myself to think so, " said Sir Adrian, surprised. "Your very presence by my fireside is proof of it. "

Again the captain scrutinised his host; then with a little laugh:"Pardon me, " he cried, "with another man one might accept that likelyproof and be flattered. But with you? why, I believe I know you toowell not to feel sure that you would have received me as kindly andunreservedly, no matter what my past if only you thought that I hadrepented; that you would forgive even a _crime_ regretted; and havingforgiven, forget. . . . But, to resume, you will believe me when I saythat there was nothing of the sort. No, " he went on, with a musingair, "but I could tell you of a boy, disliked at home for his stubbornspirit, and one day thrashed, thrashed mercilessly--at a time when hehad thought he had reached to the pride of man's estate, thrashed byhis own father, and for no just cause. . . . Oh, Adrian, it is a terriblething to have put such resentment into a lad's heart. " He rose as hespoke, and placed himself before the hearth. 

"If ever I have sons, " he added after a pause, and at the words hiswhole handsome face relaxed, and became suffused with a tender glow, "I would rather cut my right hand off than raise such a spirit inthem. Well, I daresay you can guess the rest; I will even tell you ina few words, and then dismiss the subject. --I have always had acertain shrewdness at the bottom of my recklessness. Now there was acousin of the family, who had taken to commerce in Liverpool, and whowas therefore despised, ignored and insulted by us gentry of theShaws. So when I packed my bundle, and walked out of the park gate, Ithought of him; and two days later I presented myself at his mansionin Rodney Street, Liverpool. I told him my name, whereat he scowled;but he was promptly brought round upon hearing of my firmdetermination to renounce it and all relations with my father's housefor ever, and of my reasons for this resolve, which he foundexcellent. I could not have lighted upon a better man. He hated myfamily as heartily as even I could wish, and readily, out of spite tothem, undertook to aid me. He was a most enterprising scoundrel, had ashare in half a dozen floating ventures. I expressed a desire for lifeon the ocean wave, and he started me merrily as his nephew, JackSmith, to learn the business on a slaver of his. The 'ebony trade, 'you know, was all the go then, Adrian. Many great gentlemen inLancashire had shares in it. Now it is considered low. To say true, ayear of it was more than enough for me--too much! It sickened me. Myuncle laughed when I demurred at a second journey, but to humour me, as I had learned something of the sailing trade, he found me anotherberth, on board a privateer, the _St. Nicholas_. My fortune was madefrom the moment I set foot on that lucky ship, as you know. "

"And you have never seen your father since?"

"Neither father, nor brothers, nor any of my kin, save the cousin inquestion. All I know is that my father is dead--that he disinheritedme expressly in the event of my being still in the flesh; my eldestbrother reigns; many of us are scattered, God knows where. And mymother"--the sailor's voice changed slightly--"my mother lives in herown house, with some of the younger ones. So much I have ascertainedquite recently. She believes me dead, of course. Oh, it will be a goodday, Adrian, when I can come back to her, independent, prosperous, bringing my beautiful bride with me!. . . But until I can resume my namein all freedom, this cannot be. "

"But why, my dear fellow, these further risks and adventures? Surely, even at your showing you have enough of this world's goods; why notcome forward, now, at once, openly? I will introduce you, as soon asmay be, in your real character, for the sake of your mother--ofMadeleine herself. "

The sailor shook his head, tempted yet determined. 

"I am not free to do so. I have given my word; my honour is engaged, "he said. Then abruptly asked: "Have you ever heard of guineasmuggling?"

"Guinea smuggling! No, " said Sir Adrian, his amazement giving way toanxiety. 

"No? You surprise me. You who are, or were, I understand, a student ofphilosophical matters, freedom of exchange, and internationalintercourse and the rest of it--things we never shall have so long asgovernments want money, I am thinking. --However, this guinea smugglingis a comparatively new business. Now, _I_ don't know anything aboutthe theory; but I know this much of the practice that, while ourpreventive service won't let guineas pass the Channel (as goods) thisyear, somebody on the other side is devilish anxious to have them atalmost any cost. And the cost, you know, is heavy, for the risk ofconfiscation is great. Well, your banker or your rich man will nottrust his bullion to your common free trader--he is not quite such afool. "

"No, " put in Sir Adrian, as the other paused on this mockingproposition. "In the old days, when I was busy in promoting theSavenaye expedition, I came across many of that gentry, and I cannotmind a case where they could have been trusted with such a freight. But perhaps, " he added with a small smile, "the standard may be highernow. "

Captain Jack grinned appreciatively. "That is where the 'likes of me'comes in. I will confess this not to be my first attempt. It is knownthat I am one of the few whose word is warranty. What is more, as Ihave said, it is known that I have the luck. Thus, even if I couldbring my own name into such a trade, I would not; it would be theheight of folly to change now. "

For all his disapproval Sir Adrian could not repress a look ofamusement. "I verily believe, Jack, " he said, shaking his head, "thatyou are as superstitious yourself as the best of them!"

"I ought to make a good thing out of it, " said Jack, evasively. "Andeven with all that is lovely to keep me on shore, I would hardly giveit up, if I could. As things stand I could not if I would. Do notcondemn me, Adrian, --that would be fatal to my hopes--nay, I actuallywant your help. "

"I would you were out of it, " reiterated Sir Adrian; "it takes solittle to turn the current of a man's life when he seems to be makingstraight for happiness. As to the morals of it, I fail, I must admit, to perceive any wrong in smuggling, at least in the abstract, exceptthat a certain kind of moral teaches that all is wrong that is againstthe law. And yet so many of our laws are so ferocious and inept, andas such the very cause of so much going wrong that might otherwise gowell; so many of those who administer them are themselves so ferociousand inept, that the mere fact of a pursuit being unlawful is no realcondemnation in my eyes. But, as you know, Jack, those who placethemselves above some laws almost invariably renounce all. If you arehanged for stealing a horse, or breaking some fiscal law and hangedfor killing a man, the tendency, under stress of circumstances isobvious. Aye, have we not a proverb about it: as well be hanged for asheep as for a lamb?. . . There are gruesome stories about your freetraders--and gruesome endings to them. I well remember, in my youngdays, the clanking gibbet on the sands near Preston and the threetarred and iron-riveted carcases hanging, each in its chains, with theperpetual guard of carrion crows. . . . Hanging in chains is still on thestatute book, I believe. But I'll stop my croaking now. You are notone to be drawn into brutal ways; nor one, I fear, to be frightenedinto prudence. Nevertheless, " laughing quietly, "I am curious to knowin what way you expect help from me, in practice. Do you, seriously, want me to embark actually on a smuggling expedition?--I demur, mydear fellow. "

Obviously relieved of some anxiety, the other burst out laughing. "Never fear! I know your dislike to bilge water too well. Iappreciate too well also your comfortable surroundings, " he returned, seating himself once more complacently in his arm-chair, "much as Ishould love your company on board my pleasure ship--for, if youplease, the _Peregrine_ is no smuggling lugger, but professes to be ayacht. Still, you can be of help for all that, and without liftingeven a finger to promote this illicit trade. You may ignore itcompletely, and yet you will render me incalculable service, providedyou do not debar me from paying you a few more visits in yoursolitude, and give me the range of your caves and cellars. "

"You are welcome enough, " said the recluse. "I trust it may end aswell as it promises. " And, after a pause, "Madeleine does not know thenature of your present pursuit?"

"Oddly enough, and happily (for our moments of interview are short, asyou may imagine) she is not curious on the subject. I don't know whatnotions the old Lady Maria may have put into her head about me. Ithink she believes that I am engaged on some secret political intrigueand approves of such. At least I gathered as much from her sympatheticreticence; and, between ourselves, I am beginning to believe itmyself. "

"How is that?" asked the listener, moved to fresh astonishment by thisnew departure. 

"Well, I may tell you, who not only can be as silent as the tomb, butreally have a right to know, since you are tacitly of the conspiracy. This time the transaction is to be with some official of the FrenchCourt. They want the metal, and yet wish to have it secretly. Whattheir motive may be is food for reflection if you like, but it is nobusiness of mine. And, besides the fact that one journey will sufficefor a sum which at the previous rate would have required half a score, all the trouble and uncertainty of landing are disposed of; at anyrate, I am, when all is ready, to be met by a government vessel, getmy _quid pro quo_ as will be settled, and there the matter is to end. "

"A curious expedition, " mused Sir Adrian. 

"Yes, " said the sailor, "my last will be the best. By the way, willyou embark a few bags with me? I will take no commission. "

Sir Adrian could not help laughing. 

"No, thank you; I have no wish to launch any more of my patrimony onventures--since it would be of no service to you. I had almost as liefyou had made use of my old crow's nest without letting me into the insand outs of your projects. But, be it as it may, it is yours, nightand day. Your visits I shall take as being for me. "

"What a man you are, upon my soul, Sir Adrian!" cried Captain Jack, enthusiastically. 

 * * * * *

Later on, when the "shaking down" hour, in Captain Jack's phraseology, had sounded, and the two friends separated to rest, the young manrefused the offer, dictated by hospitality, of his host's own bedroom. Sir Adrian did not press the point, and, leaving his guest at libertyto enjoy the couch arranged by René in a corner under the bookshelves, even as when Mademoiselle de Savenaye had been the guest of the peel, himself retired to that now hallowed apartment. 

"Odd fellow, that, " soliloquised Captain Jack, as, slowly divestinghimself, he paced about the long room and, in the midst of roseatereflections, examined his curious abode. "Withal, as good as everstepped. It was a fine day's work our old _St. Nicholas_ did, aboutthis time eight years ago. Rather unlike a crowded battery deck, this, " looking from the solemn books to the glinting organ pipes, andconscious of the great silence. "As for me, I should go crazy bymyself here. But it suits him. Queer fish!" again ruminated the youngsailor. "He hates no one and yet dislikes almost everybody, exceptthat funny little Frenchy and me. Whereas _I_ like every man Imeet--unless I detest him!. . . My beautiful plumage!" this whilstcarefully folding the superfine coat and thereon the endless silkenstock. "Now there's a fellow who does not care a hang for any womanunder the sun, and yet enters into another chap's love affairs as ifhe understood it all. I believe it will make him happy to win my causewith Madeleine. I wish one could do something for _his_ happiness. Itis absurd, you know, " as though apostrophising an objector, "a mancan't be happy without a woman. And yet again, my good Jack, you neverthought that before you met Madeleine. He has not met his Madeleine, that's what it means. Where ignorance is bliss. . . . Friend Adrian! Letus console ourselves and call you ignorantly happy, in your old crow'snest. You have not stocked it so badly either. --For all your ignorancein love, you have a pretty taste in liquor. "

So thinking, he poured himself a last glass of his host's wine, whichhe held for a moment in smiling cogitation, looking, with the mind'seye, through the thick walls of the keep, across the cold mist-coveredsands of Scarthey and again through the warm and scented air of acertain room (imagination pictured) where Madeleine must at that hourlie in her slumber. After a moment of silent adoration he sent arapturous kiss landwards and tossed his glass with a last toast:

"Madeleine, my sweet! To your softly closed lids. "

And again Captain Jack fell to telling over the precious tale of thatmorning's interview, furtively secured, by that lover's luck he sodutifully blessed, under the cluster of Scotch firs near the grey andcrumbling boundary walls of Pulwick Park. 

CHAPTER XVIII

"LOVE GILDS THE SCENE AND WOMAN GUIDES THE PLOT"

Tanty's wrath upon discovering Sir Adrian's departure was all thegreater because she could extort no real explanation from Rupert, andbecause her attacks rebounded, as it were, from the polished surfacehe exposed to them on every side. Madeleine's indifference, andMolly's apparently reckless spirits, further discomposed her duringsupper; and upon the latter young lady's disappearance after the meal, it was as much as she could do to finish her nightly game of patiencebefore mounting to seek her with the purpose of relieving herovercharged feelings, and procuring what enlightenment she might. 

The unwonted spectacle of the saucy damsel in tears made MissO'Donoghue halt upon the threshold, the hot wind of anger upon whichshe seemed to be propelled into the room falling into suddennothingness. 

There could be no mistake about it. Molly was weeping; soenergetically indeed, with such a passion of tears and sobs, that thenoise of Tanty's tumultuous entrance fell unheeded upon her ears. 

All her sympathies stirred within her, the old lady advanced to thegirl with the intention of gathering her to her bosom. But as she drewnear, the black and white of the open diary attracted her eye underthe circle of lamplight, and being possessed of excellent long sight, she thought it no shame to utilise the same across her grand-niece'sprostrate, heaving form, before making known her presence. 

_"And so I sit and cry. "_

Miss Molly was carrying out her programme with much precision, ifindeed her attitude, prone along the table, could be described assitting. 

Miss O'Donoghue's eyes and mouth grew round, as with the expression ofan outraged cockatoo she read and re-read the tell-tale phrases. Herewas a complication she had not calculated upon. 

"Dear, dear, " she cried, clacking her tongue in disconsolate fashion, so soon as she could get her breath. "What is the meaning of this, mypoor girl?"

Molly leaped to her feet, and turning a blazing, disfiguredcountenance upon her relative, exclaimed with more energy thanpoliteness: "Good gracious, aunt, what _do_ you want?"

Then catching sight of the open diary, she looked suspiciously from itto her visitor, and closed it with a hasty hand. But Miss O'Donoghue'snext words settled the doubt. 

"Well, to be sure, what a state you have put yourself into, " shepursued in genuine distress. "What has happened then between you andthat fellow, whom I declare I begin to believe as crazy as Rupertsays, that you should be crying your eyes out over his going back tohis island?--you that I thought could not shed a tear if you tried. Nothing left but to sit and cry, indeed. "

"So you have been reading my diary, you mean thing, " cried Miss Molly, stamping her foot. "How dare you come creeping in here, spying at myprivate concerns! Oh! oh! oh!" with unpremeditated artfulness, relapsing into a paroxysm of sobs just in time to avert the volley ofrebuke with which the hot-tempered old lady was about to greet thisdisrespectful outburst. "I am the most miserable girl in all theworld. I wish I were dead, I do. "

Again Tanty opened her arms, and this time she did draw the stormycreature to a bosom, as warm and motherly as if all the joys ofwomanhood had not been withheld from it. 

"Tell me all about it, my poor child. " There was a distinct feeling ofcomfort in the grasp of the old arms, comfort in the very ring of thedeep voice. Molly was not a secretive person by nature, and moreovershe retained quite enough shrewdness, even in her unwonted break-down, to conjecture that with Tanty lay her sole hope of help. So rollingher dark head distractedly on the old maid's shoulder, the young maidnarrated her tale of woe. Pressed by a pointed question here andthere, Tanty soon collected a series of impressions of Molly's visitto Scarthey, that set her busy mind working upon a startlingly newline. It was her nature to jump at conclusions, and it was not strangethat the girl's passionate display of grief should seem to be theunmistakable outcome of tenderer feelings than the wounded pride anddisappointment which were in reality its sole motors. 

"I am convinced it is Rupert that is at the bottom of it, " cried Mollyat last, springing into uprightness again, and clenching her hands. "His one idea is to drive his brother permanently from his ownhome--and he _hates me_. "

Tanty sat rigid with thought. 

So Molly was in love with Sir Adrian Landale, and he--who knows--wasin love with her too; or if not with her, with her likeness to hermother, and that was much the same thing when all was said and done. Could anything be more suitable, more fortunate? Could ever two birdsbe killed with one stone with more complete felicity than in thissettling of the two people she most loved upon earth? Poor prettyMolly! The old lady's heart grew very tender over the girl who nowstood half sullenly, half bashfully averting her swollen face; fivedays ago she had not known her handsome cousin, and now she wasbreaking her heart for him. 

It might be, indeed, as she said, that they had to thank Rupert forthis--and off flew Tanty's mind upon another tangent. Rupert was verydeep, there could be no doubt of that; he was anxious enough to keepAdrian away from them all; what would it be then when it came to aquestion of his marriage?

Tanty, with the delightful optimism that seventy years' experience hadfailed to damp, here became confident of the approach of her youngernephew's complete discomfiture, and in the cheering contemplation ofthat event chuckled so unctuously that Molly looked at her amazed. 

"It is well for you, my dear, " said the old lady, rising and waggingher head with an air of enigmatic resolution, "that you have got anaunt. "

 * * * * *

Some two days later, René, sitting upon a ledge of the old Scartheywall, in the spare sunshine which this still, winter's noon shonepearl-like through a universal mist, busy mending a net, to the tuneof a melancholy, inward whistle, heard up above the licking of thewaves all around him and the whimper of the seagulls overhead, thebeat of steady oars approaching from land side. 

Starting to his feet, the little man, in vague expectation, ran to apoint of vantage from which to scan the tideway; after a few seconds'investigation he turned tail, dashed into the ruins, up the steps, andburst open the door of the sitting-room, calling upon his master witha scared expression of astonishment. 

Captain Jack, poring over a map, his pipe sticking rakishly out of oneside of his mouth, looked up amused at the Frenchman's evidentexcitement, while Adrian, who had been busy with the uppermost row ofbooks upon his west wall, looked down from his ladder perch, with thepessimist's constitutional expectation of evil growing upon his face. 

"One comes in a boat, " ejaculated René, "and I thought I ought to warnhis honour, if his honour will give himself the trouble to look out. "

"It must be the devil to frighten Renny in this fashion, " mutteredCaptain Jack as distinctly as the clench of his teeth upon the pipewould allow him. Sir Adrian paled a little, he began to descend hisladder, mechanically flicking the dust from his cuffs. 

"Your honour, " said René, drawing to the window and looking outcautiously, "I have not yet seen her, but I believe it is oldmiss--the aunt of your honour and these ladies. "

Captain Jack's pipe fell from his dropping jaw and was broken intomany fragments as he leaped to his feet with an elasticity of limb anda richness of expletive which of themselves would have betrayed hiscalling. 

Flinging his arm across one of Adrian's shoulders he peeped across theother out of the window, with an alarm half mocking, half genuine. 

"The devil it is, friend Renny, " he cried, drawing back and runninghis hands with an exaggerated gesture of despair through his browncurls; "Adrian, all is lost unless you hide me. "

"My aunt here, and alone, " exclaimed Adrian, retreating from thewindow perturbed enough himself, "I must go down to meet her. Pray Godit is no ill news! Hurry, Renny, clear these glasses away. "

"In the name of all that's sacred, clear me away first!" interposedCaptain Jack, this time with a real urgency; through the open latticecame the sound of the grating of the boat's keel upon the sand and avigorous hail from a masculine throat--"Ahoy, Renny Potter, ahoy!""Adrian, this is a matter of life and death to my hopes, hide me inyour lowest dungeon for goodness' sake; I do not know my way aboutyour ruins, and I am convinced the old lady will nose me out like abadger. "

There was no time for explanation; Sir Adrian made a sign to René, whohighly enjoying the situation and grinning from ear to ear, wasalready volunteering to "well hide Mr. The Captain, " and the pairdisappeared with much celerity into the inner room, while Adrian, unable to afford himself further preparation, hurried down the greatstairs to meet this unexpected guest. 

He emerged bareheaded into the curious mist which hung pall-like uponthe outer world, and seemed to combine the opposite elements of glareand dulness, just as Tanty, aided by the stalwart arm of the boatman, who had rowed her across, succeeded in dragging her rheumatic limbs upthe last bit of ascent to the door of the keep. 

She halted, disengaged herself, and puffing and blowing surveyed hernephew with a stony gaze. 

"My dear aunt, " cried Adrian, "nothing has happened, I trust?"

"Sufficient has already happened, nephew, I should _hope_, " retortedthe old lady with extreme dignity, "sufficient to make me desire toconfer with you most seriously. I thank you, young man, " turning toWilliam Shearman who stood on one side, his eager gaze upon "themaster, " ready to pull his forelock so soon as he could catch his eye, "be here again in an hour, if you please. "

"But you will allow me to escort you myself, " exclaimed Adrian, risingto the situation, "and I hope there need be no hurry so long asdaylight lasts--Good-morning, Will, I am glad the new craft is asuccess--you need not wait. Tanty, take my arm, I beg, the steps aresteep and rough. "

Gripping her nephew's arm with her bony old woman's hand, MissO'Donoghue began a laborious ascent, pausing every five steps tobreathe stertorously and reproachfully, and look round upon thesandstone walls with supreme disdain; but this was nothing to the airwith which, when at last installed upon a high hard chair, in thesitting-room (having sternly refused the easy one Sir Adrian humblyproffered), she deliberately proceeded to survey the scene. In truth, the neatness that usually characterised Adrian's surroundings wasconspicuously absent from them, just then. 

Two or three maps lay overlapping each other upon the table beside thetray with its flagon of amber ale, which had formed the captain'smorning draught; and the soiled glass, the fragments of his pipe, andits half-burnt contents lay strewn about the prostrate chair whichthat lively individual had upset in his agitation. Adrian's ladder, the books he had been handling and had not replaced, the white ash ofthe dying fire, all contributed to the unwonted aspect of somewhatmelancholy disorder; worse than all, the fumes of the strong tobaccowhich the sailor liked to smoke in his secluded moments hung rank, despite the open window, upon the absolute motionlessness of theatmosphere. 

Tanty snorted and sniffed, while Adrian, after picking up the chair, began to almost unconsciously refold the maps, his eyes fixedwonderingly upon his visitor's face. 

This latter delivered herself at length of some of the indignationthat was choking her, in abrupt disjointed sentences, as if she wereuncorking so many bottles. 

"Well I'm sure, nephew, I am not surprised at your _extraordinary_behaviour, and if this is the style you prefer to live in--style, didI say?--sty would be more appropriate. Of course it is only what Ihave been led to expect, but I must say I was ill prepared to betreated by you with actual disrespect. My sister's child and I yourguest, not to speak of your aunt, and you your mother's son, and herhost besides! It is a slap in the face, Adrian, a slap in the facewhich has been a very bitter pill to have to swallow, I assure you--Imay say without exaggeration, in fact, that it has cut me to thequick. "

"But surely, " cried the nephew, laughing with gentle indulgence atthis complicated indictment, "surely you cannot suppose I would havebeen willingly guilty of the smallest disrespect to you. I am a mostunfortunate man, most unfortunately situated, and if I have offended, it is, you must believe, unwittingly and unavoidably. But you got myletter--I made my motives clear to you. "

"Oh yes, I got your letter yesterday, " responded Tanty, not at allsoftened, "and a more idiotic production from a man of yourattainments, allow me to remark, I never read. Adrian, you are makinga perfect fool of yourself, and _you cannot afford it_!"

"I fear you will never really understand my position, " murmured Adrianhopelessly. 

Tanty rattled her large green umbrella upon the floor with a violencethat made her nephew start, then turned upon him a countenanceinflamed with righteous anger. 

"It is only three days ago since I gave you fully my view of thesituation, " she remarked, "you were good enough at the time to admitthat it was a remarkably well-balanced one. I should be glad if youwill explain in what manner your position could have changed in thespace of just three hours after, to lead you to rush back to yourisland, really as if you were a mole or a wild Indian, or some otherstrange animal that could not bear civilised society, without even somuch as a good-bye to me, or to your cousins either? What isthat?--you say you wrote--oh, ay--you wrote--to Molly as well as tome; rigmaroles, my dear nephew, mere absurd statements that have not agrain of truth in them, that do not hold water for an instant. You arenot made for the world forsooth, nor the world for you! and if that isnot flying in the face of your Creator, and wanting to know betterthan Providence!--And then you say, 'you cast a gloom by your merepresence. ' Fiddle-de-dee! It was not much in the way of gloom thatMolly brought back with her from her three days' visit to you--or ifthat is gloom--well, the more your presence casts of it thebetter--that is all I can say. Ah, but you should have seen her, poorchild, after you went away in that heartless manner and you hadremoved yourself and your shadow, and your precious gloom--if youcould have seen how unhappy she has been!"

"Good God!" exclaimed the man with a paling face, "what are yousaying?"

"Only the truth, sir--Molly is breaking her heart because of your basedesertion of her. "

"Good God, " muttered Adrian again, rose up stiffly in a sort ofhorrified astonishment and then sat down again and passed his handover his forehead like a man striving to awaken from a painful dream. 

"Oh, Adrian, don't be more of a fool than you can possibly help!"cried his relative, exasperated beyond all expression by hisinarticulate distress. "You are so busy contemplating all sorts ofabsurdities miles away that I verily believe you cannot see an inchbeyond your nose. My gracious! what is there to be so astonished at?How did you behave to the poor innocent from the very instant shecrossed your threshold? Fact is, you have been a regular gay Lothario. Did you not"--cried Tanty, starting again upon her fine vein ofmetaphor--"did you not deliberately hold the cup of love to thoseyoung lips only to nip it in the bud? The girl is not a stock or astone. You are a handsome man, Adrian, and the long and the short ofit is, those who play with fire must reap as they have sown. "

Tanty, who had been holding forth with the rapidity of a loosewindmill in a hurricane, here found herself forced to pause and takebreath; which she did, fanning herself with much energy, a triumphantconsciousness of the unimpeachability of her logic written upon herheated countenance. But Adrian still stared at her with the sameincredulous dismay; looking indeed as little like a gay Lothario as itwas possible, even for him. 

"Do you mean, " he said at last, in slow broken sentences, as his mindwrestled with the strange tidings; "am I to understand that Molly, that bright beautiful creature, has been made unhappy through me? Oh, my dear Tanty, " striving with a laugh, "the idea is too absurd, I amold enough to be her father, you know--what evidence can you have fora statement so distressing, so extraordinary. "

"I am not quite in my dotage yet, " quoth Tanty, drily; "neither am Iin the habit of making unfounded assertions, nephew. I have heard whatthe girl has said with her own lips, I have read what she has writtenin her diary; she has sobbed and cried over your cruelty in these veryarms--I don't know what further evidence----"

But Sir Adrian had started up again--"Molly crying, Molly crying forme--God help us all--Cécile's child, whom I would give my life to keepfrom trouble! Tanty, if this is true--it must be true since you sayso, I hardly know myself what I am saying--then I am to blame, deeplyto blame--and yet--I have not said one word to the child--didnothing. . . . " here he paused and a deep flush overspread his face tothe roots of his hair; "except indeed in the first moment of herarrival--when she came in upon me as I was lost in memories of thepast--like the spirit of Cécile. "

"Humph, " said Tanty, pointedly, "but then you see what you took forCécile's spirit happened to be Molly in the flesh. " She fixed hersharp eyes upon her nephew, who, struck into confusion by her words, seemed for the moment unable to answer. Then, as if satisfied with theimpression produced, she folded her hands over the umbrella handle andobserved in more placid tones than she had yet used:

"And now we must see what is to be done. "

Adrian began to pace the room in greater perturbation. 

"What is to be done?" he repeated, "alas! what can be done? Tanty, youwill believe me when I tell you that I should have cut off my righthand rather than brought this thing upon the child--but she is veryyoung--the impression, thank heaven, cannot in the nature of thingsendure. She will meet some one worthy of her--with you, Tanty, kindestof hearts, I can safely trust her future. But that she should suffernow, and through me, that bright creature who flitted in upon my darklife, like some heaven-sent messenger--these are evil tidings. Tanty, you must take her away, you must distract her mind, you must tell herwhat a poor broken-down being I am, how little worthy of her sweetthoughts, and she will learn, soon learn, to forget me, to laugh atherself. "

Although addressing the old lady, he spoke like a man reasoning withhimself, and the words dropped from his lips as if drawn from a verywell of bitterness. Tanty listened to him in silence, but the tensionof her whole frame betrayed that she was only gathering her forces foranother explosion. 

When Adrian's voice ceased there was a moment's silence and then thestorm burst; whisking herself out of her chair, the umbrella cameinto play once more. But though it was only to thump the table, it wasevident Miss O'Donoghue would more willingly have laid it about thedelinquent's shoulders. 

"Adrian, are you a man at all?" she ejaculated fiercely. Then withsudden deadly composure: "So _this_ is the reparation you propose tomake for the mischief you have wrought?"

"In God's name!" cried he, goaded at length into some sort ofdespairing anger himself, "what would you have me do?"

The answer came with the promptitude of a return shot:

"Do? why marry her, of course!"

"_Marry her!_"

There was a breathless pause. Tanty, leaning forward across the table, crimson, agitated, yet triumphant; Adrian's white face blasted withastonishment. "Marry her, " he echoed at length once more, in a whisperthis time. Then with a groan: "This is madness!"

Miss O'Donoghue caught him up briskly. "Madness? My good fellow, not abit of it; on the contrary, sanity, happiness, prosperity. --Adrian, don't stand staring at me like a stuck pig! Why, in the name ofconscience, should not you marry? You are a young man still--pooh, pooh, what is forty!--you are a very fine-looking man, clever, romantic--hear me out, sir, please--_and you have made the child loveyou_. There you are again, as if you had a pain in your stomach; youwould try the patience of Job! Why, I don't believe there is anotherman on earth that would not be wild with joy at the mere thought ofhaving gained such a prize. A beautiful creature, with a heart of goldand a purse of gold to boot. "

"Oh, heavens, aunt!" interrupted the man, passionately, "leave thatquestion out of the reckoning. The one thing, the only thing, toconsider is _her_ happiness. You cannot make me believe it can be forher happiness that she should marry such as me. "

"And why shouldn't it be for her happiness?" answered the dauntlessold lady. "Was not she happy enough with you here in this God-forsakenhole, with nothing but the tempest besides for company? Why should notshe be happy, then, when you come back to your own good place? Wouldnot you be _kind_ to her?--would not you cherish her if she were yourwife?"

"Would I not be kind to her?--would I not cherish her?--would Inot----? My God!"

"Why, Adrian, " cried Tanty, charmed at this unexpected disclosure offeeling and the accent with which it was delivered, "I declare you areas much in love with the girl as she is with you. Why, now you shalljust come back with me to Pulwick this moment, and she shall tell youherself if she can find happiness with you or not. Oh--I will hear nomore--your own heart, your feelings as a gentleman, as a man ofhonour, all point, my dear nephew, in the same direction. And if youneglect this warning voice you will be blind indeed to the call ofduty. Come now, come back to your home, where the sweetest wife ever aman had awaits you. And when I shall see the children spring up aroundyou, Adrian, then God will have granted my last wish, and I shall diein peace. . . . There, there, I am an old fool, but when the heart isover full, then the tears fall. Come, Adrian, come, I'll say no more;but the sight of the poor child who loves you shall plead for herhappiness and yours. And hark, a word in your ear: let Rupert bark andsnarl as he will! And what sort of a devil is it your generosity hasmade of _him_? You have done a bad day's work there all these years, but, please God, there are better times dawning for us all. --What areyou doing, Adrian? Oh! writing a few orders to your servant to explainyour departure with me--quite right, quite right, I won't speak a wordthen to interrupt you. Dear me! I really feel quite in spirits. Oncedear Molly and you settled, there will be a happy home for Madeleine:with you, we can look out a suitable husband for her. Well, well, Imust not go too fast yet, I suppose: but I have not told you in whatdeep anxiety I have been on _her_ account by reason of a mostdeplorable affair--a foolish girl's fancy only, of course, with a mostundesirable and objectionable creature called _Smith_. . . . Oh! you areready, are you?--My dear Adrian, give me your arm then, and let usproceed. "

 * * * * *

Silence had reigned for but a few seconds in the great room of thekeep when Captain Jack re-entered, bearing on his face an expressionat once boyishly jubilant and mockingly astonished. He plantedhimself in front of the landward window, and gazed forth a while. 

"There goes my old Adrian, as dutifully escorting that walkingsack of bones, that tar-barrel ornament--never mind, old lady, from this moment I shall love you for your brave deeds of thismorning--escorting his worthy aunt as dutifully as though he were apenniless nephew. . . . Gently over the gunnel, madam! That's done! Soyou are going to take my gig? Right, Adrian. Dear me, how she holdsforth! I fancy I hear her from here. --Give way, my lads! That's allright. Gad! Old Adrian's carried off on a regular journey to Cythera, under a proper escort!"

With this odd reminiscence of early mythological reading, the sailorburst into a loud laugh and walked about slapping his leg. 

"Would ever any one have guessed anything approaching this?Star-gazing, book-grubbing Sir Adrian . . . In love! Adrian thesolitary, the pessimist, the I-don't-know-what superior man, in love!Neither more nor less! In love, like an every-day inhabitant of theserealms, and with that black-eyed sister of mine that is to be! Myword, it's too perfect! Adrian my brother-in-law--for if I gauge thatfine creature properly--splendid old lady--she won't let him slideback this time. No, my dear Adrian, you are hooked for matrimony and areturn to the living world. That black-eyed jade too, that Mollysister of my Madeleine, will wake up and lead you a life, byGeorge!. . . Row on, my lads, " once more looking at the diminishingblack spot upon the grey waters. "Row on--you have never done a betterday's work!"

René, entering a few moments later, with an open note in his hand, found his master's friend still chuckling, and looked at himinquisitively. 

"His honour has returned to Pulwick, " said he, in puzzled tones, handing the missive. 

"Ay, lad, " answered the sailor, cheerily. "The fact is, my good Renny, that in that room of Sir Adrian's where you ensconced me for safetyfrom that most wonderful specimen of her sex (I refer to your master'sworthy aunt), it was impossible to avoid overhearing many of herremarks--magnificent voice for a storm at sea, eh? Never mind what itwas all about, my good man; what I heard was good news. Ah!"directing his attention to the note; "his honour does not say when hewill return, but will send back the gig immediately; and you, M. Potter, are to look after me for as long as I choose to stop here. "

René required no reflection to realise that anything in the shape ofgood news which took his master back to his estate must be good newsindeed; and his broad face promptly mirrored, in the broadest ofgrins, the captain's own satisfaction. 

"For sure, we will try to take care of M. The captain, as well as ifhis honour himself was present. He told me you were to be masterhere. "

"Make it so. I should like some dinner as soon as possible, and one ofmy bro----of Sir Adrian's best bottles. It's a poor heart that neverrejoices. Meanwhile, I want to inspect your ruins and your caves indetail, if you will pilot me, Renny. This is a handy sort of an oldRobinson Crusoe place for hiding and storing, is it not?"

CHAPTER XIX

A JUNIOR'S OPINION

A rarely failing characteristic of very warm-hearted and stronglyimpulsive people is their inability of graduating their likes anddislikes; a state of mind which cannot fail to lead to frequentalterations of temper. 

On more than one occasion, since the domineering old lady had startedupon her peregrinations, had her favour for the two brothers undergonereversal; but the ground Rupert gained by Adrian's offences was neverof safe tenure. At the present hour, under the elation of hervictorious sally upon the hermit's pessimistic entrenchments--the onlything in him of which she disapproved--he at once resumed the warmplace she liked to keep for him in her heart. And as a consequence"Master Rupert, " as she contemptuously called the "locum tenensSquire, " who, in the genealogical order of things, should have been aperson of small importance, fell promptly into his original state ofdisgrace. 

During the drive from the village (where she had ordered the carriageto await her return) to the gates of Pulwick, Miss O'Donoghueentertained her companion with an indignant account of his brother'singratitude, of his hypocritical insinuating method of disparagementof Sir Adrian himself, winding up each indictment with a shrewd, "buthe could not impose upon _me_, " which, indeed, she firmly believed. 

Her object was, of course, to strengthen the baronet in his resolve toreturn to the headship of his family--little guessing what a strongincentive to seclusion these very tales of a state of things hesuspected but too well would have proved, had it not been for the newunforeseen motive that the morning's revelation had brought. 

"Does Molly know of your visit to me?" he asked, as the carriagehalted before the gate, and the enormous, red-headed Cumbriangatekeeper with his rosy Moggie, proudly swung it open to stand oneither side, the one bowing with jubilant greeting and the othercurtseying with bashful smiles at the real master. "Does she expect myvisit?" relapsing into gravity after returning the salutation inkindliness. 

"I have told no one of my purpose this day. Rupert walked off to thestables immediately after breakfast--going a-hunting he said he was, and offered to bear the girls to the meet. And then, feeling lonelywithout his company, " added Tanty, with a wink, "I ordered thecarriage and thought I would go and have a peep at the place wherepoor Molly was drowned, just for a little diversion. Whether thelittle rogue expects you or not, after your note of the other day, Iam sure I could not take upon myself to say. She sits watching thatcrazy old tower of yours by day and your light by night. Well, well, Imust not tell tales out of school, you may find out for yourself. Butmind you, Adrian, " she impressed on him, sagely, "it is not I whobring you back: you return of your own accord. The child would murderme, if she knew--with that proud heart of hers. "

"My dear Tanty, trust me. This incomprehensible discovery of yours, which I cannot yet believe in, really is, so far as my discretion isconcerned, as if I had never heard of it. Heavens! I have been ablundering fool, but I could not insult her with a hint of it for theworld. I have come to see Rupert to-day, as usual, of course--and, asyou say . . . I shall see for myself. You have opened my eyes. "

Miss O'Donoghue looked at her nephew with admiration. "_Voyez unpeu_, " she said, "_comme l'amour vous dégourdit_ even a doleful SirAdrian! Faith, here we are. This has been a pleasant ride, but my oldbones are so tired, and you and yours have set them jogging so much oflate, that I think I'll never want to stir a foot again once I getback to Bunratty . . . Except indeed to come and be godmother to theheir. "

Having lent a dutiful arm up the stairs to his now beaming relative, Sir Adrian came down pensively and entered the library. 

There, booted and spurred, but quietly installed at a writing table, sat Mr. Landale, who rose in his nonchalant manner and with cold looksmet his brother. 

There was no greeting between them, but simply thus:

"I understood from Aunt Rose you were out hunting. "

"Such was my intention, but when I found out that she had gone to seeyou--don't look so astonished, Adrian--a man must know what is goingon in his household--I suspected you would escort her back; so Idesisted and waited for you. It is an unexpected pleasure to see you, for I thought we had sufficiently discussed all business, recently. But doubtless you will profit of the opportunity to go into a fewmatters which want your attention. Do you mean to remain?"

Speaking these words in a detached manner, Mr. Landale kept a keenlyobservant look upon his brother's countenance. In a most unwonted waythe tone and the look irritated Sir Adrian. 

"I came back, Rupert, because there were some things I wished to seefor myself here, " he answered frigidly. And going to the bell, rang itvigorously. 

On the servant's appearance, without reference to his brother, hehimself, and very shortly, gave orders:

"I shall dine here to-day. Have the tapestry-room made ready for me. "

Then turning to Rupert, whose face betrayed some of the astonishmentaroused by this most unusual assumption of authority, and resuming asit were the thread of his speech, he went on:

"No, Rupert, I have no desire to talk business with you. It is a pityyou should have given up your day. Is it yet too late?"

"Upon my word, Adrian, " said Mr. Landale, clenching his hand nervouslyround his fine cambric handkerchief, "there must be something ofimportance in the wind to have altered your bearing towards me to thisextent. I have no wish to interfere. I came back and gave up goodcompany for the reason I have stated. I will now only point out that, with your sudden whims, you render my position excessively false in ahouse where, at your own wish, I am ostensibly established as master. "

And without waiting for another word, the younger brother, havingshot the arrow which hitherto never failed to reach the bull's-eye ofthe situation, left the room with much dignity. 

Once more alone, Sir Adrian, standing motionless in the great room, darkened yet more in the winter light by the heavy festoons ofcurtains that hung over the numerous empty bookshelves, the souls ofwhich had migrated to the peel to keep the master company, cogitatedupon this first unpleasant step in his new departure, and wonderedwithin himself why he had felt so extraordinarily moved by angerto-day at the cold inquisitiveness of his brother. No doubt the senseof being watched thus, held away at arm's-length as it were, was causesufficient. And yet that was not it; ingratitude alone, even toenmity, in return for benefits forgot could not rouse this bitterness. But had it not been for Tanty's interference he would be now exiledfrom his home until the departure of Cécile's child, just as, but forchance, he would have been kept in actual ignorance of her arrival. Itwas his brother's doing that he had blindly withdrawn himself when hispresence would have caused happiness to her. Yes, that was it. Ruperthad a scheme. That was what dwelt in his eyes, --a scheme which wouldbring, indeed did bring, unhappiness to that dear guest. . . . No wonder, now, that the unconscious realisation of it awoke all the man's bloodin him. 

"No, Rupert, " Sir Adrian found himself saying aloud, "I let you reignat Pulwick so long as you crossed not one jot of such pleasure andhappiness that might belong to Cécile's child. But here our willsclash; and now, since there cannot be two masters in a house as yousay, _I_ am the master here. "

 * * * * *

As Sir Adrian's mind was seething in this unusual mood, MissO'Donoghue, entering her nieces' room, found Molly perched, in ridingdress, on the window-sill, looking forth upon the outer world withdissatisfied countenance. 

Mr. Landale had sent word at the last moment that, to his intenseregret, he could not escort the ladies to the meet, some importantbusiness having retained him at Pulwick. 

So much did Miss Molly pettishly explain in answer to theaffectionate inquiry concerning the cloud on her brow, slashing herwhip the while and pouting, and generally out of harmony with thespecial radiance of the old lady's eye and the more than usualexpansiveness of the embrace which was bestowed upon her. 

"Tut, tut, tut, now, " observed the artful person in tones of deepcommiseration. "Ah well, Rupert's a poor creature which ever side heturns up. Will you go now, my child, and fetch me the letters I lefton the drawing-room table? Isn't it like me to spend half the morningwriting them and leave them down there after all!"

Molly rose unwillingly, threw her whip on the bed, her hat on thefloor; and mistily concerned over Tanty's air of irrepressible andpleasurable excitement, walked out of the room, bestowing as shepassed her long pier glass a moody glance at her own glowering beauty. 

"What's the use of _you_?" she muttered to herself, "Anybody can fetchand carry for old aunts and look out of windows on leafless trees!"

The way to the drawing-room was through the library. As Molly, immersed in her reflections, passed along this room, she stopped witha violent start on perceiving the figure of Sir Adrian, a tallsilhouette against the cold light of the window. As she came upon him, her face was fully illumined, and there was a glorious tale-telling inthe widening of her eyes and the warm flush that mounted to her cheekthat on the instant scattered in the man's mind all wondering doubts. A rush of tenderness filled him at one sweep, head and heart, to thecore. 

"Molly!" he cried, panting; and then with halting voice as sheadvanced a pace and stood with mouth parted and brilliant expectanteyes: "You took away all light and warmth with you when you left mylonely dwelling. I tried to take up my life there, but----"

"But you have come back--for me?" And drawn by his extended hands sheadvanced, her burning gaze fixed upon his. 

"I dared not think of seeing you again, " he murmured, clasping herhands; "yet my return . . . Pleases you?"

"Yes. "

Thus was crowned this strange wooing, was clenched a life's union, based upon either side on fascinating unrealities. 

She was drawn into his arms; and against his heart she lay, shakingwith little shivers of delight, looking into the noble face bent solovingly over hers, her mind floating between unconscious exultationand languorous joy. 

For a long while without a word he held her thus on his strong arm, gazing with a rending conflict of rapture and anguish on the beautifulimage of his life's love, until his eyes were dimmed with risingtears. Then he slowly stooped over the up-turned face, and as shedropped her lids with a faint smile, kissed her lips. 

There came a warning rattle at the door handle, and Molly, disengagingherself softly from her betrothed's embrace, but still retaining hisarm, turned to witness the entrance of Miss O'Donoghue and Mr. Landale. 

On the former's face, under a feigned expression of surprise, nowexpanded itself in effulgence the plenitude of that satisfaction whichhad been dawning there ever since her return from the island. 

Rupert held himself well in hand. He halted, it is true, for aninstant at the first sight of Sir Adrian and Molly, and put hishandkerchief furtively to his forehead to wipe the sudden cold sweatwhich broke out upon it. But the hesitation was so momentary as topass unperceived; and if his countenance, as he advanced again, borean expression of disapproval, it was at once dignified and restrained. 

"So you are there, Molly, " exclaimed the old lady with inimitableairiness. "Just imagine, my dear, I had those letters in my pocket allthe while, after all. You did not find them, did you?"

But Adrian, still retaining the little hand on his arm, came forwardslowly and broke through the incipient flow. 

"Aunt Rose, " said he in a voice still veiled by emotion, "I know yourkind heart will rejoice with me, although you may not be so surprised, as no doubt Rupert will be, at the news we have for you, Molly and I. "

"You are right, Adrian, " interrupted Rupert gravely, "to any who knowyour life and _your past_ as I do, the news you seem to have for usmust seem strange indeed. So strange that you will excuse me if Iwithhold congratulations. For, if I mistake not, " he added, with adelicately shaded change of tone to sympathetic courtesy, and slightlyturning his handsome face towards Molly, "I assume that my faircousin de Savenaye has even but now promised to be my sister, LadyLandale. "

Sir Adrian who, softened by the emotion of this wonderful hour, hadmade a movement to grasp his brother's hand, but had checked himselfwith a passionate movement of anger, instantly restrained, as theovert impertinence of the first words fell on his ears, here lookedwith a shadowing anxiety at the girl's face. 

But Molly, who could never withhold the lash of her tongue when Rupertgave the slightest opening, immediately acknowledged her enemy'scourtly bow with sauciness. 

"What! No congratulations from the model brother? Not even a word ofthanks to Molly de Savenaye for bringing the truant to his home atlast? But you malign yourself, my dear Rupert. I believe 'tis butexcess of joy that ties your tongue. "

With gleaming smile Mr. Landale would have opposed this direct thrustby some parry of polished insult; but he met his elder's commandingglance, remembered his parting words on two previous occasions, andwisely abstained, contenting himself with another slight bow and acontemptuous shrug of the shoulders. 

At the same time Miss O'Donoghue, with an odd mixture of farcicallypretended astonishment and genuine triumph, fell on the girl's neck. 

"It is possible, soul of my heart, my sweet child--I can't believeit--though I vow I knew it all along! So I am to see my two favouritesmade one by holy matrimony!" punctuating her exclamation with kisseson the fair young face, and wildly seeking in space with her dried-upold fingers to meet Adrian's hand. "I, the one barren stock of theO'Donoghues, shall see my sister's children re-united. Ah, Adrian, what a beautiful coat this will make for you to hand to your children!O'Donoghue, Landale, Kermelégan, Savenaye--eighteen quarters with thisheiress alone, Adrian child, for the descendants of Landale ofPulwick!" And Miss O'Donoghue, overcome by this culminating vision ofhappiness and perfection, fairly burst into tears. 

In the midst of this scene, Mr. Landale, after listening mockingly fora few instants, retired with ostentatious discretion. 

Later in the day, as Madeleine bent her pretty ears, dutifully yetwith wandering attention, to Molly's gay prognostications concerningPulwick under her sway; whilst the servants in the hall, pantry andkitchen discussed the great news which, by some incomprehensibleagency, spread with torrent-like swiftness through the whole estate;while Miss O'Donoghue was feverishly busy with the correspondencewhich was to disseminate far and wide the world's knowledge of thehappy betrothal, Sir Adrian met his brother walking meditatively alongthe winding path of the garden, flicking with the loop of his crop theborder of evergreens as he went. From their room, Molly and Madeleine, ensconced in the deep window-seat, could see the meeting. 

"How I should like to hear, " said Molly. "I know this supple wretchwill be full of Adrian's folly in marrying me--first, because, fromthe Rupertian point of view, it is a disastrous thing that his eldershould marry at all; and secondly, because Molly, mistress at PulwickPriory, means a very queer position indeed for Mr. Rupert Landale. HowI wish my spirit could fly into Adrian's head just for a moment!Adrian is too indulgent. It requires a Molly to deal with suchimpertinence. "

"Indeed you are unjust with our cousin, " said Madeleine, gently. "Whythis hatred? I cannot understand. "

"No, of course not, Madeleine. Rupert is charming--with you. I am notblind. But take care he does not find out _your_ secret, miss. Oh, Idon't ask you any more about it. But if he ever does--_gare, machère_. "

But at the present juncture, Molly's estimate of Sir Adrian's mood wasmistaken. His love of peace, which amounted to a well-known weaknesswhere he alone was concerned, weighed not a feather in the balancewhen such an interest as that now engaged was at stake. 

As a matter of fact, Rupert Landale was to be taken by surprise again, that day, and again not pleasantly. On noticing his brother'sapproach, he stopped his angry flickings, and slowly moved to meethim. At first they walked side by side in silence. Presently SirAdrian began:

"Rupert, " he said gravely, "after our first interview to-day, it wasmy intention to have begged your pardon for a certain roughness in mymanner which I should have controlled and which you resented. I wouldhave done so, had you allowed me, at that moment when I announced myforthcoming marriage and my heart was full of good-will to all, especially to you. Now, on the contrary, to re-establish at least thatoutward harmony without which life in common would be impossible, Iexpect from you some expression of regret for your behaviour. "

The first part of his brother's say was so well in accordance with hismore habitual mood, that Mr. Landale had already sketched his equallyhabitual deprecating smile; but the conclusion changed the entirestandpoint of their relations. 

"An expression of regret--from _me_?" cried he, exaggerating hisastonishment almost to mockery. 

"From any one but my brother, " said Adrian, with a slight butperceptible hardening in his tone, "I should say an apology for animpertinence. "

Mr. Landale, now genuinely taken aback, turned a little pale andhalted abruptly. 

"Adrian, Adrian!" he retorted, quickly. "This is one of your madmoments. I do not understand. "

"No, brother, I am not mad, and never have been, dearly as you wouldwish me to be so in reality--since Death would have none of me. Butthough you know this yourself but too well, you have never understoodme really. Now listen--once for all. Try and see our positions as theyare: perhaps then matters will go more pleasantly in the future foryou as well as for me. "

Mr. Landale looked keenly at the speaker's face for a second, and thenwithout a word resumed his walk, while Sir Adrian by his side pursuedwith quiet emphasis:

"When I returned, from the other world so to speak, at least from yourpoint of view (one which I fully understood), I found that this veryreturn was nothing short of a calamity for all that remained of mykin. I had it in my power to reduce that misfortune to a great extent. You loved the position--that worldly estimation, that fortune, allthose circumstances which, with perfect moral right, you had hithertoenjoyed. They presented little attraction to me. Moreover, there weremany reasons, which I am quite aware you know, that made this veryhouse of mine a dismal dwelling for me. You see I have no wish togive too generous a colour to my motives, too self-denying a characterto the benefits I conferred upon you. But, as far as you areconcerned, they were benefits. For them I received no gratitude; butas I did not expect gratitude it matters little. I might, however, have expected at least that you should be neutral, not directlyhostile to me----Pray let me finish" (in anticipation of a risinginterruption from his companion), "I shall soon have done, and youwill see that I am not merely recriminating. Hostile you have been, and are now. So long as the position you assumed towards me only boreon our own relations, I acquiesced: you had so much more to lose thanI could gain by resenting your hidden antagonism. I held you, so tospeak, in the hollow of my hand; I could afford to pass over it all. Moreover, I had chosen my own path, which was nothing if not peaceful. I say, you always were hostile to me; you have been so, more than eversince the arrival of Cécile de Savenaye's children. You were, however, grievously mistaken if you thought--I verily believe you did--that Idid not realise the true motives that prompted you to keep me awayfrom them. --I loved them as their mother's children; I love Molly witha sort of love I myself do not understand, but deep enough for all itsstrangeness. Yet I submitted to your reasoning, to your plausiblerepresentations of the disastrous effects of my presence. I went backto my solitude because it never entered my mind that it could be in mypower to help their happiness; you indeed had actually persuaded me ofthe contrary, as you know, and I myself thought it better to break theunfortunate spell that was cast on me. Unfortunate I thought it, butit has proved far otherwise. "

They had reached the end of the alley, and as they turned back, facingeach other for a moment, Sir Adrian noticed the evil smile playingupon his brothers lips. 

"It has proved otherwise, " he repeated. "How I came to change myviews, I daresay you have guessed, for you have, of late, kept a goodwatch on your mad brother, Rupert. At any rate you know what has cometo pass. Now I desire you to understand this clearly--interferencewith me as matters stand means interference with Molly: and as such Imust, and shall, resent it. "

"Well, Adrian, and what have I done _now_?" was Mr. Landale's quietreply. He turned a gravely attentive, innocently injured countenanceto the paling light. 

"When I said you did not understand me, " returned Sir Adrian withundiminished firmness; "when I said you owed me some expression ofregret, it was to warn you never again to assume the tone ofinsinuation and sarcasm to me, which you permitted yourself to-day inthe presence of Molly. You could not restrain this long habit ofcensuring, of unwarrantable and impertinent criticism, of your elder, and when you referred to my past, Molly could not but be offended bythe mockery of your tones. Moreover, you took upon yourself, if I haveheard aright, to disapprove openly of our marriage. Upon what groundthat would bear announcing I know not, but let this be enough: try andrealise that our respective positions are totally changed by thisunforeseen event, and that, as Molly is now to be mistress at Pulwick, I must of course revoke my tacit abdication. Nevertheless, if youthink you can put up with the new state of things, there need belittle alteration in your present mode of life, my dear Rupert; if youwill only make a generous effort to alter your line of conduct. "

And here, Sir Adrian, succumbing for a moment to the fault, so commonto kindly minds, of discounting the virtue of occasional firmness by asudden return to geniality, offered his hand in token of peace. 

Mr. Landale took it; his grasp, however, was limp and cold. 

"I am quite ready to express regret, " he said in a toneless voice, "since that would seem to be gratification to you, and moreover seemsto be the tacit condition on which you will refrain from turning meout. I ought indeed to have abstained from referring, however vaguely, to past events, for the plain reason that anything I could say wouldalready have come too late to prevent the grievous deed you have nowpledged yourself to commit. "

"Rupert--!" exclaimed Sir Adrian stepping back a pace, too amazed, atthe instant, for indignation. 

"Now, in your turn, hear me, Adrian, " continued Mr. Landale with hisblackest look. "I have listened to your summing up of our respectivecases with perfect patience, notwithstanding a certain assumption ofsuperiority which--allow me to insist on this--is somewhat ridiculousfrom you to me. You complain of my misunderstanding you. Briefly, thisis absurd. As a matter of fact I understand you better than you doyourself. On the other hand it is you that do not understand me. Ihave no wish to paraphrase your little homily of two minutes ago, butthe heads of my refutation are inevitably suggested by the points ofyour indictment. To use your own manner of speech, my dear Adrian, Ihave no wish to assume injured disinterestedness, when speaking of mydoings with regard to you and your belongings and especially to thisold place of yours, of our family. You have only to look and see foryourself. . . . "

Mr. Landale made a wide comprehensive gesture which seemed to embracethe whole of the noble estate, the admirably kept mansion with wallsnow flushed in the light of the sinking sun, the orderly maintenanceof the vast grounds, the prosperousness of its dependencies--all infact that the brothers could see with the eyes of the body from wherethey stood, and all that they could see with the eyes of the mindalone: "Go and verify whether I fulfilled my duty with respect to thetrust which was yours, but which you have allowed to devolve upon myshoulders, and ask yourself whether you would have fulfilled itbetter--if as well. I claim no more than this recognition; for, as youpointed out, the position carried its advantages, if it entailedarduous responsibility too. It was my hope that heirs of my body wouldlive to perpetuate this pride--this work of mine. It was not to be. Now that you step in again and that possibly your flesh will reap thebenefits I have laboured to produce, ask yourself, Adrian, whetheryou, who shirked your own natural duties, would have buckled to thetask, under _my_ circumstances--distrusted by your brother, dislikedand secretly despised by all your dependants, who reserved all theirlove and admiration for the 'real master' (oh, I know the cantphrase), although he chose to abandon his position and yield himselfto the stream of his own inertness, the real master who in the end canfind no better description for these years of faithful service than'hostility' and 'ingratitude. '"

Sir Adrian halted a pace, a little moved by the speciousness of thepleading. The incidental reference to that one grief of his brother'slife was of a kind which could never fail to arouse generous sympathyin his heart. But Mr. Landale had not come to the critical point ofhis say, and he did not choose to allow the chapter of emotion tobegin just yet. 

"But, " he continued, pursuing his restless walk, "again to use yourown phraseology, I am not merely recriminating. I, too, wish you tounderstand me. It would be useless to discuss now, what you elect tocall my hostility in past days. I had to keep up the position demandedby our ancient name; to keep it up amid a society, against whose everytenet almost--every prejudice, you may call them--you chose to runcounter. My antagonism to your mode of acting and thinking wasprecisely measured by your own against the world in which theLandales, as a family, hold a stake. Let that, therefore, bedismissed; and let us come at once to the special hostility youcomplain of in me, since the troublesome arrival of Aunt Rose and herwards. As the very thing which I was most anxious to prevent, ifpossible, has, after all, come to pass, the present argument may seemuseless; but you have courted it yourself. "

"Most anxious to prevent--if possible. . . !" repeated Sir Adrian, slowly. "This, from a younger brother, is almost cynical, Rupert!"

"Cynical!" retorted Mr. Landale, with a furious laugh. "Why, you havegiven sound to the very word I would, in anybody else's case, haveapplied to a behaviour such as yours. Is it possible, Adrian, " saidRupert, turning to look his brother in the eyes with a look ofprofound malice, "that it has not occurred to you yet, that _cynical_will be the verdict the world will pass on the question of yourmarriage with that young girl?"

Sir Adrian flushed darkly, and remained silent for a pace or two;then, with a puzzled look:

"I fail to understand you, " he said simply. "I am no longer young, ofcourse; yet, in years, I am not preposterously old. As for the otherpoints--name and fortune----"

But Rupert interrupted him with a sharp exclamation, which betrayedthe utmost nervous exasperation. 

"Pshaw! If I did not know you so well, I would say you were playing atcandour. This--this unconventionality of yours would have led youinto curious pitfalls, Adrian, had you been obliged to live in theworld. My 'hostility' has saved you from some already, I know--more isthe pity it could not save you from this--for it passes all boundsthat you should meditate such an unnatural act, upon my soul, in themost natural manner in the world. One must be an Adrian Landale, andlive on a tower for the best part of one's life, to reach such a pitchof--unconventionality, let us call it. "

"For God's sake, " exclaimed Sir Adrian, suddenly losing patience, "what are you driving at, man? In what way can my marriage with ayoung lady, who, inconceivable as it may be, has found something tolove in me; in what way, I say, can it be accounted cynical? I am notsubtle enough to perceive it. "

"To any one but you, " sneered the other, coming to his climax with asort of cruel deliberation, "it would hardly require specialsubtleness to perceive that for the man of mature age to marry the_daughter_, after having, in the days of his youth, been the lover ofthe _mother_, is a proceeding, the very idea of which is somewhatrevolting in the average individual. . . . There are many roués in St. James' who would shrink before it; yet you, the enlightenedphilosopher, the moralist----"

But Sir Adrian, breathing quickly, laid his hand heavily on hisbrother's shoulder. 

"When you say the mother's lover, Rupert, " he said, in a containedvoice, which was as ominous of storm as the first mutters of thunder, "you mean that I loved her--you do not mean to insinuate that thatnoble woman, widowed but a few weeks, whose whole soul was filled withbut one lofty idea, that of duty, was the mistress--the mistress of aboy, barely out of his teens?"

Rupert shrugged his shoulders. 

"I insinuate nothing, my dear Adrian; I think nothing. All this isancient history which after all has long concerned only you. You knowbest what occurred in the old days, and of course a man of honour isbound to deny all tales affecting a lady's virtue! Even you, I fancy, would condescend so far. But nevertheless, reflect how this marriagewill rake up the old story. It will be remembered how you, for thesake of remaining by Cécile de Savenaye's side, abandoned your home tofight in a cause that did not concern you; nay, more, turned yourback for the time upon those advanced social theories which even atyour present season of life you have not all shaken off. You travelledwith her from one end of England to the other, in the closestintimacy, and finally departed over seas, her acknowledged escort. Sheon her side, under pretext of securing the best help on her politicalmission that England can afford her, selected a young man notoriouslyin love with her, at the very age when the passions are hottest, andwisdom the least consideration--as her influential agent, of course. Men are men, Adrian--especially young men--small blame to you, youngthat you were, if then . . . But you cannot expect, in sober earnest, the world to believe that you went on such a wild pilgrimage fornothing! Women are women--especially young women, of the Frenchcourt--who have never had the reputation of admiring bashfulness instalwart young lovers. . . . "

Sir Adrian's hand, pressing upon his brother's shoulder, as ifweighted by all his anger, here forced the speaker into silence. 

"Shame! Shame, Rupert!" he cried first, his eyes aflame with agenerous passion; then fiercely: "Silence, fellow, or I will take youby that brazen throat of yours and strangle the venomous lie once forall. " And then, with keen reproach, "That you, of my blood, of herstoo, should be the one to cast such a stigma on her memory--that youshould be unable even to understand the nature of our intercourse. . . . Oh, shame, on you for your baseness, for your vulgar, lowsuspiciousness!. . . But, no, I waste my breath upon you, you do notbelieve this thing. You have outwitted yourself this time. Hear menow: If anything could have suggested to me this alliance with thechild of one I loved so madly and so hopelessly, the thought that suchdastardly slander could ever have been current would have done so. Theworld, having nothing to gain by the belief, will never credit thatSir Adrian Landale would marry the daughter of his paramour--howeverhis own brother may deem to his advantage to seem to think so! Thefact of Molly de Savenaye becoming Lady Landale would alone, had suchill rumours indeed been current in the past, dispel the ungenerouslegend for ever. "

There were a few moments of silence while Sir Adrian battled, in thetumult of his indignation, for self-control again; while Rupert, realising that he had outwitted himself indeed, bestowed inward cursesupon most of his relations and his own fate. 

The elder brother resumed at length, with a faint smile:

"And so, you see, even if you had spoken out in time, it would havebeen of little avail. " Then he added, bitterly. "I have received awound from an unforeseen quarter. You have dealt it, to no purpose, Rupert, as you see . . . Though it may be some compensation to such anature as yours to know that you have left in it a subtle venom. "

The sun had already sunk away, and its glow behind the waters hadfaded to the merest tinge. In the cold shadow of rising night the twomen advanced silently homewards. Sir Adrian's soul, guided by theinvidious words, had flown back to that dead year, the central pointof his existence--It was true: men will be men--in that very house, yonder, he had betrayed his love to her; on board the ship that tookthem away and by the camp fire on the eve of fight, he had pleaded thecause of his passion, not ignobly indeed, with no thought of thebaseness which Rupert assigned to him, yet with a selfish disregard ofher position, of his own grave trust. And it was with a glow of pride, in the ever living object of his life's devotion--of gratitudealmost--that he recalled the noble simplicity with which the woman, whom he had just heard classed among the every-day sinners of society, had, without one grandiloquent word, without even losing her womanlysoftness, kept her lover as well as herself in the path of her loftyideal--till the end. And yet she did love him: at the last awfulmoment, sinking into the very jaws of death, the secret of her hearthad escaped her. And now--now her beauty, and something of her ownlife and soul was left to him in her child, as the one fit object onwhich to devote that tenderness which time could not change. 

 * * * * *

After a while, from the darkness by his side came the voice of hisbrother again, in altered, hardly recognisable accents. 

"Adrian, those last words of yours were severe--unjust. I do notdeserve such interpretation of my motives. Is it my fault that you arenot as other men? Am I to be blamed for judging you by the ordinarystandard? But you have convinced me: you were as chivalrous as Cécilewas pure, and if needs be, believe me, Adrian, I will maintain it soin the face of the world. Yes, I misunderstood you--and wounded you, as you say, but such was not my intention. Forgive me. "

They had come to the door. Sir Adrian paused. There was a rapidrevulsion in his kindly mind at the extraordinary sound of humblewords from his brother; and with a new emotion, he replied, taking thehand that with well-acted diffidence seemed to seek his grasp:

"Perhaps we have both something to forgive each other. I fear you didnot misjudge me so much as you misjudged her who left me that preciouslegacy. But believe that, believe it as you have just now said, Rupert, the mother of those children never stooped to humanfrailty--her course in her short and noble life was as bright and pureas the light of day. "

Without another word the two brothers shook hands and re-entered theirhome. 

Sir Adrian sought Miss O'Donoghue whom he now found in converse withMolly, and with a grave eagerness, that put the culminating touch tothe old lady's triumph, urged the early celebration of his nuptials. 

Mr. Landale repaired to his own study where in solitude he could giveloose rein to his fury of disappointment, and consider as carefully ashe might in the circumstances how best to work the new situation tohis own advantage. 

 * * * * *

Even on that day that had been filled with so many varied and poignantemotions for him; through the dream in which his whole being seemed tofloat, Sir Adrian found a moment to think of the humble followers whomhe had left so abruptly on the island, and of the pleasure theauspicious news would bring to them. 

It was late at night, and just before parting with the guest who wasso soon to be mistress under his roof, he paused on the stairs beforea window that commanded a view of the bay. Molly drew closer and leantagainst his shoulder; and thus both gazed forth silently for sometime at the clear distant light, the luminous eye calmly watching overthe treacherous sands. 

That light of Scarthey--it was the image of the solitary placid lifeto which he had bidden adieu for ever; which even now, at this briefinterval of half a day, seemed as far distant as the years of despairand vicissitude and disgust to which it had succeeded. A man can feelthe suddenly revealed charm of things that have ceased to be, withoutregretting them. 

With the dear young head that he loved, with a love already as old asher very years, pressing his cheek; with that slender hand in hisgrasp, the same, for his love was all miracle, that he had held in thehot-pulsed days of old--he yet felt his mind wander back to his nestof dreams. He thought with gratitude of René, the single-minded, faithful familiar; of old Margery, the nurse who had tended Cécile'schildren, as well as her young master; thought of their joy when theyshould hear of the marvellous knitting together into the web of hisfate, of all those far-off ties. 

In full harmony with such fleeting thoughts, came Molly's words atlength breaking the silence. 

"Will you take me back to that strange old place of yours, Adrian, when we are married?"

Sir Adrian kissed her forehead. 

"And would you not fear the rough wild place, child, " he murmured. 

"Not for ever, I mean, " laughed the girl, "for then my mission wouldnot be fulfilled--which was to make of Adrian, Sir Adrian, indeed. Butnow and again, to recall those lovely days, when--when you were sodistracted for the love of Murthering Moll and the fear lest sheshould see it. You will not dismantle those queer rooms that receivedso hospitably the limping, draggled-tailed guest--they must againshelter her when she comes as proud Lady Landale! How delicious itwould be if the tempest would only rage again, and the sea-mew shriek, and the caverns roar and thunder, and I knew you were as happy as I amsure to be!"

"All shall be kept up even as you left it, " answered Sir Adrian movedby tender emotion; "to be made glorious again by the light of youryouth and fairness. And Renny shall be cook again, and maid of allwork. My poor Renny, what joy when he hears of his master's happiness, and all through the child of his beloved mistress! But he will have tospend a sobering time of solitude out there, till I can find asubstitute for his duties. "

"You are very much attached to that funny little retainer, Adrian!"said Molly after a pause. 

"To no man alive do I owe so much. With no one have I had, throughlife, so much in common, " came the grave reply. 

"Then, " returned the girl, "you would thank me for telling you of themeans of making the good man's exile less heavy, until you take himback with you. "

"No doubt. " There was a tone of surprise and inquiry in his voice. 

"Why, it is simple enough. Have you never heard of his admiration forMoggie Mearson, our maid? Let them marry. They will make a good pair, though funny. What, you never knew it? Of course not, or you would nothave had the heart to keep the patient lovers apart so long. Let themmarry, my Lord of Pulwick: it will complete the romance of thepersecuted Savenayes of Brittany and their helpful friends of thedistant North. "

Musing, Sir Adrian fell into silence. The faithful, foolish heart thatnever even told its secret desire, for very fear of being helped towin it; by whom happiness and love were held to be too dearly boughtat the price of separation from the lonely exile!

"_Eh bien_, dreamer?" cried the girl gaily. 

"Thank you, Molly, " said Sir Adrian, turning to her with shining eyes. "This is a pretty thought, a good thought. Renny will indeed doublybless the day when Providence sent you to Pulwick. "

And so, the following morn, Mr. Renny Potter was summoned to hear thetidings, and informed of the benevolent prospects more privatelyconcerning his own life; was bidden to thank the future Lady Landalefor her service; was gently rebuked for his long reticence, andfinally dismissed in company of the glowing Moggie with a promise thathis nuptials should be celebrated at the same time as those of thelord of the land. The good fellow, however, required first of all anassurance that these very fine plans would not entail anyinterference with his duties to his master before he would allowhimself to be pleased at his fortunes. Great and complex, then, washis joy; but it would have been hard to say, as Moggie confessed toher inquiring mistress that night, when he had returned to his post, whether the pride and delight in his master's own betrothal was notuppermost in his bubbling spirits. 

CHAPTER XX

TWO MONTHS LATER: THE QUICK AND THE DEAD

 Neighbour, what doth thy husband when he cometh home from work? He thinks of her he loved before he knew me

 _Luteplayer's Song. _

_February 18th. _ Upon the 18th of January, 1815, did I commit thatmost irreparable of all follies; then by my own hand I killed fairMolly de Savenaye, who was so happy, so free, so much in love withlife, and whom I loved so dearly, and in her stead called intoexistence Molly Landale, a poor-spirited miserable creature who hasnot given me one moment's amusement. How could I have been so stupid?

Let me examine. 

It is only a month ago, only a month, 4 weeks, 31 days, millions ofhorrible dreary minutes, Oh, Molly, Molly, Molly! since you stood, that snowy day, in the great drawing-room (_my_ drawing-room now, Ihate it), and vowed twice over, once before the Jesuit father fromStonyhurst, once before jolly, hunting heretical parson Cochrane tocleave to Adrian Landale till death bid you part! Brr--what ghastlywords and with what a light heart I said them, tripped them out, _mafoi_, as gaily as "good-morning" or "good-night!" They were to be the_open sesame_ to joys untold, to lands flowing with milk and honey, toromance, adventure, splendour--and what have they brought me?

It is a cold day, sleeting, snowing, blowing, all that is abominable. My lord and master has ridden off, despite it, to some distant farmwhere there has been a fire. The "Good Sir Adrian, " as they call himnow--he is _that_; but, oh dear me--there! I must yawn, and I'll sayno more on this head, at present, for I want to think and work mywretched problem out in earnest, and not go to sleep. 

It is the first time I have taken heart to write since yonder day ofdoom, and God knows when I shall have heart again! Upon such anafternoon there is nothing better to do, since Sir Adrian would havenone of my company--he is so precious of me that he fears I shouldmelt like sugar in the wet--he never guessed that it was just becauseof the storm I wished the ride! Were we to live a hundred yearstogether--which, God forfend--he would never understand me. 

Ah, lack-a-day, oh, misery me! (My lady, you are wandering; come backto business. )

What, then, has marriage brought me? First of all a husband. That isto say, another person, a man who has the right to me--to whom Imyself have given that right--to have me, to hold me, as it runs inthe terrible service, the thunders of which were twice rolled out uponmy head, and which have been ringing there ever since. And I, Molly, gave of my own free will, that best and most blessed of all gifts, myown free will, away. I am surrounded, as it were, by barriers; hemmedin, bound up, kept in leading strings. I mind me of the seagull on theisland. 'Tis all in the most loving care in the world, of course, butoh! the oppression of it! I must hide my feelings as well as I can, for in my heart I would not grieve that good man, that _excellent_man, that pattern of kind gentleman--oh, oh, oh--it will out--that_dreary_ man, that dull man, that most melancholy of all men! Whosighs more than he smiles, and, I warrant, of the two, his sighs arethe more cheerful; who looks at his beautiful wife as if he saw aghost, and kisses her as if he kissed a corpse!

There is a mate for Molly! the mate she chose for herself!

So much for the husband. What else has marriage brought her?

Briefly I will capitulate. 

A title--I am _my lady_. For three days it sounded prettily in myears. But to the girl who refused a duchess' coronet, who was borncomtesse--to be the baronet's lady--Tanty may say what she likes ofthe age of creation, and all the rest of it--that advantage cannotweigh heavy in the balance. Again then, I have a splendidhouse--which is my prison, and in which, like all prisoners, I havenot the right to choose my company--else would Sophia and Rupert stillbe here? They are going, I am told occasionally; but my intimateconviction is, however often they may be going, _they will never go_. _Item four:_ I have money, and nothing to spend it on--but the poor. 

What next? What next?--alas, I look and I find nothing! This is allthat marriage has brought me; and what has it not taken from me?

My delight in existence, my independence, my hopes, my belief in thefuture, my belief in _love_. Faith, hope, and charity, in fact, destroyed at one fell sweep. And all, to gratify my curiosity as to aromantic mystery, my vanity as to my own powers of fascination! Well, I have solved the mystery, and behold it was nothing. I have eaten ofthe fruit of knowledge, and it is tasteless in my mouth. 

I have made my capture with my little bow and spear, and I am asembarrassed of my captive as he of me. We pull at the chain that bindsus together; nay, such being the law of this world between men andwomen, the positions are reversed, my captive is now my master, andMolly is the slave. 

Tanty, I could curse thee for thy officiousness, from the tip of thycoal black wig to the sole of thy platter shoe--but that I am too goodto curse thee at all!

Poor book of my life that I was so eager to fill in, that was to haveheld a narrative all thrilling, and all varied, now will I set forthin thee, my failure, my hopelessness, and after that close thee forever. 

Of what use indeed to chronicle, when there is nought to tell butflatness, chill monotony, on every side; when even the workings of mysoul cannot interest me to follow, since they can now foreshadownothing, lead to nothing but fruitless struggle or tame resignation!

I discovered my mistake--not the whole of it, but enough to give me adreadful foreboding of its hideousness, not two hours after thenuptial ceremony. 

Adrian had borne himself up to that with the romantic, mysteriousdignity of presence that first caught my silly fancy; behind which Ihad pictured such fascinating depths of passion--of fire--Alas! Whenhe looked at me it was with that air of wondering, almost timid, affection battling with I know not what flame of rapture, with whichlook I have become so fatally familiar since--without the flame ofrapture, be it understood, which seems to have rapidly burnt away to avery ash of grey despondency and self-reproach. I could have sworneven as he gave me his arm to meet and receive the congratulations ofour guests, that the glow upon his cheek, the poise of his headdenoted the pride any man, were he not an idiot nor a brute, must feelin presenting his bride--such a bride!--to the world. Then we went into the great dining hall where the wedding feast, a very splendid one, was spread. All the gentlemen looked with admiration at me; many withenvy at Adrian. I knew that I was beautiful in my fine white satinwith my veil thrown back, without the flattering whispers that reachedme now and again; but these were sweet to hear nevertheless. I knewmyself the centre of all eyes, and it elated me. So too did thetingling flavour of the one glass of sparkling wine I drank to myfortunes. Immediately upon this silent toast of Lady Landale toherself, Rupert rose and in choice words and silver-ringing voiceproposed the health of the bride and bridegroom. There was a merrybustling pause while the glasses were filled; then rising to theirfeet as with one man, all the gentlemen stood with brimming gobletsone instant extended, the next emptied to the last drop; and then thecheers rang out, swelling up the rafters, three times three, seemingto carry my soul along with them. I felt my heart expand and throbwith an emotion I never knew in it before, which seemed to promisevast future capacities of pain and delight. I turned to my husbandinstinctively; looking for, expecting, I could not explain why, ananswering fire in his eyes. This was the last moment of my illusions. From thence they began to shrivel away with a terrifying rapidity. 

Adrian sat with a face that looked old and lined and grey; withhaggard unseeing eyes gazing forth into space as though fixing someinvisible and spectre show. He seemed as if wrapt in a world of hisown, to which none of us had entrance; least of all, I, his wife. 

The shouts around us died away, there were cries upon him for"Speech--speech, " then playful queries--"How is this, Sir Adrian? Sobashful, egad!" next nudges were exchanged, looks of wonder, and anold voice speaking broadly:

_"Yes, by George, "_ it was saying, _"I remember it well, by George, inthis very room, now twenty years ago, 'Here, gentlemen, ' says old SirTummas, 'Here's to Madam de Savenaye, ' and gad, ma'am, we allyelled, --she was a lovely creature--Eh--Eh?"_

"Hush, " said some one, and there was a running circle of frowns andthe old voice ceased as abruptly as if its owner had been seized bythe weasand. In the heavy embarrassed silence, I caught Tanty's redperturbed look and Rupert's smile. 

But Adrian sat on--like a ghost among the living, or a live man amongthe dead. And this was my gallant bridegroom! I seized him by thehand--"Are you ill, Adrian?"

He started and looked round at me--Oh that look! It seemed to burninto my soul, I shall never forget the hopelessness, the dull sadnessof it, and then--I don't know what he read in my answering glance--themute agonised question, followed by a terror. 

"They want you to speak, " I whispered, and shook the cold hand I heldin a fury of impatience. 

His lips trembled: he stared at me blankly. "My God, my God, what haveI done?" he muttered to himself, "Cécile's child--Cécile's child!"

I could have burst out sobbing. But seeing Rupert's face bent downtowards his plate, demure and solemn, yet stamped, for all hiscleverness, with an almost devilish triumph, my pride rose and mycourage. Every one else seemed to be looking towards us: I stood up. 

"Good friends, " I said, "I see that my husband is so much touched bythe welcome that you are giving his bride, the welcome that you aregiving him after his long exile from his house, that he is quiteunable to answer you as he would wish. But lest you shouldmisunderstand this silence of his, I am bold enough to answer you inhis name, and--since it is but a few moments ago that you have seen usmade one, I think I have the right to do so. . . . We thank you. "

My heart was beating to suffocation--but I carried bravely on till Iwas drowned in a storm of acclamations to which the first cheers wereas nothing. 

They drank my health again, and again I heard the old gentleman of theindiscreet voice--I have learned since he is stone deaf, and I daresayhe flattered himself he spoke in a whisper--proclaim that I was _mymother all over again: begad--so had she spoken to them twenty yearsago in this very room!_

Here Tanty came to the rescue and carried me off. 

I dared not trust myself to look at Adrian as I left, but I knew thathe followed me to the door, from which I presumed that he hadrecovered his presence of mind in some degree. 

Since that day we have been like two who walk along on opposite banksof a widening stream--ever more and more divided. 

I have told no one of my despair. It is curious, but, little wifely asI feel towards him, there is something in me that keeps me back fromthe disloyalty of discussing my husband with other people. 

And it is not even as it might have been--this is what maddens me. _Weare always at cross purposes. _ Some wilful spirit wakes in me, at thevery sound of his voice (always gentle and restrained, and echoing ofpast sadness); under his mild, tender look; at the every fresh sign ofhis perpetual watchful anxiety--I give him wayward answers, frowninggreetings, sighs, pouts; I feel at times a savage desire to wound, toanger him, and as far as I dare venture I have ventured, yet could notrouse in him one spark, even of proper indignation. 

The word of the riddle lay in that broken exclamation of his at ourwedding feast. 

"Cécile's child!"

His wife, then, is only Cécile's child to him. I have failed when Ithought to have conquered--and with the consciousness of failure havelost my power, even to the desire of regaining it. My dead mother ismy rival; her shade rises between me and my husband's love. Could hehave loved me, I might perhaps have loved him--and now--now I, _Molly_, I, shall perhaps go down to my grave without having known_love_. 

I thought I had found it on that day when he took me in his arms inthat odious library--my heart melted when he so tenderly kissed mylips. And now the very remembrance of that moment angers me. Tenderness! Am I only a weak, helpless child that I can arouse nomore from the man to whom I have given myself! I thought the gates oflife had been opened to me--behold, they led me to a warm comfortableprison! And this is Molly's end!

There is a light in Madeleine's eyes, a ring in her voice, a smileupon her lip. She has bloomed into a beauty that I could hardly haveimagined, and this is because of this unknown whom she _loves_. Shebreathes the fulness of the flower; and by-and-by, no doubt, she willtaste the fulness of the fruit; she will be complete; she will be fedand I am to starve. What is coming to me? I do not know myself. I feelthat I could grudge her these favours, that I _do_ grudge them to her. I am sick at heart. 

And she--even she has proved false to me. I know that she meets thisman. Adrian too knows it, and more of him than he will tell me; and heapproves. I am treated like a child. The situation is strange uponevery side; Madeleine loving a plebeian--a sailor, not a king'sofficer--stooping to stolen interviews! Adrian the punctilious, inwhose charge Tanty solemnly left her, pretending ignorance, virtuallycondoning my sister's behaviour! For though he has distinctly refusedto enlighten me or help me to enlighten myself, he could not, upon mytaxing him with it, deny that he was in possession of facts ignored byme. 

Then there is Rupert paying now open court to this sly damsel--for thesake of her beautiful eyes, or for the beautiful eyes of her casket?And last and strangest, the incongruous friendship struck up this weekbetween her and that most irritating of melancholy fools, Sophia. Thelatter bursts with suppressed importance, she launches glances ofunderstanding at my sister; sighs, smiles (when Rupert's eye is not onher), starts mysteriously. One would say that Madeleine had made aconfidant of her--only that it would be too silly. What? Make aconfidant of that funereal mute and deny _me_ the truth! If I had thespirit for it I would set myself to discovering this grand mystery;and then let them beware! They would have none of Molly as a friend:perhaps she will yet prove one too many upon the other side. 

If I have grown bitter to Madeleine, it is her own fault; I would havebeen as true as steel to her if she had but trusted me. Now andagain, when a hard word and look escape me, she gives me a greatsurprised, reproachful glance, as of a petted child that has beenhurt; but mostly she scarcely seems to notice the change inme--Moonlike in dreamy serenity she sails along, wrapt in her ownthoughts, and troubles no more over Molly's breaking her heart thanover Rupert's determined suit. To me when she remembers me, she givesthe old caresses, the old loving words; to him smiles and prettycourtesy. Oh, she keeps her secret well! But I came upon her in thewoods alone, last Friday, fresh, no doubt, from her lover's arms;tremulous, smiling, yet tearful, with face dyed rose. And when to mylast effort to attain the right of sisterhood she would only stammerthe tell-tale words: _she had promised!_ and press her hot cheeksagainst mine, I thrust her from me, indignant, and from my affectionsfor ever. Yet I hold her in my power, I could write to Tanty, putRupert on the track. . . . Nay, I have not fallen so low as to becomeRupert's accomplice yet!

And so the days go on. Between my husband's increasing melancholy, myown mad regrets, Rupert's watchfulness, Madeleine's absorption andSophia's twaddle, my brain reels. I feel sometimes as if I couldscream aloud, as we all sit round the table, and I know that _this_ isthe life that I am doomed to, and that the days may go on, go on thus, till I am old. Poor Murthering Moll the second! Why even the convent, where at least I knew nothing, would have been better! No, it is notpossible! Something is still to come to me. Like a bird, my heartrises within me. I have the right to my life, the right to myhappiness, say what they may. 

CHAPTER XXI

THE DAWN OF AN EVENTFUL DAY

Rupert's behaviour at home, since his brother's wedding, had been, aseven Molly was bound to admit to herself, beyond reproach intactfulness, quiet dignity, and seeming cheerfulness. 

He abdicated from his position of trust at once and without thesmallest reservation; wooed Madeleine with so great a discretion thather dreamy eyes saw in him only a kind relative; and he treated hissister-in-law, for all her freaks of bearing to him, with a perfectgentleness and gentility. 

At times Sir Adrian would watch him with great eyes. What meant thischange? the guileless philosopher would ask himself, and wonder if hehad judged his brother too harshly all through life; or if it was hisplain speaking in their last quarrel which had put things in theirtrue light to him, and awakened some innate generosity of feeling; oryet if--this with misgiving--it was love for pretty Madeleine that wasworking the marvel. If so, how would this proud rebellious nature bearanother failure?

Rupert spoke with unaffected regret about leaving Pulwick, at the sametime, in spite of Molly's curling lip, giving it to be understood thathis removal was only a matter of time. 

For the ostensible purpose, indeed, of finding himself another home hemade, in the beginning of March, the second month after his brother'smarriage, several absences which lasted a couple of days or more, andfrom which he would return with an eager sparkle in his eye, almost abrightness on his olive cheek, to sit beside Madeleine's embroideryframe, pulling her silks and snipping with her scissors, and talkinggaily, persistently, with such humour and colour as at last to drawthat young lady's attention from far off musings to his words withsmiles and laughter. 

Meanwhile, Molly would sit unoccupied, brooding, watching them, nowfiercely, from under her black brows, now scornfully, nowabstractedly; the while she nibbled at her delicate finger-nails, orruthlessly dragged them along the velvet arms of her chair with thegesture of a charming, yet distracted, cat. 

Sir Adrian would first tramp the rooms with unwitting restlessness, halting, it might be, beside his wife to strive to engage her intospeech with him; and, failing, would betake himself at length with aheavy sigh to solitude; or, yet, he would sit down to his organ--thenew one in the great hall which had been put up since his marriage, atMolly's own gay suggestion, during their brief betrothal--and musicwould peal out upon them till Lady Landale's stormy heart could bearit no longer, and she would rise in her turn, fly to the shelter ofher room and roll her head in the pillows to stifle the sound of sobs, crying from the depths of her soul against heaven's injustice; anonrailing in a frenzy of impotent anger against the musician, who hadsuch passion in him and gave it to his music alone. 

During Rupert's absences that curious intimacy which Molly hadcontemptuously noted between her sister and sister-in-law displayeditself in more conspicuous manner. 

Miss Landale's long sallow visage sported its airs of mystery andimportance, its languishing leers undisguisedly, so long as herbrother Rupert's place was empty; and though her visits to therector's grave were now almost quotidian, she departed upon them withlooks of wrapt importance, and, returning, sought Madeleine's chamber(when that maiden did not herself stroll out to meet her in thewoods), her countenance invariably wreathed with suppressed, yettriumphant smiles, instead of the old self-assertive dejection. 

 * * * * *

The 15th of March of that year was to be a memorable day in the livesof so many of those who then either dwelt in Pulwick, or had dealingson that wide estate. 

Miss Landale, who had passed the midnight hour in poring over thedelightful wickedness of Lara, and, upon at length retiring to herpillow, had had a sentimental objection to shutting out the romanticlight of the moon by curtain or shutter, was roused into wakefulnesssoon after dawn by a glorious white burst of early sunshine. As arule, the excellent soul liked to lie abed till the last availablemoment; but that morning she was up with the sun. When dressed shedrew a letter from a secret casket with manifold precautions as thoughshe were surrounded with prying eyes, and, placing it in her reticule, hastened forth to seek the little lonely disused churchyard by theshore. She afterwards remarked that she could never forget in whatagitation of spirits and with what strange presentiment of evil shewas led to this activity at so unwonted an hour. The truth was, however, that Miss Landale tripped along through the damp wooded pathas gaily as if she were going to visit her living lover instead of hisgranite tomb; and that in lieu of evil omens a hundred fantasticallysentimental thoughts floated through her brain, as merrily andirresponsibly as the motes in the long shafts of brilliancy thatcleaved, sword-like through the mists, upon her from out the east. Visions of Madeleine's face when she would learn before breakfast thatSophia had actually been to the churchyard already; visions of whomshe might meet there; rehearsals of a romantic scene upon thathallowed spot, of her own blushes, her knowing looks, her playfulremonstrances, with touching allusions to one who had loved and lost, herself, and who thus, &c. &c. 

Miss Landale tossed her long faded ringlets quite coquettishly, turnedone slim bony hand with coy gesture before her approving eyes. Thenshe patted her reticule and hurried on with fresh zest, enjoying thetart whisper of the wind against her well bonneted face, the exquisitevirginal beauty of the earth in the early spring of the day and of theyear. 

As she stepped out of the shadow of the trees, her heart leaped andthen almost stood still as she perceived in the churchyard lying belowher, beside the great slab of granite which lay over the remains ofher long-departed beloved one, the figure of a man, whose back wasturned towards her, and whose erect outline was darkly silhouettedagainst the low, dazzling light. 

Then a simper of exceeding archness crept upon Miss Landale's lips;and with as genteel an amble as the somewhat precipitate nature of thesmall piece of ground that yet divided her from the graveyard wouldallow, she proceeded on her way. 

At the click of the lych-gate under her hand the man turned sharplyround and looked at her without moving further. An open letterfluttered in his hand. 

His face was still against the light, and Miss Landale's eyes had weptso many tears by day and night that her sight was none of the best. She dropped a very elegant curtsey, simpered, drew nearer, and threw afetching glance upwards. Then her shrill scream rang through the stillmorning air and frightened the birds in the ruined church. 

"You are early this morning, Sophia, " said Mr. Landale. 

Sophia sank upon the tombstone. To say that she was green or yellowwould ill describe the ghastliness of the tint that suffused hernaturally bilious countenance; still speechless, she made a franticplunge towards the great urn that adorned the head of the grave. Mr. Landale looked up from his reading again with a quiet smile. 

"I shall have done in one minute, " he remarked, "It is a fineproduction, egad! full of noble protestations and really high-soundingwords. And then, my dear Sophia, you can take charge of it, and Ishall be quite ready for the other, which I presume you have as usualwith you--ah, in your bag! Thanks. "

"Rupert?" ejaculated the unfortunate lady, first in agonised query, and next in agonised reproach, clasping her hands over the preciousreticule--"Rupert!"

Mr. Landale neatly folded the sheet he had been reading, moistenedwith his tongue a fresh wafer which he drew from his waistcoat pocket, and, deftly placing it upon the exact spot from which the original onehad been removed, handed the letter to his sister with a little bow. But, as with a gesture of horror the latter refused to take it, heshrugged his shoulders and tossed it carelessly into the urn. 

"Now give me Madeleine's, " he said, peremptorily. 

Rolling upwards eyes of appeal the unhappy Iris called upon heaven towitness that she would die a thousand deaths rather than betray hersolemn trust. But even as she spoke the fictitious flame of couragewithered away in her shrinking frame; and at the mere touch of herbrother's finger and thumb upon her wrist, the mere sight of his facebending masterfully over her with white teeth just gleaming betweenhis twisting smile and half-veiled eyes of insolent determination, sheallowed him, unresisting, to take the bag from her side; protestingagainst the breach of faith only by her moans and the inept wringingof her hands. 

Mr. Landale opened the bag, tossed with cynical contempt upon the flattombstone, sundry precious relics of the mouldering bones within, anddiscovered at length in an inner pocket a dainty flower-scented note. Then he flung down the bag and proceeded with the same deliberation toopen the letter and peruse its delicate flowing handwriting. 

"Upon my word, " he vowed, "I think this is the prettiest she haswritten yet! What a sweet soul it is! Listen, Sophia: 'You praise mefor my trust in you--but, Jack, dear love, my trust is so much a partof my love that the one would not exist without the other. Therefore, do not give me any credit, for you know I could not help loving you. 'Poor heart! poor confiding child! Oh!" ejaculated Mr. Landale as if tohimself, carefully proceeding the while with his former manoeuvresto end by placing the violated missive, to all appearance intact, beside its fellow, "we have here a rank fellow, a foul traitor to dealwith!"

Then, wheeling round to his sister, and fixing her with piercing eyes:"Sophia, " he exclaimed, in tones of sternest rebuke, "I am surprisedat you. I am, indeed!"

Miss Landale raised mesmerised, horror-stricken eyes upon him; hisdark utterances had already filled her foolish soul with blind dread. He sat down beside her, and once more enclosed the thin arm in hislight but warning grasp. 

"Sophia, " he said solemnly, "you little guess the magnitude of theharm you have been doing; the frightful fate you have been preparingfor an innocent and trusting girl; the depth of the villainy you areaiding and abetting. You have been acting, as I say, in ignorance, without realising the awful consequences of your folly and duplicity. But that you should have chosen _this_ sacred place for such illicitand reprehensible behaviour; that by the grave of this worthy man wholoved you, by the stones chosen and paid for by my fraternalaffection, you should plot and scheme to deceive your family, andhelp to lead a confiding and beautiful creature to ruin, I shouldnever have expected from _you_, Sophia--Sophia!"

Miss Landale collapsed into copious weeping. 

"I am sure, brother, " she sobbed, "I never meant any harm. I am surenobody loves the dear girl better than I do. I am sure I never wishedto hide anything from you!--Only--they told me--they trusted me--theymade me promise--Oh brother, what terrible things you have beensaying! I cannot believe that so handsome a young gentleman can meananything wrong--I only wish you could have seen him with her, he is sodevoted--it is quite beautiful. "

"Alas--the tempter always makes himself beautiful in the eyes of thetempted! Sophia, we can yet save this unhappy child, but who knows howsoon it may be too late!--You can still repair some of the wrong youhave done, but you can only do so by the most absolute obedience tome. . . . Believe me, I know the truth about this vile adventurer, thisCaptain Jack Smith. "

"Good Heavens!" cried Sophia, "Rupert, do not tell me, lest I swoonaway, that he is married already?"

"The man, my dear, whose plots to compromise and entangle a lovelygirl you have favoured, is a villain of the deepest dye--a pirate. "

"Oh!" shivered Sophia with fascinated misery--thrilling recollectionsof last night's reading shooting through her frame. 

"A smuggler, a criminal, an outlaw in point of fact, " pursued Mr. Landale. "He merely seeks Madeleine for her money--has a wife in everyport, no doubt--"

Miss Landale did not swoon; but her brother's watchful eye wassatisfied with the effect produced, and he went on in a well modulatedtone of suppressed emotion:

"And after breaking her heart, ruining her body and soul, dragging herto the foulest depths he would have cast her away like a deadweed--perhaps murdered her! Sophia, what would your feelings be then?"

A hard red spot had risen to each of Miss Landale's cheek bones; hertears had dried up under the fevered glow. 

"We believed, " she said trembling in every limb, "that he was workingon a mission to the French court--"

"Faugh--" cried Mr. Landale, contemptuously, "smuggling French brandyfor our English drunkards and traitorous intelligence for our Frenchenemies!"

"Such a handsome young man, so gentlemanly, such an air!" maunderedthe miserable woman between her chattering teeth. "It was quiteaccidental that we met, Rupert, quite accidental, I assure you. Madeleine--poor dear girl--came down with me here, I wanted to showher the g-grave----" here Sophia gurgled convulsively, remembering herbrother's cruel reproaches. 

"Well?"

"She came here with me, and as I was kneeling down, planting crocusesjust here, Rupert, and she was standing _there_, a young man suddenlyleaped over the wall, and fell at her feet. He had not seen_me_--Alas, it reminded me of my own happiness! And he was sowell-dressed, so courteous--and seemed such a perfect gentleman--andhe took off his hat so gracefully I am sure I never could havebelieved it of him. And they confided in me and I promisedby--by--those sacred ashes to keep their secret. I remembered ofcourse what Tanty had said in her letter, and quite understood he wasthe young gentleman in question--but they explained to me how she wasunder a wrong impression altogether. He said that the instant he laideyes upon me, he saw I had a feeling heart, and he knew they couldtrust me. He spoke so nobly, Rupert, and said: What better place couldthey have for their meetings than one consecrated to such faithfullove as this? It was so beautiful--and oh dear! I can't but thinkthere is some mistake. " And Miss Landale again wrung her hands. 

"But I have proof!" thundered her brother, "convincing proof, of whatI have told you. At this very moment the man who would marryMadeleine, forsooth, runs the risk of imprisonment--nay, of thegallows! You may have thought it strange that I should have opened andread letters not addressed to me, but with misfortune hanging over abeloved object I did not pause to consider myself. My only thought wasto save her. "

Here Mr. Landale looked very magnanimous, and thrust his fingers as hespoke through the upper buttons of his waistcoat with the gesturewhich traditionally accompanies such sentiments: these cheap effectsproved generally irresistible with Sophia. But his personality hadpaled before the tremendous drama into which the poor romance-lovingsoul was so suddenly plunged, and in which in spite of all her woe shefound an awful kind of fascination. Failing to read any depth ofadmiration in her roving eye, Rupert promptly abandonedgrandiloquence, and resuming his usual voice and manner, he droppedhis orders upon her heat of agitation like a cool relentless streamunder which her last protest fizzed, sputtered, and went out. 

"I mean to unmask the gay lover at my own time and in my own way;never fear, I shall deal gently with _her_. You will now take thisletter of his and put it in your bag, leaving hers in that curiouspost-office of yours. "

"Yes, Rupert. "

"And you will give his letter to her at once when you go in withoutone word of having met me. "

"Y . . . Yes, Rupert. "

"As you are too great a fool to be trusted if you once begin to talk, you will have a headache for the rest of the day and go to bed in adark room. "

"Y . . . Yes, Rupert. "

"You will moreover swear to me, now, that you will not speak of ourinterview here till I give you leave; say I swear I will not. "

"I swear I will not. "

"So help me God!"

"Oh, Rupert. "

"_So help me God_, you fool!"

Sophia's lips murmured an inaudible something; but there was suchcomplete submission in every line and curve of her figure, in the verydroop of her ringlets and the helpless appeal of her gaze that Rupertwas satisfied. He assisted her to arise from her tombstone, bundledthe clerical love-tokens back into the bag, duly placed Captain Jack'sletter in the inner pocket, and was about to present her with his armto conduct her homewards, when he caught sight of a little raggedurchin peeping through the bars of the gate, and seemingly in the veryact of making a mysterious signal in the direction of Miss Landale'sunconscious figure. 

Rupert stared hard at the ruddy, impudent face, which instantlyassumed an appearance of the most defiant unconcern, while its ownerbegan to devote his energies to shying stones at an invisible rookupon the old church tower with great nicety of aim. 

"Sophia, " said her brother in a low tone, "go to the gate: that boywants to speak to you. Go and see what he wants and return to me. "

Miss Landale gasped, gazed at her brother as if she thought him mad, looked round at the little boy, coloured violently, then meetingRupert's eye again staggered off without a word of protest. 

Rupert, shaken with silent laughter, humming a little song to himself, stooped to pick a couple of tender spring flowers from the borderbeside the grave, and after slipping them into a button-hole of hismany caped overcoat, stood looking out over the stretch of land andsea, where Scarthey rose like a dream against the sparkle of the waterand the exquisite blue of the sky. 

Presently rapid panting breaths and a shuffling rustle of petticoatsbehind him informed him of his sister's return. 

"So you are there, my dear, " he said loudly. "One of your littlefishing friends from the village, I suppose--a Shearman, unless I ammistaken. Yes, a Shearman; I thought so. Well, shall we return homenow? They will be wondering what has become of us. Pray take my arm. "Then beneath his breath, seeing that words were struggling to Sophia'slips, "Hold your tongue. "

The small ragged boy watched their departure with a derisive grin, andset off at a brisk canter down to the shore, jingling some silver coinin his pocket with relish as he went. 

When Rupert and Sophia had reached the wood the former paused. 

"Letter or message?"

"Oh, Rupert, it was a letter; had I not better destroy it?"

"Give it to me. "

 * * * * *

A hasty scrawl, it seemed, folded anyhow. Only two or three lines, yetRupert conned them for a curiously long time. 

"My darling, " it ran, "meet me to-day in the ruins at noon. Amisfortune has happened to me, but if you trust me, all will still bewell. --Your Jack. " Mr. Landale at length handed it back to Sophia. 

"You will give it to Madeleine with the other, " he said briefly. "Mention the fact of the messenger having brought it. " And then in aterrible bass he added, "And remember your oath!"

She trembled; but as he walked onwards through the wood, his lips weresmiling, and his eyes were alight with triumph. 

CHAPTER XXII

THE DAY: MORNING

The appointment of a regular light-keeper at Scarthey, intended torelease René and old Margery from their exile, had been delayed so asto suit the arrangement which was to leave for a time the islanddomain of Sir Adrian at the disposal of Captain Jack. MeanwhileMoggie's presence greatly mitigated the severity of her husband'sseparation from his master. 

On his side the sailor was in radiant spirits. All worked as he couldwish, and Sir Adrian's marriage, besides being a source of unselfishsatisfaction, was, with regard to his own prospects, an unexpectedhelp; for, his expedition concluded, he would now be able in the mostnatural manner to make his appearance at Pulwick, an honoured guest ofthe master, under the pride of his own name. And for the rest, hopeunfolded warm-coloured visions indeed. 

During the weeks which had elapsed since Sir Adrian's departure, Captain Jack's visits to the island had been fitful and more or lesssecret--He always came and left at night. But as it was understoodthat the place was his to be used and enjoyed as he thought best, neither his sudden appearances with the usual heavy travelling-bag, nor his long absences excited any disturbance in the arcadian life ledby René between his buxom young wife and the old mother--as thegood-humoured husband now termed the scolding dame. 

A little sleeping closet had been prepared and allotted to the use ofthe peripatetic guest in one of the disused rooms when René's ownaccommodation under the light tower had been enlarged for the newrequirements of his matrimonial status. And so Monsieur the Captain(in René's inveterate outlandish phraseology) found his liberty ofaction complete. Both the women's curiosity was allayed, and alltendency to prying into the young stranger's mysterious purposes amidtheir seclusion condemned beforehand, by René's statement: thatMonsieur the Captain was a trusted friend of the master--one indeed(and here the informant thought fit to stretch a point, if butslightly) to whom the Lord of Pulwick was indebted, in bygone days, for life and freedom. 

Except when weather-bound, a state of things which at that time ofyear occurred not unfrequently, René journeyed daily as far as theHall, ostensibly to report progress and take possible orders, butreally to gratify himself with the knowledge that all was well withthe master. 

About the breakfast hour, upon this 15th of March, as Sir Adrian wasdiscussing with the bailiff sundry matters of importance to theestate, a tap came to the door, which he recognised at once as theFrenchman's own long accustomed mode of self-announcement. 

Since he had assumed the reins of government, the whilom recluse haddiscovered that the management of such a wide property was indeed nosinecure; and moreover--as his brother, who certainly understood suchmatters in a thoroughly practical manner, had warned him--that aperson of his own philosophical, over-benevolent and abstracted turnof mind, was singularly ill-fitted for the task. But a strong sense ofduty and a determination to act by it will carry a man a long way. Hehad little time for dreaming and this was perhaps a providentialdispensation, for Sir Adrian's musings had now lost much of the graveplacidity born of his long, peaceful residence in his Thelema ofScarthey. The task was long and arduous; on sundry occasions he wasforced to consult his predecessor on the arcana of landed estategovernment, which he did with much simplicity, thereby giving Mr. Landale, not only inwardly mocking satisfaction, but severalopportunities for the display of his self-effacing loyalty andsuperior capacities. 

The business of this day was of sufficiently grave moment to makeinterruption unwelcome--being nothing less than requests from a numberof tenants to the "Good Sir Adrian, " "the real master come to his ownagain"--for a substantial reduction of rent; a step towards which themaster's heart inclined, but which his sober reason condemned aspreposterous. But René's countenance, as he entered, betrayed news ofsuch import that Sir Adrian instantly adjourned the matter on hand, and, when the bailiff had retired, anxiously turned to the new-comer, who stood in the doorway mopping his steaming brow. 

"Well, Renny, " said he, "what is wrong? Nothing about your wife--?"

"No, your honour, " answered the man, "your honour is very good. Nothing wrong with our Moggie. But the captain. . . . I ran all the wayfrom the Shearmans. "

"No accident there, I hope. "

"I fear there is, your honour. The captain--he has been attacked thismorning. "

"Not wounded--!" exclaimed Sir Adrian. "Not dead, Renny?"

"Oh no, your honour, well. But he has, I fear, killed one of themen . . . The revenue men--"

Then, seeing his master start aghast, he went on rapidly;

"At least he is very bad--but what for did he come to make the spyupon our island? We have left him at the Shearmans--the motherShearman will nurse him. But the captain, your honour"--the speakerlowered his voice to a whisper and advanced a step, lookinground--"that is the worst of all, the captain has turned mad, Ibelieve--Instead of going off with his ship and his crew, (they aresafe out to sea, as they should be) he remains at Scarthey. Yes--inyour honour's rooms. He is walking up and down and clutching his hairand talking to himself, like a possessed. And when I respectfullybegged him to consider that it was of the last folly his having restedinstead of saving himself, I might as well have tried to reason amule. And so, knowing that your honour would never forgive me ifmisfortune arrived, I never drew breath till I reached here to tellyou. If his honour would come himself he might be able to make Mr. Hisfriend hear reason--Your honour will run no risk, for it is onlynatural that you should go to the peel after what has occurred--but ifyou cannot get Mr. The captain to depart this night, there will arriveto us misfortune--it is I who tell you so. "

"I will go back with you, at once, " said Sir Adrian, rising muchperturbed. "Wait here while I speak to Lady Landale. "

Molly was standing by the great log fire in the hall, yawning fit todislocate her pretty jaws, and teasing the inert form of old Jim, ashe basked before the flame, with the tip of her pretty foot. Sheallowed her eyes to rest vaguely upon her husband as he approached, but neither interrupted her idle occupation nor endeavoured tosuppress the yawn that again distended her rosy lips. 

He looked at her for a moment in silence; then laying a hand upon hershoulder, said gently: "My child, I am called back to Scarthey andmust leave instantly. You--you will be careful of yourself--amuseyourself during my absence--it may be for two or three days. "

Lady Landale raised her black brows with a fine air of interrogation, and then gazed down at the old dog till the lashes swept her cheek, while a mocking dimple just peeped from the corner of her mouth andwas gone again. "Oh yes, " she answered drily, "I shall take endlesscare of myself and amuse myself wildly. You need have no fear ofthat. "

Sir Adrian sighed, and his hand fell listless from her shoulder. 

"Good-bye, then, " he said, and stooped it seemed hesitatingly to layhis lips between the little dark tendrils of hair that danced upon herforehead. But with a sudden movement she twitched her face away. "Despite all the varied delights which bind me to Pulwick, " sheremarked carelessly, "the charms of Sophia and Rupert's company, andall the other _amusements_--I have a fancy to visit your old owl'snest again--so we need not waste sentiment upon a tender parting, needwe?"

Sir Adrian's cheek flushed, and with a sudden light in his eyes heglanced at her quickly; but his countenance faded into instantmelancholy again, at sight of her curling lip and cold amused gaze. 

"Will you not have me?" she asked. 

"If you will come--you will be welcome--as welcome, " his voice shook alittle, "as my wife must always be wherever I am. "

"Ah--oh, " yawned Lady Landale, "(excuse me pray--it's becoming quitean infirmity) so that is settled. I hope it will storm to-night, thatthe wind will blow and howl--and then I snuggle in the feather bed inthat queer old room and try and fancy I am happy Molly de Savenayeagain. "

Adrian's lip quivered; yet in a second or two he spoke lightly. "I donot want to hurry you, but I have to leave at once. " Then struck by asudden thought, by that longing to bring pleasure to others which wasalways working in him, "Why not let Madeleine come with you too?" heasked, "she could share your room, and--it would be a pleasure to herI think. " He sighed as he thought of the trouble in store for thelovers. 

Lady Landale grew red to the roots of her hair and shot a look ofwithering scorn at her husband's unconscious face. "It would becharming, " she said, sarcastically, "but after all I don't know that Icare to go so much--oh, don't stare at me like that, for goodness'sake! A woman may change her mind, I suppose--at least, in a triflehere and there if she can't as regards the whole comfort of herlife. --Well, well, perhaps I shall go--this afternoon--later--you canstart now. I shall follow--I can always get a boat at the Shearmans. And I shall bring Madeleine, of course--it is most kind and thoughtfulof you to suggest it. _Mon Dieu_, I have a husband in a thousand!"

She swept him a splendid curtsey, kissed her hand at him, and thenburst out laughing at the pale bewilderment of his face. 

 * * * * *

When Sir Adrian returned to the morning-room, he found René, halfhidden behind the curtain folds, peering curiously out of the windowwhich overlooked the avenue. On his master's entrance, the man turnedhis head, placed his finger on his lip, and beckoned him to approach. "If I may take the liberty, " said he with subdued voice, "will hishonour come and look out, without showing himself?"

And he pointed to a group, consisting of Mr. Landale and two men inblue jackets and cockaded hats of semi-naval appearance, now slowlyapproaching the house. Mr. Landale was listening with bent head, slightly averted, to the smaller of his two companions--a stoutsquare-looking fellow, who spoke with evident volubility, whilst theother followed defferentially one pace in rear. Presently the triohalted, a few yards from the entrance, and Mr. Landale, cuttingdesigns upon the sand with the end of his stick in a meditative way, appeared to be giving directions at some length, on the conclusion ofwhich the two men, touching their hats with much respect, departedtogether, while the magistrate pensively proceeded on his way to thehouse. 

"Those, your honour, " said René, "were with him that was struck in thefight this morning. It was I rowed them over, together with thewounded. I left them at the Shearmans, and slipped away myself tocarry the news. If I might take upon myself to advise, it would bebetter if your honour would come with me now, at once, for fear Mr. Landale should delay us by questioning me--Mr. Landale being amagistrate, as I heard these men say; and Moggie has assured me thathe always arranges himself for knowing when I arrive from theisland--ever since the day when the demoiselles had just come, and Ifound it out. Ever since then he has not liked me, Mr. Landale. Comeaway, your honour, before he finds out I have been here to-day. "

Following upon this advice, which he found to the point, Sir Adrianleft his house by a back passage; and, through a side garden, foundhis way to the coast and to the fishing village. 

The wounded man who had not recovered consciousness, lay in thebrother Shearman's hut, as René had said, surrounded by such uncouthattendance as the rude fisherfolk could dispense. After givingdirections for the summoning of medical aid and the removal, if itshould prove advisable, of the patient to the Hall, but without asingle comment upon the unfortunate occurrence, Sir Adrian then tookthe road of the peel. 

During the transit, walking rapidly by his master's side, across thenow bare causeway, René gave his account of events. 

The captain (he related) after three days' absence had re-appeared thenight before the last, and requested him to warn the womankind not tobe alarmed if they heard, as no doubt they would, strange noises onthe beach at night. He was, said he, storing provisions and water forthe forthcoming journey, and the water in the well was so excellentthat he had determined to take in his store. Of course his honourunderstood well that René did not concern himself in these matters;but that was the explanation he conveyed to his wife, lest she shouldbe alarmed and wonder. As for the old mother, she was too deaf to beawakened out of sleep by anything short of the trumpet of the lastjudgment. 

As announced, there had been during the night the noise of a party ofmen landing, of the hoisting and rolling of barrels--a great_remue-ménage_ altogether--and the next morning, that was yesterday, the captain had slept sound in his bunk till late. 

During several hours of the following day, he had some secret work todo in the caves of which René had shown the ins and outs, and whilstso engaged had requested that watch should be kept from thelight-tower, and message sent by some arranged signal should any oneapproach the island. But no one had come near. Whilst at his post, thewatcher had heard at different times the sound of hammering; and whenthe captain had come to relieve him, the good gentleman was muchbegrimed with dust and hot with work, but appeared in excellenthumour. In the castle, he sang and whistled for joyfulness, and madejokes with Moggie, all in his kind way, saying that if he were not tobe married himself soon, he would feel quite indignant and jealous atthe happiness of such a rascal as her husband. 

Oh! he was happy--Monsieur the Captain--he had brought Moggie abeautiful shawl; and to René, he had given a splendid watch, tellinghim to keep count of the hours of his unmerited bliss. Alas, thismorning all had been different indeed! The captain looked another man;his face was as white as linen. The very look of him would have toldany one that a misfortune had occurred. René did not quite understandit himself, but this is what had taken place:

The captain had left Scarthey on foot late in the evening, and when hereturned (he was not long away) he bade René again not to mind what heheard during the night; and, in faith, once more there had been a realnoise of the devil; men coming to and fro, a deal of rowing on thewater, away and back again, in the early night and then once morebefore dawn. 

"But I was not unquiet, " said René, "I knew they had come for theremainder of what Mr. Smith was pleased to call his provisions. Fromour room I could see by the light on the stairs that the lamp wasburning well, and Moggie slept like a child, so sound, she nevermoved. Just before the rising sun, I had got up and put out the lamp, and was going to bed again, when there came thumps of the devil at thelower door. Well knowing that the captain had his own way ofentering--for he had spent many days in finding out all sorts of drollpassages in the ruins--I was quite seized; and as I hurried down, thethumps came again and great cries for the lighthouse-keeper. And, yourhonour, when I unbarred the door, there was a man in uniform whom Idid not know, and he asked me, grumbling, if I knew of the prettydoings on the beach, whilst I slept like pig, he said--Of course Imade the astonished as his honour may imagine: I knew nothing, hadheard nothing, though my heart was beating like to burst not knowingwhat was coming. Then he ordered me to lend a hand and bring a ladderto carry away one of his men who had been murdered by the smugglers, he said. And there, on the sands, in front of the small cave wasanother man, in a blue coat too, watching over the body of one who wasstretched out, quite tranquil, his face covered with blood and hiseyes closed. They are gone, says the gross man. And I was glad, asyour honour may well think, to see the chaloupe full of the captain'smen rowing hard towards the vessel. She had just come out of the rivermouth and was doubling round the banks. We carried the man on hisladder to the kitchen and we and the women did all we could, but heremained like a log. So after a time the two men (who said they hadcome along the dyke soon after midnight, on foot, as they thought itwould be more secret, and had watched all night in the bent) wanted toeat and drink and rest. They had missed their game, the big man said;they had been sent to find out what sort of devil's tricks were beingplayed on in the island unbeknown to Sir Adrian;--but it was thedevil's luck altogether, for the smugglers had slipped away and wouldnot be seen in this part of the world again. That is the way the fatman spoke. The other had nothing to say, but swallowed our bacon andour beer as if he did not care. And then, your honour, they told me Ishould have to lend them the yawl to go on land, and go myself tohelp, and take the body with us. And as he was speaking, I saw Moggiethe wife, who had been backwards and forwards serving them, looking atme very straight but without blowing a word, as if she had fear. Andall at once I felt there was something on foot. So I drew the men morebeer and said I would see after the yawl. Outside the door the wifewhispered: 'Upstairs, quick! Renny, ' and she herself whisked back intothe kitchen so that she should not cause suspicion to thoseothers--Ah, your honour, that is a woman!"

"Well, well, " interrupted his master, anxiously. 

"Well, I went upstairs, four by four; and there, in your honour'sroom, without an attempt to conceal himself (when any moment it mighthave entered into those brigands' heads downstairs to search theplace), there was Monsieur the Captain, raging up and down, like awolf in cage, as I had the honour to describe before. No wonder Moggiewas afraid for him. A woman is quick to feel danger ahead. He lookedat me as if he did not know me, his face all unmade. 'You know whathas happened;' he says. 'Am I not the most unfortunate. . . ? All islost. ' 'With respect, ' says I; 'nothing is lost so long as life issafe, but it is not a good thing Monsieur the Captain that you arehere, like this, when you should be on your good ship as many milesaway as she can make. Are you mad?' to him I say, and he to me, 'Ithink I am. ' 'At least let me hide you, ' I beg of him, 'I know of manybeautiful places, ' and so for the matter of that does he. But it wasall lost trouble. At length he sits down at the table and begins towrite, and his look brightens: 'You _can_ help me, my good friend, ' hesays; 'I have a hope left--who knows--who knows, '--and he writes a fewlines like an enraged and folds them and kisses the billet. 'Findmeans, ' says he, 'René, to get Johnny, the Shearman boy, to take thisto the old churchyard and place it in the place he knows of; or, better still, should he chance upon Miss Landale to give it to her. Heis a sharp rogue, ' says he, 'and I can trust his wits; but should younot find him, dear René, you must do the commission for me yourself. Now go--go, ' he cries, and pushes me to the stairs. And, as I daredremain no more, I had to leave him. Of course Monsieur the Captain hasnot been here all this time without telling me of his hopes, and it isclear that it is to bid farewell to Mademoiselle Madeleine that he isplaying with his life. It is as ill reasoning with a lover as alunatic: they are the same thing, _Ma foi_, but I trust to your honourto bring him to his senses if any one can. And so, to continue, I wentdown and I told the men in blue the boat was ready, we carried thebody; I left them at the Shearmans, as your honour knows. I foundJohnny and gave him the letter; he knew all about what to do, itseemed. And then I came straight to the Hall. "

"It is indeed a miserable business!" said Sir Adrian. 

René heaved a great sigh of sympathy, as he noticed the increasingconcern on his master's face. 

"You heard them mention my brother's name?" inquired the latter, afterfollowing the train of his misgivings for a few moments. "You havereason to think that Mr. Landale knew of these men's errand; otherreason, I mean, than having seen them with him just now?"

René's quick mind leaped at the meaning of the question:

"Yes, your honour. 'Mr. Landale will want to know of this, ' says thefat one; 'though it is too late, ' he says. " And René added ruefully:"I have great fear. The captain is not at the end of his pains, if Mr. Landale is ranged against him!"

Such was also Sir Adrian's thought. But he walked on for a time insilence; and, having reached Scarthey, rapidly made his way into thepeel. 

Captain Jack was still pacing the room much as René had described whenSir Adrian entered upon him. The young man turned with a transientlook of surprise to the new-comer, then waved away the proffered handwith a bitter smile. 

"You do not know, " he said, "who it is you would shake hands with--anoutlaw--a criminal. Ah, you have heard? Then Renny, I suppose, hastold you. "

"Yes, " groaned the other, holding his friend by both shoulders andgazing sorrowfully into the haggard face, "the man may die--oh, Jack, Jack, how could you be so rash?"

"I can't say how it all happened, " answered Captain Jack, falling tohis walk to and fro again in the extremity of his distress, and everand anon mopping his brow. "I felt such security in this place. Allwas loaded but the last barrel, when, all of a sudden, from God knowswhere, the man sprang on me and thrust his dark lantern in my face. 'It is Smith, ' I heard him say. I do believe now that he only wantedto identify me. No man in his senses could have dared to try andarrest me surrounded by my six men. But I had no time to think then, Adrian. I imagined the fellow was leading a general attack. . . . If thatlast barrel was seized the whole secret was out; and that meant ruin. Wholesale failure seemed to menace me suddenly in the midst of mysuccess. I had a handspike in my hand with which I had been helping toroll the kegs. I struck with it, on the spur of the moment; the manwent down on the spot, with a groan. As he fell I leaped back, readyfor the next. I called out, 'Stretchers, lads; they want to take yourcaptain?' My lads gathered round me at once. But there was silence;not another creature to be seen or heard. They set to work to get thatlast blessed bit of cargo, the cause of all the misery, on board withthe rest; while I stood in the growing dawn, looking down at themotionless figure and at the blood trickling into the sand, trying tothink, to settle what to do, and only conscious of one thing: theintense wish that I could change places with my victim. Can youwonder, Adrian, that my brain was reeling? You who know all, all thismeans to me, can you wonder that I could not leave this shore--eventhough my life depended on it--without seeing her again! Curwen, mymate, came up to me at last, and I woke up to some sort of reason atthe idea that they, the crew and the ship, must be removed from theimmediate danger. But the orders I gave must have seemed those of amadman: I told him to sail right away but to double back in time tohave the schooner round again at twelve noon to-day, and then to sendthe gig's crew to pick me up on Pulwick sand. 'Life and death, ' said Ito him, and he, brave fellow, 'Ay, ay, sir, ' as if it was the mostsimple thing in the world, and off with him without another word. "

"What imprudence, what imprudence!" murmured Sir Adrian. 

"Who knows? None will believe that I have not seized the opportunityof making my escape with the others. The height of imprudence maybecome the height of security. I have as yet no plan--but it willcome. My luck shall not fail me now! who knows: nothing perhaps isdamaged but an excise man's crown. Thank heaven, the wind cannot failus to-day. "

"But, meanwhile, " urged Sir Adrian, quite unconvinced, highlydisturbed, "that treasure on board. . . . I know what has been yourmotive, Jack, but indeed it is all nothing short of insanity, positiveinsanity. Can you trust your men?"

"I would trust them with my own secrets, willingly enough; but notwith those of other people. So they do not know what I have in thosebarrels. Four thousand golden guineas in each. . . ! No, the temptationwould be too terrible for the poor lads. Not a soul knows that, beyondyou and me. Curwen has charge of the cargo, such as it is. But I cananswer for it none of them will dream of tampering with the casks. They are picked men, sober, trusty; who have fought side by side withme. I am their best friend. They are mine, body and soul, I believe. They do know there is some risk in the business, but they trust me. They are sure of treble pay, and besides, are not troubled withsqueamishness. As for Curwen, he would go to hell for me, and neverask a question. No, Adrian, the scheme was perfect, but for thiscursed blow of mine this morning. And now it is a terribleresponsibility, " continued the young man, again wiping his forehead;"every ounce of it weighs on my shoulders. But it is not that thatdistracts me. Oh, Adrian . . . Madeleine!"

The elder man felt his heart contract at the utter despairing of thatcry. 

"When my handspike crashed on that damned interferer's skull, " thesailor went on, "I felt as if the blow had opened an unfathomablechasm between her and me. Now I am felon--yes, in law, a felon! Andyet I am the same man as yesterday. I shall have to fly to-night, andmay never be able to return openly to England again. All my goldendreams of happiness, of honour, vanished at the sound of that cursedblow. But I must see her, Adrian, I _must_ see her before I go. I amgoing to meet her at noon, in the ruins of Pulwick. "

"Impossible!" ejaculated the other aghast. "Listen, Jack, unfortunateman! When I heard of the--the misfortune, and of your folly inremaining, I instantly planned a last meeting for you. As it fellout, my wife has a fancy to spend the night here: I have asked her tobring her sister with her. But this inconceivably desperate plan ofleaving in your ship, in broad light of day, frustrates all I wouldhave done for you. For God's sake let us contrive some way of warningthe _Peregrine_ off till midnight; keep hidden, yourself; do notwilfully run your head into the noose!"

But the young man had stopped short in his tramping, and stood lookingat his friend, with a light of hope flaming in his eye. 

"You have done that, Adrian! You have thought of that!" he repeated, as if mechanically. A new whirlwind of schemes rushed through hismind. For a while he remained motionless, with his gaze fixed on SirAdrian, putting order in his own thoughts with that genius ofprecision and swiftness which, in strong natures, rises to meet acrisis. Then advancing, and seizing him by both hands:

"Adrian, " he cried, in something more like his own voice, again, "Ishall yet owe my happiness to you, to this thought, this sublimethought of your heart!"

And, as Sir Adrian, astounded, unable to understand this extremity ofhopefulness, following upon the previous depth of misery, stared backat him, speechless, the latter proceeded in still more surprisingfashion. 

"Now, you listen to me, this time. I have been selfish in running therisk of having you mixed up in my dangerous affairs. But, God is mywitness, I acted under the belief that all was absolutely secure. Now, however, you must do nothing more that might implicate you. Remember, do nothing to let people suspect that you have seen me to-day. Renny, too, must keep close counsel. You know nothing of my future movements. Remain here for a while, do not even look out of the window. . . . I fearwe shall not meet for a long time. Meanwhile, God bless you--God blessyou!"

After another wrench of the hands he held in his, the sailor releasedthem and fairly ran out of the room, without heeding his friend'sbewildered expostulations. At the door of the keep he met René again. And after a brief but earnest colloquy, the man whose life was nowforfeit to the community and upon whose head there would soon be aprice, was quietly walking along the causeway, making for the shore, with the greatest apparent unconcern and deliberation. 

And whilst Sir Adrian, alone in his chamber, with his head restingupon his hand, anxiously pondered upon the possible issues of thisnefarious day's doings, the sailor advanced, in broad daylight towardsthe land to keep his appointment. 

 * * * * *

A solitary speck of life upon the great waste, with the consciousnessof the precarious thread of chance upon which it hung! What wonderthat, for all his daring, the traveller felt, as he deliberatelyregulated his pace to the most nonchalant gait, a frantic desire torun forward, or to lie down! How many approach glasses might now belaid, like so many guns, upon him from secret points of the coastuntil he came within range of recognition; what ambushes those clumpsof gorse and juniper, those plantations of alders and young firs onthe bluffs yonder, might conceal? The eye could reach far and wideupon the immense stretch of sand, along the desert coast; and hissolitary figure, moving upon the yellow strand was a mark for milesaround. Steadily, nevertheless did he advance; the very daring, theunpardonable foolhardiness of the deed his safety. And yet the strainwas high. Were they watching the island? Among the eager crew, to eachof whom the capture might mean a splendid prize and chance ofpromotion, was there one would have the genius of suddenly suspectingthat this foolhardy wayfarer might be the man they wanted and notmerely Sir Adrian returning on foot towards his home?. . . And then camethe answer of hopeful youth and hardy courage----. 

No. The preventive are a lubberly lot--It will require somethingbetter than a water-guard to track and take Lucky Jack Smith!

 * * * * *

But for all his assurance Lucky Jack Smith drew a long breath ofrelief when he felt the shadow of Pulwick woods closing around him atlast. 

CHAPTER XXIII

THE DAY: NOON

 There stood two men and they did point their fingers at that house. And on his finger one had blood; the other's finger shook. 

 _Luteplayer's Song. _

Broken lengths of wall, a crumbling indication of the spring of onceexquisite arches, windows gaping darkly like the eye sockets of askull--this was all that was left of the old priory of Pulwick, whilomproud seat of clerical power and learning. But the image of decay wasrobbed of all melancholy by the luxuriance of climbing vegetation, bythe living screen of noble firs and larches arranged in serried ranksupon the slopes immediately behind it, with here and there a ruggedsentinel within the ruinous yards and rooms themselves; by wild bushesof juniper and gorse and brambles. And, with the bright noon sunpouring down upon the worn red sandstone, and gilding the delicatetassels of the larches' green needles; with the light of young love, spreading glamour upon every leaf and stone, in the eyes of thelovers, the scene, witness of so many sweet meetings, bore that day abeautiful and home-like aspect. 

Captain Jack was standing upon the grass-grown floor of what had beenthe departed monks' refectory, with ears eagerly bent to listen. 

Three ragged walls, a clump of fir trees, and a bank of bramblesscreened him from any chance passer-by, and he now and again peeredthrough a crevice on to a path through the woods, cautiously, as iffearful to venture forth. His face was pale beneath its tan, and hadnone of its usual brightness; his attire for him was disordered; hiswhole appearance that of a man under the pressure of doubt andanxiety. Yet, when the sound of a light footfall struck among thethousand whispering noises of wind and leaf that went to make up thesilence of the ruins, the glory of joy that lit up eye and lip left noroom for any other impression. 

Madeleine stood in the old doorway: a vision of beautiful life amidemblems of decay and death. 

"I come alone to-day, " she said, with her half-shy smile. And then, before she could utter a further word of explanation, she was gatheredinto her lover's strong arms with a passion he had never as yet shownin his chivalrous relations with her. But it was not because they metwithout the sympathetic rapture of Miss Landale's eye upon them; notbecause there was no other witnesses but the dangling ivy wreath, thestern old walls, the fine dome of spring sky faintly blue; not becauseof lover's audacious joy. This Madeleine, feeling the stormy throbbingof his heart against hers, knew with sure instinct. She pushed himgently from her as soon as she could, the blushes chased from hercheeks by pale misgivings, and looked at him with eyes full oftroubled questioning. 

Then he spoke, from his full heart:

"Madeleine, something has happened--a misfortune, as I wrote to you. Imust now start upon my venture sooner than I thought--at once. I shallhave to _fly_ in fact, to-day. There have been spies upon me, and mysecret trust is in danger. How they have tracked me, how suspicion hasbeen aroused, I cannot guess. But I have been tracked. A fellow cameat dawn. I had to defend my secret--the secret not my own, the chargeentrusted to me. The man was hurt. I cannot explain, dear love, thereis no time; even now I run the risk of my life by being here, and lifeis so dear to me now, my Madeleine! Hush! No, do not be afraid! I amafraid of nothing, so long as you trust me. Will you trust me? Icannot leave you here behind; and now, with this cursed stroke ofill-luck, this suspicion upon me, it may be long before I can returnto England. I cannot leave you behind, I cannot! Will you trust me, Madeleine, will you come with me? We shall be married in France, mydarling. You should be as a queen in the guard of her most humbleslave. I am half mad to think I must go. Ah, kiss me, love, and sayyes! Listen! I must sail away and make believe that I have gone. My_Peregrine_ is a bird that none can overtake, but I shall come backto-night. Listen: If you will be on the island to-night--Sir Adrian isthere already, and I hear your sister is coming--a freak of fancy--andhe, God bless him, has told her to bring you too (it shows my luck hasnot deserted me yet). I shall be there, unknown to all except Renny. Icannot meet you nearer home, but you will be my own brave bride andkeep your own counsel. You will not be frightened, will you, mybeautiful love? All you have to do is to follow Renny's instructions. My ship will be back, waiting, an hour after dark, ready, when you setfoot on it, to spread its wings with its treasures--treasures, indeed!And then we shall have the world before us--riches, love, such love!And once safe, I shall be free to prove to you that it is no commonblood I would mate with that dear and pure stream that courses in yourveins. You shall soon know all; will you trust me?"

She hung upon his hot words, looking at him with loving, frightenedeyes. Now he gathered her to his arms again, again his bursting heartthrobbed its stormy passion to her ear. She was as one carried away bya torrent against which resistance is useless. He bent his head overher face; the scent of the bunch of violets in her breast rosedeliciously to his nostrils. Alas! Hubert Cochrane was not to reachthat kiss of acquiescence, that kiss from which it seemed that but sosmall a fraction of space and time divided him! Some one, who hadstepped along in the shadow as silently as a cat coming upon a bird, clapped here a hand upon his shoulder. 

"Who are you, sir, and what do you want?" exclaimed Captain Jack, wrenching himself free, falling back a pace and measuring thenew-comer from head to foot with furious glances, while, with burningblushes Madeleine faltered:

"Rupert!"

Nothing awakens anger in hot blood sooner than an unsanctioned touch. In certain moods the merest contact is as infuriating as a blow. Suchan insult, added to the irreparable injury of interrupting theirmeeting at the most exquisite and crucial moment, drove Captain Jackbeside himself with rage. 

But Madeleine's hand was still on his arm. She felt it suddenly hardenand twitch with murderous anger. But, by an effort that made theveins of his temple swell like whipcord, he refrained from strikingthe double offender. 

Mr. Landale surveyed the pair for a moment in silence with his gravelook; then coldly he answered the sailor's irate speech. 

"My name, fellow, is Rupert Landale. I am here to protect my cousinfrom an unprincipled and criminal adventurer. "

"You take a sharp tone sir, " cried Captain Jack, the flush on his facedeepening yet a shade, his nostrils ominously dilated, yet speakingwithout further loss of self-control. "You probably count upon thepresence of this lady to prevent my resenting it; but as my time withher is short and I have still much to say, I shall be forced promptlyto eject you from the ruins here, unless you will be good enough toimmediately remove yourself. I shall hope for another meeting with youto discuss the question as to your right of interference; butto-day--I cannot spare the time. "

Rupert smiled without moving; then the sailor gently disengaginghimself from Madeleine would have put her behind him but that shepressed forward and laid a hand upon an arm of each of the men. 

"Stay, Jack, " she pleaded, "let me speak. There is some mistake here. Cousin Rupert, you cannot know that I am engaged to this gentleman andthat he is a friend of your brother's as well as of other good friendsof mine. "

"My poor child, " answered Rupert, closing a cold hand gently over hersand speaking with a most delicate tenderness of accent, "you have beengrossly imposed upon, and so have others. As for my poor brotherAdrian, he is, if anything, easier to deceive than you, innocentconvent-bred girl! I would have you to go home, my dear, and leave meto deal with this--gentleman. You have bitter truths to learn; wouldit not be better to wait and learn them quietly without furtherscandal?"

This was too much for Captain Jack, who fairly ground his teeth. Rupert's honeyed tones, his grasp of Madeleine's hand were moreunbearable even than the words. He advanced upon the elder man andseizing him by the collar whirled him away from the girl as easily asa straw puppet. 

The fine gentleman of sensitive nerves and unworked sinews had nochance against the iron strength of the man who had passed all theyears of virility fighting against sea and storm. The two faced eachother; Jack Smith, red and panting with honest rage, only the sense ofhis lady's proximity keeping him from carrying his high-handedmeasures a little further. Mr. Landale, livid, with eyes suddenlyblack in their orbits, moistening his white lips while he quiveredfrom head to foot with a passion so tense that not even his worstenemy could have attributed it to fear. 

An unequal match it would seem, yet unequal in a way that the youngman, in the conscious glory of his strength could not have conceived. Madeleine neither screamed nor fainted; she had grown white, innatural apprehension, but her eyes fixed upon her lover's face shonewith admiration. Mr. Landale turned slowly towards her. 

"Madeleine, " he said, readjusting his stock and smoothing the folds ofhis collar with a steadfast striving after coolness, "you have beengrossly deceived. The man you would trust with your life and honour isa mere smuggler. He has no doubt told you fine stories, but if he hasgiven himself out for aught else he lied, take my word for it--helied. He is a common smuggler, and the vessel he would carry you awayin is packed with smuggled goods. To-day he has attacked and woundedan officer, who, in the discharge of his duty, endeavoured to find outthe nature of his suspicious purpose. Your would-be lover's neck is indanger. A felon, he runs the risk of his life every moment he remainson land--but he would make a last effort to secure the heiress! Lookat him, " his voice raising in spite of himself to a shrillerpitch--"he cannot deny it!"

Madeleine gazed from one to the other. Her mind, never a very quickone at decision, was too bewildered to act with clearness; moreoverwith her education and ignorance of the world the indictment conveyedno special meaning to her. 

But there was an agony of suspense and beseeching in the glance thather lover cast upon her; and to that appeal she smiled proudly. Herswere no true love, she felt, were its confidence shaken by theslandering of anger. Then the thought of his danger, danger admittedby his own lips, flashed upon her with terror. She rushed to him, "Oh go, Jack, go!--As you love me, go!"

Mr. Landale, who had already once or twice cast impatient looks ofexpectation through a window of the east wall, taken by surprise atthis unforeseen result of his speech, suddenly climbed up upon abroken piece of stone-work, from which there was an abrupt descenttowards the shore, and began to signal in eager gesticulation. Therewas a sound of heavy running footfalls without. Captain Jack raisedhis head, every nerve on the alert. 

"Go, go, " again cried Madeleine, dreading she knew not what. --A fatpanting red face looked over the wall; Mr. Landale turned for a secondto throw at the lovers a glance of elation. 

But it seemed as if the sailor's spirits rose at the breath of danger. He rapidly looked round upon the ruins from which there were no otheroutlets than the window guarded by Mr. Landale, and the doorway inwhich the red-faced new-comer now stood, framed in red stone; then, like a cat he darted on to the ledge of the wall at the opposite end, where some invading boughs of larch dropped over the jagged crest, before the burly figure in the blue coat of the preventive service hadrecovered from the surprise of finding a lady in his way, or gatheredhis wits and his breath sufficiently to interfere. 

There the nimble climber stood a moment balancing himself lightly, though the ivied stones rocked beneath him. 

"I go, love, " he cried in ringing voice, "but one word from you and Igo----"

"Oh, I trust you! I will trust you!" screamed the girl in despair, while her fascinated gaze clung to the erect figure silhouettedagainst the sky and the stout man looked up, open-mouthed. Mr. Landalesnarled at him:

"Shoot, fool--shoot!" And straining forward, himself drew a pistolfrom the man's belt, cocked it and thrust it into his grasp. 

Captain Jack kissed his hand to Madeleine with a joyful gesture, thenwaved his hat defiantly in Rupert's direction, and with a springdisappeared, just as the pistol cracked, drawing a shriek of terrorfrom the girl, and its bullet flattened itself against the upper stoneof the wall--considerably wide of the mark. 

"Come, this way----!" screamed Mr. Landale from his window sill, "youhave another!"

But the preventive shook his head, and thrust his smoking barrel backthrough his belt, with an air of philosophical resignation; and slowlyapproaching the window, through which the fugitive could now be seensteadily bowling down the seaward slope, observed in slow, fat tones:

"Give you a hand, sir?"

Rupert, thrusting his extended arm aside jumped down beside him as ifhe would have sprung at his throat. 

"Why are you so late?--why have you brought no one with you? I gaveyou notice enough. You fool! You have let him slip through yourfingers, now, after all! Couldn't you even shoot straight? Such a markas he made against the sky--Pah! well may the sailors say, lubberly asa land preventive----!"

"Why, there you are, Mr. Landale!" answered the man withimperturbable, greasy good-humour. "The way you shoved that therepistol into my hand was enough to put off anybody. But you countrymagistrate gentlemen, as I have always said, you are the real sort tomake one do illegal actions with your flurry and your hurry overeverything. 'Shoot!' says you, and damme, sir, if I didn't shootstraight off before I knew if I were on my head or on my heels. It's amercy I didn't hit the sweet young lady--it is indeed. And as for theyoung gentleman, though to be sure he did show a clean pair of heelsat the sight of me, I had no proper time for i-dentification--no timefor i-den-ti-fi-cation, Mr. Landale, sir. So I say, sir, it's a mercyI did not hit him either, now I can think of it. Ah, slow and sure, that's my motter! I takes my man on his boat, in the very middle ofhis laces and his brandy and his silk--I takes him, sir, in the veryact of illegality, red-handed, so to speak, and then, if he showsfight, or if he runs away, then I shoots, sir, and then if I hits, whyit's a good job too--but none of this promiscuous work for AugustusHobson. Slow and sure, that's my motter. "

The speaker who had been rolling a quid of tobacco in his mouth duringthis exposition of policy, here spat emphatically upon the grass, andcatching Madeleine's abstracted eye, begged pardon for the libertywith a gallant air. 

"Aye, so slow, man, that you are pretty sure to fail, " muttered Mr. Landale. 

"I knows my business, sir, meaning no offence, " retorted Mr. Hobsonserenely. "When I has no orders I acts on regulation. I brought no onewith me because I had no one to bring, having sent, as per regulation, my one remaining man to give notice to the water service, seeing thatthat there schooner has had the impudence to come back, and is at thisvery moment cruising quite happy-like just the other side of the bank;though if ever their cutter overhauls her--well, I'm a Dutchman! Youmight have done wiser, perhaps (if I may make so bold as to remark), to leave the management of this business to them as understands suchthings. As to being late, sir, you told me to be in the ruins attwelve noon, and I beg to insinuate that it's only just past the hournow. "

At this point the preventive man drew from his capacious breeches abrass time-piece, of congenial stoutness, the face of which he turnedtowards the magistrate. 

The latter, however, waved the proffered witness impatiently aside. Furtively watching his cousin, who, leaning against the door-post, herpale head thrown out in strong relief by the dark stones, stood as ifabsolutely detached from her surroundings, communing over troubledthoughts with her own soul, he said with deliberate distinctness:

"But have I been misled, then, in understanding that you were with theunfortunate officer who was so ferociously assaulted this morning?that you and he did come upon this Captain Smith, red-handed as youcall it, loading or unloading his vessel on Scarthey Island?"

"Aye, sir, " rolled out the other, unctuously, "there you are again, you see. Poor Nat Beavor, he was one of your hot-headed ones, and seewhat it has brought _him_ to--a crack in his skull, sir, so that itwill be days before he'll know himself again, the doctor says, if everhe does in this world, which I don't think. Ah, I says to him, whenwe started in the dawn this morning agreeable to our arrangement withyou: 'For peeping and prying on the quiet without any running risksand provoking others to break the law more than they're doing, I'myour man, ' says I; 'but as for attacking desperate individles withoutproper warrant and authority, not to speak of being one to ten, I tellyou fair, Nat Beavor, I'll have nothing to do with it. ' But Nat, hewent off his head, clean, at the sight of Captain Jack and his men atrundling the little kegs down the sands, as neat and tidy as couldbe; and so he cut out from behind the rocks, and I knew there wasmischief ahead! Ah, poor fellow, if he would only have listened to me!I did my best for him, sir; started off to call up the other man, whowas on the other side of the ruins, as soon as I saw his danger, butwhen I came back----"

"The birds were flown, of course, " interrupted Rupert with a sneer, "and you found the body of your comrade who had been dastardlywounded, and who, I hear, is dead now. So the villain has twiceescaped you. Cousin Madeleine, " hastily breaking off to advance to thegirl, who now awakening from her reflective mood seemed about to leavethe ruins, "Cousin Madeleine, are you going? Let me escort you back. "

She slowly turned her blue eyes, burning upon him from her white face. "Cousin Rupert, I do not want your company. " Then she added in awhisper, yet with a passion for which Rupert would never have givenher credit and which took him vastly by surprise, "I shall neverforgive you. "

"My God, Madeleine, " cried he, with genuine emotion, "have I deservedthis? I have had no thought but to befriend you, I have opened youreyes to your own danger----"

"Hold your tongue, sir, " she broke in, with the same repressed anger. "Cease vilifying the man I love. All your aspersions, your wordyaccusations will not shake my faith in him. _Mon Dieu_, " she cried, with an unsteady attempt at laughter, looking under her lashes andtilting her little white round chin at Mr. Hobson, who, now seatedupon a large stone, and with an obtrusive quid of tobacco bulging inan imperfectly shorn cheek, was mopping his forehead with a doubtfulhandkerchief. "_That_ is the person, I suppose, whose testimony I amto believe against my Jack!"

"Your Jack was prompt enough in running away from him, such as he is, "retorted her cousin bitterly. He could not have struck, for hispurpose, upon a weaker joint in her poor woman's armour of pride andtrust. 

She caught her breath sharply, as if indeed she had received a blow. "Well, say your say, " she exclaimed, coming to a standstill and facinghim; "I will hear all that you and your--your friend have to say, lest, " with a magnificent toss of her head, "you fancy I am afraid, orthat I believe one word of it all. I know that Jack--that CaptainSmith, as he is called--is engaged upon a secret and importantmission; but it is one, Rupert, which all English gentlemen shouldwish to help, not impede. "

"Do you know what the mission is--do you know to whom? And if, my faircousin, it is such that all English gentlemen would help, why thenthis secrecy?"

She bit her lip; but it trembled. "What is it you accuse him of?" sheasked, with a stamp of her foot. 

"Listen to me, " said Rupert gently, "it is the kinder thing that youshould know the truth, and believe me, every word I say I cansubstantiate. This Captain Jack Smith, whatever his real name may be, was picked up when a mere boy by an old Liverpool merchant, starvingin the streets of that town. This merchant, by name Cochrane, anabsurd person who gave himself out to be a relative of Cochrane ofShaws, adopted the boy and started him upon a slaver, that is a shipwhich does trade in negro slaves, my dear--a pretty trade. He nextentered a privateer's ship as lieutenant. You know what theseare--ocean freebooters, tolerated by government for the sake of theharm they wreck upon the ships of whatever nation we may happen to beat war with--a sort of pirate ship--hardly a much more reputablebusiness than the slaver's; but Captain Smith made himself a name init. Now that the war is over, he has taken to a lower trafficstill--that of smuggling. "

"But _what_ is smuggling?" cried the girl, tears brimming up at lastinto her pretty eyes, and all her heat of valiance suddenly gone. "What does it mean?"

"What is smuggling? Bless your innocence! I beg your pardon, mydear--miss I should say--but if you'll allow _me_ I think I'm the manto explain that 'ere to you. " The husky mellifluous tones of thepreventive-service man, who had crept up unnoticed to listen to theconversation, here murmured insinuatingly in her ear. 

Rupert hesitated; then reading shrinking aversion upon Madeleine'sface, shrewdly conjectured that the exposition of her lover's doingsmight come with more force from Mr. Hobson's lips than from his own, and allowed the latter to proceed unmolested. 

"Smuggling, my pretty, " wheezed the genial representative of thecustom laws, "again asking pardon, but it slipped out, smuggling is, so to say, a kind of stealing, a kind of cheating and that of a mostrank and heinous kind. For, mind you, it ain't stealing from a commonman, nor from the likes of you and me, nor from a nobleman either:it's cheating and stealing from his most gracious Majesty himself. Forsee you, how 'tis, his Majesty he says, 'Every keg of brandy, ' sayshe, 'and every yard of lace and every pipe o' tobacco as is broughtinto this here country shall be paid for, so much on, to me, andthat's called a tax, miss, and for that there are the custom housesand custom officers--which is me--to see his Majesty paid right andproper his lawful dues. But what does your smuggler do, miss--yourrollicking, dare-devil chap of a smuggler? Why he lands his lace andhis brandy and his 'baccy unbeknownst and sells 'em on the sly--andpockets the profit! D'ye see?--and so he cheats his Majesty, which isa very grievous breaking of the law; so much so that he might as wellmurder at once--Kind o' treason, you may say--and that's what makes'em such desperate chaps. They knows if they're caught at it, witharms about them, and two or three together--it's--clank. "

Mr. Hobson grasped his own bull neck with an unpleasantly significantgesture and winked knowingly at the girl, who turned white as deathand remained gazing at him with a sort of horrified fascination whichhe presently noted with an indulgent smile. 

"Don't take on now, my lass--no offence, miss--but I can't bear to seea fine young 'oman like you upset-like--I'm a damned, hem, hem, a realsoft hearted fellow. Your sweetheart's heels have saved his gulletthis time--and though he did crack poor Nat upon the skull (as I cantestify for I as good as saw him do it--which makes it a hangingmatter twice over I won't deny), yet there's a good few such as himescapes the law and settles down arter, quite respectable-like. A bito' smuggling now is a thing many a pretty fellow has taken to in hisday, and has made a pretty penny out of too, and is none the worselooked to arter, as I said. Aye, and there's many a gentleman and amagistrate to boot as drinks his glass of smuggled brandy and smokeshis smuggled baccy and finds them none the worse, oh dear no! Humannature it is and human nature is a queer thing. Even the ladies, miss, are well-known to be soft upon the smuggled lace: it's twice as cheapyou see as t'other, and they can get double as handsome for the money. Begging your pardon--if I may make so bold--" stretching out a great, coarse, tobacco-stained finger and thumb to close them appreciativelyupon the hanging lace of Madeleine's neck handkerchief, "may be yourspark brought you that there, miss, now? He, he, he--as pretty a bitof French point it is as has ever been my fate to lay hands on--Neverfear, " as the girl drew back with a gesture of loathing from thecontact. "I ain't agoing to seize it off you or take you up, he--he--he--eh, Mr. Landale? I'm a man o' my duty, I hope, but ourorders don't run as far as that. "

"Rupert!" cried Madeleine, piteously turning a dark gaze of anguish athim--it seemed as if she were going to faint. 

He hastened up to her, shouldering the clumsy form of Mr. AugustusHobson unceremoniously out of the way: the fellow had done his workfor the time being, and this last piece of it so efficaciously indeedthat his present employer felt, if not remorse, at least a certainpity stir within him at the stricken hopelessness of the girl'saspect. He passed his arm round her waist as she shivered and swayed. "Lean on me, " he said, his fine eyes troubled with an unwontedsoftness and anxiety. 

"Rupert, " she whispered, clutching at his sleeve, eagerly fixing himwith a look eloquent of unconscious pleading, "all these thingsthis--this man talks of are things which are brought into England--arethey not? I know that--_he_ was bringing nothing into the country, but he was going to another country upon some important trust, thenature of which he had promised not to reveal. Therefore he cannot becheating the King, if that is smuggling--Oh Rupert, is there not somegrievous mistake?"

"My poor child, " said Rupert, holding her close and tenderly, andspeaking with a gentle gravity in which there was this time lesshypocrisy, "there is one thing which is smuggled out of England, andit is as dishonest and illegal work as the other, the most daring anddangerous smuggling of all in fact; one in which none but a desperateman would engage--that of gold. "

"Yes, gold, " exclaimed the girl sharply, withdrawing herself from hercousin's arms, while a ray of intelligence and hope lit up her face. "Gold for the French King's service. "

Rupert betrayed no emotion; he drew from the inner pocket of his coata crushed news-sheet. 

"Deceived there, as well as everywhere else, poor little cousin, " hesaid. "And did the scoundrel say so? Nay, he is a damnable scoundrelwho could betray your trustfulness to your own sweet face. Goldindeed--but not for the King--gold for the usurper, for the tyrant whowas supplied already, no doubt, by the same or similar traitor handswith enough to enable him to escape from the island where he was sojustly imprisoned. See here, Madeleine, Bonaparte is actually landedin France: it has all been managed with the most devilish ingenuityand takes the whole world by surprise. And your lover, doubtless, isengaged upon bringing him fresh supplies to enable him to begin againand rack humanity with hideous wars. Oh, he never told you of theCorsican's escape, yet this news is three days old. See you, my dear, this explains the whole mystery, the necessity for absolute secrecy;all England is friendly to the French monarch; no need to smuggle goldfor his aid--but the other. . . ! It is treason, the blackest treason onevery side of it, treason to his King, to his country, to _your_ King, to you. And he would have cozened you with tales of his loyalty to therightful cause!"

"Give me the paper, " said Madeleine. A tide of blood had swept intoher face; she was no longer white and shaken, but erect and beautifulin strong indignation. Rupert examined her, as if a little doubtfulhow to take the sudden change; but he handed her the printed sheet insilence. She read with lips and nostrils expanded by her quickbreathing; then crumpled up the sheet and cast it at his feet. Andafter a pause, with her princess air of dignity, "I thank you, cousinRupert, " she said; then, passing him with stately steps, moved towardsthe house. 

He pressed forward to keep up with her; and upon the other side, smiling, irrepressible, jocose, Mr. Hobson did the same. 

"You are not fit to go alone, " urged the former, while the latterengagingly protruding an elbow, announced that he'd be proud to giveher an arm as far as the Hall. 

She drew away from this well-meaning squire of dames with suchshuddering distaste, and looked once more so white and worn andsickened after her sudden blaze of passion, that Mr. Landale, seeingthat the only kindness was to let her have her will, arrested hiscompanion roughly enough, and allowed her to proceed as she wished. 

 * * * * *

And so, with bent head, Madeleine hurried forth. And the same glorioussun smiled down upon her in her anguish that had greeted her when shehastened an hour before glowing and light-hearted--if, indeed, a heartso full of love could be termed light--to meet her lover; the samebrambles caught her dress, the same bird trilled his song. ButMadeleine thought neither of ray nor leaf, nor yet of matingsongsters: all the spring world, as she went, was to her strewn withthe wreck of her broken hopes, and encompassed by the darkness of herlonely future. 

 * * * * *

Mr. Landale and the preventive service man stood some time watchingher retreating figure through the wood, and then walked slowly on fora while, in silent company. 

Presently the latter, who during the last part of the interview, hadbegun to feel a little ruffled by the magistrate's persistentlyoverbearing manner, inquired with something of dudgeon in his voice:"Begging your pardon, sir, what was that I heard the young lady callout just now? 'Gold!' she cries. Is it guineas that nipping young manis a taking over seas, if I may make so bold? Now you see, sir, wehaven't had no orders about no gold on this station--that sort ofthing is mostly done down south. But what I wants to know is: Why, ifyou knew all about the fellow's little games, you sent us to spy onhim? Ah, poor Nat would want a word or two with you on that score, Ifancy! Now it's as plain as Salisbury. . . . "

"But I know nothing certain, " impatiently interrupted Mr. Landale. "Iknow no more than you do yourself. Only not being a perfect idiot, Ican put two and two together. What in the name of goodness can a mansmuggle _out_ of England but gold? But I wanted the proofs. And yourbusiness, it was agreed with the Chief Officer, was to follow myinstructions. "

"And so we did, " grumbled Mr. Hobson; "and a pretty business it'sturned out! Nat's to pocket his bludgeoning, I suppose, and I am tobear the blame and lose my share. A cargo of guineas, by God! I mighthave nosed it, down south, but here. . . . Blast it! But since you was soclever over it, sir, why in blazes--if I may speak so to a gentlemanand a magistrate, " pursued the man with a rueful explosion of disgust, "didn't you give _me_ the hint? Why, guineas is contraband ofwar--it's treason, sir--and guineas is a cargo that's _fought_ for, sir! I shouldn't have moved with two men in a boat patrol, d'ye think?I should have had the riding officers, and the water-guard, and arevenue cruiser in the offing, and all tight and regular. But you_would_ have all the credit, and where are you? and _where's_ myshare? and where is Nat?--Bah!"

"You are forgetting yourself, officer, " said Mr. Landale, lookingseverely into the eyes of the disappointed preventive man, whoserising ebullition became on the instant reduced. 

"So I am, sir, so I am--and beg your pardon. But you must admit, it'salmost enough to make . . . But never mind, sir, the trick is done. Whatever it may be that that there schooner carries in her bottom, sheis free now to take it, barring accident, wherever she pleases. I'lltrouble you to look this way, sir. "

They had emerged from the wooded part of the park, and the risingground on which they stood commanded a wide sea-view, west of thegreat bay. 

"There she is again, sir, " said Mr. Hobson, waving his broad paw, like ashowman displaying his goods, with a sort of enraged self-satisfaction. "There is the schooner, ready to hoist sail as soon as he comesalongside. And that there black point which you may see, if your eyesare good enough, is a six-oared galley with as ship-shaped a crew--ifit's the same as I saw making off this morning--as ever pulled. YourCaptain Smith, you may take your oath, is at the tiller, and makingfun of us two to the lads. In five minutes he will be on board, andthen the revenue cutter from the station may give chase if shelikes!. . . And there she is, due to the time--about a mile astern. But bless you, that's all my eye, you may take your oath! They knowwell enough that in an open sea they can't run down a Salcombeschooner. But to earn their pay they will hang on till they loseher, and then sail home, all cosy. --I'm thinking, " he added slily, with a side glance at the magistrate: "we won't hang him _this_ time. "

Mr. Landale made no answer; during the last few minutes hisreflections had enabled him to take a new view of the situation. Afterall the future fate of Captain Jack was of little moment. He had beensuccessfully exposed before Madeleine, whose love for the young manwas, as had just been sufficiently proved, chiefly composed of thoseyouthful illusions which dispelled once, never can return. 

Rupert fell gradually into a reverie in which he found curioussatisfaction. His work had not been unsuccessful, whatever Mr. Hobson's opinion might be. But, as matters stood between Madeleine andher lover, the girl's eyes had been opened in time, and that withoutscandal. . . . And even the escape of Captain Jack was, upon reflection, the best thing that could have happened. 

And so it was with a return to his usual polite bearing, that helistened to the officer's relapse into expostulation. 

"Now if you had only given me the hint first of all, " the man wasgrumblingly saying, "and then let me act--for who would have suspecteda boat, yacht-rigged like that?--A friend of Sir Adrian's, too! Ifyou'd only left it to me! Why that six-oared galley alone is agin thelaw unless you can prove good reason for it . . . As for the vesselherself. . . . "

"Yes, my dear Mr. Hobson, " interrupted Mr. Landale, smilingpropitiously. "I have no doubt you would have secured him. I have madea mess of it. But now you understand, least said, soonest mended, bothfor me and (between ourselves, Mr. Hobson) for the young lady. "

The man, in surprise at this sudden alteration of manner, stoppedshort and gaped; and presently a broad smile, combined with a knowingwink, appeared on his face. He received the guineas that Mr. Landaledropped in his palm with an air of great candour, and, without furtherparley, acted on the kind advice to repair to the Priory and talk withone Mrs. Puckett the housekeeper, on the subject of corporealrefreshment. 

 * * * * *

"Well, " said Molly, bursting in upon her sister, who sat by herwriting-table, pen in hand, and did not even raise her head at theunceremonious entrance. "This is evidently the day for mysteriousdisappearances. First Rupert and Sophia; then my lord and master whois fetched hurriedly to his island (that isle of misfortune!) Godknows for what--though _I_ mean to know presently; then you, Mademoiselle, and Rupert again. It is, faith, quite a comedy. But theresult has been that I have had my meals alone, which is not so gay. Sophia is in bed, it turns out; Rupert out a-riding, on importantbusiness, of course! all he does is desperately important. And thereyou are--alone in your room, moping. God, child, how pale you are!What ails you then?"

"Molly, " cried Madeleine, ignoring Lady Landale's question andfeverishly folding the written sheet which lay under her hand, "if youlove me, if ever you loved me, will you have this letter conveyed by asafe messenger to Scarthey, and given to René--to none but René, atonce? Oh, Molly, it will be a service to me, you little guess of whatmoment!"

"_Voyez un peu!_" said Lady Landale coolly. "What trust in Molly, allat once! Aha, I thought it would come. If I love you? Hum, I'm not sosure about that. If ever I loved you?--a droll sort of plea, in truth, considering how you have requited my love!"

Madeleine turned a dazed look upon her sister, who stood surveyingher, glowing like a jewel of dazzling radiance, from her setting ofblack mantle and black plumed hat. "So you will not!" she answeredhopelessly, and let her forehead fall upon her hand without furtherprotest. 

"But I did not say I would not--as it happens I am going to the islandmyself. How you stare--oh you remember now do you? Who told you Iwonder?--of course, such a couple as we are, Adrian and I, could notbe divided from each other for over half a day, could we? By the way, I was to convey a gracious invitation to you too. Will you come withme?--No?--strange girl. So even give me the letter, I will take itto--no, not to René, 'tis addressed to Captain Smith, I see. Dearme--you don't mean to say, Madeleine, that you are corresponding withthat person; that he is near us? What would Tanty say?"

"Oh, Molly, cease your scoffs, " implored poor Madeleine, wearily. "Youare angry with me, well, now rejoice, for I am punished--wellpunished. Oh, I would tell you all but I cannot! my heart is too sick. See, you may read the letter, and then you will understand--but forpity's sake go--Do not fail to go; he will be there on the island atdark--he expects _me_--Oh, Molly! I cannot explain--indeed I cannot, and there is no time, it will soon be dusk; but there is terribledanger in his being there at all. "

Molly took the letter, turned it over with scornful fingers and thenpopped it in her pocket. "If he expects you, " she asked, fixing cold, curious eyes on her sister's distress, "and he is in danger, why_don't_ you go?"

A flush rose painfully to Madeleine's face, a sob to her throat. "Don't ask me, " she murmured, turning away to hide her humiliation. "Ihave been deceived, he is not what I thought. "

Lady Landale gazed at the shrinking figure for a little while insilence. Then remarking contemptuously: "Well you are a poorcreature, " turned upon her heel to leave her. As she passed the littlealtar, she paused to whisk a bunch of violets out of a vase and drythe stems upon her sister's quilt. 

"Molly, " cried Madeleine, in a frenzy, "give me back my letter, orgo. "

"I go, I go, " said Lady Landale with a mocking laugh. "How sweet yourviolets smell!--There, do not agitate yourself: I'm going to meet yourlover, my dear. I vow I am curious to see the famous man, at last. "

CHAPTER XXIV

THE NIGHT

 So the blood burned within her, And thus it cried to her: And there, beside the maize field The other one was waiting-- He, the mysterious one. 

 _Luteplayer's Song. _

The mantle of night had already fallen upon the land when LadyLandale, closely wrapped in her warmest furs, with face well ensconcedunder her close bonnet, and arms buried to the elbow in her muff, sallied from her room on the announcement that the carriage waswaiting. As, with her leisurely daintiness, she tripped it down thestairs, she crossed Mr. Landale, and paused a moment, ready for theskirmish, as she noticed the cynical curiosity with which he examinedher. 

"Whither, my fair sister, " said he, ranging himself with his bestcourtesy against the bannisters, "so late in the day?"

"To my lord and master's side, of course, " said Molly. 

"Why--is not Adrian coming back to-night?"

"Apparently not, since he has graciously permitted me to join him uponhis rock. I trust you will not find it too unhappy in our absence:that would be the crowning misfortune of a day when everything seemsto have gone wrong. Sophia invisible with her vapours; Madeleine withthe megrim; and you in and out of the house as excited and secret asthe cat when she has licked all the cream. I suppose I shall end byknowing what it is all about. Meanwhile I think I shall enjoy thetranquillity of the island--although I have actually to tear myselfaway from the prospect of a tête-à-tête evening with you. "

But as Rupert's serenity was not to be moved, her ladyship hereuponallowed herself to be escorted to the carriage without further parley. 

As she drove away through the dark night, first down the level, well-metalled avenue, then along the uneven country road, and finallythrough the sand of the beach in which hoofs and tyres sanknoiselessly, inches deep, Molly gave herself up, with almost childishzest to the leaven of imagination. . . . Here, in this dark carriage, wasreclining, not Lady Landale (whose fate deed had already been signed, sealed and delivered to bring her nothing but disappointment), but herhappier sister, still confronted with the fascinating unknown, hurrying under cover of night, within sound of the sea, to thatenthralling lure, a lover--a real lover, ardent, daring, _young_, ready to risk all, waiting to spread the wings of his boat, and carryher to the undiscovered country. 

Glowing were these fleeting images of the "might have been, " angry thesudden relapses into the prose of reality. 

No, Madeleine, the coward, who thought she had loved her lover, wasnow in her room, weak and weeping, whilst he, no doubt, paced the deckin mad impatience (as a lover should), now tortured by the throes ofanxiety, now hugging himself with the thought of his coming bliss . . . That bliss that never was to be his. And in the carriage there wasonly Molly, the strong-hearted but the fettered by tie and vow, theslave for ever of a first girlish fancy but too successfullycompassed; only Lady Landale rejoining her husband in his melancholysolitude; Lady Landale who never--never! awful word! would know thejoys which yonder poor fool had had within her grasp and yet had notclutched at. 

Molly had read, as permitted, her sister's letter, and to somepurpose; and scorn of the girl who from some paltry quibble couldabandon in danger the man she professed to love, filled her soul tothe exclusion of any sisterly or ever womanly pity. 

At the end of half an hour the carriage was stopped by the blackshadow of a man, who seemed to spring up from the earth, and who, after a few rapid words interchanged with the coachman, extinguishedboth the lights, and then opened the door. 

Leaning on the offered elbow Molly jumped down upon the yieldingsand. 

"René?" she asked; for the darkness even on the open beach was toothick to allow of recognition. 

"René, your ladyship--or Mademoiselle is it?" answered the man in hisunmistakable accent. "I must ask; for, by the voice no one can tell, as your ladyship, or Mademoiselle knows--and the sky is black like achimney. "

"Lady Landale, René, " and as he paused, she added, "My sister wouldnot come. "

"Ah, _mon Dieu_! She would not come, " repeated the man in tones ofdismay; and the black shadow was struck into a moment of stillness. Then with an audible sigh Mr. Potter roused himself, and saying withmelancholy resignation, "The boat is there, I shall be of return in aminute, My Lady, " took the traveller's bag on his shoulder anddisappeared. 

The carriage began to crunch its way back in the darkness and Mollywas left alone. 

 * * * * *

In front of her was a faint white line, where the rollers spread theirfoam with mournful restless fugue of long drawn roar and hissing sigh. 

In the distance, now and then glancing on the crest of the dancingbillows, shone the steady light of Scarthey. The rising wind whistledin the prickly star-grass and sea-holly. Beyond these, not a sight, not a sound--the earth was all mystery. 

Molly looked at the light--marking the calm spot where her husbandwaited for her; its very calm, its familiar placidity, monotony, enraged her; she hearkened to the splashing, living waves, to theswift flying gusts of the storm wind, and her soul yearned to theirlife, and their mysteriousness. 

What she longed for, she herself could not tell. No words canencompass the desire of pent-up young vitality for the unknown, forthe ideal, for the impossible. But one thing was overpoweringly real:that was the dread of leaving just then the wide, the open world whosedarkness was filled to her with living scenes of freedom and space, and blood-stirring emotions; of re-entering the silent room under thelight; of consorting with the shadowy personality, her husband; offeeling the web of his melancholy, his dreaminess, imprison as it werethe wings of her imagination and the thoughtful kindness of his gaze, paralyse the course of her hot blood through her veins. 

And yet, thither she was going, must be going! Ah Madeleine, fool--youmay well weep, yonder on your pillow, for the happiness that was yoursand that you have dropped from your feeble hands!

 * * * * *

In a few minutes the black shadow re-appeared close to her. 

"If My Lady will lean on my shoulder, I shall lead her to the boat. "And after a few steps, the voice out of the darkness proceeded inexplanation: "I have not taken a lantern, I have put out those of thecarriage, for I must tell My Lady, that since what arrived thismorning, there may be _gabelous_--they call them the preventivehere--in every corner, and the light might bring them, as it does thenight papilions, and . . . As I thought Mademoiselle was to accompanyyou--they might have frightened her. These people want to know somuch!"

"I know nothing of what has happened this morning, that you speak ofas if the whole world must know, " retorted Lady Landale coolly. "Youare all hatching plots and sitting on secrets, but nobody confides inme. It seems then, that you expected Mademoiselle, my sister, here forsome purpose and that you regret she did not come; may I ask for anexplanation?"

A few moments elapsed before the man replied, and then it was withembarrassment and diffidence: "For sure, I am sorry, My Lady . . . Therehave been misfortunes on the island this morning--nothing though toconcern her ladyship--and, as for Mademoiselle, mother Margery wouldhave liked to see her, no doubt . . . And Maggie the wife also--and--andno doubt also Mademoiselle would have liked to come. . . . What do Iknow?"

"Oh, of course!" said Molly with her little note of mocking laughter. 

Then again they walked a while in silence. As René lifted his mistressin his arms to carry her over the licking hissing foam, she resumed:"It is well, René, you are discreet, but I am not such a fool aspeople seem to think. As for her, you were right in thinking that shemight easily be frightened. She was afraid even to come out!"

René shoved his boat off, and falling to his sculls, suddenly relapsedinto the old vernacular: "_Ah Madame_, " he sighed, "_c'est bientriste--un gentilhomme si beau--si brave!_"

During the crossing no further words passed between them. 

"So brave--so handsome?" The echo of the words came back to the womanin every lap of the water on the sides of the boat, in every strain ofthe oars. 

The keel ground against the beach, and René leaped out to drag theboat free of the surf. As he did so, two blacker outlines segregatedthemselves from the darkness and a rough voice called out, subdued butdistinct: "Savenaye, St. Malo!"

"Savenaye, St. Malo!" repeated René, and helped Lady Landale toalight. Then one of the figures darted forward and whispered a rapidsentence in the Frenchman's ear. René uttered an exclamation, but hismistress intervened with scant patience:

"My good René, " said she, "take the bag into the peel, and come backfor me. I have a message for these gentlemen. "

René hesitated. As he did so a rustle of anger shook the lady in hersilks and furs. "Do you hear me?" she repeated, and he could guess howher little foot stamped the yielding sand. 

"_Oui, Madame_, " said he, hesitating no longer. Immediately the othertwo drew near. Molly could just see that they stood in all deference, cap in hand. 

"Madam, " began one of these in hurried words, "there is not a momentto be lost: the captain had to remain on board. "

"What!" interrupted Lady Landale with much asperity, "not come inperson!" She had been straining her eyes to make out something of herinterlocutor's form, unable to reconcile her mind's picture with thecoarse voice that addressed her--And now all her high expectationsfell from her in an angry rush. "Have I come all this way to be met bya messenger! Who are you?"

"Madam, " entreated the husky voice, "I am the mate of the _Peregrine_. The captain has directed me to beg and pray you not to be afraid, butto have good courage and confidence in us--the schooner is there; infive minutes you can be safe on board. You see, madam, " continued theman with an earnestness that spoke well of his devotion, "the captainfound he couldn't, he dared not leave the ship--he is the only one whoknows the bearings of these waters here--any one of us might run heron the bank, and where would we be then, madam, and you, if we werefound in daylight still in these parts?--'For God's sake, Curwen, 'says he, 'implore the lady not to be afraid and tell her to trust, asshe has promised, ' so he says. And for God's sake, say I, madam, trustus. In five minutes you will be with him? Say the word, madam, am I tomake the signal? There he is, eating his heart out. There are all thelads ready waiting for your foot on the ladder, to hoist sail. No timeto lose, we are already behind. Shall I signal?"

Molly's heart beat violently; under the sudden impulse, thefascination of the black chasm, of the peril, the adventure, theunfathomed, took possession of her, and whirled her on. 

"Yes, " she said. 

On the very utterance of the word the man, who had not yet spoken, uncovered a lantern, held it aloft, as rapidly replaced it under hiscoat, and moved away. 

Almost immediately, against the black pall, behind the dim line ofgrey that marked the shore, suddenly sprang up three bright points inthe form of a triangle. 

It was as if all the darkness around had been filled with life; as ifthe first fulfilment of those promises with which it had been drawingthis woman's soul was now held out to her to lure her further still. 

"See, madam, how they watch!--By your leave. "

And with no further warning, Molly felt herself seized withuncompromising, but deferential, energy, by a pair of powerful arms;lifted like a child, and carried away at a bear-like trot. By thesplashing she judged it was through the first line of breakers. Thenshe was handed into another irresistible grasp. The boat lurched asthe mate jumped in. Then:

"Now give way, lads, " he said, "and let her have it. Those lights mustnot be burning longer than we can help. Tain't wholesome for any ofus. "

And under the pulse of four willing pairs of arms the skiff, like athing of life, clove the black waters and rose to the billows. 

"You see, madam, " explained the mate, "we could not do without thelights, to show us where she lay, and give us a straight course. Weare all right so long as we keep that top 'un in the middle--but hewon't be sorry, I reckon, when he can drop them overboard. They can'tbe seen from the offing yet, but it's astounding how far a light willreach on a night like this. Cheerily, lads, let her have it!"

But Molly heeded him not. She had abandoned herself to the thrillingdelight of the excitement. The die was cast--not by her own hand, noone should be able to hold her responsible--she had been kidnapped. Come what might she must now see the adventure out. 

The lights grew larger; presently a black mass, surmounted by a kindof greyish cloud, loomed through the pitch of the night; and next itwas evident that the beacon was hanging over the side of a ship, illuminating its jagged leaping water line. 

A voice, not too loud, yet, even through the distance, ringing clearin its earnestness sounded from above. "Boat ahoy! what boat is that?"

And promptly the helmsman by Molly's side returned: "Savenaye, St. Malo. "

On the instant the lights went out. There was a creaking of block andcordage, and new ghostly clouds rose over the ship--sails loosened tothe wind. As the skiff rowers came alongside, boat-hooks leaped intoaction and gripped the vessel; an arm, strong as steel, was held outfor the passenger as she fearlessly put her foot on the ladder;another, a moment later, with masterful tenderness bent round herwaist, and she was fairly lifted on board the _Peregrine_. But beforeher foot touched the deck, she felt upon her lips, laid like a burningseal, a passionate kiss; and her soul leaped up to it, as if calledinto sudden life from slumber, like the princess of fairy lore. Sheheard Madeleine's mysterious lover whisper in her ear: "At last! Oh, what I have suffered, thinking you would not come!"

From the warm shelter of her loosened cloak the violets in her bosomsent forth a wave of sweetness. 

For a moment these two were in all creation alone to each other, while in a circle the _Peregrine's_ crew stood apart in respectfulsilence: a broad grin of sympathy upon the mouth of every mother'sson. 

Released at last, Lady Landale took a trembling step on the deck. Intowhat strange world had she come this night?

The schooner, like a mettled steed whose head is suddenly set free, was already in motion, and with gentle forward swaying leaps rising tothe wave and gathering speed under her swelling sails. 

Captain Jack had seized Molly's hand, and the strong clasp trembledround the little fingers; he said no more to her; but, in tonesvibrating with emotion which all the men, now silently seeking theirposts in the darkness, could hear:

"My lads, " he cried, "the lady is safe with us after all. Who shallsay that your skipper is not still Lucky Smith? Thank you, my goodfellows! Now we have yet to bring her safe the other side. Meanwhile--no cheering, lads, you know why--there is a hundred guineasmore among you the hour we make St. Malo. Stand to, every man. Up withthose topsails!"

Scarcely had the last words been spoken when, from the offing, on thewings of the wind, came a long-drawn hail, faint through the distance, but yet fatally distinct: "Ahoy, what schooner is that?"

Molly, who had not withdrawn her hand, felt a shock pass over CaptainJack's frame. He turned abruptly, and she could see him lean andstrain in the direction of the voice. 

The call, after an interval, was repeated. But the outlook wasimpenetrable, and it was weird indeed to feel that they were seen yetcould not see. 

Molly, standing close by his side, knew in every fibre of her own bodythat this man, to whom she seemed in some inexplicable fashion alreadylinked, was strongly moved. Nevertheless she could hardly guess theextremity of the passion that shook him. It was the frenzy of therider who feels his horse about to fail him within a span of thewinning post; of the leader whose men waver at the actual point ofvictory. But the weakness of dismay was only momentary. Calm andclearness of mind returned with the sense of emergency. He raised hisnight-glass, with a steady hand this time, and scanned the depth ofblackness in front of him: out of it after a moment, there seemed toshape itself the dim outline of a sail, and he knew that he had waitedtoo long and had fallen in again with the preventive cutter. Thenglancing aloft, he understood how it was that the _Peregrine_ had beenrecognised. 

The overcast sky had partly cleared to windward during the lastminutes; a few stars glinted where hitherto nothing but the mostimpenetrable pall had hung. In the east, the rays of a yet invisiblemoon, edging with faint silver the banks of clouds just above thehorizon, had made for the schooner a tell-tale background indeed. 

On board no sound was heard now save the struggle of rope and canvas, the creaking of timber and the swift plashing rush of water againsther rounded sides as she sped her course. 

"Madeleine, " he said, forcibly controlling his voice, and bringing, ashe spoke, his face close to Molly's to peer anxiously at itsindistinct white oval, "we are not free yet; but in a short time, withGod's help, we shall have left those intermeddling fools yonder whowould bar our way, miles out of the running. But I cannot remain withyou a moment longer; I must take the helm myself. Oh, forgive me forhaving brought you to this! And, should you hear firing, for Heaven'ssake do not lose courage. See now, I will bring you to your cabin;there you will find warmth and shelter. And in a little while, a verylittle while, I will return to you to tell you all is well. Come, mydearest love. "

Gently he would have drawn her towards the little deck-cabin, guidingher steps, as yet untutored to the motion of the ship, when out of theblack chasm, upon the weather bow of the _Peregrine_, leaped forth ayellow tongue of light fringed with red and encircled by a ruddycloud; and three seconds later the boom of a gun broke with a dull, ominous clangour above the wrangling of sea and wind. Mollystraightened herself. "What is that?" she asked. 

"The warning gun, " he answered, hurriedly, "to say that they mean tosee who we are and that if we do not stop the next will be shotted. Time presses, Madeleine, go in--fear nothing! We shall soon be ontheir other side, out of sight in darkness again. "

"I shall stop with you. Let no thought of me hinder you. I am notafraid. I want to see. "

At these words the lover was struck with a surprise that melted into aproud and new joy. He had loved Madeleine for her woman's grace andher woman's heart; now, he told himself, he must worship her also forher brave soul. But this was no time for useless words. It was notmore unsafe for her on deck than in the cabin, and at the thought ofher beside him during the coming struggle the strength of a god rosewithin him. "Come, " he answered, briefly, and moved with her to thehelm which a sailor silently surrendered to him whilst she steadiedherself by holding to the binnacle--the only place on board at thattime where (from sheer necessity) any light had been allowed toremain. It was faint enough, but the reflection from thecompass-board, as he bent to examine it, was sufficient to make justvisible, with a dim fantastic glow, the strong beauty of his face, andput a flash into each wide dilated eye. 

And thus did Molly, for the first time, see Captain Jack. 

She sank down at the foot of the binnacle, her hands clasped round herknees, as if hugging the new rapture as closely to her as she could. And looking up at the alert figure before her which she now began todiscern more clearly under the lightening sky; at the face which shedivined, although she could only see the watchful gleam of the eyes asnow and again they sought her down in the shadow at his feet, she feltherself kindle in answer to the glow of his glorious life-energy. Theywere going, side by side, this young hero of romance and she, to fighttheir way through some unknown peril!

"Madeleine, my sweet bride, my brave love, they are about to fireagain, and this time you will hear the shot burring; but be notafraid, it will strike ahead of us. "

Another flash sprang out of the night, much nearer this time, andlouder, for it belched forth a shot which ploughed its way in thewater across the schooner's bow. 

"I am not afraid, " said Molly again; and she laughed a little fierce, nervous laugh. 

"They are between us and the open sea. Thus far the luck is on theirside. Had you come but half an hour sooner, Madeleine, we should berunning as free as any king's ship. Now they think, no doubt, theywill drive me on to the sand; but, " he tossed back his head with asuperb gesture; "there is no power from heaven or hell that can keepme out of my course to-night. "

By this time the preventive cutter was faintly discernible two cableslength on the larboard bow. There came another hail--a loud, huskybellow from over the water, "Schooner ahoy! Heave to, or we'll sinkyou!"

"Madeleine, " said Captain Jack; "come closer to me, lie down, behindme, quick--The next shot will be in my rigging. Heave to?--with mytreasures, my bride on board and a ten knot breeze. . . !" And he lookeddown at Molly, laughing in his contempt. Then he shouted some orderwhich brought the _Peregrine_ some points more off the wind, and shebounded forward with renewed zest. "Sink us! Why don't you fire now, you lubbers?" He glanced back over his shoulder to see the beacon ofScarthey straight over the stern. "You have got us in line with thelight, and that's your last chance. In another minute I shall be pastyou. Ah, I can see you now, my fine fellows!--Courage, Madeleine. "

To Molly, of course, his words conveyed no meaning, except that thecritical moment had come, that the ship which carried her flying uponthe water like a living thing, eager, yet obedient in all its motionsto the guiding will of the man beside her, was rushing to the fray. The thought fired her soul, and she sprang up to look over the side. 

"What, " she exclaimed, for the little cutter on close quarters lookedinsignificant indeed by the side of the noble vessel that soscornfully bore down on her. "Is that all!"

"They have a gun, and we have none, " answered Captain Jack. "Down, Madeleine! down behind, in the name of God!"

"Why should I crouch if you stand up?"

The man's heart swelled within him; but as he looked with proudadmiration at the cloaked and hooded figure by his side, the cutter'sgun fired for the third time. With roar and hiss the shot came overthe bow of the schooner, as she dipped into the trough, and raking thedeck, crashed through her side on the quarter. Molly gave a shriek andstaggered. 

A fearful malediction burst from Captain Jack's lips: he left thetiller and sprang to her. 

One of the hands, believing his skipper to have been struck, ran tothe helm, and again put the vessel on her proper course which a fewmoments later was to make her shoot past the revenue cutter. 

"Wounded, Madeleine! Wounded through my fault! By the living God, theyshall pay for this!"

"Oh, " groaned Molly, "something has cut me in the arm and shoulder. "Then rapidly gathering composure, "But it's not much, I can move it. "

At one glance the sailor saw from the position of the shot hole in thevessel's side that the wound could only have been made by a splinter. But the possibility of exposing his beloved to such another risk wasnot to be borne--a murderous rush of blood flew to his brain. 

The cutter, perceiving the tactics of the swifter schooner, was nowtacking about with the intention of bringing the gun to bear upon heronce more as she attempted to slip by. But Captain Jack in hisnew-fanned fury had made up his mind to a desperate cast of the die. 

"Starboard, hard a starboard, " he called out in a voice that his menhad known well in old fighting days and which was heard as far as thecutter itself. "They shall not fire that gun again!"

With a brief, "Starboard it is, sir, " the man who had taken the helmbrought the ship round, and the silent, active crew in a trice wereready to go about. Majestically the schooner changed her course, andas the meaning of the manoeuvre became fearfully apparent, shoutsand oaths arose in confusion from the cutter. 

"What are you going to do?" eagerly asked Molly, enthralled by thesuperb motion of the vessel under her foot as it swept round andincreased speed upon the new tack. 

He held her in his arms. His hand had sought her wounded shoulder andpressed the lacerated spot in his effort to staunch the precious bloodthat rose warm through the cloth, torturing his cold fingers. 

"I am going to clear those men from our way to freedom and to love! Iam going to sink that boat: they shall pay with their lives for this!Come to the other side, Madeleine, and watch how my stout _Peregrine_sweeps our course--and then I may see how these scoundrels havemangled you, my love. But, nay, this is no sight for you. Hold onclose to me, sweet, and hide your eyes while they go. "

He steadied himself firmly with one hand on the rigging. 

Now musket shots flashed on board the cutter in quick succession, andsundry balls whizzed over the poop, intended for the helmsman by theirside. Captain Jack gnashed his teeth, as the menacing drone of one ofthem came perilously close to the beloved head by his cheek. 

"Look out, every man. We'll run her down!" he called. His voice waslike the blast of bugles. Cheers broke out from every part of theship, drowning the yells of execration and the shouts of fear frombelow. And now, with irresistible sway, the rushing _Peregrine_ heavyand powerful was closing and bearing down upon her frailer enemy. 

There was a spell of suspense when all was silence, save the rush andturmoil of the waters, and the flapping of the cutter's sails, helpless for the moment in the teeth of the breeze. Like a chargingsteed the schooner seemed to leap at her foe. Then came the shock. There was a brief check in her career, she rose by the head; therigging strained and sighed, the masts swayed groaning, but stood. Over the bows, in the darkness was heard a long-drawn crash, was seena white wall of foaming water rising silently to break the next momentwith a great roar. 

The cutter, struck obliquely amidships, was thrown straightway on herbeam ends: the _Peregrine_, with every sail spread and swollen, heldher as the preying bird with outstretched wings holds its quarry, andpressed her down until she began to fill and settle. It was withwide-open eyes, with eager, throbbing heart that Molly watched it all. 

"Lights, my lads, " cried Captain Jack, with a shout of exultation, when the anxious instant had passed. "Take in every man you can savebut handspike is the word for the first who shows fight! Curwen, doyou get her clear again. "

All around upon the deck, sprang rumour and turmoil, came shouts andsounds of scuffling and the rushing of feet; from the blank waterscame piteous calls for help. But paying little heed to aught butMolly, Captain Jack seized a lighted lantern from the hands of apassing sailor and drew her aside. 

Fevered with pain and fascinated by the horror of fight and death'sdoings, yet instinctively remembering to pull her hood over her face, she allowed herself to be taken into the little deck cabin. 

He placed the lantern upon the table:

"Rest here, " he said quickly, once more striving to see her beneaththe jealous shade. "I must find out if anything is amiss on board theship and attend to these drowning men--even before you, my darling!But I shall be back instantly. You are not faint?"

The light shone full on his features which Molly eagerly scanned fromher safe recess. When she met his eyes, full of the triumph of loveand hope, her soul broke into fierce revolt--again she felt upon herlips that kiss of young passionate love that had been the first herlife had ever known . . . And might be the last, for the disclosure wasapproaching apace. 

She was glad of the respite. 

"Go, " she said with as much firmness as she could muster. "Let me notstand between you and your duty. I am strong. "

Strong indeed--Captain Jack might have wondered whence had come tothis gentle Madeleine this lioness-strength of soul and body, had hehad time to wonder, time for aught but his love thoughts and his fury, as he dashed back again panting for the moment when he could have herto himself. 

"Any damage, Curwen?"

"Bowsprit broken, and larboard bulwark stove in, otherwise everythinghas stood. "

"Casualties?"

"No, sir. We have three of the cutter's men on board already. Theyswarmed over the bows. One had his cutlass out and had the devil'simpudence to claim the schooner, but a boat-hook soon brought him toreason. There they be, sir, " pointing to a darker group huddled roundthe mast. "I have lowered the gig to see if we can pick up the others, damn them!"

"As soon as they are all on board bring them aft, I will speak tothem. "

When, with a master's eye, he had rapidly inspected his vessel fromthe hold to the rigging, without finding aught to cause anxiety forits safety, Captain Jack returned to the poop, and there found theparty of prisoners arranged under the strong guard of his own crew. Molly stood, wrapped up in her cloak, at the door of the cabin, watching. 

One of the revenue men came forward and attempted to speak--but thecaptain impatiently cut him short. 

"I have no time to waste in talk, my man, " he said commandingly. "Howmany were you on board the cutter?"

"Nine, " answered the man sullenly. 

"How many have we got here?"

"Six, sir, " interposed Curwen. "Those three, " pointing to threedisconsolate and dripping figures, "were all we could pick up. "

"Hark ye, fellows, " said the captain. "You barred my road, I had toclear you away. You tried to sink me, I had to sink you. You have lostthree of your ship-mates, you have yourselves to blame for it; yourshot has drawn blood from one for whom I would have cut down fortytimes your number. I will send you back to shore. Away with you! No, Iwill hear nothing. Let them have the gig, Curwen, and four oars. "

"And now God speed the _Peregrine_, " cried Jack Smith, as the revenuemen pushed off in the direction of the light and the wind was againswelling every sail of his gallant ship. "We are well out of ourscrape. Shape her course for St. Malo, Curwen. If this wind holds weshould be there by the nineteenth in the morning, at latest. "

CHAPTER XXV

THE FIGHT FOR THE OPEN

 As o'er the grass, beneath the larches there We gaily stepped, the high noon overhead, Then Love was born--was born so strong and fair. Knowest thou! Love is dead. 

 _Gipsy Song. _

At last he was free. He had wrested his bride and the treasure trustedto his honour from the snares so unexpectedly laid on his path;whatever troubles might remain stored against him in the dim distanceof time, he would not reck them now. The present and the immediatefuture were full of splendour and triumph. 

All those golden schemes worked out under yonder light ofScarthey--God bless it--now receding in the gloom behind his swiftrunning ship, whether in the long watches of the night, or in therecent fevered resolves of imminent danger, they had come to passafter all! And she, the light of his life, was with him. She hadtrusted her happiness, her honour, herself, to his love. The thoughtillumined his brain with glory as he rushed back to the silent muffledfigure that still stood awaiting his coming. 

"At last!" he said, panting in the excess of his joy; "At last, Madeleine . . . I can hardly believe it! But selfish brute that I am, you must be crushed with fatigue. My brave darling, you would make meforget your tender woman's frame, and you are wounded!"

Supporting her--for the ship, reaching the open sea, had begun to rollmore wildly--he led her back into the little room now lighted by thefitful rays of a swinging lamp. With head averted, she sufferedherself to be seated on a kind of sofa couch. 

When he had closed the door, he seized her hand, on which ran streaksof half-dried blood, and covered it with kisses. 

"Ah, Madeleine! here in the sanctuary I had prepared for you, where Ithought you would be so safe, so guarded, tell me that you forgive mefor having brought this injury to you. Wounded, torn, bleeding. . . . Iwho would give all my blood, my life, if life were not so precious tome now that you have come into it, to save you from the slightestpain! At least here you are secure, here you can rest, but--but thereis no one to wait on you, Madeleine. " He fell on his knees beside her. "Madeleine, my wife, you must let me tend you. " Then, as she shiveredslightly, but did not turn to him, he went on in tones of the mostrestrained tenderness mingled with humblest pleading:

"Had it not been for your accident, I had not ventured even to crossthe threshold of this room. But your wound must be dressed; darling, darling, allow me, forgive me; the risk is too great. "

Rising to his feet again he gently pulled at her cloak. Molly spokenot a word, but untied it at the neck and let it fall away from herfair young body; and keeping her hooded face still rigidly averted, she surrendered her wounded arm. 

He muttered words of distress at the sight of the broad blood stains;stepped hurriedly to a little cupboard where such surgical stores asmight be required on board were hoarded, and having selected scissors, lint, and bandages, came back and again knelt down by her side to cutoff, with eager, compassionate hands, the torn and maculated sleeve. 

The wound was but a surface laceration, and a man would not have givena thought to it in the circumstances. But to see this soft, whitewoman's skin, bruised black in parts, torn with a horrid red gap inothers; to see the beauty of this round arm thus brutally marred, thustwitching with pain--it was monstrous, hideously unnatural in thelover's eyes!

With tenderness, but unflinchingly, he laved the mangled skin withcool, fresh water; pulled out, with far greater torture to himselfthan to her, some remaining splinters embedded in the flesh; coveredthe wound with lint, and finished the operation by a bandage as neatas his neat sailor's touch, coupled with some knowledge of surgery, gained in the experiences of his privateering days, could accomplishit. He spoke little: only a word of encouragement, of admiration forher fortitude now and then; and she spoke not at all during theministration. She had raised her other hand to her eyes, with agesture natural to one bracing herself to endurance, and had kept itthere until, his task completed, her silence, the manner in which shehid her face from him awoke in him all that was best and loftiest inhis generous heart. 

As he rose to his feet and stood before her, he too dared not speakfor fear of bruising what he deemed an exquisite maidenliness, beforewhich his manhood was abashed at itself. For some moments there was nosound in the cabin save that of the swift rushing waters behind thewooden walls and of the labour and life of the ship under full sail;then he saw the tumultuous rising of her bosom, and thought she wasweeping. 

"Madeleine, " he cried with passionate anxiety, "speak! Let me see yourface--are you faint? Lie upon this couch. Let me get you wine--oh thatthese days were passed and I could call you wife and never leave you!Madeleine, my love, speak!"

Molly rose to her feet, and with a gesture of anger threw off her hoodand turned round upon him. And there in the light of the lamp, heglared like one distraught at the raven locks, the burning eyes of astrange woman. 

She was very pale. 

"No, " said Molly, defiantly, when twice or thrice his laboured breathhad marked the passing of the horrible moment, "I am not Madeleine. "Then she tried to smile; but unconsciously she was frightened, and thesmile died unformed as she pursued at random:

"You know me--perhaps by hearsay--as I know you, Captain Smith. "

But he, shivering under the coldness of his disappointment, answeredin a kind of weary whisper:

"Who are you--you who speak with her voice, who stand at her heightand move and walk as she does? I have seen you surely--Ah, I know. . . . Madam, what a cruel mockery! And she, where is she?"

Still staring at her with widely dilated eyes, he seized his foreheadbetween his hands. The gesture was one of utter despair. Before thisweakness Molly promptly resumed the superiority of self-possession. 

"Yes, " she said, and this time the smile came back to her face, "I amLady Landale, and my sister Madeleine--I grieve to have to say so--hasnot had that courage for which you gave her credit to-night. "

Little was required at a moment like this to transmute such thoughtsas seethed in the man's head to a burst of fury. Fury is action, andaction a relief to the strained heart. There was a half-concealed, unintended mockery in her tones which brought a sudden fire of angerto his eyes. He raised both hands and shook them fiercely above hishead:

"But why--why in the name of heaven--has such a trick been played onme . . . At such a time?"

He paused, and trembling with the effort, restrained himself to a moredecent bearing before the woman, the lady, the friend's wife. His armsfell by his side, and he repeated in lower tones, though the flame ofhis gaze could not be subdued:

"Why this deception, this playing with the blindness of my love? Whythis comedy, which has already had one act so tragic?--Yes, think ofit, madam, think of the tragedy this is now in my life, since she isleft behind and I never now, with these men's lives to account for, may go back and claim her who has given me her troth! Already I stakedthe fortune of my trust, on the bare chance that she would come. Whatthough her heart failed her at the eleventh hour?--God forgive her forit!--surely she never sanctioned this masquerade?. . . Oh no! she wouldnot stoop to such an act, and human life is not a thing to jest upon. She never played this trick, the thought is too odious. What have youdone! Had I known, had I had word sooner--but half an hoursooner--those corpses now rolling under the wave with their sunkenship would still be live men and warm. . . . And I--I should not be thehopeless outlaw, the actual murderer that this night's work has madeof me!"

His voice by degrees rose once more to the utmost ring of bitternessand anger. Molly, who had restored her cloak to her shoulders and satdown, ensconced in it as closely as her swaddled arm would allow her, contemplated him with a curious mixture of delight and terror; delightin his vigour, his beauty, above everything in his mastery andstrength; and delight again at the new thrill of the fear it imposedupon her daring soul. Then she flared into rage at the thought of thecoward of her blood who had broken faith with such a man as this, andshe melted all into sympathy with his anger--A right proper man mostcruelly used and most justifiably wrathful!

And she, being a woman whose face was at most times as a book on whichto read the working of her soul, there was something in her look, asin silence she listened and gazed upon him, which struck him suddenlydumb. Such a look on a face so like, yet so unlike, that of his lovewas startling in the extreme--horrible. 

He stepped back, and made as if he would have rushed from the room. Then bethinking himself that he was a madman, he drew a chair near herin a contrary mood, sat down, and fixed his eyes upon her verysteadily. 

She dropped her long lids, and demurely composed her features by someinstinct that women have, rather than from any sense of the impressionshe had produced. 

A little while they sat thus again in silence. In the silence, therolling of the ship and the manner in which, as she raced on her way, she seemed to breathe and strain, worked in with the mood of each; inhis, with the storm and stress of his soul; in hers, as the veryexpression of her new freedom and reckless pleasure. 

Then he spoke; the strong emotion that had warmed her had now left hisvoice. It was cold and scornful. 

"Madam, I await your explanation. So far, I find myself only thevictim of a trick as unworthy and cruel as it is purposeless. "

She had delayed carrying out her mission with the most definiteperverseness. She could not but acknowledge the justice of hisreproof, realise the sorry part she must play in his eyes, theinexcusable folly of the whole proceeding, and yet she was strung to avery lively indignation by the tone he had assumed, and suddenly sawherself in the light of a most disinterested and injured virtue. 

"Captain Smith, " she exclaimed, flashing a hot glance at him, "youassume strangely the right to be angry with me! Be angry if you willwith things as they are; rail against fate if you will, but begrateful to me. --I have risked much to serve you. "

The whole expression of his face changed abruptly to one of eager, almost entreating, inquiry. 

"Do me the favour, " she continued, "to look into the pocket of mycloak--my arm hurts me if I move--you will find there a letteraddressed to you. I was adjured to see that it should reach you insafety. I promised to place it in your own hands. This could hardlyhave been done sooner, as you know. "

The words all at once seemed to alter the whole situation. He sprangup and came to her quickly. 

"Oh, forgive me, make allowances for me, Lady Landale, I am quitedistracted!" There had returned a tinge of hope into his voice. "Whereis it?" he eagerly asked, seeking, as directed, for the pocket. "Ah!"and mechanically repeating, "Forgive me!" he drew out the letter atlast and retreated, feverishly opening it under the light of the lamp. 

Molly had turned round to watch. Up to this she had felt no regret forhis disillusion, only an irritable heat of temper that he should wasteso much love upon so poor an object. But now all her heart went to himas she saw the sudden greyness that fell on his face from the readingof the very first line; there was no indignation, no blood-stirringemotion; it was as if a cold pall had fallen upon his generous spirit. The very room looked darker when the fire within the brave soul wasthus all of a sudden extinguished. 

He read on slowly, with a kind of dull obstinacy, and when he came tothe miserable end continued looking at the paper for the moment. Thenhis hand fell; slowly the letter fluttered to the floor, and he lethis eyes rest unseeingly, wonderingly upon the messenger. 

After a little while words broke from him, toneless, the mere echo ofdazed thoughts: "It is over, all over. She has lost her trust. Shedoes not love me any more. "

He picked up the letter again, and sitting down placed it in front ofhim on the table. "'Tis a cruel letter, madam, that you have broughtme, " he said then, looking up at Molly with the most extraordinarypain in his eyes. "A cruel letter! Yet I am the same man now that Iwas this morning when she swore she would trust me to the end--and shecould not trust me a few hours longer! Why did you not speak? One wordfrom you as you stepped upon the ship would have saved my soul fromthe guilt of these men's death!" Then with a sharper uplifting of hisvoice, as a new aspect of his misfortune struck him: "And you--you, too! What have I to do with you, Adrian's wife? He does not know?"

She did not reply, and he cried out, clapping his hands together:

"It only wanted this. My God, it is I--I, his friend, who owes him somuch, who am to cause him such fear, such misery! Do you know, madam, that it is impossible that I should restore you to him for days yet. And then when, and where, and how? God knows! Nothing must now comebetween me and my trust. I have already dishonourably endangered it. To attempt to return with you to-night, as perhaps you fancy Iwill--as, of course, I would instantly do had I alone myself and youto consider, would be little short of madness. It would mean utterruin to many whom I have pledged myself to serve. And yet Adrian--myhonour pulls me two ways--poor Adrian! What dumb devil possessed youthat you did not speak before. Had you no thought for your woman'sgood name? Ill-fated venture, ill-fated venture, indeed! Would Godthat shot had met me in its way--had only my task been accomplished!"

He buried his head in his hands. 

Lady Landale flushed and paled alternately, parted her lips to speak, and closed them once more. What could she say, and how excuse herself?She did not repent what she had done, though it had been sin allround; she had little reck of her woman's good name, as he called it;the death of the excise men weighed but lightly, if at all, upon herconscience; the thought of Adrian was only then a distasteful memoryto be thrust away; nay--even this man's grief could not temper thewild joy that was in her soul to-night. Fevered with fatigue, withexcitement, by her wound, her blood ran burning in her veins, and beatfaster in every pulse. 

And as she felt the ship rise and fall, and knew that each motion wasan onward leap that separated her further and ever further from dullhome and dull husband, and isolated her ever more completely with hersister's lover, she exulted in her heart. 

Presently he lifted his head. 

"Forgive me, " he said, "I believe that you meant most kindly, and asyou say, I should be grateful. Your service is ill-requited by myreproaches, and you have run risk indeed--merciful Heaven, had my oldfriend's wife been killed upon my ship through my doings! But you seeI cannot command myself; you see how I am situated. You must forgiveme. All that can be done to restore you to your home as soon aspossible shall be done, and all, meanwhile, to mitigate the discomfortyou must suffer here--And for your good intention to her and me, Ithank you. "

He had risen, and now bowed with a dignity that sat on his sailorfreedom in no wise awkwardly. She, too, with an effort, stood up as ifto arrest his imminent departure. A tall woman, and he but of averageheight, their eyes were nearly on a level. For a second or two herdark gaze sought his with a strange hesitation, and then, as if thetruth in him awoke all the truth in her, the natural daring of herspirit rose proudly to meet this kindred soul. She would let nofalsehood, no craven feminine subterfuge intervene between them. 

"Do not thank me, " she exclaimed, glowing with a brilliant scorn inwhich the greatness of her beauty, all worn as she was, struck himinto surprise, yet evoked no spark of admiration. "What I did I did, to gratify myself. Oh, aye, if I were as other women I should smileand take your compliments, and pose as the martyr and as theself-sacrificing devoted sister. But I will not. It was nothing to mehow Madeleine got in or out of her love scrapes. I would not have goneone step to help her break her promise to you, or even to save yourlife, but that it pleased me so to do. Madeleine has never chosen tomake me her confidant. I would have let her manage her own affairsgaily, had I had better things to occupy my mind--but I had not, Captain Smith. Life at Pulwick is monotonous. I have roaming blood inmy veins: the adventure tempted, amused me, fascinated me--and thereyou have the truth! Of course I could have given the letter to the menand sent them back to you with it--it was not because of my promisethat I did not do it. Of course I could have spoken the instant I goton board, perhaps----" here a flood of colour dyed her face with agorgeous conscious crimson, and a dimple faintly came and went at thecorner of her mouth, "perhaps I would have spoken. But then, you mustremember, you closed my lips!"

"My God!" said Captain Jack, and looked at her with a sort of horror. 

But this she could not see for her eyes were downcast. "And now that Ihave come, " she went on, and would have added, "I am glad I did, " butthat all of a sudden a new bashfulness came upon her, and shestammered instead, incoherently: "As for Adrian--René knew I had amessage for you, and René will tell him--he is not stupid--youknow--René, I mean. "

"I am glad, " answered the man gravely, after a pause, "if you havereasonable grounds for believing that your husband knows you to be onmy ship. He will then be the less anxious at your disappearance: forhe knows too, madam, that his wife will be as honoured and as guardedin my charge as she would be in her mother's house. "

He bowed again in a stately way and then immediately left her. 

Molly sank back upon her couch, and she could not have said why, burstinto tears. She felt cold now, and broken, and her stiffening woundpained her. But nevertheless, as she lay upon the little velvetpillow, and wept her rare tears were strangling sobs, the very ache ofher wound had a strange savour that she would not have exchanged forany past content. 

 * * * * *

René, having obeyed his mistress's orders, and left her alone with thesailors on the beach, withdrew within the shelter of the door, butremained waiting, near enough to be at hand in case he should becalled. 

It was still pitch dark and the rollers growled under a rough wind; hecould catch the sound of a man's voice, now and again, between theclamour of the sea and the wuthering of the air, but could notdistinguish a word. Presently, however, this ceased, and there came tohim the unmistakable regular beat of oars retreating. The interviewwas over, and breathing a sigh of relief at the thought that, at last, his master's friend would soon be setting on his way to safety, theservant emerged to seek her ladyship. 

A few minutes later he dashed into Sir Adrian's room with a lividface, and poured forth a confused tale:

Milady had landed without Mademoiselle; had stopped to speak to two ofthe _Peregrine_, whilst he waited apart. The men had departed in theirboat. 

"The _Peregrine_ men! But the ship has been out of sight these eighthours!" ejaculated Sir Adrian, bewildered. Then, catching fear fromhis servant's distraught countenance:

"My wife, " he exclaimed, bounding up; and added, "you left her, Renny?"

The man struck his breast: he had searched and called. . . . My Lady wasnowhere to be found. "As God is my witness, " he repeated, "I waswithin call. My Lady ordered me to leave her. Your honour knows MyLady has to be obeyed. "

"Get lanterns!" said Sir Adrian, the anguish of a greater dreaddriving the blood to his heart. Even to one who knew the ground well, the isle of Scarthey, on a black, stormy night, with the tide high, was no safe wandering ground. For a moment, the two--comrades of somany miserable hours--faced each other with white and haggard faces. Then with the same deadly fear in their hearts, they hurried out intothe soughing wind, down to the beach, baited on all sides by theswift-darting hissing surf. Running their lanterns close to theground, they soon found, by the trampled marks upon the sand, wherethe conclave had been held. From thence a double row of heavyfootprints led to the shelving bit of beach where it was the customfor boats to land from seawards. 

"See, your honour, see, " cried René, in deepest agitation, "the printof this little shoe, here--and there, and here again, right down tothe water's edge. Thank God--thank God! My Lady has had no accident. She has gone with the sailors to the boat. Ah! here the tide hascome--we can see no farther. "

"But why should she have gone with them?" came, after a moment, SirAdrian's voice out of the darkness. "Surely that is strange--andyet . . . Yes, that is indeed her foot-print in the sand. "

"And if your honour will look to sea, he will perceive the ship'slights yonder, upon the water. That is the captain's ship. . . . Yourhonour, I must avow to you that I have concealed something fromyou--it was wrong, indeed, and now I am punished--but that poorMonsieur the Captain, I was so sorry for him, and he so enamoured. Hehad made a plan to lift off Mademoiselle Madeleine with him to-night, marry her in France; and that was why he came back again, at the riskof his life. He supplicated me not to tell you, for fear you wouldwish to prevent it, or think it your duty to. Mademoiselle hadpromised, it seemed, and he was mad with her joy, the poor gentleman!and as sure of her faith as if she had been a saint in Heaven. But MyLady came alone, your honour, as I said. The courage had failed toMademoiselle, I suppose, at the last moment, and Madame bore a messageto the captain. But the captain was not able to leave his ship, itseems; and, my faith, " cried Mr. Potter; his spirits rising, as thefirst ghastly dread left him, "the mystery explains itself! It isquite simple, your honour will see. As the captain did not come to theisland, according to his promise to Mademoiselle--he had good reasons, no doubt--Madame went herself to his ship with her message. She hadthe spirit for it--Ah! if Mademoiselle had had but a little of itto-night, we should not be where we are!"

Sir Adrian caught at the suggestion out of the depths of his despair. "You are right, Renny, you must be right. Yet, on this rough sea, inthis black night--what madness! The boat, instantly; and let us rowfor those lights as we never rowed before!"

Even as the words were uttered the treble glimmer vanished. In vainthey strained their eyes: save for the luminous streak cast by theirown beacon lamp, the gloom was unbroken. 

"His honour will see, a boat will be landing instantly with My Ladysafe and sound, " said René at last. But his voice lacked confidence, and Sir Adrian groaned aloud. 

And so they stood alone in silence, forced into inaction, that mostcruel addition to suspense, by the darkness and the waters whichhemmed them in upon every side. The vision of twenty dangerous placeswhere one impetuous footfall might have hurled his darling into thecruel beating waves painted themselves--a hideous phantasmagory--uponSir Adrian's brain. Had the merciless waters of the earth that hadmurdered the mother, grasped at the child's life also? He raised hisvoice in a wild cry, it seemed as if the wind caught it from him andtore it into shreds. 

"Hark!" whispered René, and clasped his master's icy hand. Like anecho of Sir Adrian's cry, the far-off ring of a human voice had risenfrom the sea. 

Again it came. 

"_C'est de la mer, Monseigneur!_" panted the man; even as he spoke thedarkness began to lift. Above their heads, unnoticed, the clouds hadbeen rifted apart beneath the breath of the north wind; the horizonwidened, a misty wing-like shape was suddenly visible against thereceding gloom. 

The captain's ship! The _Peregrine_!

As master and man peered outward as if awaiting unconsciously someimminent solution from the gliding spectre, it seemed as if the nightsuddenly opened on the left to shoot forth a burst of red fire. A fewseconds later, the hollow boom of cannon shook the air around them. Sir Adrian's nails were driven into René's hands. 

The flaming messenger had carried to both minds an instant knowledgeof the new danger. 

"Great Heavens!" muttered Adrian. "He will surrender; he mustsurrender! He could not be so base, so wicked, as to fight andendanger _her_!"

But the servant's keener sight, trained by long stormy nights ofwatching, was following in its dwindling, mysterious course that mistyvision in which he thought to recognize the _Peregrine_. 

"_Elle file, elle file joliment la goëlette!_ Mother of Heaven, theregoes the gun again! I never thought my blood would turn to water onlyto hear the sound of one like this. But your honour must not bediscouraged; he can surely trust the captain. Ah, the clouds--I cansee no more. "

The wild blast gathering fresh droves of vapour from the huddledmasses on the horizon was now, in truth, herding them fiercely acrossthe spaces it had cleared a few moments before. Confused shouts, strange clamour seemed to ring out across the waves to the listeners:or it might have been only the triumphant howlings of the risingstorm. 

"Will not your honour come in? The rain is falling. "

"No, Renny, no, give me my lantern again, friend, and let us examineanew. "

Both knew it to be of no avail, but physically and mentally to moveabout was, at least, better than to stand still. Step by step theyscanned afresh the sand, the shingle, the rocks, the walls, to returnonce more to the trace of the slender feet, leading beside the greatdouble track of heavy sea boots to the water's edge. 

Sir Adrian knelt down and gazed at the last little imprint that seemedto mock him with the same elusive daintiness as Molly herself, as ifhe could draw from it the answer to the riddle. 

René endeavouring to stand between his master and the driving blastlaid down his lantern too, and strove by thumping his breastvigorously to infuse a little warmth into his numbed limbs and at thesame time to relieve his overcharged feelings. 

As he paused at length, out of breath, the noise of a methodical thudand splash of oars arose, above the tumult of the elements, very nearto them, upon their left. 

Sir Adrian sprang to his feet. 

"She returns, she returns, " shouted René, capering, in the excess ofthe sudden joy, and waving his lantern; then he sent forth a vigoroushail which was instantly answered close by the shore. 

"Hold up your light, your honour--ah, your honour, did I not sayit?--while I go to help Madame. Now then, you others down there, "running to the landing spot, "make for the light!"

The keel ground upon the shingle. 

"My Lady first, " shouted René. 

Some one leaped up in the boat and flung him a rope with a curse. 

"The lady, ay, ay, my lad, you'd better go and catch her yourself. There she goes, " pointing enigmatically behind him with his thumb. 

Sir Adrian, unable to restrain his impatience, ran forward too, andthrew the light of his lantern upon the dark figures now rising one byone and pressing forward. Five or six men, drenched from head to foot, swearing and grumbling; with faces pinched with cold, all loweringwith the same expression of anger and resentment and shining whitelyat him out of the confusion. He saw the emptying seats, the shippedoars, the name _Peregrine_ in black letters upon the white paint ofthe dingey; and she?. . . She was not there!

The revulsion of feeling was so cruel that for a while he seemedturned to stone, even his mind becoming blank. The waves lashed in upto his knees; he never felt them. 

René's strong hands came at last to drag him away, and then René'svoice, in a hot whisper close to his ear, aroused him:

"It is good news, your honour, after all, good news. My Lady is onboard the _Peregrine_. I made these men speak. They are the revenuemen--that God may damn them! and they were after the captain; but heran down their cutter, that brave captain. And these are all that weresaved from her, for she sank like a stone. The _Peregrine_ is as soundas a bell, they say--ah, she is a good ship! And the captain, out ofhis kind heart, sent these villains ashore in his own boat, instead ofbraining them or throwing them overboard. But they saw a lady besidehim the whole time, tall, in a great black cloak. My Lady in her blackcloak, just as she landed here. Of course Monsieur the Captain couldnot have sent her back home with these brigands then--not even amessage--that would have compromised his honour. But his honour cansee now how it is. And though My Lady has been carried out to sea, heknows now that she is safe. "

CHAPTER XXVI

THE THREE COLOURS

The sun was high above the Welsh hills; the _Peregrine_ had sheeredher way through a hundred miles or more of fretted waters before hercaptain, in his hammock slung for the nonce near the men's quarters, stirred from his profound sleep--nature's kind restorer to healthybrain and limbs--after the ceaseless fatigue and emotions of the lastthirty-six hours. 

As he leaped to his feet out of the swinging canvas, the usual vigourof life coursing through every fibre of him, he fell to wondering, inhalf-awake fashion, at the meaning of the unwonted weight lurking insome back recess of consciousness. 

Then memory, the ruthless, arose and buffeted his soul. 

The one thing had failed him without which all else was as nothing;fate, and his own hot blood, had conspired to place his heart's desirebeyond all reasonable hope. Certain phrases in Madeleine's lettercrossed and re-crossed his mind, bringing now an unwonted sting ofanger, now the old cruel pain of last night. The thought of thehateful complication introduced into his already sufficiently involvedaffairs by the involuntary kidnapping of his friend's wife filled himwith a sense of impotent irritation, very foreign to his temper; andas certain looks and words of the unwished-for prisoner flashed backupon him, a hot colour rose, even in his solitude, to his wholesomebrown cheek. 

But in spite of all, in spite of reason and feeling alike hisessential buoyancy asserted itself. He could not despair. He had notbeen given this vigour of soul and body to sit down under misfortune. Resignation was for the poor of heart; only cravens gave up while itwas yet possible to act. His fair ship was speeding with him as heloved to feel her speed; around him spread the vast spaces in whichhis spirit rejoiced--salt sea and vaulted heavens; the full air of theopen, the brisk dash of the wind filled him with physical exhilarationat every breath, and tingled in his veins; the sporting blood, whichhad come to him from generations of hunting squires, found all itscraving satisfied in this coursing across the green ocean fields, andthe added element of danger was as the sting of the brine to hispalate. What--despair now? with his perilous enterprise all butaccomplished, the whole world, save one country, before him, andMadeleine unwed! Another might, but not Jack Smith; not HubertCochrane!

He was actually trolling out the stave of a song as he sprang up thecompanion ladder after his rough breakfast in the galley, but thesound expired at the sight of the distant flutter of a woman's scarfin the stern of the ship. He halted and ran his fingers through hiscrisp hair with an expressive gesture of almost comical perplexity;all would be plain sailing enough, with hope at the prow again, butfor this--he stamped his foot to choke down the oath ofqualification--this encumbrance. Adrian's wife and Madeleine's sister, as such entitled to all honour, all care, and devotion; and yet, assuch again, hideously, doubly unwelcome to him!

As he stood, biting his lips, while the gorgeous sunshine of the youngspring morning beat down upon his bare head, the brawny figure of themate, his mahogany-tinted face wrinkled into as stiff a grin as if ithad been indeed carved out of the wood in question, intervened betweenhis abstracted gaze and the restless amber beyond. 

"It's a fine day, sir, " by way of opening conversation. 

The irrepressible satisfaction conveyed by the wide display oftobacco-stained teeth, by the twinkle in the hard, honest eyes calledup a queer, rueful grimace to the other man's face. 

"Do you know, Curwen, " he said, "that you brought me the wrong younglady last night?"

The sailor jumped back in amazement. "The wrong young lady, sir, "staring with starting, incredulous eyeballs, "the wrong, young lady!"here he clapped his thigh, "Well of all--the wrong young lady! Are youquite sure, sir?"

Captain Jack laughed aloud. But it was with a bitter twist at thecorners of his lips. 

"Well I'm----, " said poor Curwen. All his importance andself-satisfaction had left him as suddenly as the starch a sousedcollar. He scanned his master's face with almost pathetic anxiety. 

"Oh, I don't blame you--you did your part all right. Why, I myselffell into the same mistake, and we had not much time for finding itout, had we? The lady you see--the lady--she is the other lady'ssister and she came with a message. And so we carried her off beforewe knew where we were--or she either, " added Captain Jack as amendacious after thought. 

"Well I'm----, " reiterated Curwen who then rubbed his scrubby, bristling chin, scratched his poll and finally broke into anothergrin--this time of the kind classified as sheepish. 

"And what'll be to do now?"

"By the God that made me, I haven't a notion! We must take all thecare of her we can, of course. Serve her her meals in her cabin, aswas arranged, and see that she is attended to, just as the other younglady would have been you know, only that I think she had better beserved alone, and I shall mess downstairs as usual. And then if we canleave her at St. Malo, we shall. But it must be in all safety, Curwen, for it's a terrible responsibility. Happily we have now the time tothink. Meanwhile I have slept like a log and she--I see is astirbefore me. "

"Lord bless you, sir, she has been up these two hours! Walking thedeck like a sailor, and asking about things and enjoying them like. Ah, she is a rare lady, that she is! And it is the wrong one--wellthis is a go! And I was remarking to Bill Baxter, just now, that itwas just our captain's luck to have found such a regular sailor'syoung woman, so I said--begging pardon for the word. And not more thanhe is worth, says he, and so said I also. And she the wrong lady afterall! Well, it's a curious thing, sir, nobody could be like to guess itfrom her. She's a well-plucked one, with her wound and all. She mademe look at it this morning, when I brought her a cup of coffee and abite: 'You're old enough to be my father, ' says she, as pretty as canbe, 'so you shall be doctor as well as lady's maid; and, if you'vegot a girl of your own, it'll be a story to tell her by the fire atnight, when you're home again, ' so she said; and never winced when Iput my great fingers on her arm. I was all of a tremble, I declare, with her a smiling up at me, but the wound--it's doing finely; healingas nice as ever I see, and not a sign of sickness on her. The verylady as I was saying, for our captain--but here she comes. "

This was an unwontedly long speech for Curwen; and, silent again, heeffaced himself discreetly, just in time to avoid the angryejaculation that had sprung to his captain's lips, but not without abackward glance of admiration at the tall, alert figure now bearingdown in their direction with steps already firmly balanced to themovement of the ship. 

At a little distance from Captain Jack, Molly paused as if toscrutinise the horizon, and enjoy the invigorating atmosphere. Inreality her heart was beating fast, her breath came short; and thegaze she flung from the faint outline of coast upon one side to thevast monotony of sparkling sea upon the other conveyed no impressionto her troubled mind. The next instant he was by her side. As shesmiled at him, he noticed that her face was pale, and her eyes darklyencircled. 

"Ah, madam, " said he, as he drew close and lifted his hand to hishead, with a gesture of formal courtesy that no doubt somewhatastonished a couple of his men who were watching the group with covertsmiles and nudges, being as yet unaware of the misadventure, "yourelieve my mind of anxiety. How is the arm? Does it make you suffermuch? No! You must be strong indeed. "

"Yes, I am strong, " answered she, and flushed, and looked out acrossthe sea, inhaling the air with dilated nostrils. 

Within her, her soul was crying out to him. It was as if there was atide there, as fierce and passionate as the waves around her, allbearing, straining to him, and this with a struggle and flow soresistless, that she could neither remember the past, nor measure thefuture, but only feel herself carried on, beaten and tossed upon thesegreat waters, like a helpless wreck. 

"I trust you are well attended to, " began the man constrainedly again. "I fear you will have to endure much discomfort. I had reckoned----. "Here he halted galled by the thought of what it was he had reckonedupon, the thought of the watchful love that was to have made of thelittle ship a very nest for his bride, of the exquisite joy it was tohave harboured! And he set his teeth at fate. 

She played for a while with her little finger tips upon the rail, thenturned her gaze, full and bold, upon him. 

"I do not complain, " she said. 

He bowed gravely. "We will do our best for you, and if you will takepatience, the time will pass at last, as all time passes. I have a fewbooks, they shall be brought into your cabin. In three days we shallbe in St. Malo--There, if you like----" he hesitated, embarrassed. 

"There!" echoed Lady Landale with her eyes still fixed upon hisdowncast face--"If I like--what?"

"We could leave you----"

Her bosom rose and fell quickly with stormy breaths. "Alone, moneyless, in a strange town--that is well and kindly thought!" shesaid. 

Whence had come to her this strange power of feeling pain? She had notknown that one could suffer in one's heart like this; she, whosequarrel with life hitherto had been for its too great comfort, security and peace. She felt a lump rise to her throat, and tears wellinto her eyes, blurring all the sunlit vision and she turned her headaway and beat her sound left hand clenched upon the ledge. 

"Before heaven, " cried Jack, distressed out of his unnaturalstiffness, "you mistake me, Lady Landale! I am only anxious to do whatis best for you, what Adrian would wish. To leave you alone, deserted, helpless at St. Malo, you could not have thought I should mean that?No, indeed, I would have seen you into safe hands, in some comfortablehotel, with a maid to wait upon you--I know of such a place--Adriancould not have been long in coming to fetch you. I should have had aletter ready to post to him the instant we landed. As to money, "flushing boyishly, "that is the least consideration--there is nodearth of that to fear. If you prefer it I can, however, convey yousomewhere upon the English coast after we quit St. Malo; but that willentail a longer residence for you here on board ship; and it is no fitplace for you. "

Still looking out across the sea, Molly replied, in a deep shakenvoice, unlike her own, "You did not think it unfit for my sister. "

"Your sister? But your sister was to have been my wife!"

Burning through the mists of her unshed tears once more her glancereturned to his: "And I--" she cried and here was suddenly silentagain, gazing at the thin circlet of gold upon her left hand, beneaththe flashing diamonds. After a moment then, she broke outfiercely--"Oh do with me what you will, but for God's sake leave me inpeace!" And stamping, turned her shoulder on him to stare straightoutwards as before. 

Captain Jack drew back, paused an instant, clutched his hair with adesperate gesture and slowly walked away. 

 * * * * *

The voyage of the _Peregrine_ was as rapid as her captain had hoped, and the dawn of the fourth day broke upon them from behind the Frenchcoast, where Normandy joins old Armorica. 

For a little while, Lady Landale, awakened from her uneasy sleep bythe unusual stir on deck, lay languidly watching the light as itfiltered through the port-hole of her little cabin, the coloursgrowing out of greyness on the walls; listening to the tramp of feetand the mate's husky voice without. Then her heart tightened with apremonition of the coming separation. She sat up and looked out of herwindow: as the horizon rose and fell giddily to her eye there lay thefatal line of land. The land of her blood but to her now, the land ofexile!

She had seen but little of Captain Jack these last two days;interchanged but few and formal words with him, now and then, as theymet morning and evening or came across each other during the day. Shefelt that he avoided her. But she had seen him, she had heard hisvoice, they had been close to each other upon the great seas, howeverdivided, and this had been something to feed upon. Now what prospectbefore her hungry heart but--starvation?

At least the last precious moments should not be lost to her. She roseand dressed in haste; a difficult operation in her maimed state. Before leaving her narrow quarters, she peered into the looking-glasswith an eagerness she had never displayed in the days of her vaingirlhood. 

"What a fright!" she said to the anxious face that looked back at herwith yearning eyes and dark burning lips. And she thought ofMadeleine's placid fairness as Cain might of Abel's modest altar. 

When she emerged upon deck, a strange and beautiful scene was spreadto her gaze. A golden haze enveloped the water and the coast, but outof it, in brown jagged outline, against the blazing background ofglowing sunlight rose the towers, the pointed roofs and spires of thatold corsair's hive, St. Malo. The waters were bright green, frothedwith oily foam around the ship. The masts cast strange long blackshadows, and Molly saw one spring from her own feet as she moved intothe morning glow. The _Peregrine_, she noticed, was cruising parallelwith the coast, instead of making for the harbour, and just now allwas very still on board. Two men, conspicuous against the yellow sky, stood apart, a little forward, with their backs turned to her. 

One of these was Captain Jack, gazing steadily at the town through atelescope; the other the mate. Both were silent. Silently herself andunnoticed Molly went up and stood beside them; observing her sister'slover as intently as he that unknown distant point, she presently sawthe lean hand nearest her tremble ever so slightly as it held theglass; then he turned and handed it to his companion, saying briefly, "See what you make of it. "

The man lifted the glass, set it, looked, dropped his hand and facedhis captain. Their eyes met, but neither spoke for a second or two. 

"It is so, then?" said the captain at last. 

"Aye, sir, no mistake about that. There's the tricolour up again--andbe damned to it--as large as life, to be sure!"

The healthy tan of the captain's face had not altered by one shade;his mouth was set in its usual firm line, but, by the intuition of herfiery soul, the woman beside him knew that he had received a blow. 

"A strange thing, " went on Curwen in a grumbling guttural bass, "andit's only a year ago since they set up the old white napkin again. Youdid not look for this, sir?" He too had his intuitions. 

"No, Curwen, it is the last thing I looked for. And it spells failureto me--failure once more!"

As he spoke he turned his head slightly and perceiving Molly standingclose behind him glanced up sharply and frowned, then strove to smoothhis brow into conventional serenity and greeted her civilly. 

Curwen, clenching his hard hands together round the telescope, retireda step and stood apart, still hanging on his captain's every gesturelike a faithful dog. 

"What does it mean?" asked Molly, disregarding the morning salutation. 

"It means strange things to France, " responded Captain Jack slowly, with a bitter smile; "and to me, Madam, it means that I have come on awild goose chase----"

He stretched out his hand for the glass once more as hespoke--although even by the naked eye the flag, minute as it was, could be seen to flash red in the breeze--and sought the far-offflutter again; and then closing the instrument with an angry snap, tossed it back. 

"But what does it mean?" reiterated Molly, a wild impatience, a wildhope trembling in her breast. 

"It means, Madam, that I have brought my pigs to the wrong market, "cried Captain Jack, still with the smile that sat so strangely uponhis frank lips; "that the goods I have to deliver, I cannot deliver. For if there is any meaning in symbols, by the wave of that tricolouryonder the country has changed rulers again. My dealings were to bewith the king's men, and as they are not here, at least, no longer inpower--how could they be under that rag?--I must even trot the cargohome again. Not a word to the men, Curwen, but give the order to sheeroff! We have lowered the blue, white and red too often, have not we?to risk a good English ship, unarmed, under the nozzles of thoseRepublican or Imperial guns. "

The man grinned. The two could trust each other. Molly turned away andmoved seawards, for she knew that the joy upon her face was not to behidden. Captain Jack fell to pacing the deck with bent head, and long, slow steps. 

Absorbed in dovetailing the last secret arrangements of his venture, and more intent still, during his very few hours of idleness, on theengrossing thought of love, he had had no knowledge of theextraordinary challenge to fate cast by Bonaparte, of that challengewhich was to end in the last and decisive clash of French and Englishhosts. He had not even heard of the Corsican's return to France withhis handful of grenadiers, for newspapers were scarce at Scarthey. Buteven had he heard, like the rest of the world, he would no doubt havethought no more of it than as a mad freak born of the vanquishedusurper's foolhardy restlessness. 

But the conclave of plenipotentiaries assembled at Vienna were notmore thunderstruck when, on that very 19th of March, the semaphorebrought them news of the legitimate King of France once more fled, andof his country once more abandoned to the hated usurper, than wasCaptain Jack as he watched the distant flagstaff in the sunrise, andsaw, when the morning port gun had vomited forth its white cloud onthe ramparts of St. Malo, the fatal stripes run up the slender line inlieu of the white standard. 

But Jack Smith's mind, like his body, was quick in action. The sun hadtravelled but a degree or two over the wide undulating land, the mistswere yet rising, when suddenly he halted, and called the mate in thosecommanding tones that had, from the first time she had heard them, echoed in Molly's heart:

"Bring her alongside one of those smacks yonder, the furthest out tosea. "

Thereupon followed Curwen's hoarse bellow, an ordered stampede uponthe deck, and gracefully, with no more seeming effort than a swan upona garden pond, the _Peregrine_ veered and glided towards the roughskiff with its single ochre sail and its couple of brown-facedfishermen, who had left their nets to watch her advance. Captain Jackleant over the side, his hands over his mouth, and hailed them in hisBritish-French--correct enough, but stiff to his tongue, as Mollyheard and smiled at, and loved him for, in woman's way, when she lovesat all. 

"Ahoy, the friend! A golden piece for him who will come on board andtell the news of the town. "

A brief consultation between the fisher pair. 

"_Un écu d'or_, " repeated Captain Jack. Then there was a flash ofwhite teeth on the two weather-beaten faces. 

"_On y va, patron_, " cried one of the fellows, cheerfully, and jumpedinto his dinghey, while his comrade still stared and grinned, and thestalwart lads of the _Peregrine_ grinned back at the queer foreignfigure with the brown cap and the big gold earrings. 

Soon the fisherman's bare feet were thudding on the deck, and he stoodbefore the English captain, cap in hand, his little, quick black eyesroaming in all directions, over the wonders of the beautiful whiteship, with innocent curiosity. But before Captain Jack could get histongue round another French phrase, Molly, detaching herself from herpost of observation, came forward, smiling. 

"Let me speak to him, " she said, "he will understand me better, and itwill go quicker. What is it you want to know?"

Captain Jack hesitated a moment, saw the advantage of the suggestion, and then accepted the offer with the queer embarrassment that alwayscame over him in his relations with her. 

"You are very good, " he said. 

"Oh, I like to talk the father and mother tongue, " she said, gaily andsweetly. Her eyes danced; he had never seen her in this mood, and, asbefore, grudgingly had to admit her beauty. 

"And if you will allow it, " she went on, "I am glad to be of use too. "

The fisherman, twirling his cap in his knotted fingers, stared at heropen mouthed. _Une si belle dame!_ like a queen and speaking histongue that it was a music to listen to. This was in truth a ship ofmarvels. _Ah, bon Dieu, oui, Madame_, there were news at St. Malo, butit depended upon one's feelings whether they were to be regarded asgood or bad--_Dame_, every one has one's opinions--but forhim--_pourvu qu'on lui fiche la paix_--what did it matter who sat onthe throne--His Majesty the King--His Majesty the Emperor, or CitizenBonaparte. Oh, a poor fisherman, what was it to him? He occupiedhimself with his little fishes, not with great folk. (Anotherwhite-teethed grin. ) What had happened? _Parbleu_, it began by themilitary, those accursed military (this with a cautious look around, and gathering courage by seeing no signs of disapproval, proceedingwith greater volubility). The poor town was full of them, infantryand artillery; regiments of young devils--and a band of old ones too. The veterans of _celui là_ (spitting on the deck contemptuously) theywere the worst; that went without saying. A week ago there came arumour that he had escaped--was in France--and then the fermentbegan--duels every day--rows in the cafés, fights in the ports. Atnight one would hear shouts in the streets--_Vive l'Empereur!_ and itspread, it spread. _Ma foi_--one regiment mutinied, then another--andthen it was known that the Emperor had reached Paris. Oh, then it waswarm! All those gentlemen, the officers who were for the King, werearrested. Then there was a grand parade on the _place d'armes_--Yes, he went there too, though he did not care much about soldiers. All thegarrison was there. The colonel of the veterans came out with a flagin its case. _Portez armes!_ Good. They pull out the flag from thecase: it's the old tricolour with the eagle on the top! _Presentezarmes!_ And this time it was all over. Ah, one should have seen that, heard the houras, seen the bonfires! _Monsieur le Maire_ and the rest, appointed by the King, they were in a great fright, they had to giveway--what does Madame say? Traitors? Oh, _bédame_ (scratching hishead), it was no joke with the military just now--the whole place wasunder military law and, _saperlotte_, when the strong commands it isbest for the weak to obey. As for him, he was only a poor fisherman. What did he know? he was not a politician: every one to his trade. Solong as they let one have the peace--He thanked the gentleman, thankedhim much; thanked the lady, desired to wish her the good-morning and_Monsieur_ too. Did they like no little fresh soles this morning? Hehad some leaping then below in his boat. No? well the good-morningthen. 

They had heard enough. The fisherman paddled back to his skiff, andMolly stood watching from a little distance the motionless figure ofthe captain of the _Peregrine_ as with one hand clenching thehand-rail he gazed towards St. Malo with troubled eyes. 

After a few minutes Curwen advanced and touched him lightly on thearm. 

Captain Jack turned slowly to look at him: his face was a little paleand his jaw set. But the mate, who had served under him since the dayhe first stepped upon the old _St. Nicholas_, a gallant, fair-facedlad (and who knew "every turn of him, " as he would have expressed ithimself), saw that he had taken his decision; and he stepped backsatisfied, ready to shape his course for the near harbour, or for thePacific Ocean, or back to Scarthey itself at his master's bidding. 

"Call the men up, " said the captain, "they have earned their bountyand they shall have it. Though their skipper is a poorer man than hethought to be, by this fool's work yonder, his good lads shall notsuffer. Tush, man, that's the order--not a word. And after that, Curwen, let her make for the sea again, northwards. "

CHAPTER XXVII

THE LIGHT AGAIN--THE LADY AND THE CARGO

 Does not all the blood within me Leap to meet thee, leap to meet thee, As the spring to meet the sunshine!

 _Hiawatha. _

"Curwen, " said Captain Jack, suddenly--the two stood together at thehelm on the afternoon of the same day, and the _Peregrine_ was oncemore alone, a speck upon the waste of waters, "I have made up my mindto return to Scarthey. "

The mate wagged his bushy eyebrows and shifted his hand on the helm. "Ay, ay, sir, " he said, after just an instant's pause. 

"I would not run you and the men into unnecessary danger, that you maybe sure of; but the fact is, Curwen, I'm in a devil of a fix allround. There's no use hiding it from you. And, all things considered, to land the lady and the cargo at the lighthouse itself, gives me asfair a chance of getting out of it as any plan I can think of. Thecargo's not all my own and it's a valuable one, I daresay you haveguessed as much; and it's not the kind we want revenue men to pryinto. I could not unload elsewhere that I know of, without creatingsuspicion. As to storing it elsewhere, it's out of the question. Scarthey's the place, though it's a damned risky one just now! Butwe've run many a risk together in our day, have we not?"

"Ay, sir; who's afraid?"

"Then there's the lady, " lowering his voice; "she's Lady Landale, myfriend's wife, the wife of the best friend ever man had. Ay, youremember him, I doubt not--the gentleman seaman of the _Porcupine_--Iowe him more than I can ever repay, and he owes me something too. That sort of thing binds men together; and see what I have done tohim--carried off his wife!"

Curwen grunted, enigmatically, and disengaged a hand to scratch hischin. 

"I must have speech with him. I must, it is enough to drive me mad tothink what he may be thinking of me. What I purpose is this: we'lldisguise the ship as far as we can (we have the time), paint her a newstreak and alter those topsails, change the set of the bowsprit andstrike out her name. "

"That's unlucky, " said the mate. 

"Unlucky, is it? Well, she's not been so lucky this run that we needfear to change the luck. Then, Curwen, we'll slip in at night at ahigh tide, watching for our opportunity and a dark sky; we'll unshipthe cargo, and then you shall take command of her and carry her off tothe East Coast and wait there, till I am able to send you word or joinyou. It will only be a few hours danger for the men, after all. "

Still keeping his seaman eye upon the compass, Curwen cleared histhroat with a gruesome noise. Then in tones which seemed to issue withdifficulty from some immense depth:

"Beg pardon, sir, " he said, "that ain't a bargain. "

"How now?" cried his captain, sharply. 

"No, sir, " rolling his head portentously; "that don't run to abargain, that don't. The lads of the _Peregrine_ 'll stick to theirskipper through thick and thin. I'll warrant them, every man Jack ofthem; and if there was one who grumbled, I'd have my knife in himbefore another caught the temper from him--I would, or my name's notCurwen. If ye bid us steer to hell we'll do it for you, sir, andwelcome. But for to go and leave you there--no, sir, it can't bedone. "

Captain Jack gave a little laugh that was as tender as a woman's tear. Curwen rolled his head again and mumbled to himself:

"It can't be done. "

Then Jack Smith clapped his hand on the sailor's shoulder. 

"But it's got to be done!" he cried. "It is the only thing you can doto help me, Curwen. To have our _Peregrine_ out in the daylight onthat coast would be stark madness--no disguise could avail her, andyou can't change your ugly old phiz, can you? As for me, I must have afew days on shore, danger or no danger. Ah, Curwen, " with a sudden, passionate outbreak, "there are times when a man's life is the leastof his thoughts!"

"Couldn't I stop with you, sir?"

"I would not trust the ship to another, and you would double the riskfor me. "

"I could double a blow for you too, " cried the fellow, hoarsely. "Butif it's got to be--it must be. I'll do it, sir. "

"I count on it, " said the captain, briefly. 

As the ring of his retreating steps died away upon his ear the mateshook his head in melancholy fashion:

"Women, " he said, "is very well, I've nought to say against them intheir way. And the sea's very well--as I ought to know. But women andthe sea, it don't agree. They's jealous one of the other and a mangets torn between. "

As Molly sat in her cabin, watching the darkening sky outside withdreaming eyes, she started on seeing Captain Jack approach, andinstead of passing her with cold salute, halt and look in. 

"I would speak a word with you, " he said. 

"On deck, then, " said Molly. She felt somehow as if under the broadheaven they were nearer each other than in that narrow room. The seawas rough, the wind had risen and still blew from the north, it wascold; but her blood ran too fast these days to heed it. 

She drew one of the capes of her cloak over her head and staggering alittle, for the schooner, sailing close to the wind, pitched androlled to some purpose, she made for her usual station at thebulwarks. 

"Well?" she asked. 

He briefly told her his purpose of returning to Scarthey direct. 

Her eye dilated; she grew pale. 

"Is that not dangerous?"

He made a contemptuous gesture. 

"But they must be watching for you on that coast. You have sunk theboat--killed those men. To return there--My God, what folly!"

"I must land my goods, Madam. You forget that I have more contrabandon board than, smuggler as I am, even I bargained for. "

"If it is for me?--I would rather fling myself into the waves thisinstant than that you should expose yourself to danger. "

"Then I should fling myself after you, and that would be moredangerous still. "

He smiled a little mockingly upon her as he spoke; but the wordscalled a transient fire into her face. 

"You would risk your life to save me?" she cried. 

"To save Adrian's wife, Madam. "

"_Bah!_"

He would have gone then, but she held him with her free hand. She wasagain white to the lips. But her eyes--how they burned!

He would have given all his worth to avoid what he felt was coming. Awoman, at such a juncture may forbid speech, or deny her ear: a man, unless he would seem the first of Josephs or the last of coxcombs, dare not even hint at his unwelcome suspicions. 

"I will not have you go into this danger, I will not!" stammered Mollyincoherently. The dusk was spreading, and her eyes seemed to growlarger and larger in the uncertain light. 

"Lady Landale, you misunderstand. It is true that to see you safelyrestored to your husband's roof is an added reason for my return toScarthey--but were you not on board, I should go all the same. I willtell you why, it is a secret, but you shall know it. I have treasureson board, vast treasures confided to me, and I must store them insafety till I can give them back to their rightful owners. This I canonly do at Scarthey--for to cruise about with such a cargoindefinitely is as impossible as to land it elsewhere. And more thanthis, had I not that second reason, I have yet a third that urges meto Scarthey still. "

"For Madeleine?" she whispered, and her teeth gleamed between herlips. 

He remained silent and tried gently to disengage himself from herslender fingers, but the feeling of their frailness, the knowledge ofher wound, made her feeble grasp as an iron vice to his manliness. 

She came closer to him. 

"Do you not remember then--what she has said to you? what she wrote toyou in cold blood--the coward--in the very moment when you werestaking your life for love of her? I remember, if you do not--'Youhave deceived me, ' she wrote, and her hand never trembled, for thewords ran as neatly and primly as ever they did in her convent copybooks. 'You are not what you represented yourself to be--You havetaken advantage of the inexperience of an ignorant girl, I have beendeluded and deceived. I never wish to see you, to hear of you again. '"

"For Heaven's sake, Lady Landale----" cried the man fiercely. 

Molly laughed--one of those laughs that have the ring of madness inthem. 

"Do I not remember? Ah, that is not all! She knows you now for whatyou are, knows what your 'mission' is--but you must not believe shewrites in anger. No, she----"

Captain Jack's patience could bear no further strain. 

"Be silent, " he commanded fiercely, and wrenched his arm away to faceher with menacing eyes. 

"Ah, does it rouse so much anger in you even to hear repeated what shedid not hesitate to write, did not hesitate to allow me to read? Andyet you love her? If you had seen her, if you knew her as I do! I tellyou she means it; when she wrote that she was not angry; it was thetruth--she did it in cold blood. She loved you, you think, and yet shebelieved you a liar; she loved you, and she thinks you a traitor toall she holds dear. She believes that of _you_, and you . . . You loveher still!"

"Lady Landale!"

"Listen--she could never love you, as you should be loved. She was notborn your kin. Between you and her there is nothing--nothing but yourown fancy. Do not risk your life again for her--your life!"

She stopped, drew her breath with a long gasp, the spray from aturbulent wave came dashing across the bows into her face, and as oncethe blood of Cécile de Savenaye had been roused by the call of thewild waters to leave safety and children and seek her doom, so now theblood she had transmitted to her child, leaped to the same impulseand bore her onwards with irresistible force. 

"When, " she pursued, "in the darkness you took me in your arms andkissed me; what did the touch of my lips bring to you? My lips, notMadeleine's. . . . Were you not happy then? Oh, you were, do not deny it, I felt, I knew our souls met! My soul and yours, not yours andMadeleine's. And I knew then that we were made for each other. The seaand the wide free life upon it: it draws me as it draws you; it wasthat drew me to you before I had ever seen you. Listen, listen. Do notgo to Scarthey--you have your beautiful ship, your faithfulcrew--there are rich and wonderful worlds, warm seas that beckon. Youcan have life, money, adventure--and love, love if you will. Take it, take me with you! What should I care if you were an adventurer, asmuggler, a traitor? What does anything matter if we are onlytogether? Let us go, we have but one life, let us go!"

Bereft of the power of movement he stood before her, and the sweatthat had gathered upon his brow ran down his face. But, as the meaningof her proposition was borne in upon him, a shudder of fury shook himfrom head to foot. No man should have offered dishonour to Jack Smithand not have been struck the next instant at his feet. But a woman--awoman, and Adrian's wife!

"Lady Landale, " he said, after a silence during which the beating ofher heart turned her sick and cold, and all her fever heat fell fromher, leaving nothing but the knowledge of her shame, her misery, herhopeless love. "Lady Landale, let me bring you back to your cabin--itis late. "

She went with him as one half-conscious. At the door she paused. Thelight from within fell upon his face, deeply troubled and white, butupon the lips and brows, what scorn! He was a god among men. . . . Howshe loved him, and he scorned her! Poor Murthering Moll!

She looked up. 

"Have you no word for me?" she cried passionately. 

"Only this, Lady Landale: I will forget. "

 * * * * *

Back towards the distant northern light the schooner clove hervaliant way in spite of adverse winds and high seas. 

The return journey was slower than the outward, and since the secondday of it the lady kept much to her cabin, while the captain wouldpace the deck till far into the night, with unwonted uneasiness. Tohim the white wings of his _Peregrine_ were bearing him all too slowlyfor endurance, while to the stormy woman's heart that beat through thenight watches in passionate echo to his restless tread, every instantthat passed but brought nearer the prospect of a future so intolerablethat she could not bring herself to face it. 

A gloom seemed to have come over the tight little craft, and to havespread even to the crew, who missed the ring of their captain's jollylaugh and the sound of his song. 

When, within a day's sail of the goal, the planned disguise wasfinally carried out upon the schooner's fair sides and rigging, herbeautiful stretch of sail curtailed, and her name (final disgrace), superseded by the unmeaning title of _The Pretty Jane_, open murmursbroke out which it required all Curwen's severity--and if the oldmartinet did not execute the summary justice he had threatened he wasquite equal to the occasion nevertheless--and all Jack's personalinfluence to quell. 

The dawn of the next day crept gloomily upon a world of rain; withlong faces the men paddled about the deck, doing their duty insilence; Curwen's old countenance, set into grimmer lines than ever, looked as if it had just been detached from the prow of some vesselafter hard experience of stress and storm. The spirits of the captainalone seemed to rise in proportion as they drew nearer land. 

"The moon sets at half-past eleven, " he said to Curwen, "but we neednot fear her to-night. By half-past twelve I reckon on your havingthose twenty-five damned casks safe in the cave you took them from; itis a matter of three journeys. And then the nose of the _Pretty Jane_must be pointed for the Orkneys. All's going well. "

 * * * * *

Night had fallen. "The gaudy bubbling and remorseful day" had "creptinto the bosom of the sea. " From the cross-trees the look-out man hadalready been able to distinguish through the glass the faint distantglimmer of Scarthey beacon, when Captain Jack knocked for admittanceat Lady Landale's cabin for the last time, as he thought, with a sighof relief. 

"In the course of an hour, Madam, " he said in a grave tone, "I hope torestore you to land. As for me, I shall have again to hide in thepeel, though I hope it will not be for long. My fate--and by my fate Imean not only my safety, but my honour, which, as you know, is nowbound up in the safety of the treasures--will be in your hands. For Imust wait at Scarthey till I can see Adrian again, and upon yourreturn to Pulwick I must beg you to be the bearer of a message to askhim to come and see me. "

She replied in a voice that trembled a little:

"I will not fail you. "

But her great eyes, dark circled, fixed upon him with a meek, sorrowful look, spoke dumbly the troublous tale of her mind. In hersubdued mood the likeness to Madeleine was more obtrusive than it hadever yet been. He contemplated her with melancholy, and drew a heavysigh. 

Molly groaned in the depths of her soul, though her lips tight setbetrayed no sound. Oh, miserable chaos of the human world, that suchpent up love should be wasted--wasted; that they, too, young andstrong and beautiful, alone together, so near, with such glorioushappiness within their reach, should yet be so perversely far asunder!

There was a long silence. They looked into each other's eyes; but hewas unseeing; his mind was far away, dwelling upon the memory of thatlast meeting with his love under the fir trees of Pulwick only tendays ago, but now as irrevocably far as things seem that may neveragain be. At length, she made a movement which brought him back topresent reality--a movement of her wounded arm as if of pain. And hecame back to Lady Landale, worn with the fatigue of these long days inthe cramped discomfort of a schooner cabin, thinned by pain andfevered thinkings, shorn of all that daintiness of appearance whichcan only be maintained in the midst of luxury, and yet, by the lightof the flickering lamp, more triumphantly beautiful than ever. 

His thoughts leaped to his friend with a pang of remorse. 

"You are suffering--you are ill, " he said. "Thus do I bring you backto him who last saw you so full of strength. . . . But you will recoverat Pulwick. "

"Suffering, ill! Ah, my God!" As if suffocating, she pressed her handupon her heart, and bowed her head till it rested on the table. Andthen he heard her murmur in a weary voice:

"Recover at Pulwick! My God, my God! The air at Pulwick will stifleme, I think. "

He waited a moment in silence and saw that she was weeping. Then hewent out and closed the door behind him with gentle hand. 

Nearly all the lights of the ship were now extinguished, and in agloom as great as that in which they had started upon theirunsuccessful venture, the _Peregrine_ and her crew returned to thelittle island which had already been so fateful to them. 

Captain Jack had taken the helm himself, and Curwen stood upon hisright hand waiting patiently for his commands. For an hour or so theyhung off the shore. The rain fell close and fine around them; it wasas if sea and sky were merging by slow imperceptible degrees into one. The beacon light looming, halo encircled, through the mist, seemed, like a monster eye, to watch with unmoved contempt the restlessness ofthese pigmies in the grand solitude of the night. 

Who shall say with what conflict of soul Molly, in her narrowseclusion, saw the light of Scarthey grow out of the dimness till itsrays fell across the darkened cabin and glimmered on her wedding ring?

At last the captain drew his watch, and by the faint rays upon thebinnacle saw the hour had come. 

"Boat loaded, Curwen?" he asked in a low voice. 

"This hour, sir. "

"Ready to cast?"

"Right, sir. "

"Now, Curwen. "

Low, from man to man, the order ran through the ship, and the anchorwas dropped, almost within a musket shot of the peel. It was hightide, but no hand but Captain Jack's would have dared risk the vesselso close. She swung round, ready to slip at a moment's notice. 

He left the helm; and in the wet darkness cannoned against the burlyfigure of his mate. 

"You, Curwen? Remember we have not a moment to lose. Remain here--assoon as the men are back from the last run, sheer off. "

He grasped the horny hand. 

Curwen made an inarticulate noise in his big throat, but the grip ofhis fingers upon his master's was of eloquence sufficient. 

"Let some one call the lady. "

A couple of men ran forward with dark lanterns. The rest gatheredround. 

"Now, my lads, brisk and silent is the word. "

The cabin door opened, and Molly came forth, the darkness hid thepallor of her face, but it could not hide the faltering of her steps. Captain Jack sprang forward and gave her his arm, and she leant uponit without speaking, heavily. For one moment she stopped as if shecould not tear her feet from the beloved planks, but Curwen caught herby the other arm; and then she was on the swinging ladder. And so sheleft the _Peregrine_. 

 * * * * *

The gig was almost filled with barrels; there was only room for thefour oarsmen selected, besides the captain and herself. The boatshoved off. She looked back and saw, as once before, the great wall ofthe ship's side rise sheer above the sea, saw the triangle of lightagain slide down to lie a span above the water-line. With what aleaping heart she had set forth, that black night, away from thehateful lighthouse beam to that glimmer of promise and mystery! Andnow! She felt herself grow sick at the thought of that home-coming; atthe vision of the close warm rooms, of her husband's melancholy eyes. Yet, as she sat, the sleeve of the captain's rough sailor coat touchedher shoulder, and she remembered she was still with him. It was notall death yet. 

In less than three minutes they touched ground. He jumped into thewater, and stretched out his arms for Molly. She rose giddily, and hisembrace folded her round. The waves rolled in with surge and thud anddashed their spray upon them; and still the rain fell and beat uponher head, from which she had impatiently pushed her hood. But herspirit had no heed for things of the body this night. 

Oh, if the sea would open sudden deeps before them! if even thequicksand would seize them in its murderous jaws, what ecstasy thehideous lingering death might hold for her, so that only she lay, thus, in his arms to the end!

It was over now; his arms had clasped her for the last time. She stoodalone upon the dry sand, and her heart was in hell. 

He was speaking; asking her pardon for not going at once with her tosee her into the keep, but he dared not leave the beach till his cargowas landed, and he must show the men the way to the caves. Would sheforgive him, would she go with him?

Forgive him! Go with him! She almost laughed aloud. A few poor momentsmore beside him; they would be as the drops of water to the burningtongue of Dives. 

Yes, she would go with him. 

One by one the precious caskets were carried between a couple of men, who stumbled in the darkness, close on their captain's heels. And thelady walked beside him and stood beside him without a word, in thefalling rain. The boat went backwards and forwards twice; before thehour had run out, the luckless cargo was all once more landed, and thecaptain heard with infinite relief the last oar-strokes dwindling awayin the distance, and saw the lights suddenly disappear. 

"You have been very patient, " he said to Molly then, with a gentlenote in his voice. 

But she did not answer. Are the souls of the damned patient?

 * * * * *

"My Lady and Mr. The Captain! My God--my God! so wet--so tired!Enter--enter in the name of heaven. It is good, in verity, to have MyLady back, but, Mr. The Captain, is it well for _him_ to be here? AndMadam is ill? She goes pale and red by turns. Madam has the fever forsure! And her arm is hurt, and she is as wet as the first time shecame here. Ah, Lord God, what are we coming to? Fire we must have. Ishall send the wife. "

"Ay, do so, man, " cried Captain Jack, looking with concern at LadyLandale, who in truth seemed scarcely able to stand, and whosefluctuating colour and cracked fevered lips gave painful corroborationto René's surmise, "your mistress must be instantly attended to. "

But Molly arrested the servant as he would have hurried past upon hiserrand. 

"Your master?" she said in a dry whisper, "is he at Pulwick?"

"His honour! My faith, I must be but half-awake yet. Imbecile that Iam, his honour--where is he? Is he not with you? No, indeed, he is notat Pulwick, My Lady; he has gone to St. Malo to seek you. Nothingwould serve him but that he must go. And so he did not reach in timeto meet you? Ah, the poor master--what anxiety for him!"

Captain Jack glanced in dismay at his friend's wife, met her suddenlyillumined gaze and turned abruptly on his heel, with a grinding noise. 

"See to your mistress, " he said harshly, "I hear your women folk areroused overhead; hurry them, and when Lady Landale no longer requiresyou, I must speak with you on an urgent business of my own. You willfind me in my old room. "

"Go with the captain at once, René, since he wants you, " interposedMolly quickly, "here comes Moggie. She will take care of me. Leave me, leave me. I feel strong again. Good-night, Captain Smith, I shall seeyou to-morrow?"

There was a wistful query in her voice and look. 

Captain Smith bowed distantly and coldly, and hastened from the room, accompanied by René, while open-mouthed and blinking, rosy, blowsy, and amazed, Mrs. Potter made her entry on the scene and stared at hermistress with the roundest of blue eyes. 

 * * * * *

"My good Renny, " said the captain, "I have no time to lose. I have ahard hour's work to do, before I can even think of talking. I wantyour help. Your light will burn all safe for the time, will it not?Hark ye, man, you have been so faithful a fellow to my one friend thatI am going to trust to you matters which concern my own honour and myown life. Ask no question, but do what I tell you, if you would helpone who has helped your master long ago; one whom your master wouldwish you to help. "

Thus adjured, René repressed his growing astonishment at theincomprehensible development of events. And having, under direction, provided the sailor with a lantern, and himself with a wide tarpaulinand sundry carpenter's tools, he followed his leader readily enoughthrough the ruinous passages, half choked up with sand, which led fromthe interior of the ruins to one of the sea caves. 

Before reaching the open-mouthed rocky chamber, the captain obscuredthe light, and René promptly barked his shins against a barrel. 

"_Sacrebleu_, " he cried, feeling with quick hands the nature of theobstruction, "more kegs?"

"The same, my friend! Now hang that tarpaulin against the mouth of thecave and be sure it is close; then we may again have some light uponthe matter. What we must do will not bear interference, and movingglimmers on a dark night have told tales before this. "

As soon as the beach entrance was made secure, the captain uncoveredhis lantern; and as the double row of kegs stood revealed, his eyesrapidly scanned their number. Yes, they were all there: five andtwenty. 

"Now, to work, man! We have to crack every one of these nuts, and takethe kernels out. "

Even as he spoke, he turned the nearest cask on end, with a blow ofchisel and mallet stove in the head and began dragging out quantitiesof loose tow. In the centre of the barrel, secured in position on to astout middle batten, was a bag of sailcloth closely bound with cord. This he lifted with an effort, for it was over a hundred-weight, andflung upon the sand in a corner. 

"That's the kernel you see, " he said to René, who had watched theoperation with keen interest. "And when we have shelled them all Iwill show you where to put them in safety. Now carry on--the quickerthe better. The sooner we have it all upstairs, the freer I shallbreathe. "

Without another word, entering into the spirit of haste which seemedto fill his companion, and nobly controlling his seething curiosity, René set to work on his side, with his usual dexterousness. 

Half an hour of speechless destructive labour completed the first partof the task. Then the two men carried the weighty bags into the roomwhich had been Captain Jack's in the keep. And when they had travelledto and fro a dozen times with each heavy load, and the whole treasurewas at length accumulated upstairs, René, with fresh surprise andadmiration, saw the captain lift the hearthstone and disclose a recessin the heavy masonry--presumably a flue, in the living days ofScarthey peel--which, although much blocked with stony rubbish, hadbeen evidently improved by the last lodger during his period ofsolitary residence into a convenient and very secure hiding-place. 

Here was the precious pyramid now heaped up; the stone was returned toits place, and the two stood in front of each other mopping theirfaces. 

"Thank goodness, it is done, " said Jack Smith. "And thank you too, Renny. To-morrow, break up these casks and add the staves to yourfirewood stack; then nobody but you, in this part of the world, needbe any the wiser about our night's work. --A smart piece of running, eh?--Phew, I am tired! Bring me some food, and some brandy, like agood fellow. Then you can back to your pillow and flatter yourselfthat you have helped Jack Smith out of a famous quandary. "

René grinned and rushed to execute the order. He had less desire forhis pillow than for the gratification of his hyper-excited curiosity. 

But although pressed to quaff one cup of good fellowship and yetanother, he was not destined to get his information, that night, fromthe captain, who had much ado to strangle his yawns sufficiently toswallow a mouthful or two of food. 

"No one must know, Renny, " was all he said, at last, between twogapes, kicking the hearthstone significantly, and stretching his arms, "not even the wife. " Then he flung himself all dressed upon his bed. 

"And my faith, " said René, when he sought his wife a moment later, "hewas fast asleep before I had closed the door. "

CHAPTER XXVIII

THE END OF THE THREAD

Madeleine had appeared greatly distressed at the thought that, throughher, her sister was now in so doubtful and precarious a situation. Itwas part of her punishment, she told herself for her sins of deceitand unmaidenliness in encouraging and meeting a clandestine lover. 

She had gone through some very bitter hours since her tryst at theruins. The process of cutting off a malignant growth that has becomepart of oneself is none the less painful because the conviction isclear that it is for one's health to do so, and the will is firm notto falter. Not the less is the flesh mangled, do nerves throb, andveins bleed. But Madeleine was determined that nobody should evenguess her sufferings. 

Rupert had counted upon Sophia's old habit of obedience to him, andupon her superstitious terrors not to betray to the young girl thepart he had played in the unmasking of her lover; but he had anunexpected, and even more powerful ally in Madeleine's own pride. WhenMiss Sophia had tremblingly endeavoured to falter out a few words ofsympathy and sorrow, upon the distressing subject, Madeleine quicklyinterrupted her. 

"Never speak even his name again, Sophia; all that is finished forme. "

There was such a cold finality in her voice, that the poor confidant'sexpansiveness withered up within her beyond even the hope ofblossoming again. 

When Rupert heard of Captain Jack's latest doings, and especially ofhis sister-in-law's disappearance, he thought that the fates werepropitious indeed. In his wildest schemes he could not have plannedanything that would have suited his game more perfectly. 

Though he thought it incumbent upon him to pull a face of desperatelength whenever the subject was touched, in his innermost soul he hadhardly ever enjoyed so delightful a joke as this dénouement to hisbrother's marriage and to his cousin's engagement. And, strange tosay, though he would most gravely protest against any interpretationof his kinswoman's disappearance save the one which must most redoundto her credit, the story, started by the gossips in the village uponthe return of the revenue men, that Lady Landale had bolted with thehandsome smuggler, grew and spread apace all over the county, moreespecially from such houses as Rupert was wont to visit. 

That all his hints and innuendoes should fail, apparently, to makeMadeleine put upon the case the interpretation he would have liked, was at once a matter of secret sneering and of admiration to hiscuriously complicated mind. 

The days went by, to all appearance placidly enough, for the trio atPulwick. Madeleine shunned none of the usages of life in common, worked and talked with Sophia of a morning, rode or walked out withRupert of an afternoon; and passed the evening at her embroidery framemeeting his efforts to entertain her as amiably as before. 

Rupert thought he knew enough of the human heart, and more especiallythe feminine, to draw satisfactory conclusions from this behaviour. For a girl to bear no malice to the man who had taken it upon himselfto demonstrate to her the unworthiness of her lover, argued, to hismind, that her affections could not have been very deeply engaged inthat quarter. It was clear that she felt gratitude for a timelyrescue. Nay, might he not go further, and lay the flattering unctionto his soul that she would not be unwilling to transfer these sameblighted feelings to a more suitable recipient?

A slight incident which took place a few nights later, tended stillmore to increase the kindness of Madeleine's manner to him upon thenext day; but this was for a reason that he little suspected. 

It had been an anniversary with Sophia--none less indeed than that ofthe lamented Rector's demise. When her young cousin had retired to herroom, the desire to pursue her thither with a packet of old letters, and other treasures exhumed from the depths of her cupboards, hadproved too strong for a soul burning for congenial sympathy; andSophia had spent a couple of very delightful hours pouring forthreminiscences and lamentations into the bosom of one who, as she said, she knew could understand her. 

Madeleine a little wearied, stifling a sigh or a yawn as the minutesticked by, was too gentle, too kind-hearted to repel the faithful, ifloquacious mourner; so she had sat and listened, which was all thatSophia required. 

Upon the stroke of twelve, Miss Landale rose at length, collected herrelics, and mopping her swollen eyes, embraced her cousin, and badeher good-night with much effusion, while with cordial alacrity thelatter conducted her to the door. 

But here Sophia paused. Holding the flat silver candlestick with onehand, with the other clasping to her bosom her bundle of superannuatedlove letters, she glanced out into the long black chasm of corridorwith a shudder, and vowed she had not the courage to traverse it aloneat such an hour. She cast as she spoke such a meaning glance atMadeleine's great bed, that, trembling lest her next words should be aproposal to share it for the night, the young girl hurriedlyvolunteered to re-conduct her to her own apartment. 

Half way down the passage they had to pass the door of the picturegallery, which was ajar, disclosing light within. At the sight ofRupert standing with his back to them, looking fixedly at the pictureupon the opposite wall, Sophia promptly thought better of the screamshe was preparing, and seized her cousin by the arm. 

"Come away, come away, " she whispered, "he will be much displeased ifhe sees us. "

Madeleine allowed herself to be pulled onward, but remembering Molly'sprevious encounter upon the same spot, was curious enough to demand anexplanation of Rupert's nocturnal rambles when they had reached thehaven of Sophia's bedroom. It was very simple, but it struck her asexceedingly pathetic and confirmed her in her opinion of theunreasonableness of her sister's dislike to Rupert. 

He was gazing at his dead wife's picture. He could not bear, Sophiasaid, for any one to find him there; could not bear the smallestallusion to his grief, but at night, as she had herself discoveredquite by accident, he would often spend long spells as they had justseen him. 

There was something in Madeleine's own nature, a susceptible proudreserve which made this trait in her cousin's character thoroughlycongenial; moreover, what woman is not drawn with pity towards the manwho can so mourn a woman. 

She met him therefore, the next day, with a softness, almost atenderness, of look and smile which roused his highest hopes. And whenhe proposed, after breakfast, that they should profit by the mildweather to stroll in the garden while Sophia was busy in the house, she willingly consented. 

Up the gravel paths, between the gooseberry bushes, to the violet bedsthey went. It was one of those balmy days that come sometimes in earlyspring and encourage all sorts of false hopes in the hearts of men andvegetables. "A growing day, " the farmers call them; indeed, at suchtimes you may almost hear the swelling and the bursting of the buds, the rising of the sap, the throbbing and pushing of the young greenlife all around. 

Madeleine grew hot with the weight of her fur tippet, the pale faceunder the plumy hat took an unusual pink bloom; her eyes shone with amoist radiance. Rupert, glancing up at her, as, bent upon one knee, hesought for stray violets amid the thick green leaves, thought it wasthus a maiden looked who waited to be won; and though all of true lovethat he could ever give to woman lay buried with his little bride, hefelt his pulses quicken with a certain æsthetic pleasure in thesituation. Presently he rose, and, after arranging his bunch of purplesweetness into dainty form, offered it silently to his companion. 

She took it, smiling, and carried it mechanically to her face. 

Oh, the scent of the violets! Upon the most delicate yet mightypinions she was carried back, despite all her proud resolves to thatgolden hour, only five days ago, when she lay upon her lover's broadbreast, and heard the beating of his heart beneath her ear. 

Again she felt his arm around her, so strong, yet so gentle; saw hishandsome face bent towards her, closer--ever closer--felt again thetide of joy that coursed through her veins in the expectation of hiskiss. 

No, no, she must not--she would not yield to this degrading folly. Ifit were not yet dead, then she must kill it. 

She had first grown pale, but the next moment a deep crimson floodedher face. She turned her head away, and Rupert saw her tremble as shedropped the hand that held the flowers close clenched by her side. Heformed his own opinion of what was passing within her, and it madeeven his cold blood course hotly in his veins. 

"Madeleine, " he said, with low rapid utterance; "I am not mistaken, Itrust, in thinking you look on me as a good friend?"

"Indeed, yes;" answered the girl, with an effort, turning hertremulous face towards him; "a good friend indeed. "

Had he not been so five days ago? Aye, most truly, and she would haveit so, in spite of the hungry voice within her which had awaked andcried out against the knowledge that had brought such misery. 

He saw her set her little teeth and toss her head, and knew she wasthinking of the adventurer who had dared aspire to her. And he gainedwarmer courage still. 

"Nothing more than a friend, sweet?"

"A kind cousin; almost a brother. "

"No, no; not a brother, Madeleine. Nay, hear me, " taking her hands andlooking into her uncomprehending eyes, "I would not be a brother, butsomething closer, dearer. We are both alone in the world, more orless. Whom have you but a mad-cap sister, a poor dreamer of abrother-in-law, an octogenarian aunt, to look to? I have no one, noone to whom my coming or my going, my living or my dying makes onepulse beat of difference--except poor Sophia. Let us join ourloneliness and make of it a beautiful and happy home. Madeleine, Ihave learned to love you deeply!"

His eyes glowed between their narrowing eyelids, his voice rangchanges upon chords of most exquisite tenderness; his whole manner wascharged with a courtly reverence mingled with the subtlest hint ofpassion. Rupert as a lover had not a flaw in him. 

Yet fear, suspicion, disgust chased each other in Madeleine's mind inquick succession. What did he mean? How could it be that he loved her?Oh! if _this_ had been his purpose, what motive was prompting himwhen he divided her from her deceiving lover? Was no one true then?Was this the inconsolable widower whose grief she had been sosympathetically considering all the morning; for whose disinterestedanxiety and solicitude on her behalf her sore heart had forced itselfto render gratitude? Oh! how terrible it all was . . . What a hatefulworld!

"Well, Madeleine?" he pressed forward and slid his arm around her. 

All her powers of thought and action restored by the deed, shedisengaged herself with a movement of unconscious repulsion. 

"Cousin Rupert, I am sure you mean kindly by me, but it is quiteimpossible--I shall never marry. "

He drew back, as nonplussed as if she had struck him in the face. 

"Pshaw, my dear Madeleine. "

"Please, Cousin Rupert, no more. "

"My dear girl, I have been precipitate. "

"Nothing can make any difference. That I could never marry you, somuch you must believe; that I shall never marry at all you are free tobelieve or not, as you please. I am sorry you should have spoken. "

"Still hankering after that beggarly scoundrel?" muttered Rupert, asneer uncovering his teeth betrayed hideously the ungenerous soulwithin. He was too deeply mortified, too shaken by this uttershattering of his last ambitions to be able to grasp his usualself-control. 

Madeleine gave him one proud glance, turned abruptly away, and walkedinto the house. 

She went steadily up to her room, and, once there, without hesitationproceeded to unlock a drawer in her writing-table and draw from it alittle ribbon-tied parcel of letters--Jack's letters. 

Her heart had failed her, womanlike, before the little sacrifice whenshe had unshrinkingly accomplished the larger one. Now, however, withdetermined hand, she threw the letters into the reddest cavern of herwood-fire and with hard dry eyes watched them burn. When the lastscrap had writhed and fluttered and flamed into grey ash, she turnedto her altar, and, extending her arm, called out aloud:

"I have done with it all for ever----"

And the next instant flinging herself upon her bed, she drew her brownringlets before her face, and under this veil wept for her brokenyouth and her broken heart, and the hard cold life before her. 

 * * * * *

There is a kind of love a man can give to woman but once in hislifetime: the love of the man in the first flush of manhood for thewoman he has chosen to be his mate, untransferable and never to beforgotten: love of passion so exquisite, of devotion so pure, born ofthe youth of the heart and belonging to an existence and personalitylost for ever. A man may wed again, and (some say) love again, butbetween the boards of the coffin of his first wife--if he has lovedher--lie secrets of tenderness, and sweetness, and delight, which, like the spring flowers, may not visit the later year. 

But, notwithstanding this, a second wooing may have a charm and aninterest of its own, even the wooing which is to precede a marriage ofconvenience. 

So Rupert found. The thought of an alliance with Madeleine de Savenayewas not only engrossing from the sense of its own intrinsicadvantages, but had become the actual foundation-stone of all his newschemes of ambition. 

Nay, more: such admiration and desire as he could still feel forwoman, he had gradually come to centre upon his fair and gracefulcousin, who added to her personal attractions the other indispensableattributes, blood, breeding and fortune. Mr. Landale was asessentially refined and fastidious in his judgment as he wasunmeasured in his ambition. 

His error of precipitancy had been pardonable enough; and mereself-reproach for an ill-considered manoeuvre would not havesufficed to plunge him into such a depth of bitter and angrydespondency as that in which he now found himself. But the rebuff hadbeen too uncompromising to leave him a single hope. He was too shrewdnot to see that here was no pretty feminine nay, precursor of theyielding yea, not to realise that Madeleine had meant what she saidand would abide by it. And, under the sting of the moment betrayedinto a degradingly ill-mannered outburst, he had shown that hemeasured the full bearings of the position. 

So, the wind still sat in that quarter!

Failing the mysterious smuggler, it was to be nobody with the Savenayeheiress--and least of all Rupert Landale. 

And this, though the scoundrel had been thoroughly shown up; though hehad started upon his illegal venture and was gone, never to return ifhe valued his neck, after murdering four officers of the crown andsinking a king's vessel; though he had carried away with him (ah!there was consolation in that excellent jest which had so fardeveloped into Sir Adrian's wild goose chase to France and might stillhold some delicate dénouement), had carried with him no less a personthan Lady Landale herself (the fellow had good taste, and either ofthe sisters was a dainty morsel), he still left the baneful trail ofhis influence behind him upon the girl he had deluded and beguiled!

Rupert Landale, who, for motives of his own had pleased himself byhunting down Madeleine's lover, had felt, in the keenness of hisblood-hound work, something of the blood-hound instinct of destructionand ferocity spring up within him before he had even set eyes on hisquarry. And the day they had stood face to face this instinctivehatred had been intensified by some singular natural antagonism. Addedto this there was now personal injury and the prey was out of reach. Impotence for revenge burned into the soul of him like a corrosivepoison. Oh, let him but come within his grip again and he should notescape so easily. 

Sits the wind still in that quarter?

The burthen droned in his head, angry conclusion to each long spell ofinconclusive thought, as he still paced the garden, till the noon hourbegan to wane. And it was in this mood, that, at length, returning tohis study, he crossed in one of the back passages a young womanenveloped in a brilliant scarlet and black shawl, who started inevident dismay on being confronted with him. 

Rupert knew by sight and name every wench of kitchen and laundry, aswell as every one of the buxom lasses or dames whom business broughtperiodically to the great hall. That this person was neither of thehousehold nor one of the usual back-door visitors, he would have seenat a glance, even had not her own embarrassment drawn his closerattention. He looked keenly and recognised the gatekeeper's daughterMoggie. 

Having married Sir Adrian's servant and withdrawn to take up her abodein the camp of the enemy, so to speak, she was not one whom Mr. Landale would have regarded with favour in any case; but now, concentrating his thoughts from their aimless whirl of dissatisfactionupon the present encounter, he was struck by the woman's manner. 

Yes, she was most undoubtedly frightened. He examined her with amalevolent eye which still discountenanced her. And, though he made noinquiry, she forthwith stammered out: "I--I came, sir, to see if therebe news of her Ladyship . . . Or of Sir Adrian, sir--Renny can't leavethe island, you know, and he be downright anxious. "

"Well, my good woman, calm yourself. Nothing wrong; nothing to hide inthis very laudable anxiety of you and your good man! No, we have nonews yet--that is quickly told, Mrs. Potter. "

He kept her for a moment quailing and scared under his cruel gaze, then went on his way, working upon the new problems she had broughthim to solve. No matter was too small for Rupert's mind, he knew howinextricably the most minute and apparently insignificant may beconnected with the most important events of life. 

The woman was singularly anxious to explain, reflected he, pausing athis chamber door, singularly ready with her explanation--too ready. She must have lied. No doubt she lied. Liar was written upon everyline of the terrified face of her. What was that infernal littleFrench husband of hers hatching now? He had been in the Smith plot, ofcourse. Ah, curse that smuggling fellow: he cropped up still on everyside! Pray the fates he would crop up once too often for his ownsafety yet; who knew!

Meanwhile Mrs. Potter, the innocent news-gatherer, must not be allowedto roam unwatched at her own sweet will about the place. Hark! whatclumping, creaking, steps! These could only be produced by René'sfairy-footed spouse: the house servants had been too well drilled byhis irritable ear to venture in such shoe leather within its range. He closed his door, and gently walked back along the corridor. 

As he passed Molly's apartment, he could hear the creaking of awardrobe door; and, a startling surmise springing into his brain, hequietly slipped into an opposite room and waited, leaving the doorslightly ajar. 

As he expected, a few minutes later, Moggie re-appeared loaded with abulky parcel, glancing anxiously right and left. She tiptoed by him;but, after a few steps, suddenly turning her head once more, met hiseyes grimly fixed upon her through the narrow aperture. With a faintsqueal she paddled off as though a fiend were at her heels. 

"Something more than anxiety for news there, Mrs. Potter, " said Mr. Landale, apostrophising the retreating figure with a malignant, inwardlaugh! Then, when the last echo of her stout boots had faded away, heentered his sister-in-law's room, looked around and meditatively beganto open various presses and drawers. "You visited this one at anyrate, my girl, " thought he, as he recognised the special sound of thehinges. "And, for a lady's maid, you have left it in singulardisorder. As for this, " pulling open a linen drawer half-emptied, andshowing dainty feminine apparel, beribboned and belaced, in the mostutter disorder--"why, fie on you, Mrs. Potter! Is this the way totreat these pretty things?"

He had seen enough. He paused a moment in the middle of the room withhis nails to his lips, smiling to himself. 

"Ah, Mrs. Potter, I fancy you might have given us a little news, yourself! Most unkind of my Lady Landale to prefer to keep us in thisunnatural anxiety--most unkind indeed! She must have singularly goodreasons for so doing. . . . Captain Smith, my friend, Mr. Cochrane, orwhatever may be your name, we have an account to settle. And there isthat fool of an Adrian scurrying over the seas in search of hisrunaway wife! By George! my hand is not played out yet!"

Slowly he repaired to his study. There he sat down and wrote, withoutany further reflection, an urgent letter to the chief officer of thenewly established Preventive Service Station. Then he rang the bell. 

"One of the grooms will ride at once to Lancaster with this, " he saidto the servant, looking at the missive in his hand. But instead ofdelivering it he paused: a new idea had occurred. How many of theseservants might not be leagued in favour of that interloper, bribed, orknowing him, perhaps, to have been a friend of Sir Adrian, or yetagain out of sheer spite to himself? No; he would leave no loop-holefor treachery now. 

"Send the groom to me as soon as he is ready, " he continued, and whenthe footman had withdrawn, enclosed the letter, with its tale-tellingsuperscription, in another directed to a local firm of attorneys, witha covering note instructing them to see that the communication, on HisMajesty's Service, should reach the proper hands without delay. 

When the messenger had set forth, Mr. Landale, on his side, had hishorse saddled and sallied out in the direction of Scarthey sands. 

As from the top of the bluff he took a survey of the great bay, acouple of figures crossing the strand in the distance arrested hisattention; he reined in his horse behind a clump of bushes andwatched. 

"So ho! Mrs. Potter, your careful husband could not leave the island?"muttered he, as he marked the unmistakable squat figure of the one, aman carrying a burden upon his shoulder, whilst, enveloping the womanwho walked briskly by his side, flared the brilliant-hued shawl ofMoggie. "That lie alone would have been sufficient to arousesuspicion. Hallo, what is the damned _crapaud_ up to?"

The question was suggested by the man's movements, as, after returningthe parcel to his consort at the beginning of the now bare causeway, he turned tail, while she trudged forward alone. 

"The Shearman's house! I thought as much. Out he comes again, and notby himself. I have made acquaintance with those small bare legsbefore. I should have been astonished indeed if none of the Shearmanfellows had been mixed up with the affair. I shall be even yet withthose creditable friends of yours, brother Adrian. So, it's you again, Johnny, my lad; the pretty Mercury. . . . Can it be possible that CaptainSmith is at his old games once more?"

Mr. Landale's eyes shone with a curious eager light; he laughed alittle mirthless laugh, which was neither pleasant to hear nor togive. "Dear me, " he said aloud, as he watched the pair tramp togethertowards Scarthey, "for plotters in the dark, you are particularly easyto detect, my good friends!"

Then he checked himself, realising what a mere chance it had been, after all--a fortuitous meeting in the passage--that had first arousedhis suspicions, and placed between his fingers the end of the threadhe now thought it so simple to follow up. But he did hold the thread, and depended no longer upon chance or guess-work, but on his ownrelentless purpose to lay the plotters by the heels, whatever theirplot might be. 

In the course of an hour and a half, Johnny Shearman, whistling, light-hearted, and alone, was nearing his native house once more, whenthe sight of a horseman, rapidly advancing across the sands, broughthim to a standstill, to stare with a boy's curiosity. Presently, however, recognising Mr. Landale--a person for whom he had more dreadthan admiration--he was starting off homeward again at a brisk canter, when a stern hail from the rider arrested him. 

"Johnny!" The boy debated a moment, measured the distance between thecottage and himself, and shrewdly recognised the advisability ofobeying. "Johnny, my boy, I want you at the Hall; take hold of mystirrup, and come along with me. "

The boy, with every symptom of reluctance, demurred, pleading apromise to return to his mother. Then he suddenly perceived a look inthe gentleman's eye, which gave him a frantic, unreasoned desire tobolt at once, and at any cost. But the horseman anticipated thethought; bending in the saddle, he reached out his arm and seized theurchin by the collar. 

"Why, you little devil, what is the matter with you?" he asked, grinning ominously into the chubby, terrified face. "It strikes me itis time you and I should come to a little understanding. Any moreletters from the smuggler to-day, eh? Ah, would you, you young idiot!"and Mr. Landale's fingers gave a sudden twist to the collar, whichstrangled the rising yell. "Listen, Johnny, " tightening his graspgradually until the brown face grew scarlet, then purple, and thegoggling eyes seemed to start out of their sockets; "that is what itfeels like to be hanged. They squeeze your neck so; and they leave youdangling at the end of a rope till you are dead, dead, dead, and thecrows come and eat you. Do you want to be hanged?"

For some moments more he kept the writhing lad under the torture; thenloosening his grip, without however relinquishing his hold, allowedhim to taste once more the living air. 

"Do you want to be hanged, Johnny Shearman?" he asked again gravely. The lad burst into gasping sobs, and looked up at his captor with anagony of fear in his bloodshot eyes. "No, " continued Mr. Landale, "Iam sure you don't, eh?" with a renewed ominous contraction of thehand. "It's a fearful thing, is hanging. And yet many a lad, hardlyolder than you, has been hanged for less than you are doing. Magistrates can get people hanged, and I am a magistrate, you know. _Stop that noise!_"

"Now, " continued the gentleman, "there are one or two little things Iwant to know myself, Johnny, and it's just possible I might let youoff for this time if by chance you were able to tell them to me. So, for your sake, I hope you may be. "

He could see that the boy's mind was now completely turned withfright. 

"If you were to try to run away again I should know you had secrets tokeep from me, and then, Johnny Shearman, it would go hard with youindeed! Now come along beside me, up to the Hall. "

Quite certain of his prey, he released him, and, setting his horse toa trot, smiled to note the desperate clutch of the lad upon hisstirrup leather, as, with the perspiration dripping from his face, andpanting breath, he struggled to keep up the pace alongside. 

Marched with tremendous ceremony into the magistrate's study anddirected to stand right opposite the light, while Mr. Landaleinstalled himself in an arm-chair with a blood-curdling air ofjudicial sternness, Johnny Shearman, at most times as dare-devil apickle of a boy as ever ran, but now reduced to a state of mental andphysical jelly, underwent a terrible cross-examination. It wascomparatively little that he had to say, and no doubt he wished mostfervently he had greater revelations to make, and could thuspropitiate the arbiter of the appalling fate he firmly believed mightlie in store for him. Meagre as his narrative was, however, it quitesufficed for Mr. Landale. 

"I think, Johnny, " he said more pleasantly, well knowing theinducement that a sudden relaxation from fear offers to a witness'sgarrulity, "I think I may say you will not hang this time--that is, "with a sudden hardening of his voice, and making a great show ofchecking the answers with pen and ink in his most magisterial manner, "that is if you have really told me _all_ you know and it be all_true_. Now let us see, and take care. You saw no one at the peelto-day but Renny Potter, Mrs. Potter and Mrs. Crackenshaw?"

"No, sir. "

"But you heard other voices in the next room--a man's voice--whilstyou were waiting?"

"Yes, sir. "

"Then Renny Potter came back and gave you a message for your brothers. This message they made you repeat, over and over again. How did itgo?" And as Mr. Landale frowningly looked at his paper, the boytremblingly repeated:

"I mun tell brothers Will an' Rob, that one or t'other mun watchen thelight o' nights, to-night, to-morrow night, an' ontil woord coomagain. If light go out they mun setten forth in they ketch thotmoment, fettled op for a two-three days' sailing. If wind is contrairylike, they mun take sweeps. This for the master's service--for SirAdrian's service!"--amending the phrase with a sharp reading of theblackness of Mr. Landale's swift upward look. 

"Yes, " murmured the latter after a pause. "And you were to tell no oneelse. You were to keep it above all from getting to my ears. Verygood, Johnny. If you have spoken the truth, you are safe. "

There was a special cell, off the official study, with high windows, bolts and bars, and a wooden bench, for the temporary housing of suchdesperate criminals as might be brought to the judgment of RupertLandale, Esquire, J. P. There he now disposed of the young offender whosnivelled piteously once more; and having locked the door andpocketed the key, returned to his capacious arm-chair, where, as thetwilight waned over the land, he fell to co-ordinating his scheme andgloating upon this unexpected turn of Fortune's wheel. 

 * * * * *

At that hour Madeleine, alone in her chamber, knelt before her littlealtar, wrestling with the rebellion of her soul and besieging theheavens with a cry for peace. 

 * * * * *

Sir Adrian having failed to hear aught of the _Peregrine_ at St. Malo, filled with harassing doubt about its fate but clutching still athope--as men will, even such pessimists as he--stood on the deck ofhis homeward bound ship, straining his eyes in the dusk for the coastline. 

 * * * * *

In the peel, the beacon had just been lighted by René, in whosecompany, up in his secluded turret, sat Captain Jack, smoking a pipe, but so unusually silent as to have reduced even the loquaciousFrenchman to silence too. Below them Lady Landale, torn between thedread of a final separation from the loadstar of her existence and thegnawing anxiety roused in her bosom by Moggie's account of Mr. Landale's watchfulness, was pacing the long book-lined room with therestlessness of a caged panther. 

 * * * * *

On the road from Lancaster to Pulwick a posse of riding officers and acarriage full of hastily gathered preventive men were trotting ontheir way to the Priory. 

CHAPTER XXIX

THE LIGHT GOES OUT

The light of Scarthey had not been shining for quite an hour over thewilderness, when Lady Landale, suddenly breaking the chain of herrestless tramp, ran to the door and called for Moggie. 

There was so shrill a tone of anguish in the summons that the youngwoman rushed into the room in trembling expectancy: yet it was to findher mistress alone and the place undisturbed. 

"Moggie, " said Lady Landale, panting and pressing her hands upon herside as if in the endeavour to control the beating of her heart, "something is going to happen; I know it, I feel it! Tell CaptainSmith that I must speak to him, here, at once. "

Infected by the terror upon her mistress's face, Madame Lapôtre flewupon her errand; a moment later, Captain Jack entered the room andstood before Lady Landale with a look of impatient inquiry. 

"Oh, it is wicked, it is mad!" cried she passionately; "it is temptingGod to remain here!"

"Of whom are you speaking?" he asked, with an involuntary glance ofcontempt at the distracted figure. "If it is of yourself, I entirelyconcur. How often these last days, and how earnestly have I not beggedof you to return to Pulwick? Was not the situation you placed me inwith regard to Adrian already odious enough that it needed this addedfolly? Oh, I know--I know what you would say: spare it me. My safety?You fear for me? Ah, Lady Landale, that you could have but left me inpeace!"

He had waxed hot with anger from his first would-be calmness, as hespoke. This dismal life of close but inharmonious proximity, startedupon the seas and continued under his absent friend's own roof hadtried his impetuous temper to the utmost. Upon the morrow of theirreturn he had, indeed, exercised all his powers of persuasion toinduce Lady Landale to proceed to the Priory; but, impelled by herfrantic dread of the separation, and entrenching herself behind theargument that her mysterious re-appearance would awaken suspicionwhere people would otherwise believe the _Peregrine_ still in foreignparts, she had declared her irrevocable determination not to quit theisland until she knew him to be safe. And he had remained, actuated bythe dual desire, first to exonerate himself personally in herhusband's eyes from any possible suspicion of complicity in Molly'sflight--the bare thought of which had become a horrible torment tohim--then to encompass through that good friend's means an interviewand full explanation with Madeleine, which not only the most ordinaryprecaution for his life, but likewise every instinct of pride forbadehim now to seek himself. 

Thus began a state of affairs which, as the days succeeded each otherwithout news of Sir Adrian, became every moment more intolerable tohis loyalty. The inaction, the solitary hours of reflection; themaddening feeling of unavailing proximity to his heart's dearest, ofimpotency against the involving meshes of the present false andhateful position; all this had brought into the young man's soul afever of anger, which, as fevers will, consumed him the more fiercelybecause of his vigour and strength. 

It was with undisguised hatred and with scorn immeasurable that he nowsurveyed the woman who had degraded him in his own eyes. At anothertime Molly might have yielded before his resentment, but at this hourher whole being was encompassed by a single thought. 

"It is for you--for you!" she repeated with ashen lips; "you must gobefore it is too late. "

"And is it not too late?" stormed he. "Too late, indeed, do I see mytreachery to Adrian, my more than brother! Upon my ship I could notavoid your company, but here--Oh, I should have thought of him and notof myself, and done as my honour bade me! You are right; since youwould not go, I should have done so. It was weak; it was mad; worse, worse--dishonourable!"

But she had no ears for his reproaches, no power to feel the woundshe dealt her woman's heart with such relentless hand. 

"Then you will go, " she cried. "Tell René, the signal. "

He started and looked at her with a different expression. 

"Have you heard anything; has anything happened?" he asked, recoveringself-restraint at the thought of danger. 

"Not yet, " she replied, "not yet, but it is coming. "

Her look and voice were so charged with tragic force that for themoment he was impressed, and, brave man though he was, felt a littlecold thrill run down his spine. She continued, in accents of the mostpiercing misery:

"And it will have been through me--it will have been through me! Oh, in mercy let me make the signal! Say you will go to-night. "

"I will go. "

There followed a little pause of breathless silence between them. Thenas, without speaking, he would have turned away, a loud, peremptoryknock resounded upon the door of the keep and echoed and re-echoedwith lugubrious reverberation through the old stone passages aroundthem. 

At first, terror-stricken, her tongue clave to her palate, her feetwere rooted to the ground; then with a scream she flung herself uponhim and would have dragged him towards the door. 

"They have come--hide--hide!"

He threw up his head to listen, while he strove to disengage himself. The blood had leaped to his cheek, and fire to his eye. "And if it beAdrian?" he cried. 

Another knock thundered through the still air. 

"It is but one man, " cried René from his tower down the stairs. "Youmay open, Moggie. "

"No--no, " screamed Molly beside herself, and tighter clasped her armsround Captain Jack's neck. 

"Adrian, it is Adrian!" said he. "Hush, Madam, let me go! Would youmake the breach between me and my friend irreparable?"

Both his hands were on her wrists in the vain endeavour to disengagehimself from her frenzied grip; the door was flung open and RupertLandale stood in the opening, and looked in upon them. 

"Damnation!" muttered Jack between his teeth and flung her from him, stamping his foot. 

Rupert gazed from one to the other; from the woman, who, haggard anddishevelled, now turned like a fury upon him, to the sailor's fierceerect figure. Then he closed the door with an air of gravedeliberation. 

"What do you want?" demanded Molly--"you have come here for no goodpurpose. What do you want?"

As she spoke she strove to place herself between the two men. 

"I came, my dear sister-in-law, " said Rupert in his coldest, mostincisive voice, "to learn why, since you have come back from yourlittle trip, you choose to remain in the ruins rather than return toyour own house and family. The reason is clear to see now. My poorbrother!"

The revulsion of disappointment had added to the wrath which the verysight of Rupert Landale aroused in Jack Smith's blood; thisinsinuation was the culminating injury. He took a step forward. 

"Have a care, sir, " he exclaimed, "how you outrage in my presence thewife of my best friend! Have a care--I am not in such a hurry to leaveyou as when last we met!"

Mr. Landale raised his eyebrows, and again sent a look from Molly backto the sailor, the insolence of which lashed beyond all control thedevils in the sailor's soul. 

"We have an account to settle, it seems to me, Mr. Landale, " said he, taking another step forward and slightly stooping his head to look theother in the eye. Crimson fury was in his own. "I doubt much whetherit was quite wise of you, assuming that you expected to find me here, to have come without that pistolling retinue with which you providedyourself last time. "

Rupert smiled and crossed his arms. Cowardice was no part of hischaracter. He had come in advance of his blood-hounds, in part toassure himself of the correctness of his surmises, but also to feastupon the discomfiture of this man and this woman whom he hated. Tohave found them together, and thus, had been an unforeseen anddelicious addition to his dish of vengeance, and he would linger overit while he could. 

"Well, Captain Smith, and about this account? Lady Landale, I beg ofyou, be silent. You have brought sufficient disgrace upon our name asit is. Nay, sir, " raising his voice, "it is useless to shake your headat me in this furious style; nothing can alter facts. _I saw. _ Who hasan account to demand then--you, whose life is already forfeit for anaccumulation of crimes; you, screened by a conspiracy of bribedservants and . . . Your best friend's wife, as you dare call yourparamour; or I, in my brother's absence the natural guardian of hisfamily, of his honour? But I am too late. One sister I saved from theignominy you would have brought upon her. The other I could not save. "

With a roar Jack Smith would have sprung at the speaker; but, oncemore, his friend's wife rushed between. 

"Let him speak, " she cried, "what matter what he says? Butyou--remember your promise. I will make the signal. "

The signal! The mask of Rupert's face, sternly and sadly rebuking, wasnot proof against the exquisite aptness of this proposal. His menoutside were waiting for the signal, surrounding the island from landand seaward, (for the prey was not to be allowed to escape themagain); but how to make it without creating suspicion had not yetsuggested itself to his fertile brain. Now, while he held her lover inplay, Molly would herself deliver him to justice. Excellent, excellent! Truly life held some delightful jokes for the man ofhumour!

The light of triumph came and went upon his countenance like a flash, but when the life hangs upon the decision of a moment the wits becomeabnormally sharp. Jack Smith saw it, halted upon his second headlongonslaught, and turned round. --Too late: Molly was gone. He brought hisgaze back upon his enemy and saw he had been trapped. 

Their gleams met like duelling blades, divining each other's purposewith the rapidity of thrust answering thrust. Both made a leap for thedoor. But Rupert was nearest; he first had his hand on the key andturned it, and, with newly-born genius of fight, suddenly begotten ofhis hatred, quickly stooped, eluded the advancing grasp, was free forone second, and sent the key crashing through the window into thedarkness of the night. 

Baffled by the astounding swiftness of the act, the sailor, wheelinground, had already raised his fist to crush his feebler foe, when, inthe midst of his fury, a glimmer of the all-importance of every secondof time stayed his hand. He threw himself upon the heavy ladder thatrested against Sir Adrian's rows of books, and, clasping it by themiddle, swung it above his head. The battering blow would, no doubt, have burst panel, lock, and hinges the next instant, but again Rupertforestalled him, and charged him before the door could be reached. 

Overbalanced by the weight he held aloft, Captain Jack was hurled downheadlong beneath the ladder, and lay for a moment stunned by theviolence of the fall. 

When the clouds cleared away it was to let him see Rupert's facebending over him, his pale lips wreathed into a smile of malignantexultation. 

"Caught!" said Mr. Landale, slowly, pausing over each word as thoughto prolong the savour of it in his mouth, "caught this time! And it isyour mistress's hand that puts the noose round your neck. That is whatI call poetical justice. "

The prostrate man, collecting his scattered wits and his vaststrength, made a violent effort to spring to his feet. But Rupert'swhole weight was upon him, his long thin fingers were gripping him byeach shoulder, his face grinned at him, close, detested, infuriating. The grasp that held him seemed to belong to no flesh and blood, it wasas the grasp of skeleton hands, the grinning face became like adeath's head. 

"I shall come to your hanging, Captain Jack Smith, or rather, Mr. Hubert Cochrane of the Shaws. "

These were the last words of Rupert Landale. A red whirl passedthrough the sailor's brain, his hands fell like lashes round theother's neck and drew it down. _If Hubert Cochrane dies so does RupertLandale: that throat shall never give sound to that name again. _

Over and over they roll like savage beasts, but yet in deathlysilence. For the pressure of the fingers on his gullet, fingers thatseem to gain fresh strength every moment and pierce into his veryflesh, will not allow even a sigh to pass Rupert's lips, and Jack canspare no atom of his energy from the fury of fight: not one to spareeven for the hearing of the frantic knocks at the door, the calls, the hammering at the lock, the desperate efforts without to prise itopen. 

_But if Rupert Landale must die so shall Hubert Cochrane, and by thehangman's hand, treble doomed by this. _ The same thought fills boththese men's heads; the devil of murder has possession of both theirsouls. But, true to himself to the last, it is with Rupert acalculating devil. The officers must soon be here: he will hold thescoundrel yet with the grasp of death, and his enemy shall be foundred-handed--red-handed!

His hatred, his determination of vengeance, the very agony of theunequal struggle for life gave him a power that is almost a match forthe young athlete in his frenzy. 

The dying efforts of his victim tax Jack's strength more than theliving fight; but his hands are still locked in their fatal clutchwhen at last, with one fearful and spasmodic jerk, Rupert Landalefalls motionless. Then exhaustion enwraps the conqueror also, like amantle. He, too, lies motionless with his cheek on the floor, face toface with the corpse, dimly conscious of the voluptuousness ofvictory. But the dead grasp still holds him by the wrists, and itgrows cold now, and rigid upon them. It is as if they were fetteredwith iron. 

 * * * * *

Lady Landale's dread of her once despised kinsman, now that she knewwhat a powerful weapon he held in his hands, this night, was almostfantastic. 

As she darted from the room, she fell against René, who, with a whiteface and bent ear, stood at the door, eavesdropping, ready to rush tothe help of Sir Adrian's friend upon the first hint of necessity. Buthe had heard more than he bargained for. 

The scared, well-nigh agonised look of inquiry with which he turned tohis mistress was lost upon her. In her whirlwind exit, she seized uponhim and dragged him with her to the ladder that led to the tower. 

"Quick, René, the signal!"

And with the birdlike swiftness of a dream flight she was up the stepsbefore him. 

Panting in her wake, ran the sturdy fellow, his brain seething in achaos of conflicting thought. Mr. The Captain must be helped, must besaved: this one thing was clear at any rate. His honour would wish itso--no matter what had happened. Yes, he would obey My Lady and makethe signal. But, what if Mr. Landale were right? Not indeed in hisaccusation of Mr. The Captain, René knew, René had seen enough totrust him: he was no false friend; but as regarded My Lady? Alas! MyLady had indeed been strange in her manner these days; and evenMoggie, as he minded him now, even Moggie had noticed, had hinted, andhe had not understood. 

The man's fingers fumbled over the catch of the great lantern, heshook as if he had the palsy. Goodness divine, if his master were tocome home to this!

Impatiently Lady Landale pushed him upon one side. What ailed thefellow, when every second was crucial, life or death bringing?Medusa-like for one second her face hung, white-illumined, set intoterrible fixity, above the great flame, the next instant all wasblackness to their dazzled eyes. The light of Scarthey was out!

She groped for René; her hot fingers burnt upon his cold rough handfor a second. 

"I will go down to the sands, " she said, whispering as if she feared, even here, the keenness of Rupert's ear, "and you--hurry to him, stopwith him, defend him, your master's friend!"

She flitted from him like a shadow, the ladder creaked faintly beneathher light footfall, and then louder beneath his weighty tread. 

His master's friend!

Ay, he would stand by him, for his master's sake and for his own saketoo--the good gentleman!--And they would get him safe out of the waybefore his honour's return. 

 * * * * *

Out upon the beach ran Molly. 

It was a mild still night; through veils of light mist the moon shonewith a tranquil bride-like grace upon the heaving palpitating watersand the mystery of the silent land. 

A very night for lovers, it seemed; for sweet meetings and sweeterpartings; a night that mocked with its great passionless calm at thewild anguish of this woman's impatience. Yet a night upon which soundtravelled far. She bent her ear--was there nothing to hear yet, nothing but the lap of the restless waters? Were those men false?

She rushed to and fro, from one point to another along the sands in adelirium of impotent desire. 

Oh, hurry, hurry, hurry!

And as she turned again, there, upon the waters out in the offing, glimmered a light, curtseying with the swell of the waves; the sailsof a ship caught the moonbeams. She could see the vessel plainly andthat it was bearing full for the island. Alas! This might scarcely bethe little Shearman boat manned by two fishermen only; even she, unversed in sea knowledge could tell that. It was as large as the_Peregrine_ itself--certainly as large as the cutter. 

The _cutter_!

She caught her breath, and clapped her hands to her lips to choke downthe wild scream of fear that rose to them. 

At the same instant, a dull thud of oars, a subdued murmur of a deepvoice rose from the other side of the island. 

They were coming, coming from the landward, these rescuers of herbeloved. And yonder, with swelling canvas, came the hell ship from outthe open sea, sent by Rupert's infernal malice and cleverness, to maketheir help of no avail; to seize him, in the very act of flight. 

She ran in the direction of the sound, and with all her strengthcalled upon the new-comers to speed. 

"Here--here, for God's sake! Hasten or it will be too late!"

Her voice seemed to her, in the midst of the endless space, weak as achild's; but it was heard. 

"Coming!" answered a gruff shout from afar. And the oar beat camecloser, and fell with swifter rhythm. Stumbling, catching in herskirts, careless of pool or stone beneath her little slippered feet, Lady Landale came flying round the ruins: a couple of boats crashed inupon the shingle, and the whole night seemed suddenly to become alivewith dark figures--men in uniform, with gleams upon them of brassbadges and shining belts, and in their hands the gleam of arms. 

For the moment she could not move. It was as if her knees were givingway, and she must fall. 

None of them saw her in the shadow; but as they passed, she heard themtalking to each other about the signal, the signal which they had beentold to look for, which had been brought to them . . . The signal _she_had made. Then with a wave of rage, the power of life returned to her. This was Rupert's work! But all was not lost yet. The other boat wascoming, the other boat must be the rescue after all; the Shearman'sboat, or--who knows?--if there was mercy in Heaven, the _Peregrine_, whose crew might have heard of their captain's risk. 

Back she raced to the seaward beach, hurling--unknowing that she spokeat all--invectives upon her husband's brother. 

"Serpent, blood-hound, devil, devil, you shall not have him!"

As she reached the landing-place, breathless, a boat was landing invery truth. Even as she came up a tall figure jumped out upon thesand, and crunched towards her with great strides. 

She made a leap forward, halted, and cried out shrilly:

"Adrian!"

"Molly--wife! Thank God!" His arms were stretched out to her, but hesaw her waver and shudder from him, and wring her hands. "My God, whathas happened? The light out, too! What is it?"

She fastened on him with a sudden fierceness, the spring of a wildcat. 

"Come, " she said, drawing him towards the peel, "if you would savehim, lose not a second. "

He hesitated a moment, still; she tugged at him like one demented, panting her abjurations at him, though her voice was failing her. Then, without a word, he fell to running with her towards the keep, supporting her as they went. 

The great door had swung back on its hinges, and the men werepressing, in a dark body, into the dim-lit recesses, when Sir Adrianand his wife reached the entrance. 

The sight of the uniforms only confirmed the homecomer in his ownforebodings anent the first act of the drama that was being enactedupon his peaceful island. He needed no further pushing from thefrantic woman at his side. Lost in bringing her back, perhaps, hisonly friend! Lost by his loyalty and his true friendship!

They dashed up the stone stairs just as the locked door of theliving-room burst with a crash, under the efforts of many stalwartshoulders; they saw the men crush forwards, and fall back, and herd onagain, with a hoarse murmur that leaped from mouth to mouth. 

And René came running out from the throng with the face of one thathas seen Death. And he caught his mistress by the arm, and held her bymain force against the wall. He showed no surprise at the sight of hismaster--there are moments in life that are beyond surprise--but criedwildly:

"She must not see!"

She fought like a tigress against the faithful arms, but still theyheld her, and Sir Adrian went in alone. 

A couple of men were dragging Captain Jack to his feet, forcing hishands from the dead man's throat; it seemed as if they had grown asrigid and paralysed in their clasp like the corpse hands that had now, likewise, to be wrenched from their clutch of him. 

He glanced around, as though dazed, then down at the disfigured purpleface of his dead enemy, smiled and held out his hands stiffly for thegyves that were snapped upon them. 

And then one of the fellows, with some instinctive feeling of decency, flung a coat over the slain man, and Captain Jack threw up his headand met Adrian's horror-stricken, sorrowful eyes. 

At the unexpected sight he grew scarlet; he waved his fettered handsat him as they hustled him forth. 

"I have killed your brother, Adrian, " he called out in a loud voice, "but I brought back your wife!"

Some of the men were speaking to Sir Adrian, but drew backrespectfully before the spectacle of his wordless agony. 

But, as Molly, with a shriek, would have flung herself after theprisoner, her husband awoke to action, and, pushing René aside, caughther round the waist with an unyielding grip: his eyes sought her face. And, as the light fell on it, he understood. Aye, she had been broughtback to him. But how?

And René, watching his master's countenance, suddenly burst outblubbering, like a child. 

CHAPTER XXX

HUSBAND AND WIFE

 Tout comprendre-- c'est tout pardonner. 

Staring straight before her with haggard, unseeing eyes, her handsclasped till the delicate bones protruded, her young face lined intosudden agedness, grey with unnatural pallor, framed by the blackmasses of her dishevelled hair, it was thus Sir Adrian found his wife, when at length he was free to seek her. 

He and René had laid the dead man upon the bed that had been occupiedby his murderer, and composed as decently as might be the hideouscorpse of him who had been the handsomest of his race. René had givenhis master the tale of all he knew himself, and Sir Adrian had orderedthe boat to be prepared, determined to convey Lady Landale at oncefrom the scene of so much horror. His own return to Pulwick, moreover, to break the news to Sophia, to attend to the removal of the body andthe preparation for the funeral was of immediate necessity. 

As he approached his wife she raised her eyes. 

"What do you want with me?" she asked, with a stony look that arrestedhim, as he would gently have taken her hand. 

"I would bring you home. "

"Home!" the pale lips writhed in withering derision. 

"Yes, home, Molly, " he spoke as one might to a much-loved andunreasonable sick child--with infinite tenderness and compassion--"yourown warm home, with your sister. You would like to go to Madeleine, would not you?"

She unclasped her hands and threw them out before her with a savagegesture of repulsion. 

"To Madeleine?" she echoed, with an angry cry; and then wheelinground upon him fiercely: "Do you want to kill me?" she said, betweenher set teeth. 

Sir Adrian's weary brow contracted. He paused and looked at her withprofoundest sorrow. 

Then she asked, hoarsely:

"Where have they taken him to?"

"To Lancaster, I believe. "

"Will they hang him?"

"I pray God not. "

"There is no use of praying to God, God is merciless. What will theydo to him?"

"He will be tried, Molly, in due course, and then, according to thesentence of the judges. . . . My poor child, control yourself, he shallbe defended by the best lawyers that money can get. All a man can dofor another I shall do for him. "

She shot the sombre fire of her glance at him. 

"You know that I love him, " she said, with a terrible composure. 

A sudden whiteness spread round Sir Adrian's lips. 

"Poor child!" he said again beneath his breath. 

"Yes, I love him. I always wanted to see him. I was sick and tired oflife at Pulwick, and that was why I went on board his ship. I wentdeliberately because I could not bear the dulness of it all. Hemistook me for Madeleine in the dark--he kissed me. Afterwards I toldhim that I loved him. I begged him to take me away with him, for ever. I love him still, I would go with him still--it is as well that youshould know. Nothing can alter it now. But he did not want me. Heloves Madeleine. "

The words fell from her lips with a steady, cruel, deliberateness. Shekept her eyes upon him as she spoke, unpityingly, uncaring whatanguish she inflicted; nay, it seemed from some strange perversity, glad to make him suffer. 

But hard upon a man as it must be to hear such a confession from hiswife's lips, doubly hard to such a one as Adrian, whose heart bled forher pain as well as for his own, he held himself without departing fora second from his wonted quiet dignity. Only in his earnest gaze uponher there was perhaps, if possible, an added tenderness. 

But she, to see him so unmoved, was moved herself to a sudden scorn. 

What manner of man was this, that not love, nor jealousy, nor angerhad power to stir?

"And now what will you do with me?" she asked him again, with superbcontempt on eye and lip. "For a guilty wife I am to you, as far as thewill could make me, and I have no claim upon you any more. "

"No claim upon me!" he repeated, with a wonder of grief in his voice. "Ah, Molly, hush child! You are my wife. The child of the woman Iloved--the woman I love for her own sake. You can no more put yourselfout of my life now than you can out of my heart; had you been asguilty in deed as you may have been in purpose my words would be thesame. Your husband's home is your home, my only wish to cherish andshelter you. You cannot escape my care, poor child, and some day youmay be glad of it. My protection, my countenance you will always have. God! who am I that I should judge you? Is there any sin of humanfrailty that a human being dare condemn? Guilty? What is your guiltcompared to mine for bringing you to this, allying my melancholy agewith your bright youth?"

He fell into the chair opposite to her and covered his face with hishands. As, for a minute's space, his self-control wavered, she watchedhim, wearily. Her heat of temper had fallen from her very quickly; shebroke into a moan. 

"Oh, what does it matter? What does anything matter now? I love himand I have ruined him--had it not been for me he would be safe!"

After a little silence Sir Adrian rose. "I must leave you now, I mustgo to Pulwick, " he said. His heart was yearning to her, he would havegathered her to his arms as a father his erring child, but herefrained from even touching her. "And you--what would you do? Itshall be as you like. "

"I would go to Lancaster, " she said. 

"The carriage shall be sent for you in the morning and Renny and hiswife shall go with you. I will see to it. After Rupert's funeral--myGod, what a night this has been!--I will join you, and together weshall work to save his life. "

He paused, hesitated, and was about to turn away when suddenly shecaught his hand and kissed it. 

He knew she would as readily have kissed René's hand for a likepromise; that her gratitude was a pitiable thing for him, her husband, to bear; and yet, all the way, on his sad and solitary journey toPulwick, the touch of her lips went with him, bringing a strangesweetness to his heart. 

 * * * * *

There was a vast deal of wonder in the county generally, and among theold friends of his father's house in particular, when it became knownthat Sir Adrian Landale had engaged a noted counsel to defend hisbrother's murderer and was doing all he could to avert his probabledoom. In lowered tones were whispered strange tales of Lady Landale'sescapade. People wagged wise and virtuous heads and breathedscandalous hints of her power upon her infatuated husband; and thenthey would tap their foreheads significantly. Indeed it needed all themaster of Pulwick's wide-spread reputation for mental unsoundness toenable him to carry through such proceedings without rousing moreviolent feelings. As it was, it is to be doubted whether hisinterference had any other effect than that of helping to inflame thepublic mind against the prisoner. 

The jury's verdict was a foregone conclusion; and though the learnedlawyer duly prepared a very fine speech and pocketed some monstrousfees with a great deal of complaisance, he was honest enough not tohold out the smallest hope of being able to save his client. 

The conviction was too clear, the "crimes" the prisoner had committedwere of "too horrible and bloody a character, threatening the veryfoundations of society, " to admit of a merciful view of the case. 

As the trial drew near, Sir Adrian's despondency increased; each dayseemed to bring a heavier furrow to his brow, an added weight to hislagging steps. He avoided as much as possible all meetings with hiswife, who, on the contrary, recovered stronger courage with the flightof time, but whose feverish interest in his exertions was nowtransferred to some secret plans that she was for ever discussing withRené. The prisoner himself showed great calmness. 

"They will sentence me of course, " he said quietly to Adrian, "butwhether they will hang me is another question. I don't think that myhour has come yet or that the cord is twisted which will hang JackSmith. "

In other moods, he would ridicule Sir Adrian's labours in his causewith the most gentle note of affectionate mockery. But, from thedesire doubtless to save one so disinterested and unworldly from anyaccusation of complicity, he was silent upon the schemes on which hepinned his hopes of escape. 

The first meeting of the friends after the scene at Scarthey had been, of course, painful to both. 

When he entered the cell, Adrian had stretched out his hand insilence, but Captain Jack held his own pressed to his side. 

"It is like you to come, " he said gloomily, "but you cannot shake thehand that stifled your brother's life out of him. And I should do itagain, Adrian! Mark you, I am not repentant!"

"Give me your hand, Jack, " said Adrian steadfastly. "I am not of thosewho shift responsibility from the dead to the living. You weregrievously treated. Oh, give me your hand, friend, can I think ofanything now but your peril and your truth to me?"

For an instant still the younger man hesitated and inquiringly raisedhis eyes laden with anxious trouble, to the elder man's face. 

"My wife has told me all, " said Sir Adrian, turning his head to hidehis twitching lip. 

And then Jack Smith's hand leaped out to meet his friend's upon animpulse of warm sympathy, and the two faced each other, looking thewords they could not utter. 

 * * * * *

The year eighteen hundred and fifteen which delivered England at lastfrom the strain of outlandish conflict saw a revival of officialactivity concerning matters of more homely interest. The powers thatwere awoke to the necessity, among other things, of putting a stop bythe most stringent means to the constant and extensive leakage in thenational revenue proceeding from the organisation of free traders orsmugglers. 

After twenty years of almost complete supineness on the part of theauthorities, the first efforts made towards a systematic "Preventive"coast service, composed of customs, excise and naval officials inproportion varied according to the localities, remained singularlyfutile. And to the notorious inability of these latter to cope withthe experience and the devilish daring of the old established freetraders, was due no doubt to the ferocity of the inquisitional lawspresently levelled against smuggling and smugglers--laws whichruthlessly trenched upon almost every element of the British subjects'vaunted personal freedom, and which added, for the time, several new"hanging cases" to the sixty odd already in existence. 

That part of the indictment against Captain Jack Smith and the othercriminals still at large, which dealt with their offences against thesmuggling act, would in later times have broken down infallibly fromwant of proper evidence: not a tittle of information was forthcomingwhich could support examination. But a judge of assizes and a jury in1815, were not to be baulked of the necessary victim by merecircumstantiality when certain offences against society and againstHis Majesty had to be avenged; and the dispensers of justice were lessconcerned with strict evidence than with the desirability of makingexamples. Strong presumption was all that was required to them to hangtheir man; and indeed the hanging of Captain Jack upon the other andmore serious counts than that of unlawful occupation, was, as has beensaid, a foregone conclusion. The triple charge of murder being but toofully corroborated. 

Every specious argument that could be mooted was of course put forwardby counsel for the defence, to show that the death of the preventivemen and of Mr. Landale on Scarthey Island and the sinking of therevenue cutter must be looked upon, on the one hand, as simplemanslaughter in self-defence, and as the result of accidentalcollision, on the other. But, as every one anticipated, the charge ofthe judge and the finding of the jury demanded strenuously the extremepenalty of the law. Besides this the judge deemed it advisable tointroduce into the sentence one of those already obsolete penalties ofposthumous degradation, devised in coarser ages for the purpose ofmaking an awful impression upon the living. 

"Prisoner at the bar, " said his lordship at the conclusion of the lastday's proceedings, "the sentence of the law which I am about to passupon you and which the court awards is that you now be taken to theplace whence you came, and from thence, on the day appointed, to theplace of execution, there to be hanged by the neck until you be dead, dead, dead. And may God have mercy on your soul!"

Captain Jack, standing bolt upright, with his eyes fixed upon thespeaker, calm as he ever had been when awaiting the enemy's broadside, hearkened without stirring a muscle. But when the judge, afterpronouncing the last words with a lingering fulness andimpressiveness, continued through the heavy silence: "And that, at asubsequent time, your body, bound in irons, shall be suspended upon agibbet erected as near as possible to the scenes of your successivecrimes, and shall there remain as a lasting warning to wrong-doers ofthe inevitable ultimate end of such an evil life as yours, " a wave ofcrimson flew to the prisoner's forehead, upon which every vein swelledominously. 

He shot a glance of fury at the large flabby countenance of therighteous arbiter of his doom, whilst his hands closed themselves withan involuntary gesture of menace. Then the tide of anger ebbed; acontemptuous smile parted his lips. And, bowing with an air of lightmockery to the court, he turned, erect and easy, to follow his turnkeyout of the hall. 

CHAPTER XXXI

IN LANCASTER CASTLE

All that his friendship for the condemned man, all that his love andpity for his almost distracted wife, could suggest, Sir Adrian Landalehad done in London to try and avert Captain Jack's doom. But it was invain. There also old stories of his peculiar tenets and of hiswell-known disaffection to the established order of things, had beenraked up against him. Unfavourable comparisons had been drawn betweenhim and Rupert; surprise and disapproval had been expressed at theunnatural brother, who was displaying such energy to obtain mercy forhis brother's murderer. Finally an influential personage, whom SirAdrian had contrived to interest in the case, in memory of an oldfriendship with his father, informed the baronet that his persistencewas viewed with extreme disfavour in the most exalted quarter, andthat His Royal Highness himself had pronounced that Captain Jack was adamned rascal and richly deserved his fate. 

From the beginning, indeed, the suppliant had been without hope. Though he was resolved to leave no stone unturned, no possibilityuntried in the effort to save his friend, well-nigh the saddest partof the whole business to him was the realisation that the prisoner hadnot only broken those custom laws (of which Sir Adrian himselfdisapproved as arbitrary) but also, as he had been warned, those otherlaws upon which depend all social order and security; broken them sogrievously that, whatever excuses the philosopher might find in heatof blood and stress of circumstances, given laws at all, the sentencecould not be pronounced otherwise than just. 

And so, with an aching heart and a wider horror than ever of the cruelworld of men, and of the injustices to which legal justice leads, SirAdrian left London to hurry back to Lancaster with all the speed thatpost-horses could muster. The time was now drawing short. As thetraveller rattled along the stony streets of the old Palatine town, and saw the dawn breaking, exquisite, primrose tinted, faintlybeautiful as some dream vision over the distant hills, his soul wasgripped with an iron clutch. In three more days the gallant heart, breaking in the confinement of the prison yonder, would have throbbedits last! And he longed, with a desire futile but none the lessintense, that, according to that doctrine of Vicarious Atonementpreached to humanity by the greatest of all examples, he could laydown his own weary and disappointed life for his friend. 

Having breakfasted at the hotel, less for the necessity of food thanfor the sake of passing the time till the morning should have worn tosufficient maturity, he sought on foot the quiet lodgings where he hadinstalled his wife under René's guard before starting on his futilequest. Early as the hour still was--seven had but just rung merrilyfrom some chiming church clock--the faithful fellow was already astirand prompt to answer his master's summons. 

One look at the latter's countenance was sufficient to confirm theservant's own worst forebodings. 

"Ah, your honour, and is it indeed so. _Ces gredins!_ and will theyhang so good a gentleman?"

"Hush, Renny, not so loud, " cried the other with an anxious look atthe folding-doors, that divided the little sitting-room from the innerapartment. 

"Oh, his honour need have no fear. My Lady is gone, gone to Pulwick. His honour need not disquiet himself; he can well imagine that I wouldnot allow her to go alone--when I had been given a trust so precious. No, no, the old lady, Miss O'Donoghue, your honour's aunt and herladyship's, she has heard of all these terrible doings, and came toLancaster to be with My Lady. _Ma foi_, I know not if she be just theperson one would have chosen, for she has scolded a great deal, and isas agitated--as agitated as a young rabbit. But, after all, she lovesthe poor young lady with all her heart, and I think she has roused hera little. His honour knows, " said the man, flushing to the roots ofhis hair, whilst he shifted nervously from one foot to another, "thatMy Lady has been much upset about the poor captain. After his honourwent, she would sit, staring out of the window there, just where thestreet turns up to the castle, and neither ate nor slept, nor talkedto speak of. Of course, as I told the old Demoiselle, I knew it wasbecause My Lady had taken it to heart about the signal that shemade--thinking to save him--and which only brought the gabelous onhim, that his honour's infernal brother (God forgive me, and havemercy on his soul) had set to watch. And My Lady liked to see mecoming and going, for she sent me every day to the prison; she did notonce go herself. "

Sir Adrian drew a long breath. With the most delicate intuition of hismaster's thoughts, René avoided even a glance at him while hecontinued in as natural a tone as he could assume:

"But the day after the old miss came, she, My Lady, told me to findout if he would see her. He said no; but that the only kindness anyone could do him now would be to bring him Mademoiselle Madeleine, andlet him speak to her once more. And My Lady, when she heard this, shestarted off that day with the old one to fetch Mademoiselle herself atPulwick. And she left me behind, your honour, for I had a little planthere. "

René faltered and a crestfallen look crept upon his face. 

Sir Adrian remembered how before his departure for London his servanthad cheerily assured him that Mr. The Captain would be safe out of thecountry long before he returned, "faith of him, René, who had alreadybeen in two prisons, and knew their ways, and how to contrive anescape, as his honour well knew. " A sad smile parted his lips. 

"And so you failed, Renny, " he said. 

"Ah, your honour, those satanic English turnkeys! With a Frenchman, the job had been done; but it is a bad thing to be in prison inEngland. His honour can vouch I have some brains. I had made plans--ahundred plans, but there was ever something that did not work. Thecaptain, he too, was eager, as your honour can imagine. My faith, wethought and we thought, and we schemed and contrived, and in the end, there was only one thing to complete our plot--to bribe the jailer. Would your honour believe--it was only that one little difficulty. MyLady had given me a hundred guineas, I had enough money, your honoursees. But the man--I had smoked with him, drunk with him, ay, and madehim drunk too, and I thought all was going well, but when I hinted tohim what we wanted--Ah! he was a brute--I tell you I had hard work toescape the prison myself, and only for my leaving him with some of themoney, I should now be pinched there too. I hardly dare show my facein the place any more. And my poor Lady builds on the hope, and Mr. The Captain--I had to tell him, he took it like an angel. Ah, the poorgentleman! He looked at me so brave and kind! 'I am as grateful, mypoor friend, as if you had done it, ' said he, 'and perhaps it is allfor the best. ' All for the best--ah, your honour!"

René fairly broke down here, and wept on his sleeve. But Sir Adrian'seyes, circled and worn with watching and thought, shone dry with a fardeeper grief, as, a few moments later, he passed along the streettowards the walls of the castle. 

 * * * * *

There was in those days little difficulty in obtaining admission to acondemned prisoner; and, in the rear of the red-headed, good-temperedlooking jailer--the same, he surmised, whose sternness in duty hadbaffled the Breton's simple wiles--he stepped out of the sweet morningsunshine into the long stone passages. The first tainted breath of theprison brought a chill to his blood and oppression to his lungs, andthe gloom of the place enveloped him like a pall. 

With a rattle of keys a door dismally creaking on its hinges was swungback at last, and the visitor was ushered into the narrow cell, darkfor all its whitewashed walls, where Captain Jack was spending hislast hours upon earth. The hinges groaned again, the door slammed, andthe key once more grated in the lock. Sir Adrian was alone with hisfriend. 

For a moment there was silence; the contraction of the elder man'sheart had brought a giddiness to his brain, a dimness of his eyes, through which he was ill able to distinguish anything. 

But then there was a clank of fetters--ah, what a sound to connectwith lucky Jack Smith, the gayest, freest, and most buoyant of men!And a voice cried:

"Adrian!"

It had a joyful ring, well-nigh the old hearty tones. It struck Adrianto the soul. 

He could have borne, he thought, to find his friend a broken man, changed out of all recognition, crushed by his misfortunes; but tofind him the same, a little pale, indeed, and thinner, with a steadyearnestness in the sea-blue eyes instead of the old dancing-light, butstill gallant and undaunted, still radiating vigorous life and breezyenergy by his very presence, this was a cruelty of fate which seemedunendurable. 

"I declare, " the prisoner had continued, "I declare I thought you wereonly the incorruptible jailer taking his morning survey. They aredesperately careful of me, Adrian, and watch me with maternalsolicitude lest I should strangle myself with my chains, these prettybracelets which I have had to wear ever since poor Renny was foundout, or swallow my pillow--dash me! it's small enough--and spoil thepretty show for Saturday! Why, why, Adrian, old friend?"

There was a sudden change of tone to the warmest concern, for SirAdrian had staggered and would have fallen had not Jack, as nimbly ashis fetters would allow him, sprung to support him and conduct him tothe bed. 

A shaft of light struck through the tiny barred window on to the elderman's face, and showed it against the surrounding darkness deathlywhite and wet with anguish. 

"I have done all I could, Hubert, " he murmured, in an extinguishedvoice, "but to no avail. "

"Ay, man, I guessed as much. But never fret for me, Adrian: I havelooked death too often in the face to play the poltroon, now. I don'tsay it's the end I should have chosen for myself; but it isinevitable, and there is nothing, as you know, my friend, that a mancannot face if he knows it must be faced. "

The grasp of his strong warm hands, all manacled as they were, uponthe other's nerveless clammy fingers, sent, more than the words, something of the speaker's own courage to his friend's wrung heart. And yet that very courage was an added torment. 

That from a community, so full of evil, feeble, harmful wretches, thisnoble soul, no matter how it had sinned, should be banished at thebidding of justice--what mockery of right was this? The world was outof joint indeed. He groaned aloud. 

"Nay, I'll have none of it, " cried Jack. "Our last talk, Adrian, mustnot be spoiled by futile regrets. Yes, our last talk it is to be, for"--the prisoner's face became transfigured with a tenderness soexquisite that Adrian stared at its beauty, amazed--"I have beggedher, Madeleine, to come and see me once more. I think she can be hereto-day, at latest to-morrow. And after that I would not see any ofthose I love again, that I may fit myself to meet my God. "

He spoke with the utmost simplicity. Adrian bowed his head silently. Then averting his eyes, he said: "My wife has gone to Pulwick to fetchher. "

Captain Jack crimsoned. "That is kind, " he answered, in a low voice;and, after a pause, pursued: "I hope you do not think it wrong of meto wish to see her. But you may trust me. I shall distress her aslittle as is possible in the circumstances. It is not, as you canfancy"--his face flushed again as he spoke--"to indulge in a patheticparting scene, or beg from her sweet lips one last kiss--that would betoo grossly selfish, and however this poor body of mine, so soon to becarrion, may yearn to hold her once more closely, these lips, so soonto touch death, shall touch hers no more. I have risen so far abovethis earthliness, that in so many hours I am to shake off for ever, that I can trust myself to meet her soul to soul. She must believe menow, and I would tell her, Adrian, that my deceit was notpremeditated, and that the man she once honoured with her love is notthe base wretch she deems. I think it may comfort her. If she doesmourn for me at all--she has so proud a spirit, my princess, as I usedto call her--it may comfort her to know that I was not all unworthy ofthe love she once gave me, of the tears she may yet give to its memoryand mine. "

Sir Adrian pressed his hand, but again could not speak, and CaptainJack went on:

"You will give her a happy home, will you not, till she has one of herown? You and your old dragon of an aunt, whose bark is so much worsethan her bite, will watch and guard her. Ah, poor old lady! she is oneof those that will not weep for Jack Smith, eh, Adrian? Well, well, Ihave had a happy life, barring one or two hard raps of fate, and whenonly I have seen Madeleine once more, I'll feel all taut for the port, though the passage there be a rough one. "

Sir Adrian turned his gaze with astonishment upon him. The sailor readhis thoughts:

"Don't think, " he said, while a sudden shadow crossed his face, "don'tthink that I don't realise my position, that I have not had to fightmy battle. In the beginning I had hopes; never in the success ofyour mission, but, absurd as it was, in Renny's scheme. The goodfellow's own hopefulness was infectious, I believe. And when thatfell through--well then, man, I just had to make up my mind to whatwas to be. It was a battle, as I told you. I have been in dangerof death many a time upon the brave old _St. Nicholas_, and my_Cormorant_--death from the salt sea, from musket ball and cannonshot, fearful deaths of mangling and hacking. But death on thegallows, the shameful death of the criminal; to be hung; to beexecuted--Pah! Ay! it was a battle--two nights and one day I foughtit. And I tell you, 'tis a hard thing to bring the living flesh andthe leaping blood to submit to such as that. At first I thoughtindeed, it could not be borne, and I must reckon upon your or Renny'sfriendship for a secret speed. I should have had the pluck to starvemyself if need be, only I am so damned strong and healthy, I feared itcould not have been managed in the time. At any rate, I could havedashed my brains out against the wall--but I see it otherwise now. Theprison chaplain, a good man, Adrian, has made me realise that it wouldbe cowardly, that I should accept my sentence as atonement, asdeserved--I _have_ deserved to die. "

It had been Sir Adrian's own thought; but he broke out now ininarticulate protest. It seemed too gross, too monstrous. 

"Yes, Adrian, I have. You warned me, good friend, in your peacefulroom--ah, how long ago it seems now! that night, when all that couldmake life beautiful lay to my hand for the taking. Oh, man, why did Inot heed you! You warned me: he who breaks one law will end bybreaking many. You were right. See the harm I wreaked--those poorfellows, who were but doing their duty bravely, whose lives Isacrificed without remorse! Your brother, too, whose soul, with themost deliberate vindictiveness, I sent before its Maker, without aninstant's preparation! A guilty soul it was; for he hounded me down, one would almost think for the sport of it. . . . God! when I think that, but for him, for his wanton interference--but there, the devils areloose again! I must not think on him. Do I not deserve my fate, if theBible law be right? 'He who sheds blood, his blood shall be shed. 'Never was sentence more just. I have sinned, I have repented; I am nowready to atone. I believe the sacrifice will be accepted. "

He laid his hand, for a minute, upon the Bible on the table, with asignificant gesture. 

But Sir Adrian, the philosopher, though he could find no words toimpeach the logic of his friend's reasoning, and was all astir withadmiration for a resignation as perfect as either Christian or Stoiccould desire, found his soul rising in tumultuous rebellion againstthe hideous decree. The longing that had beset him in the dawn, nowseized upon him with a new passion, and the cry escaped his lipsalmost unwittingly:

"Oh, if I could die for you!"

"No, no, " said Jack, with his sweet smile, "your life is too valuable, too precious to the world. Adrian, believe me, you can still do muchgood with it. And I know you will be happy yet. "

It was the only allusion he had made to his friend's more personalsorrows. Before the latter had time to reply, he hastened to proceed:

"And now to business. All the gold entrusted to me lies at Scartheyand, faith, I believe it lies as weightily on my mind as if it was allstored there instead! Renny knows the secret hiding-place. Will youengage to restore it to its owners, in all privacy? This is a terriblyarduous undertaking, Adrian, and it is asking much of your friendship;but if I know you, not too much. And it will enable my poor bones tolie at rest, or rather, " with a rueful laugh, "hang at rest on theirgibbet; for you know I am to be set up as a warning to other fools, like a rat on a barn door. I have, by the kindness of the chaplain, been able to write out a full schedule of the different sums, and towhom they are due. He has taken charge of the closed packet directedto you, and will give it to you intact, I feel sure. He is a man ofhonour, and I trust him to respect the confidence I have placed inhim. . . . Egad! the poor old boys will be right glad to get their coinback in safety. A couple of them have been up here already, tointerview me, in fear and trembling. They were hard set to credit mewhen I assured them that they would be no losers in the end, afterall--barring the waiting. You see, I counted upon you. "

"I shall never rest until it is done, " said Sir Adrian, simply. AndCaptain Jack as simply answered: "Thank you. Among the treasure thereis also £10, 000 of my own; the rest of my laboriously acquired fortuneis forfeit to the Crown, as you know--much good may it do it! But thislittle hoard I give to you. You do not want it, of course, andtherefore it is only to be yours that you may administrate it inaccordance to my wishes. Another charge--but I make no apology. I wishyou to divide it in three equal shares: two to be employed as you seebest, for the widows and families of those poor fellows of thepreventive service, victims of my venture; the third, as well as mybeautiful _Peregrine_, I leave to the mate and men who served me sofaithfully. They have fled with her, and must avoid England for sometime. But Renny will contrive to hear of them; they are bound toreturn in secret for tidings, and I should like to feel that themisery I have left behind me may be mitigated. . . . And now, dearAdrian, that is all. The man outside grows impatient. I hear himshuffling his keys. Hark! there he knocks; the fellow has a certainrude feeling for me. An honest fellow. Dear Adrian, good-bye. "

"My God! this is hard--is there nothing else--nothing--can indeed allmy friendship be of no further help?--Hubert!"

"Hush, hush, " cried Jack Smith hastily, "Adrian, you alone of allliving beings now know me by that name. Never let it cross your lipsagain. I could not die in peace were it not for the thought that Ibring no discredit upon it. My mother believes me dead--God in Hismercy has spared me the crowning misery of bringing shame to her whitehairs--shame to the old race. Hubert Cochrane died ten years ago. Jack Smith alone it is that dies by the hangman's hand. One other, "his voice softened and the hard look of pain left his face, "one othershall hear the secret besides you--but I know she will never speak ofit, even to you--and such is my wish. "

It was the pride of race at its last and highest expression. 

There was the sound, without, of the key in the lock. 

"One last word--if you love me, nay, as you love me--do not be thereon Saturday! This parting with you--the good-bye to her--that is mydeath. Afterwards what happens to this flesh, " he struck at himselfwith his chained hands, "matters no more than what will happen to thesoulless corpse. I know you would come to help me with the feeling ofyour love, your presence--but do not--do not--and now good-bye!"

Adrian seized his friend by the hands with a despairing grip, the doorrolled back with its dismal screech. 

The prisoner smiled at him with tender eyes. This man whom, allunwillingly he had robbed of his wife's heart, was broken with griefthat he could not save the life that had brought him misery. Here wasa friend to be proud of, even at the gate of death!

"God be with you, dear Adrian! God bless you and your household, andyour children, and your children's children! Hear my last words: _Frommy death will be born your happiness, and if its growth be slow, yetit will wax strong and sure as the years go by_. "

The words broke from him with prophetic solemnity; their hands fellapart, and Adrian, led by the jailer, stumbled forth blindly. JackSmith stood erect, still smiling, watching them: were Adrian to turnhe should find no weakness, no faltering for the final remembrance. 

But Adrian did not turn. And the door closed, closed upon hope andhappiness and life, shut in shame and death. Out yonder, with Adrian, was the fresh bright world, the sea, the sunshine, the dear ones; herethe prison smells, the gloom, the constraint, the inflicted dreadfuldeath. All his hard-won calm fled from him; all his youth, his immensevitality woke up and cried out in him again. He raised his hands andpulled fiercely at his collar as if already the rope were round hisneck strangling him. His blood hammered in his brain. God--God--itwas impossible--it could not be--it was a dream!

Beyond, from far distant in the street came the cry of a little child:

"Da-da--daddy. "

The prisoner threw up his arms and then fell upon his face upon thebed, torn by sobs. 

Yes, Adrian would have children; but Hubert Cochrane, who, from thebeautiful young brood that was to have sprung from his loins wouldhave grafted on the old stock a fresh and noble tree, he was to passbarren out of life and leave no trace behind him. 

CHAPTER XXXII

THE ONE HE LOVED AND THE ONE WHO LOVED HIM

On the evening of the previous day Lady Landale and her Aunt hadarrived at Pulwick. The drive had been a dismal one to poor MissO'Donoghue. Neither her angry expostulations, nor her tenderremonstrances, nor her attempts at consolation could succeed indrawing a connected sentence from Molly, who, with a fever spot of redupon each cheek only roused herself from the depth of thought in whichshe seemed plunged to urge the coachman to greater speed. MissO'Donoghue tried the whole gamut of her art in vain, and was obligedat last to desist from sheer weariness and in much anxiety. 

Madeleine and Sophia were seated by the fireside in the library whenthe unexpected travellers came in upon them. Sophia, in the blackestof black weeds, started guiltily up from the volume of "The Corsair, "in which she had been plunged, while Madeleine, without manifestingany surprise, rose placidly, laid aside her needlework--a coarseflannel frock, evidently destined for charity--and bestowed upon hersister and aunt an affectionate though unexpansive embrace. 

She had grown somewhat thinner and more thoughtful-looking since Mollyand she had last met, on that fatal 15th of March, but otherwise wasunchanged in her serene beauty. Molly clutched her wrist with aburning hand, and, paying not the slightest attention to the othertwo, nor condescending to any preamble, began at once, in hurriedwords to explain her mission. 

"He has asked for you, Madeleine, " she cried, her eyes flaming withunnatural brilliance as they sought her sister's mild gaze. "He hasasked for you, I will take you back with me, to-morrow, not later thanto-morrow. Don't you understand?" shaking her impatiently as she heldher, "he is in prison, condemned to death, he has asked for you, hewants to see you. On Saturday--on Saturday----" Something clicked inher throat, and she raised her hand to it with an uneasy gesture, onethat those who surrounded her had grown curiously familiar with oflate. 

Madeleine drew away from her at this address, the whole fair calm ofher countenance troubled like a placid pool by the casting of a stone. Clasping her hands and looking down: "I saw that the unfortunate manwas condemned, " she said. "I have prayed for him daily, I trust herepents. I am truly sorry for him. From my heart I forgive him thedeception he practised upon me. But----" a slight shudder shook her, "I could not see him again--surely you could not wish it of me. "

She spoke with such extreme gentleness that for a minute the womanbefore her, in the seething turmoil of her soul, failed to grasp themeaning of her words. 

"You could not go!" she repeated in a bewildered way, "I could notwish it of you--!" then with a sort of shriek which drew Tanty andMiss Sophia hurriedly towards her, "Don't you understand--onSaturday--if it all fails, they will hang him?"

"A-ah!" exclaimed Madeleine with a movement as if to ward off thesound--the cry, the gesture expressive, not of grief, but of shrinkingrepugnance. But after a second, controlling herself:

"And what should that be now, sister, to you or to me?" she saidhaughtily. 

Lady Landale clapped her hands together. 

"And this is the woman he loves!" she cried with a shrill laugh. Andshe staggered, and sank back upon a chair in an attitude of utterprostration. 

"Molly, Molly, " exclaimed her sister reprovingly, while she glanced inmuch distress at Miss O'Donoghue, "you are not yourself; you do notknow what you are saying. "

"Remember, " interposed Sophia in tragic tones, "that you are speakingof the murderer of my beloved brother. " Then she dissolved in tears, and was obliged to hide her countenance in the folds of a vastpocket-handkerchief. 

"Killing vermin is not murder!" cried Molly fiercely, awakening fromher torpor. 

Miss O'Donoghue, who in the most unwonted silence had been watchingthe scene with her shrewd eyes, here seized the horrified Sophia bythe elbow and trundled her, with a great deal of energy anddetermination, to the door. 

"Get out of this, you foolish creature, " she said in a stern whisper, "and don't attempt to show your nose here again till I give it leaveto walk in!" Then returning to the sisters, and looking from Molly'shaggard, distracted face to Madeleine's pale one: "If you take myadvice, my dear, " she said, a little drily, to the latter, "you willnot make so many bones about going to see that poor lad in the prison, and you'll stop wrangling with your sister, for she is just not ableto bear it. We shall start to-morrow, Molly, " turning to Lady Landale, and speaking in the tone of one addressing a sick child, "andMadeleine will be quite ready as early as you wish. "

"My dear aunt, " said Madeleine, growing white to the lips, "I am verysorry if Molly is ill, but you are quite mistaken if you think I canyield to her wishes in this matter. I could not go; I could not; it isimpossible!"

"Hear her, " cried the other, starting from her seat. "Oh, what are youmade of? Is it water that runs in your veins? you that he loves"--hervoice broke into a wail--"you who ought to be so proud to know heloves you even though your heart be broken! You refuse to go to him, refuse his last request!. . . Come to the light, " she went on, seizingthe girl's wrists again; "let me look at you. Bah! you never lovedhim. You don't even understand what it is to love. . . . But what couldone expect from you, who abandoned him in the moment of danger. Youare afraid; afraid of the painful scene, the discomfort, the sight ofthe prison, of his beautiful face worn and changed--afraid of thediscredit. Oh! I know you, I know you. But mind you, Madeleine deSavenaye, he wishes to see you, and I swore you would go to him, andyou shall go, if I have to drag you with these hands of mine. "

Her grip was so fierce, her eyes so savage, the words so strange, thatMadeleine screamed faintly, "She is mad!" and was amazed that MissO'Donoghue did not rush to the rescue!

But Miss O'Donoghue, peering at her from the depths of her arm-chair, merely said snappishly: "Ah, child, can't you say you will go, andhave done! Oughtn't you to be ashamed to be so hard-hearted?" andmopped her perspiring and agitated countenance with her kerchief. Thenupon the girl's bewildered mind dawned a glimmer of the truth; and, blushing to the roots of her hair, she looked at her sister with agrowing horror. 

"Oh, Molly, Molly!" she said again, with a sort of groan. 

"Will you go?" cried Molly from between her set teeth. 

Again the girl shuddered. 

"Less than ever--now, " she murmured. And as Molly threw her from her, almost with violence, she covered her face with her hands and fell, weeping bitter tears, upon the couch behind her. 

Lady Landale, with great steps, stormed up and down the room, her eyesfixed on space, her lips moving; now and again a word escaped herthen, sometimes hurled at her sister, sometimes only in desperatecommuning with herself. 

"Base, cowardly, mean! Oh, my God, cruel--cruel! To go back withouther. "

After a little, with a sudden change of mood, she halted and stood awhile, as if in deep reflection, holding her hand to her head, thencrossing the room hurriedly, she knelt down, and flung her arms roundthe weeping figure. 

"_Ma petite Madeleine_, " she said in a voice of the most piteouspleading, "thou and I, we were always good friends; thou canst nothave the heart to be so cruel to me now. See, my darling, he must die, they say--oh, Madeleine, Madeleine! And he asked for you. The onething, he told René, the only thing we could do for him on earth wasto let him see you once more. My little sister, you cannot refuse: heloves you. What has he done to offend you? Your pride cannot forgivehim for being what he is, I suppose; yet such as he is you should beproud of him. He is too noble, too straightforward to haveintentionally deceived you. If he did wrong, it was for love of you. Madeleine, Madeleine!"

Her tones trailed away into a moan. 

Miss O'Donoghue sobbed loudly from her corner. Madeleine, who hadlooked at her sister at first with repulsion, seemed moved; sheplaced her hands upon her shoulders, and gazed sadly into the flushedface. 

"My poor Molly, " she said hesitatingly, "this is dreadful! But Itoo--I too was led into deceit, into folly. " She blushed painfully. "Iwould not blame you; it was not your fault that you were carried awayin his ship. You went only for my sake: I cannot forget that. Yet thathe should have this unhappy power over you too, you with your goodhusband, you a married woman, oh, my poor sister, it is terrible! Heis a wicked man; I pray that he may yet repent. "

"Heavens, " interrupted Molly, her passion up in arms again, looseningas she spoke her clasp upon her sister, and rising to her feet to lookdown on her with withering scorn, "have I not made myself clear? Areyou deaf, stupid, as well as heartless? It is you--you--_you_ heloves, _you_ he wants. What am I to him?" with a curious sob, half oflaughter, half of anguish. "Your pious fears are quite unfounded asfar as he is concerned--the wicked man, as you call him! Oh, he spurnsmy love with as much horror as even you could wish!"

"Molly!"

"Ay--Molly, and Molly--how shocked you are! Yes, I love him, I don'tcare who hears it. I love him--Adrian knows--he is not as virtuous asyou, evidently, for Adrian pities me. He is doing all he can, thoughthey say it is in vain, to get a reprieve for him--though I _do_ lovehim! While you--you are too good, too immaculate even to soil yourdainty foot upon the floor of his prison, that floor that I could kissbecause his shoe has trod it. But it is impossible! no human beingcould be so hard, least of all you, whom I have seen turn sick at thesight of a dead worm--Madeleine----!"

Crouching down in the former imploring manner, while her breast heavedwith dry tearless sobs: "It cannot hurt you, you who loved him. " Andthen with the old pitiful cry, "it is the only thing he wants, and heloves you. "

Madeleine disengaged herself from the clinging hands with a gesturealmost of disgust. 

"Listen to me, " she said, after a pause, "try and compose yourself andunderstand. All this month I have had time to think, to realise, topray. I have seen what the world is worth, that it is full of horror, of sin, of trouble, of dreadful dissensions--that its sorrow faroutweighs its happiness. I _have_ suffered, " her pretty lips quiveredan instant, but she hardened herself and went on, "but it is betterso--it was God's will, it was to show me where to find real comfort, the true peace. I have quite made up my mind. I was only waiting tosee you again and tell you--next week I am going back to the conventfor ever. Oh, why did we leave it, Molly, why did we leave it!" Shebroke down, and the tears gushed from her eyes. 

Lady Landale had listened in silence. 

"Well--is that all?" she said impatiently, when her sister ceasedspeaking, while in the background Tanty groaned out a protest, andbewailed that she was alive to see the day. "What does it matter whatyou do afterwards--you can go to the convent--go where you will then;but what has that to say to your visit to _him_ now?"

"I have done with all human love, " said Madeleine solemnly, crossingher hands on her breast, and looking upward with inspired eyes. "I didlove this man once, " she answered, hardening herself to speak firmly, though again her lips quivered--"he himself killed that love by hisown doing. I trusted him; he betrayed that trust; he would havebetrayed me, but that I have forgiven, it is past and done with. Butto go and see him now, to stir up in my heart, not the old love, itcould not be, but agitation, sorrow--to disturb this quietness ofsoul, this calm which God has given me at last after so much prayerand struggle--no, no--it would not be right, it cannot be! Moreover, if I would, I could not, indeed I could not. The very thought of itall, the disgrace, that place of sin and shame, of him in chains, condemned--a criminal--a murderer!. . . "

A nervous shudder shook her from head to foot, she seemed in truth tosicken and grow faint, like one forced to face some hideous nauseatingspectacle. "As for him, " she went on in low, feeble tones, "it will bethe best too. God knows I forgive him, that I am sorry for him, that Iregret his terrible fate. But I feel it would be worse for him to seeme--if he must die, it would be wrong to distract him from his lastpreparations. And it would only be a useless pain to him, for I couldnot pretend--he would see that I despise him. I thought I loved anoble gentleman, not one who was even then playing with crime andcheating. "

The faint passionless voice had hardly ceased before, with a loud cry, Molly sprang at her sister as if she would have strangled her. 

"Oh, unnatural wretch, " she exclaimed, "you are not fit to live!"

Tanty rushed forward and dragged the infuriated woman away. 

Madeleine rose up stiffly--swayed a moment as she stood--and then fellunconscious to the ground. 

 * * * * *

Next day in the dawn Lady Landale came into her sister's bedroom. Hercircled eyes, her drawn face bespeaking a sleepless night. 

Madeleine was lying, beautiful and white, like a broken lily, in thedim light of the lamp; Sophia, an unlovely spectacle in curl papers, wizened and red-eyed from her night's watch, looked up warningly fromthe arm-chair beside her. But Molly went unhesitatingly to the window, pulled the curtains, unbarred the shutters, and then walked over tothe bed. 

As she approached, Madeleine opened her blue eyes and gazed at herbeseechingly. 

"There is yet time, " said Molly in a hollow voice. "Get up and comewith me. "

The wan face upon the pillow grew whiter still, the old horror grew inthe uplifted eyes, the wan lips murmured, "I cannot. "

There was an immense strength of resistance in the girl's veryfeebleness. 

Molly turned away abruptly, then back again once more. 

"At least you will send him a message?"

Madeleine drew a deep breath, closed her eyes a moment and seemed towhisper a prayer; then aloud she said, while, like a shadow so faintwas it, a flush rose to her cheeks:

"Tell him that I forgive him, that I forgive him freely--that I shallalways pray for him. " The flush grew deeper. "Tell him too that Ishall never be any man's bride, now. "

She closed her eyes again and the colour slowly ebbed away. Mollystood, her black brows drawn, gazing down upon her in silence. --Didshe love him after all? Who can fathom the mystery of another's heart?

"I will tell him, " she answered at last. "Good-bye, Madeleine--I shallnever see you or speak to you again as long as I live. "

She left the room with a slow, heavy step. 

Madeleine shivered, and with both hands clasped the silver crucifixthat hung around her neck; two great tears escaped from her blacklashes and rolled down her cheeks. Miss Sophia moaned. She, poor soul, had had tragedy enough, at last. 

 * * * * *

When the jailer brought in the mid-day meal after Adrian's departure, he found the prisoner seated very quietly at his table, his open Biblebefore him, but his eyes fixed dreamily upon the space of dimwhitewashed wall, and his mind evidently far away. 

Upon his guardian's entrance he roused himself, however, and beggedhim, when he should return for the dish, to restore neatness to thebed and to assist him in the ordering of his toilet which he wished tobe spick and span. 

"For I expect a visitor, " said Captain Jack gravely. 

When in due course the fellow had carried out these wishes with thesurly good-nature characteristic of him, Jack set himself to wait. 

The square of sky through his window grew from dazzling white todeepest blue, the shadows travelled along the blank walls, the streetnoises rose and fell in capricious gusts, the church bells jangled, all the myriad sounds which had come to measure his solitary daystruck their familiar course upon his ear; yet the expected visitordelayed. But the captain, among other things, had learnt to possesshis soul in patience of late; and so, as he slowly paced his cellafter his wont, he betrayed neither irritation nor melancholy. If shedid not come to-day, then it would be to-morrow. He had no doubt ofthis. 

The afternoon had waned--golden without, full of grey shadows in theprison room--when light footfalls mingled with the well-known heavytread and jangle of keys, along the echoing passage. 

There was the murmur of a woman's voice, a word of gruff reply, andthe next moment a tall form wrapped in a many-folded black cloak andclosely veiled, advanced a few steps into the room, while, as before, the turnkey retired and locked the door behind him. 

His heart beating so thickly that for the moment utterance wasimpossible, Captain Jack made one hurried pace forward withoutstretched hands, only to check himself, however, and let them fallby his side. He would meet her calmly, humbly, as he had resolved. 

The woman threw back her veil, and it was Molly's dark gaze, Molly'sbrown face, flushed and haggard, yet always beautiful, that looked outof the black frame. 

An ashen pallor spread over the prisoner's countenance. 

"Madeleine?" he asked in a whisper; then, with a loud ring of sterndemand, "_Madeleine!_"

"I went for her, I went for her myself--I did all I could--she wouldnot come. "

_She would not come!_

It is a sort of unwritten law that the supremely afflicted have theright, where possible, to the gratification of the least of theirwishes. That Madeleine could refuse to come to him in his lastextremity, had never once crossed her lover's brain. He stoodbewildered. 

"She is not ill?"

"Ill!" Lady Landale's red lips curved in scorn, "No--not ill--but acoward!" She spat the word fiercely as if at the offender's face. 

There fell a minute's silence, broken only by a few labouringdeep-drawn breaths from the prisoner's oppressed lungs. Then he stoodas if turned to stone, not a muscle moving, his eyes fixed, his jawset. 

Molly trembled before this composure, beneath which she divined asuffering so intense that her own frail barriers of self-restraintwere well-nigh broken down by a torrent of passionate pity. 

But she braced herself with the feeling of the moment's urgency. Shehad no time to lose. 

"Hear me, " she cried in low hurried tones, laying a hand upon hisfolded arm and then drawing it away again as if frightened by therigid tension she felt there. "Waste no more thought on one sounworthy--all is not lost--I bring you hope, life. Oh, for God'ssake, wake up and listen to me--I can save you still. Captain Smith, Jack--_Jack!_"

Her voice rose as high as she dare lift it, but no statue could bemore unhearing. 

The woman cast a desperate look around her; hearkened fearfully, allwas silent within the prison; then with tremulous haste she cast offher immense cloak, pulled her bonnet from her head, divested herselfof her long full skirt and stood, a strange vision, lithe, unconscious, unashamed, her slender woman's figure clad in completeman's raiment, with the exception of the coat. Her dark head croppedand curly, her face, with its fever-bloom, rising flower-like abovethe folds of her white shirt. 

With anxious haste she compared herself with the prisoner. 

"René told me well, " she said; "with your coat upon me none would tellthe difference in this dark room. I am nearly as tall as you too. Thanks be to God that he made me so. _Jack_, " calling in his ear, "don't you see? Don't you understand? It is all quite easy. You haveonly to put on these clothes of mine, this cloak, the bonnet comesquite over the face; stoop a little as you go out and hold thishandkerchief to your face as if in tears. The carriage waits outsideand René. The rest is planned. I shall sit on the bed with your coaton. It is a chance--a certainty. When I found René had failed, I sworethat I would save you yet. Ever since I came from Pulwick this morninghe and I have worked together upon this last plan. There is not aflaw; it must succeed. Oh, God, he does not hear me! Jack--Jack!"

She shook him with a sort of fury, then, falling at his feet, claspedhis knees. 

"For God's sake--for God's sake!"

He sighed, and again came the murmur:

"She would not come----" He lifted his hand to his forehead and lookedround, then down at her, as if from a great height. 

She saw that he was aroused at last, sprang to her feet, and pouredout the details of the scheme again. 

"I run no risk, you see. They would not dare to punish me, awoman--Lady Landale--even if they could. Be quick, the preciousmoments are going by. I gave the man some gold to leave us as long ashe could, but any moment he may be upon us. "

"Poor woman, " said Jack, and his voice seemed as far off as his gaze;"see these chains. "

She staggered back an instant, but the next, crying:

"The file--the file--that was why René gave it to me. " She seized theskirt as it lay at her feet, and, striving with agonised endeavours tocontrol the trembling of her hands, drew forth from its pocket a fileand would have taken his wrist. But he held his hands above his head, out of her reach, while a strange smile, almost of triumph, parted hislips. 

"The bitterness of death is past, " he said. 

She tore at him in a frenzy, but, repulsed by his immobility, fellagain broken at his feet. 

In a torrent of words she besought him, for Adrian's sake, for thesake of the beautiful world, of his youth, of the sweetness oflife--in her madness, at last, for her own sake! She had ruined him, but she would atone, she would make him happy yet. If he died it wasdeath to her. . . . 

When at length her voice sank away from sheer exhaustion, he helpedher to rise, and seated her on the chair; then told her quietly thathe was quite determined. 

"Go home, " said he, "and leave me in peace. I thank you for what youwould have done, thank you for trying to bring Madeleine, " he paused amoment. How purely he had loved her--and twice, twice she had failedhim. "Yet, I do not blame her, " he went on as if to himself; "I didnot deserve to see her, and it has made all the rest easy. Remember, "again addressing the woman whom hopelessness seemed for a moment tohave benumbed, "that if you would yet do me a kindness, be kind toher. If you would atone--atone to Adrian. "

"To Adrian?" echoed Molly, stung to the quick, with a pale smile ofexceeding bitterness. And with a rush of pride, strength returned toher. 

"I leave you resolved to die then?" she asked him, fiercely. 

"You leave me glad to die, " he replied, unhesitatingly. 

She spoke no more, but got up to replace her garments. He assisted herin silence, but as his awkward bound hands touched her she shudderedaway from him. 

As she gathered the cloak round her shoulders again, there was a noiseof heavy feet at the door. 

The jailer thrust in his rusty head and looked furtively from theprisoner to his visitor as they stood silently apart from each other;then, making a sign to some one whose dark figure was shadowed behindhim without, entered with a hesitating sidelong step, and, drawingCaptain Jack on one side, whispered in his ear. 

"The blacksmith's yonder. He's come to measure you, captain, for themthere irons you know of--best get the lady quietly away, for he wunnutwait no longer. "

The prisoner smiled sternly. 

"I am ready, " he said, aloud. 

"I'll keep him outside a minute or two, " added the man, wiping hisbrow, evidently much relieved by his charge's calmness. "I kep' himback as long as I could--but happen it's allus best to hurry theparting after all. "

He moved away upon tiptoe, in instinctive tribute to the lady'ssorrow, and drew the door to. 

Molly threw back her veil which she had lowered upon his entrance, herface was livid. 

"What is it?" she asked, articulating with difficulty. 

"Nothing--a fellow to see to my irons. "

He moved his hands as he spoke, and she understood him, as he hadhoped, to refer only to his manacles. 

She drew a gasping breath. How they watched him! Yet all was not lostafter all. 

"I will leave the file, " she said, in a quick whisper; "you willreflect; there is yet to-morrow, " and rushed to hide it in his bed. But he caught her by the arm, his patience worn out at length. 

"Useless, " he answered, harshly. "I shall not use it. Moreover, itwould be found, and I am sure it is not your wish to bring unnecessaryhardship upon my last moments. I should lose the only thing that isleft to me, the comfort of being alone. And to-morrow I shall see noone. "

The door groaned apart:

"Very sorry, mum, " came the husky voice in the opening, "Time's up. "

She turned a look of agony upon Captain Jack's determined figure. Wasthis to be the end? Was she to leave him so, without even one kindword?

Alas, poor soul! All her hopes had fallen to this--a parting word. 

He was unpitying; his arms were folded; he made no sign. 

She took a step away and swayed; the turnkey came forwardcompassionately to lead her out. But the next instant she wheeledround and stood alone and erect, braced up by the extremity of heranguish. 

"I _have_ a message, " she cried, as if the words were forced from her. "I could not make her come, but I made her send you a message. Shetold me to say that she forgave you, freely; that she would alwayspray for you. She bade me tell you too that she would never be anyman's bride now. "

It had been like the rending of body and soul to tell him this. As shesaw the condemned man's face quiver and flush at last out of itsimpassiveness, she thought hell itself could hold no more hideoustorment. 

He extended his arms:

"Now welcome death!" he exclaimed. 

And she turned and fled down the passage as though driven upon thislast cry. 

 * * * * *

"E-h, he be a strange one!" said the jailer afterwards to his mate. "If ye'd heard that poor lady sob as she went by! I've seen many a onein the same case, but I was sore for her, I was that. And he--ascool--joking with Robert over the hanging irons the next minute. 'Newsort of tailor I've got, ' says he. 'Make them smart, ' he says, 'sinceI'm to wear them in so exalted a position. ' So exalted a position, that's what he says. 'And they've got to last me some long time, youknow, ' says he. "

"He'll be something worth looking at on Saturday. I could almost wishhe could ha' got off, only that it's a fine sight to see a realgentleman go through it. Ah, it's they desperate villains has theproper pluck!"

CHAPTER XXXIII

LAUNCHED ON THE GREAT WAVE

Sir Adrian made, at first personally, then through Miss O'Donoghue, two attempts to induce his wife to return to Pulwick, or at any rateto leave Lancaster on the next day. But the contempt, then the fury, which she opposed to their reasoning rendered it worse than useless. 

The very sight of her husband, indeed, seemed to exasperate theunfortunate woman to such a degree that, in spite of his anxietyconcerning her, he resolved to spare her even to the consciousness ofhis presence, and absented himself altogether from the house. 

Miss O'Donoghue, unable to cope with a state of affairs at once sodistressing and so unbecoming, finally retired to her own apartmentwith a book of piety and some gruel, and abandoned all furtherendeavour to guide her unruly relations. So that Molly found herselfleft to her own resources, in the guardianship of René, the onlycompany her misery could tolerate. 

Three times she went to the castle, to be met each time with theannouncement that, by the express wish of the prisoner, no visitorswere to be admitted to him again. Then in restless wandering about thestreets--once entering the little chapel where the silent tabernacleseemed, with its closed door, to offer no relenting to the stormy cryof her soul, and sent her forth uncomforted in the very midst ofRené's humble bead-telling, to pace the flags anew--so the terribleday wore to a close for her; and so that night came, precursor of themost terrible day of all. 

The exhaustion of Lady Landale's body produced at last a fortunatetorpor of mind. Flung upon her bed she fell into a heavy sleep, andTanty who announced her intention of watching her, when René'sguardianship had of necessity to cease, had the satisfaction ofinforming Adrian, as he crept into the house, like one who had nobusiness there, of this consoling fact before retiring herself to thecapacious arm-chair in which she heroically purposed to spend thenight. 

The sun was bright in the heavens, there was a clatter and bustle inthe street, when Molly woke with a great start out of this sleep ofexhaustion. Her heart beating with heavy strokes, she sat up in bedand gazed upon her surroundings with startled eyes. What was thisstrange feeling of oppression, of terror? Why was she in this sordidlittle room? Why was her hair cut short? Ah, my God! memory returnedupon her all too swiftly. It was for to-day--_to-day_; and she wasperhaps too late. She might never see him again!

The throbbing of her heart was suffocating, sickening, as she slippedout of bed. For a moment she hardly dared consult the little watchthat lay ticking upon her dressing table. It was only a few minutespast seven; there was yet time. 

The energy of her desire conquered the weakness of her overwroughtnerves. 

Noiselessly, so as to avoid awakening the slumbering watcher in thearm-chair, but steadily, she clothed herself, wrapt the dark mantleround her; and then, pausing for a moment to gaze with a fiercedisdain at the unconscious face of Miss O'Donoghue, which, with snoresemerging energetically and regularly from the great hooked nose, presented a weird and witchlike vision in the frame of a nightcap, fearfully and wonderfully befrilled, crept from the room and down thestairs. 

At René's door she paused and knocked. 

He opened on the instant. From his worn face she guessed that he hadbeen up all night. He put his finger to his lips as he saw her, andglanced meaningly towards the bed. 

The words she would have spoken expired in a quick-drawn breath. Herhusband, with face of deathlike pallor and silvered hair abroad uponthe pillow, lay upon the poor couch, still in his yesterday attire, but covered carefully with a cloak. His breast rose and fellpeacefully with his regular breath. 

The scorn with which she had looked at Miss O'Donoghue now shot fortha thousand times intensified from Molly's circled eyes upon theprostrate figure. 

"Asleep!" she cried. 

And then with that incongruity with which things trivial andirrelevant come upon us, even in the supremest moments of life, thethought struck her sharply how old a man he was. Her lip curved. 

"Yes, My Lady--asleep, " answered René steadily--it seemed as if thefaithful peasant had read her to her soul. "Thank God, asleep. It isenough to have to lose one good gentleman from the world this day. Ifhis honour were not sleeping at last, I should not answer for him--Iwho speak to you. I took upon myself to put some of the medicine, thathe has had to take now and again, when his sorrows come upon him andhe cannot rest, into his soup last night. It has had a good effect. His honour will sleep three or four hours still, and that, My Lady, must be. His honour has suffered enough these last days, God knows!"

The wife turned away with an impatient gesture. 

"Look, Madame, at his white hairs. All white now--they that were of abrown so beautiful, all but a few locks, only a few months past! Wellmay he look old. When was ever any one made to suffer as he has been, in only forty years of life? Ah, My Lady, we were at least tranquilupon our island!"

There was a volume of reproach in the quiet simplicity of the words, though Lady Landale was too bent on her own purpose to heed them. Butshe felt that they lodged in her mind, that she would find them therelater; but not now--not now. 

"It is to be for nine o'clock, you know, " she said, with desperatecalmness. "I must see him again. I must see him well. Alone I shallnot be able to get a good place in the crowd. Oh, I would see all!"she added, with a terrible laugh. 

René cast a glance at his master's placid face. 

"I am ready to come with My Lady, " he said then, and took his hat. 

A turbulent, tender April day it was. Gusts of west wind, balmy andsweet with all the sweet budding life of the fields beyond, cameeddying up the dusty streets and blowing merrily into the faces of theholiday crowd that already pressed in a steady stream towards thecastle courtyard to see the hanging. In those days there were hangingsso many after assizes that an execution could hardly be said topossess the interest of novelty. But there were circumstances enoughattending the forthcoming show to give it quite a piquancy of its ownin the eyes of the worthy Lancastrian burghers, who hurried with wivesand children to the place of doom, anxious to secure sitting orstanding room with a good view of the gallows-tree. 

It was not every day, indeed, that a _gentleman_ was hanged. Sohandsome a man, too, as the rumours went, and so dare-devil a fellow;friend of the noble family of Landale, and a murderer of its mostrespected member. Could justice ever have served up a spicier dishwhereon to regale the multitude?

First the courtyard, then, the walls, the roofs of the adjoininghouses, swarmed with an eager crowd. Every space of ground and slateand tile, every ledge and window, was occupied. As thick as bees theyhung--men, women, and children; a sea of white faces pressed together, each still, yet all as instinct with tremulous movement as a field ofcorn in the wind; while the hoarse, indescribable murmur that seizesone with so strange and fearsome an impression, the voice of themultitude, rose and fell with a mighty pulsation, broken here andthere by the shriller cry of a child. 

Overhead the sky, a delicious spring blue sky, flecked with tiny whiteclouds, looked down like a great smile upon the crowd that laughed andjoked beneath. 

No pity in heaven or on earth. 

But as the felon came out into the air, which, warm and fickle, puffedagainst his cheek, he cast one steady glance around upon the blackhuman hive and then looked up into the white flecked ether, withoutthe quiver of a nerve. 

He drew the spring breath into his lungs with a grateful expansion ofhis deep chest. How fresh it was! And the sky, how fair and blue!

As the eagerly expected group emerged from the prison door and wasgreeted by a roar that curdled the blood in at least one woman's heartthere, an old Irish hag, who sat in a coign of vantage, hugging herknees and crooning, a little black pipe held in her toothless jaws, ceased her dismal hum to concentrate all her attention upon thecondemned man. 

The creature was well known for miles around as a constant attendantat such spectacles, and had become in the course of time a privilegedspectator. No one would have dreamt of disputing the first place toold Judy. Since the day when, still a young woman, she had seen hertwo sons, mere lads, hanged, the one for sheep-stealing, the other forharbouring the booty, she had, by a strange freak of nature, taken ataste for the spectacle of justice at work, and what had been thecause of her greatest sorrow became the only solace of her life. Judyand her pipe had become as familiar a figure at the periodicalentertainment as the executioner himself--more so, indeed, for she hadseen many generations of these latter, and could compare their styleswith the judgment of a connoisseur. 

But as Captain Jack advanced, the pallor of his clean shorn, handsomeface illumined not so much by the morning sun without it seemed as bythe shining of the bright spirit within; as gallantly clad as he hadever been, even in the old Bath days when he had been courting fairMadeleine de Savenaye; his head proudly uplifted, his tread firm, strong of soul, strong of body--some chord was struck in the pervertedold heart that had so long revelled in unholy and gruesome pleasure. She drew the pipe from her lips, and broke out into screechinglamentations. 

"Oh, me boy, me boy, me beautiful boy! Is it hang him they will, andhe so beautiful and brave? The murthering villains, my curse onthem--a mother's curse--God's curse on them--the black murtherers!"

She scrambled to her feet, and shook her fist wildly in the face ofone of the sheriff's men. 

A woman in the crowd, standing rigid and motionless, enveloped inmourning robes, here suddenly caught up the words with a mutteringlip. 

"Murderers, who said murderers? Don't they know who murdered him?Murdering Moll, Murdering Moll!"

"For heaven's love, Madam, " cried a man beside her, who seemed in suchanxiety concerning her as to pay little heed to the solemn processionwhich was now attracting universal attention, "let me take you away!"

But she looked at him with a distraught, unseeing eye, and pulled atthe collar of her dress as if she were choking. 

Old Judy's sudden expression of opinion created a small disturbance. The procession had to halt; a couple of officials good-naturedlyelbowed her on one side. 

But she thrust a withered hand expanded in protest over theirshoulders, as the prisoner came forward again. 

"God bless ye, honey, God bless ye: it's a wicked world. "

He turned towards her; for the last time the old sweet smile sprang tolip and eye. 

"Thank you, mother, " he said, and raised his hand to his bare headwith courteous gesture. 

The crowd howled and swayed. He passed on. 

And now the end! There is the cart; the officers draw back to make wayfor the man who is to help him with his final toilet. The chaplain, too, falls away after wringing his hand again and again. Good man, heweeps and cannot speak the sacred words he would. Why weep? We mustall die! How blue the sky is: he will look once more before drawingdown the cap upon his eyes. His hands are free, for he is to die aslike a gentleman as may be. Just the old blue that used to smile downat him upon his merry _Peregrine_, and up at him from the dancingwaves. He had always thought he would have liked to die upon the sea, in the cool fresh water . . . A clean, brave death. 

It is hard to die in a crowd. Even the very beasts would creep intocave or bush to die decently--unwatched. 

A last puff of sweeping wind in his face; then darkness, blind, suffocating. . . . 

Ah, God is good! Here is the old ship giving and rising under his feetlike the living creature he always thought her, and here is dazzlingbrilliant sunshine all around, so bright he scarce can see the freewhite-crested waves that are dashing down upon him; but he is upon thesea indeed, upon the sea alone, and the waves are coming. Hark howthey roar, see how they gather! The brave _Peregrine_ she dips andsprings, she will weather the breakers with him at the helm no matterhow they rear. On, on they come, mountain high, overwhelming, bitterdrenching. 

A great wave in very truth, it gathers and breaks and onward rolls, and carries the soul of Hubert Cochrane with it. 

The woman in the black cloak falls as if she had been struck, and asthose around her draw apart to let her companion and another man lifther and carry her away, they note with horror that her face is darkand swollen, as if the cord that had just done its evil work yonderhad been tightened also round her slender throat. 

CHAPTER XXXIV

THE GIBBET ON THE SANDS

 Woman! take up thy life once more Where thou hast left it; Nothing is changed for thee, thou art the same, Thou who didst think that all things Would be wholly changed for thee. 

 _Luteplayer's Song. _

Pulwick again. The whirlwind of disaster that upon that fatalfifteenth of March had burst upon the house of Landale has passed andswept away. But it has left deep trace of its passage. 

The restless head, the busy hand, the scheming brain of Rupert Landalelie now mouldering under the sod of the little churchyard where firstthey started the mischief that was to have such far reaching effects. Low, too, lies the proud head of the mistress of Pulwick, so stricken, indeed, so fever-tortured, that those who love her best scarce darehope more for her than rest at last under the same earth that pressesthus lightly above her enemy's eternal sleep. 

There is a great stillness in the house. People go to and fro withmuffled steps, the master with bent white head; Miss O'Donoghue, indefatigable sick nurse; Madeleine, who may not venture as far as thethreshold of her sister's room, and awaits in prayer and tears thehour of that final bereavement which will free her to take wingtowards the cloister for which her soul longs; Sophia, crushed finallyby the sorrows she has played at all her days. Seemingly there ispeace once more upon them all, but it is the peace of exhaustionrather than that of repose. And yet--could they but know it, as thesands run down in the hour-glass of time there are golden grainsgathering still to drop into the lives of each. 

But meanwhile none may read the future, and Molly fights for her lifein the darkened room, the gloom of which, to the souls of the dwellersat Pulwick, seems to spread even to the sunny skies without. 

 * * * * *

When Lady Landale was brought back to her home from Lancaster, it washeld by every one who saw her that Death had laid his cold finger onher forehead, and that her surrender to his call could only be amatter of hours. 

The physician in attendance could point out no reasonable ground forhope. Such a case had never come within his experience or knowledge, and he was with difficulty induced to believe that it was not theresult of actual violence. 

"In every particular, " said he, "the patient's symptoms are those ofcoma resulting from prolonged strangulation or asphyxia. Thesespectacles are very dangerous to highly sensitive organisations. LadyLandale no doubt felt for the miserable wretch in the benevolence ofher heart. Imagination aiding her, she realised suddenly the horror ofhis death throes, and this vivid realisation was followed by theactual simulacrum of the torture. We have seen hysterical subjectssimulate in the same manner diverse diseases of which they themselvesare organically free, such as epilepsy, or the like. But LadyLandale's condition is otherwise serious. She is alive; more I cannotsay. "

According to his lights, he had bled the patient, as he would havebled, by rote, to recall to life one actually cut down from the beam. But, although the young blood did flow, bearing testimony to the factthat the heart still beat in that deathlike frame, the vitality leftseemed so faint as to defy the power of human ministration. 

The flame of life barely flickered; but the powers of youth were ofgreater strength in the unconscious body than could have beensuspected, and gradually, almost imperceptibly, they assertedthemselves. 

With the return of animation, however, came a new danger: fever, burning, devastating, more terrible even than the almost mortalsyncope; that fever of the brain which wastes like the rack, beforewhich science stands helpless, and the watcher sinks into despair athis impotence to screen a beloved sufferer from the horrible, ever-recurring phantoms of delirium. 

Had not Sir Adrian intuitively known well-nigh every act of the dramawhich had already been so fatal to his house, Molly's frenziedutterances would have told him all. Every secret incident of thatstorm of passion which had desolated her life was laid bare to hissorrowing heart:--her aspirations for an ideal, centred suddenly uponone man; her love rapture cruelly baulked at every step; the consumingof that love fire, resisting all frustration of hope, all efforts ofconscience, of honour; how her whole being became merged into that ofthe man she loved and whom she had ruined, her life in his life, hervery breath in his breath. And then the lamentable, inevitable end:the fearful confrontation with his death. Again and again, in neverceasing repetition, was that fair, most dear body, that harrowed soul, dragged step by step through every iota of the past torture, always tofall at last into the same stillness of exhaustion--appalling image offinal death that wrung Adrian with untold agonies of despair. 

For many days this condition of things lasted unaltered. In thephysician's own words it was impossible that life could much longerresist such fierce onslaughts. But one evening a change came over thespirit of the sufferer's vision. 

There had been a somewhat longer interval between the paroxysms; SirAdrian seated as usual by the bed, waiting now with a sinking heartfor the wonted return of the frenzy, clamouring in his soul to heavenfor pity on one whom seemingly no human aid could succour, dared yetdraw no shadow of hope from the more prolonged stillness of thepatient. Presently indeed, she grew restless, tossed her arms, muttered with parched lips. Then she suddenly sat up and listened asif to some deeply annoying and disquieting sound, fell back againunder his gentle hands, rolling her little black head wearily fromside to side, only however to start again, and again listen. Thus itwent on for a while until the haunted, weary eyes grew suddenlydistraught with terror and loathing. Straining them into space as ifseeking something she ought to see but could not, she began to speakin a quick yet distinct whisper:

"How it creaks, creaks--creaks! Will no one stop that creaking! Whatis it that creaks so? Will no one stop that creaking!" And again sheplaced her cheek on the pillow, covering her ear with her little, wasted hand, and for a while remained motionless, moaning like achild. But it was only to spring up again, this time with a cry whichbrought the physician from the adjacent sleeping room in alarm to herbedside. 

"Ah, God, " she shrieked, her eyes distended and staring as if into thefar distance through walls and outlying darkness. "I see it! They havedone it, they have done it! It is hanging on the sands--how it creaksand sways in the wind! It will creak for ever, for ever. . . . Now itspins round, it looks this way--the black face! It looks at _me_!" Shegave another piercing cry, then her frame grew rigid. With mouth openand fixed eyeballs she seemed lost in the frightful fascination of theimage before her brain. 

As, distracted by the sight of her torments, Adrian hung over her, racking his mind in the endeavour to soothe her, her words struck achill into his very soul. He cast a terrified glance at the doctor whowas ominously feeling her pulse. 

"There is a change, " he faltered. 

The doctor shrugged his shoulders. 

"I have told you before, " he retorted irritably, "that you shouldattach no more importance to the substance of these deliriouswanderings than you would to the ravings of madness. It is the fact ofthe delirium itself which must alarm us. She is less and less able tobear it. "

The patient moaned and shuddered, resisting the gentle force thatwould have pressed her down on her pillow. 

"Oh the creaking, the creaking! Will no one stop that creaking! Must Ihear it go on creak, creak, creak for ever, and see it sway andsway. . . . Will no one ever stop it!"

Sir Adrian took a sudden resolution. "I will, " he said, low and clearinto her ear. She sank down on the instant and looked at him, backfrom her far distance, almost as if she understood him and the pitifulcry for the help he would have given his heart's blood to procure forher, was silent for the moment upon her lips. 

"I will prepare an opiate, " said the physician in a whisper. 

"And I, " said Sir Adrian to him, with a strange expression upon hispale face, "am going to stop that creaking. "

The man of medicine gazed after him with a look of intenseastonishment which rapidly changed to one of professional interest. 

"It is evident that I shall soon have another mentally derangedpatient to see to, " he remarked to himself as he rose to seek thedrugs he meant to administer. 

Downstairs, Sir Adrian immediately called for René, and being informedthat he had left for the island early in the afternoon and hadannounced his return before night, cast a cloak over his shoulders andhurried forth in the hope of meeting him upon his homeward way. Hispulses were beating well-nigh as wildly as those of the fever strickenwoman upstairs in the house. He dared not pause to reflect on hispurpose, or seek to disentangle the confusion of his thoughts, forfear of being confronted with the hopelessness of their folly. But theexquisite serenity of the night sky, where swam the moon, "a silversplendour;" the freshness of the sweeping breeze that dashed, keenfrom the east, over the sea against his face; all the gloriousdistance, the unconsciousness and detachment of nature from the fumeand misery of life, brought him unwittingly to a calmer mood. 

He had reached the extreme confine of the pine wood, when, across thesands that stretched unbroken to the lips of the sea, a figureadvanced towards him. 

"Renny!" called Sir Adrian. 

"Your honour!" cried the man, breaking into a run to meet him. O God!how ghostly white looked the master's face in the moon-flood!

"My Lady----?"

"Not worse; yet not better--and that means worse now. But there is achange. Renny, " sinking his voice and clasping the man's sturdy armwith clammy hand, "is it true they have placed him on the sandsto-day?"

The man stared. 

"How did your honour know? Yes--they have done so. It is true: theswine! not more than an hour, in verity. How could it have come sosoon to your honour's ears? This morning, indeed, they came from thetown in a cart, and planted the great gibbet on Scarthey Point, at lowwater. And to-night they brought the body, all bound in irons, andfrom a boat, for it was high tide, they riveted it on the chain. Andit is to remain for ever, your honour--so they say. "

"Strange, " murmured Sir Adrian to himself, gazing seaward withawestruck eyes. "And did you, " he asked, "hear its creaking, Renny, asit swayed in the wind?"

Again René cast a quick glance of alarm at his master. The master hada singular manner with him to-night! Then edging closer to him hewhispered in his ear:

"They say it is to hang for ever. There is a warning to those whowould interfere with this justice of theirs. But, your honour, therecame one to the island to-day, I do not know if your honour knows him, the captain's second on that vessel of misfortune. And I believe, yourhonour, the dawn will never see that poor, black body hanging overyonder like a scarecrow, to spoil our view. This man, this bravemariner, Curwen is his name, he is mad furious with us all! He hasjust but come from hearing of his captain's fate, and he is ready tokill us, that we let him be murdered without breaking some heads forhim. Faith, if it could have done any good, it is not I that wouldhave balanced about it! But, as I told him, there was no use runningone's own head into a loop of rope when that would please nobody butMr. The Judge. But he is not to be reasoned with. He is like a wildanimal. When I left him, " said René, dropping his voice still lower, "he was knocking a coffin together out of the old sea wood onScarthey. He said his captain would rest better in those boards thatwere seasoned with salt water. And when I went away, your honour, andleft him hammering there--faith, I thought that the coffin was like tobe seasoned by another kind of salt water too. "

His face twitched and the ready tears sprang to his own eyes which, unashamed, he now wiped with his sleeve after his custom. But SirAdrian's mind was still drifting in distant ghastly companionship. 

"How the wind blows!" he said, and shuddered a little. "How the poorbody must sway in the wind, and the chains creak. "

"If it can make any difference to the poor captain he will lie inpeace to-night, please God, " said René. 

"Ay, " said Sir Adrian, "and you and I, friend, will go too, and helpthis good fellow in his task. I hope, I believe, that I should havedone this thing of my own thought, had I had time to think at all. Butnow, more hangs upon those creaking chains than you can dream of. Thisis a strange world--and it is full of ghosts to-night. But we musthurry, Renny. "

 * * * * *

Bound even to the tips of her burning little fingers by the spell ofthe opiate, Lady Landale lay in the shadowed room as one dead, yet inher sick brain fearfully awake, keenly alive. 

At first it was as if she too was manacled in chains till she couldnot move a muscle, could not breathe or cry because of the ring roundher breast; and she was hanging with the black figure, swaying, whilethe rusty iron links went creak, creak, creak, with every swing to andfro. Then suddenly she seemed to stand, as it were, out of herself andto be seeing with the naked soul alone. And what she saw was the greatstretch of beach and sea, white, white, white, in the moonlight andspreading, it seemed, for leagues and leagues, spreading till all theworld was only beach and sea. 

But close to her in the whitest moonlight rose the great gibbet, gauntand black, cutting the pale sky in two and athwart; and hanging fromit was the black figure that swayed and swung. And though the windsmuttered and the waves growled, she could not hear them with the earsof the soul, for that the whole of this great world of sea and sandwas filled with the creaking of the chains. 

But now, across the bleak and pallid spaces came three black figures. And, as she looked and watched and they drew nearer, the dreadfulburthen of the gibbet swung round as if to greet them, and she too, felt in her soul that she knew them all three, though not by names, ascreatures of earth know each other, but by the kinship of the soul. This man with hair as white as the white beach, hair that seemed toshine silver as he came; and him yonder who followed him as a dog hismaster; and yonder again the third, in the seaman's dress, with hardface hewn into such rugged lines of grief and fury--she knew them all. And next they reached the gibbet: and one swarmed up the black post, and hammered and filed and prised, and then, oh merciful God! thecreaking stopped at last!

Now she could hear the wash of the waves, the rush of the wholesomewind!

A mist came across her vision; faintly she saw the stiffeneddisfigured corpse which yet she felt had once been something she hadloved with passion, laid reverently upon a stretcher, its ironsloosened and cast away, and then covered with a great cloak. Then thesea, the beach, the white moon faded and waved and receded. Molly'ssoul went back to her body again, while blessed tears fell one by onefrom her hot eyes. She breathed; her limbs relaxed; round the tiredbrain came, with a soft hush like that of gentle wings, dark oblivion. 

Bending over her, for he was aware that for good or evil the crisiswas at hand, the physician saw moisture bead upon the suddenlysmoothed brow, heard a deep sigh escape the parted lips. And then witha movement like a weary child's she drew her arms close and fellasleep. 

 * * * * *

Having laid his friend to his secret rest, deep in the rock ofScarthey, where the free waves that his soul had revelled in wouldbeat till the world's end, Sir Adrian returned to Pulwick in the earlymorning, spent with the long and heavy night's toil--for it had taxedthe strength of even three men to hollow out a grave in such a soil. On the threshold he was greeted by the physician. 

"How beautiful upon the mountains are the feet of the messengers ofglad tidings!" From afar, by the man's demeanour, he knew that thetidings were glad. And most blessed they were indeed to his ears, butto them alone not strange. Throughout every detail of his errand hismind had dwelt rather with the living than the dead. What he had done, he had done for her; and now, the task achieved, it seemed but naturalthat the object for which it had been undertaken should have beenachieved likewise. 

But, left once more with her, seeing her once more wrapt in placidsleep, whom he had thought he would never behold at rest again save inthe last sleep of all, the revulsion was overpowering. He sat down byher side, and through his tears gazed long at the lovely head, now inits pallor and emaciation so sadly like that of his dead love in thesorrowful days of youth; and he thanked heaven that he was still ofthe earth to shield her with his devotion, to cherish her who was nowso helpless and bereft. 

And with such tears and such thoughts came a forgetfulness of thatanguish which in him, as well as in her, had for so long been part ofactual existence. 

When Tanty entered on tiptoe some hours later, she saw her niecemotionless upon her pillow, sleeping as easily and reposefully as achild. And close to her head, Sir Adrian, reclining in the arm-chair, asleep likewise. His arm was stretched limply over the bed and, on itssleeve still stained with the red mud of the grave in Scarthey, restedLady Landale's little, thin, ivory-white fingers. 

 * * * * *

Thus ended Molly's brief but terrible madness. 

"Then you have hope, real hope?" asked Sir Adrian, of the physician asthey met again that day in the gallery. 

"Every hope, " replied the man of science with the proud consciousnessof having, by his wisdom, pulled his patient out of the very jaws ofdeath. "Recovery is now but a question of a time; of a long time, ofcourse, for this crisis has left her weaker than the new-born babe. Repose, complete repose, sleep: that is almost everything. And shewill sleep. Happily, as usual in such cases, Lady Landale seems tohave lost all memory. But I must impress upon you, Sir Adrian, thatthe longer we can keep her in this state, the better. If you havereason to believe that even the sight of _you_ might recalldistressing impressions, you must let me request of you to keep awayfrom the sick room till your wife's strength be sufficiently restoredto be able to face emotions. "

This was said with a certain significance which called the colour toSir Adrian's cheek. He acquiesced, however, without hesitation; and, banished from the place where his treasure lay, fell to haunting thepassages for the rest of the day and to waylaying the privilegedattendants with a humble resignation which would have been sorrowfulbut for the savour of his recent relief from anguish. 

But the next morning, Lady Landale, though too weak of body to lift afinger, too weak of mind to connect a single coherent phrase, nevertheless took the matter into her own hands, and proved that it isas easy to err upon the side of prudence as upon its reverse. 

Miss O'Donoghue, emerging silently from the room after her night'svigil, came upon her nephew at his post, and, struck to her kind heartby his wistful countenance, bade him with many winks and nods enterand have a look at his wife. 

"Don't make a sound, " she whispered to him, "and then she won't hearyou. But, faith she's sleeping so well, it's my belief if you danced ajig she would not stir a limb. Go in, child, go in. It's beautiful tosee her!"

And Adrian, pressed by his own longing, was unable to resist theoffer. Noiselessly he stepped across the forbidden threshold and stoodfor a long time contemplating the sleeper in the dim light. As he wasabout to creep out at length, she suddenly opened her eyes and fixedthem wonderingly upon him. Fearful of having done the cruel deedagainst which he had been warned, he felt his heart contract and wouldhave rushed away, in an agony of self-accusation, when there occurredwhat seemed to him a miracle. 

A faint smile came upon the pale lips, and narrowed ever so little thelarge sunken eyes. Yes; by all that was beautiful, it was asmile--transient and piteous, but a smile. And for him!

As he bent forward, almost incapable of believing, the lips relaxedagain and the lids drooped, but she shifted her hands upon the bed, uneasily, as if seeking something. He knelt, trembling, by her side, and as with diffident fingers he clasped the wandering hands he feltthem faintly cling to his. And his heart melted all in joy. The man ofscience had reasoned astray; there need be no separation between thehusband who would so dearly console, and the wife who needed help sosorely. 

For a long while he remained thus kneeling and holding her hands. Itseemed as though some of the life strength he longed to be able topour from himself to her, actually passed into her frame: as thoughthere were indeed a healing virtue in his all encompassing tenderness;for, after a while, a faint colour came to the sunken cheeks. Andpresently, still holding his hand, she fell once more into thatslumber which was now her healing. 

After this it was found that the patient actually became fretful andfevered again when her husband was too long absent from her side; andthus it came to pass that he began to supersede all other watchers inher room. Tanty in highest good humour, declared that her serviceswere no longer necessary, and volunteered to conduct Madeleine to theJersey convent, whither (her decision being irrevocable) it wasgenerally felt that it would be well for the latter to proceed beforeher sister's memory with returning strength should have returnedlikewise. 

This memory, without which the being he loved would remain afflictedand incomplete, yet upon the working of which so much that was stilluncertain must hinge--Sir Adrian at once yearned for, and dreaded it. 

Many a time as he met the sweet and joyful greeting in those eyeswhere he had grown accustomed to find nought but either mockery ordisdain, did he recall his friend's prophetic words: "Out of my deathwill grow your happiness. " Was there happiness indeed yet in store inthe future? Alas, happiness for them dwelt in oblivion; and, some day, "remembrance would wake with all her busy train, and swell at _her_breast, " and then----

Meanwhile, however, the present had a sweetness of its own. There wasnow free scope for the passion of devotedness which almost made up thesum of this man's character--a character which, to the Molly ofwayward days, to the hot-pulsed, eager, impatient "Murthering Moll, "had been utterly incomprehensible and uncongenial. And to the Mollycrushed in the direst battle of life, whom one more harshness of fate, even the slightest, would have straightaway hurled back into the gravethat had barely been baulked of its prey, it gave the very food andbreath of her new existence. 

Week after week passed in this guise, during which her naturalhealthiness slowly but surely re-established itself; weeks that werehappy to him, in later life, to look back upon, though now full of ananxiousness which waxed stronger as recovery drew nearer. 

There was little talking between them, and that kept by him studiouslyon subjects of purely ephemeral, childish interest. Her mind, by thehappy dispensation of nature which facilitates healing by all meanswhen once healing has begun, was blank to any impressions save theluxury of rest, of passive enjoyment, indifferent to ought but thepassing present. She took pleasure in flowers, in the gambols of petanimals, in long listless spells of cloud-gazing when the heavens werebright, in the presence of her husband in whom she only saw a beingwhose eyes were always beautiful with the light of kindness, whosetouch invariably soothed her when fatigue or irritation marred theeven course of her feelings. 

She had ever a smile for him, which entered his soul like the radianceof sunshine through a stormy sky. 

Thus the days went by. Like a child she ate and slept andchattered--irresponsible chatter that was music to his ear. Shelaughed and teased him too, as a child would; till sad, as it was, hehugged the incomplete happiness to his heart with a dire forebodingthat it might be all he was to know in life. 

But one evening, in sudden freak, she bade him open the shutters, pullthe curtains, and raise the window that she might, from her pillow, look forth upon the night, and smell the sweet night air. 

She had been unusually well that day, and on her face now filling outonce more into its old soft oval, bloomed again a look of warm lifeand youth. Unsuspecting, unthinking Sir Adrian obeyed. It was a dim, close night, and the blush-roses nodded palely into the room from theouter darkness as he raised the sash. There was no moon, no starsshone in the mist hung sky; there was no light to be seen anywhereexcept one faint glimmer in the distance--the light upon ScartheyIsland. 

"Is that a star?" said Molly, after a moment's dreamy silence. 

Sir Adrian started. A vision of all that might hang upon his answerflashed through his brain. With a trembling hand he pulled thecurtain. It was too late. 

Molly sat up in bed, with a contracted brow and hands outstretched asone who would seize a tantalising escaping memory. 

"I used to watch it then, at night, from this window, " she whispered. "What was it? The light of Scarthey?" Then suddenly, with a scream;"The light of Scarthey!"

Adrian sprang to her side but she turned from him, shrank from him, with a look of dread which seared him to the soul. 

"Do not come near me, do not touch me, " she cried. 

And then he left her. 

 * * * * *

Miss O'Donoghue was gone upon her journey with Madeleine. There wasnone in whom he might confide, with whom seek counsel. But presently, listening outside the door in an agony of suspense, he heard a stormof sobs. In time these gradually subsided; and later he learnt fromMoggie, whom he had hurriedly ordered to her mistress's side, that hiswife was quiet and seemed inclined to rest. 

On the next day, she expressed no desire to see him and he dared notgo to her unsought. He gathered a great dewy bunch of roses and hadthem brought to her upon her breakfast tray instead of bringing themhimself as had been his wont. 

She had taken the roses, Moggie told him, and laid them to her cheek. "The master sent them, said I, " continued the sturdy little matron, who was far from possessing the instinctive tact of her spouse; "an'she get agate o'crying quiet like and let the flowers fall out of herhands on the bed--Eh, what ever's coom to her, sin yesterday? Wannutyou go in, sir?"

"Not unless she sends for me, " said Sir Adrian hastily. "And remember, Moggie, do not speak my name to her. She must not be worried ordistressed. But if she sends for me, come at once. You will find me inthe library. "

And in the library he sat the long, long day, waiting for the summonsthat did not come. She never sent for him. 

She had wept a good deal during the day, the faithful reporter toldhim in the evening, but always "quiet like;" had spoken little, andthough of unwonted gentleness of manner had persistently declined tobe carried to the garden as usual, or even to leave her room. Now shehad gone back to bed, and was sleeping peacefully. 

An hour later Sir Adrian left his home for Scarthey once again. It isto be doubted whether, through all the vicissitudes of his existencehe ever carried into the sheltering ruins a heart more full of cruelpain. 

When Tanty returned to Pulwick from her travels again, it was to findin Miss Landale the only member of the family waiting to greet her. The old lady's displeasure on learning the reason of this defection, was at first too intense to find relief in words. But presently thestrings of her tongue were loosened under the influence of the usualfeminine restorative; and, failing a better listener, she began todilate upon the situation with her wonted garrulity. 

"Yes, my good Sophia, I will thank you for another cup of tea. Whatshould we do without tea in this weary world? I declare it's the onlypleasure left to me now--for, of all the ungrateful things in life, working for your posterity is the most ungrateful. Posterity is bornto trample on one. . . . And now, sit down and tell me exactly howmatters stand. My niece is greatly better, I hear. The doctorconsiders her quite convalescent? At least this is very satisfactory. Very satisfactory indeed! Just now she is resting. Quite so. I shouldnot dream of disturbing her; more especially as the sight of me wouldprobably revive painful memories, and we must not risk her having abad night--of course not. Ah, my dear, memory, like one's teeth, is avery doubtful blessing. Far more trouble than pleasure when you haveit, and yet a dreadful nuisance when you have not--But what's this Ihear about Adrian? Gone back to that detestable island of his again! Ileft him and Molly smiling into each other's eyes, clasping eachother's hands like two turtle-doves. Why, she could not as much asswallow a mouthful of soup, unless he was beside her to feed her--Andnow I am told he has not been near her for four days. What is themeaning of this? Oh, don't talk to me, Sophia! It's more than fleshand blood can bear. Here am I, having been backward and forward overnine hundred miles, looking after you all, at my age, till I don'tknow which it is, Lancashire or Somerset I'm in, or whether I'm on myhead or my heels, though I'm sure I can count every bone of my body bythe aching of them;--and I did think I was coming back to a littlepeace and comfort at length. That island of his, Sophia, will be thedeath of me! I wish it was at the bottom of the sea: that is the onlything that will bring your brother to his senses, I believe. Now hemight as well be in his grave at once, like Rupert, for all the goodhe is; though, for that matter it's more harm than good poor Rupertever did while he was alive----"

"Excuse me, Aunt Rose, " here exclaimed Sophia, heroically, hercorkscrew ringlets trembling with agitation, "but I must beg you torefrain from such remarks--I cannot hear my dear brother. . . . "

But Miss O'Donoghue waved the interruption peremptorily away. 

"Now it's no use your going on, Sophia. _We_ don't think a man fliesstraight to heaven just because he's dead. And nothing will ever makeme approve of Rupert's conduct in all this dreadful business. Ofcourse one must not speak evil of those who can't defend themselves, but for all that he is dead and buried, Rupert might argue with mefrom now till doomsday, and he never would convince me that it is thepart of a gentleman to act like a Bow Street runner. I _hope_, mydear, he has found more mercy than he gave. I _hope_ so. But only forhim my poor dear grand-niece Molly would never have gone off on thatmad journey, and my poor grand-niece Madeleine would not be buriedalive on that other island at the back of God's speed. Ah, yes, mydear, it has been a very sad time! I declare I felt all the while asif I were conducting a corpse to be buried; and now I feel as if I hadcome back from the dear girl's funeral. We had a dreadful passage, andshe was _so_ sick that I'm afraid even if she wanted to come out ofthat place again she'd never have the courage to face the crossing. She was a wreck--a perfect wreck, when she reached the convent. Many atime I thought she would only land to find herself dead. _I_ wantedher to come to the hotel with me, where I should have popped her intobed with a hot bottle; but nothing would serve her but that she mustgo to the convent at once. 'I shall not be able to rest till I amthere, ' she said. 'And it's precious little rest you will get there, 'said I, 'if it's rest you want?--What with the hard beds, and all theprayers you have to say, and the popping out of bed, as soon as youare asleep, to sing in the middle of the night, and those blessedlittle bells going every three minutes and a half. There is no rest ina convent, my dear. ' But I might as well have talked to the wall. 

"When I went to see her the next day, true enough, she declared thatshe was more content already, and that her soul had found what ityearned for--peace. She was quite calm, and sent you all messages tosay how she would pray for you and for the repose of the souls ofthose you loved--Rupert, your rector and all--that they may reacheternal bliss. "

"God forbid!" exclaimed the pious Protestant, in horrified tones. 

"God forbid?--You're a regular heathen, Sophia. Oh, I know what youmean quite well. But would it not have been better for you to havebeen praying for that poor fellow who never lived to marry you, allthese years, than to have been wasting your time weeping over spiltmilk? Tell me _that_, miss. Please to remember, too, that you couldnot have come to be the heretic you are, if your great grandfather hadnot been the time-server he was. Any how, you need not distressyourself. I don't think Madeleine's prayers will do any one any harm, even Rupert; though, honestly, I don't think they are likely to be ofmuch good in _that_ quarter. However, there, there, we won't discussthe subject any more. Poor darling; so I left her. I declare I neverliked her so much as when I said good-bye, for I felt I'd never seeher again. And the Reverend Mother--oh! she is a very good, holywoman--a Jerningham, and thus, you know, a connection of mine. She wasan heiress but chose the cloister. And I saw the buckles sable on amemorial window in the chapel erected to another sister--also anun--they are a terribly pious family. I knew them at once, for theyare charges I also am entitled to bear, as you know, or, rather, don'tknow, I presume; for you have all the haziest notion of what sort ofblood it is that runs in your veins. Well, as I said, she is a holywoman! She tried to console me in her pious way. Oh, it was verybeautiful, of course:--bride of heaven and the rest of it. But I hadrather seen her the bride of a nice young man. Many is the time I havewished I had not been so hasty about that poor young Smith. I don'tbelieve he _was_ purely Smith after all. He must have had some goodblood in his veins! Oh, of course, of course, he was dreadfullywicked, I know; but he was a fine fellow, and all these complicationswould have been avoided. But, after all, it was Rupert's fault ifeverything ended in tragedy . . . There, there, we won't speak anotherword about your brother; we must leave him to the Lord--and, " addedMiss O'Donoghue, piously under her breath, "if it's not the devil, Heis playing with him, it's a poor kind of justice up there!--Alas, mypoor Sophia, such is life. One only sees things in their true lightwhen they're gone into the darkness of the past. And now we must makethe best of the present, which, I regret to find, seems disposed to bepeculiarly uncomfortable. But I have done what I could, and now I oweit myself to wash my hands of you and look after my own soul. --I'lltake no more journeys, at any rate, except to lay my bones atBunratty; if I live to reach it alive. "

CHAPTER XXXV

THE LIGHT REKINDLED

 Look not upon the sky at eventide, For that makes sorrowful the heart of man; Look rather here into my heart, And joyful shalt thou always be. 

 _Luteplayer's Song. _

It was on the fifth day after Sir Adrian's return to his island home. Outwardly the place was the same. A man had been engaged to attend tothe lighthouse duties, but he and his wife lived apart in their owncorner of the building and never intruded into the master's apartmentsor into the turret-room which had been Captain Jack's. 

From the moment that Sir Adrian, attended by René, had re-entered theold rooms, the peel had resumed its wonted aspect. But the peace, theserenity which belonged to it for so many years, had fled--fled, itseemed to Sir Adrian, for ever. Still there was solitude and, in sofar, repose. It was something to have such a haven of refuge for hisbruised spirit. 

The whole morning of this day had been spent in counting out andsecuring, in separate lots, duly docketted and distinguished, aportion of that unwieldy accumulation of wealth, the charge of whichhe had accepted, against the time when it should be called for andclaimed by its depositors. 

The task was by no means simple, and required all his attention; butthere is a blessing even in mere mechanical labour, that soothes thetorment of the mind. In the particular occupation upon which he hadbeen engaged there was, moreover, a hidden touching element. It waswork for the helpless dead, work for that erring man but noble soulwho had been his loyal friend. As Sir Adrian tied up each bag of goldand labelled it with the name of some unknown creditor who had trustedJack, dimly the thought occurred that it would stand material proof, call for recognition that this Captain Smith, who had died the deathof a felon, had been a true man even in his own chosen lawless path. 

On the table, amid the papers and books, a heap of gold pieces yetuntold, remainder of his allotted day's task, awaited still hisministering hand. But he was tired. It was the dreamy hour of the daywhen the shadows grow long, the shafts of light level; and Sir Adriansat at his open window, gazing at the distant view of Pulwick, whilehis thoughts wandered into the future, immediate and distant. With theself-detachment of his nature these thoughts all bore upon the futureof the woman whom he pictured to himself lying behind those sunlitwindows yonder, framed by the verdure of leafy June, gathering slowlyback her broken strength for the long life stretching before her. 

Unlike the musings which in the lonely days of old had ever driftedirresistibly towards the past and gathered round the image of thedead, all the power of his mind was now fixed upon what was to come, upon the child, still dearer than the mother, who had all her life tolive. What would she do? What could _he_ do for her, now that sherequired his helping hand no more? Life was full of sorrow past andpresent; and in the future there lurked no promise of better things. The mind of man is always fain, even in its darkest hour, to takeflight into some distant realm of hope. To those whom life has utterlybetrayed there is always the hope of approaching death--but this, even, reason denied to him. He was so strong; illness had never takenhold of him; he came from such long-lived stock! He might almostoutlive her, might for ever stand as the one ineluctable check uponher peace of mind. And his melancholy reflections came circling backto their first starting-point--that barren rock of misery in a vastsea of despondency--there was nothing to be done. 

The barriers raised between them, on his side partly by the poisonouswords of his brother, partly by the phantom of that old love of whichthe new had at first been but an eluding reflex, and on hers, by thechilly disillusion which had fallen so soon upon her ardent nature;these sank into insignificance, contrasted to the whirl of baulkedpassion which had passed over her life, to leave it utterly blasted, to turn her indifference to hate. 

Yes, that was the burden of his thoughts: she hated and dreaded him. His love, his forbearance, his chivalrousness had been in vain. All hehad now to live upon was the memory of those few days when, under thespell of oblivion the beloved child had smiled on him in theunconscious love born of her helplessness and his care. But even thismost precious remembrance of the present was now, like that of thepast, to be obscured by its abrupt and terrible end. 

Death had given birth to the first and last avowal of love in her whohad perished between his arms under the swirling waters of theVilaine--but it was Life itself, returning life and health of mind, which had changed looks of trust and affection into the chilly stareof dread in the eyes of her whom with all the strength of his hoardedmanhood he now loved alone. The past for all its sorrows had heldsweetness: the present, the future, nothing but torment. And now, eventhe past, with its love and its sorrow was gone from him, merged inthe greater love and sorrow of the present. How long could he bearit?--Useless clamour of the soul! He must bear it. Life must beaccepted. 

Sir Adrian rose and, standing, paused a moment to let his sight, wandering beyond the immense sands, seek repose for a moment in theblue haze marking the horizon of the hills. The day was pure, exquisite in its waning beauty; the breeze as light and soft as acaress. In the great stillness of the bay the sisters sea and landtalked in gentle intermittent murmurs. Now and then the cries ofcircling sea-fowl brought a note of uncanny joy into the harmony thatseemed like silence in its unity. 

A beautiful harmonious world! But to him the very sense of the outerpeace gave a fresh emphasis to the discordance of his own life. Hebrought his gaze from afar and slowly turned to resume his work. Buteven as he turned a black speck upon the nearer arm of sea challengedhis fleeting attention. He stood and watched--and, as he watched, asensation, the most poignant and yet eerie he had ever known clutchedhim by the heart. 

A boat was approaching: a small row-boat in which the oars were plyedby a woman. By the multi-coloured, glaring shawl (poor Jack'sappreciated gift) he knew her, but without attaching name orpersonality to his recognition; for all his being was drawn to thesomething that lay huddled, black and motionless, in the stern. Hefelt to the innermost fibre of him that this something was a womantoo--this woman Molly. But the conviction seized him with a force thatwas beyond surprise. And all the vital heat in him fled to his heart, leaving him deadly cold. 

As her face grew out of the distance towards him, a minute white patchamid the dark cloud of silk and lace that enwrapt it, it seemed asthough he had known for centuries that she was thus to come to him. And the glow of his heart spread to his brain. 

When the boat was about to land, he began, like one walking in hissleep, to move away; and, slowly descending the stairs of the keep, headvanced towards the margin of the sea. He walked slowly, for the bodywas heavy whilst the soul trembled within its earthly bounds. 

Molly had alighted and was toiling, with her new born and yet butfeeble strength upon the yielding sand, supported between René andMoggie. She halted as she saw him approach, and, when he came close, looked up into his face. Her frail figure wavered and bent, and shewould have fallen on her knees before him, but that he opened his armswide and caught her to him. 

An exclamation rose to Moggie's lips, to die unformed under animperious glance from René who, with shining eyes and set mouth, hadstood apart to watch the momentous issue. 

Adrian felt his wife nestle to him as he held her. And then the tideof his long-bound love overflowed. And gathering her up in his arms asif she were a child, he turned to carry the broken woman with him intothe shelter, the silence of the ruins. 

At the foot of the outer wall, just out of reach of high water, yetwithin reach of its salt spray, a little mound of red stony soil rosevery slightly above the green turf; at its head, a small stone cross, roughly hewn, was let into the masonry itself. The grave of HubertCochrane was not obtrusive: in a few months it would have merged againinto the greensward, and its humble memorial symbol would be coveredwith moss and lichen like the matrix of stone which encompassed it. 

Involuntarily as he passed it, the man, with his all too light burden, halted. A flame shot through him as Molly turned her head to gaze too:he shook with a brief agony of jealousy--jealousy of the dead! Thenext instant he felt her recoil, look up pleadingly and cling to himagain, and he knew into the soul of his soul that the words spoken bythose loyal lips--now clay beneath that clay--were coming true, that, out of his house laid desolate to him was to rise a new and statelymansion. 

Grasping her closer he hurried into the sanctuary of the old room, where he had first seen her bright young beauty. 

At the door he gently suffered her to stand, still supporting her withone arm about her waist. As they entered, she cast a rapid glancearound: her eyes, bedewed with rising tears, fell upon the heap ofgold glinting under the rays of the sinking sun, and she understoodthe nature of the task her coming had interrupted. Her tears gushedforth; catching his hand between hers, and looking up at him with astrange, wonderful humility, she pressed it to her lips. 

What need for words between them, then?

He stood a little while motionless in front of her, entranced yetstill almost incredulous, as one suddenly freed from long intolerablepain, when there rose once more, for the last time, before his mind'seye the ideal image that had been the companion of twenty years of hisexistence. It was vivid almost as life. He saw Cécile de Savenaye bendover her child with grave and tender look, then turn and smile uponhim with the old exquisite sweetness that he had adored so madly inthat far off past. And then, it was as if she had merged into Molly. Behold, she was gone! there was no Cécile, only Molly the woman heloved. Molly, whom now he seized to his heart, who smiled at himthrough her tears as he bent to kiss her lips. 

Twilight was waning and the light of Scarthey beamed peacefully overthe yellow sands; and the waves receded dragging away sand and shinglefrom the foot of the hidden grave.