A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION

A STORY OF TO-DAY

By Charles Reade

CHAPTER I. 

THE morning-room of a large house in Portman Square, London. 

A gentleman in the prime of life stood with his elbow on the broadmantel-piece, and made himself agreeable to a young lady, seated alittle way off, playing at work. 

To the ear he was only conversing, but his eyes dwelt on her withloving admiration all the time. Her posture was favorable to thisfurtive inspection, for she leaned her fair head over her work with apretty, modest, demure air, that seemed to say, "I suspect I am beingadmired: I will not look to see: I might have to check it. "

The gentleman's features were ordinary, except his brow--that had powerin it--but he had the beauty of color; his sunburned features glowedwith health, and his eye was bright. On the whole, rather good-lookingwhen he smiled, but ugly when he frowned; for his frown was a scowl, and betrayed a remarkable power of hating. 

Miss Arabella Bruce was a beauty. She had glorious masses of dark redhair, and a dazzling white neck to set it off; large, dove-like eyes, and a blooming oval face, which would have been classical if her lipshad been thin and finely chiseled; but here came in her Anglo-Saxonbreed, and spared society a Minerva by giving her two full and rosylips. They made a smallish mouth at rest, but parted ever so wide whenthey smiled, and ravished the beholder with long, even rows of dazzlingwhite teeth. 

Her figure was tall and rather slim, but not at all commanding. Thereare people whose very bodies express character; and this tall, supple, graceful frame of Bella Bruce breathed womanly subservience; so did hergestures. She would take up or put down her own scissors half timidly, and look around before threading her needle, as if to see whether anysoul objected. Her favorite word was "May I?" with a stress on the"May, " and she used it where most girls would say "I will, " or nothing, and do it. 

Mr. Richard Bassett was in love with her, and also conscious that herfifteen thousand pounds would be a fine addition to his present income, which was small, though his distant expectations were great. As he hadknown her but one month, and she seemed rather amiable thaninflammable, he had the prudence to proceed by degrees; and that iswhy, though his eyes gloated on her, he merely regaled her with thegossip of the day, not worth recording here. But when he had actuallytaken his hat to go, Bella Bruce put him a question that had been onher mind the whole time, for which reason she had reserved it to thevery last moment. 

"Is Sir Charles Bassett in town?" said she, mighty carelessly, butbending a little lower over her embroidery. 

"Don't know, " said Richard Bassett, with such a sudden brevity andasperity that Miss Bruce looked up and opened her lovely eyes. Mr. Richard Bassett replied to this mute inquiry, "We don't speak. " Then, after a pause, "He has robbed me of my inheritance. "

"Oh, Mr. Bassett!"

"Yes, Miss Bruce, the Bassett and Huntercombe estates were mine byright of birth. My father was the eldest son, and they were entailed onhim. But Sir Charles's father persuaded my old, doting grandfather tocut off the entail, and settle the estates on him and his heirs; and sothey robbed me of every acre they could. Luckily my little estate ofHighmore was settled on my mother and her issue too tight for thevillains to undo. "

These harsh expressions, applied to his own kin, and the abruptness andheat they were uttered with, surprised and repelled his gentlelistener. She shrank a little away from him. He observed it. Shereplied not to his words, but to her own thought:

"But, after all, it does seem hard. " She added, with a little fervor, "But it wasn't poor Sir Charles's doing, after all. "

"He is content to reap the benefit, " said Richard Bassett, sternly. 

Then, finding he was making a sorry impression, he tried to get awayfrom the subject. I say tried, for till a man can double like a hare hewill never get away from his hobby. "Excuse me, " said he; "I oughtnever to speak about it. Let us talk of something else. You cannotenter into my feelings; it makes my blood boil. Oh, Miss Bruce! youcan't conceive what a disinherited man feels--and I live at the verydoor: his old trees, that ought to be mine, fling their shadows over mylittle flower beds; the sixty chimneys of Huntercombe Hall look down onmy cottage; his acres of lawn run up to my little garden, and nothingbut a ha-ha between us. "

"It _is_ hard, " said Miss Bruce, composedly; not that she entered intoa hardship of this vulgar sort, but it was her nature to soothe andplease people. 

"Hard!" cried Richard Bassett, encouraged by even this faint sympathy;"it would be unendurable but for one thing--I shall have my own someday. "

"I am glad of that, " said the lady; "but how?"

"By outliving the wrongful heir. "

Miss Bruce turned pale. She had little experience of men's passions. "Oh, Mr. Bassett!" said she--and there was something pure and holy inthe look of sorrow and alarm she cast on the presumptuousspeaker--"pray do not cherish such thoughts. They will do you harm. Andremember life and death are not in our hands. Besides--"

"Well?"'

"Sir Charles might--"

"Well?"

"Might he not--marry--and have children?" This with more hesitation anda deeper blush than appeared absolutely necessary. 

"Oh, there's no fear of that. Property ill-gotten never descends. Charles is a worn-out rake. He was fast at Eton--fast at Oxford--fastin London. Why, he looks ten years older than I, and he is three yearsyounger. He had a fit two years ago. Besides, he is not a marrying man. Bassett and Huntercombe will be mine. And oh! Miss Bruce, if ever theyare mine--"

"Sir Charles Bassett!" trumpeted a servant at the door; and thenwaited, prudently, to know whether his young lady, whom he had caughtblushing so red with one gentleman, would be at home to another. 

"Wait a moment, " said Miss Bruce to him. Then, discreetly ignoring whatBassett had said last, and lowering her voice almost to a whisper, shesaid, hurriedly: "You should not blame him for the faults of others. There--I have not been long acquainted with either, and am littleentitled to inter--But it is such a pity you are not friends. He isvery good, I assure you, and very nice. Let me reconcile you two. _May_I?"

This well-meant petition was uttered very sweetly; and, indeed--if Imay be permitted--in a way to dissolve a bear. 

But this was not a bear, nor anything else that is placable; it was aman with a hobby grievance; so he replied in character:

"That is impossible so long as he keeps me out of my own. " He had thegrace, however, to add, half sullenly, "Excuse me; I feel I have beentoo vehement. "

Miss Bruce, thus repelled, answered, rather coldly:

"Oh, never mind _that;_ it was very natural. --I am at home, then, " saidshe to the servant. 

Mr. Bassett took the hint, but turned at the door, and said, with nolittle agitation, "I was not aware he visits you. One word--don't lethis ill-gotten acres make you quite forget the disinherited one. " Andso he left her, with an imploring look. 

She felt red with all this, so she slipped out at another door, to coolher cheeks and imprison a stray curl for Sir Charles. 

He strolled into the empty room, with the easy, languid air of fashion. His features were well cut, and had some nobility; but his sicklycomplexion and the lines under his eyes told a tale of dissipation. Heappeared ten years older than he was, and thoroughly _blase. _

Yet when Miss Bruce entered the room with a smile and a little blush, he brightened up and looked handsome, and greeted her with momentarywarmth. 

After the usual inquiries she asked him if he had met any body. 

"Where?"

"Here; just now. "

"No. "

"What, nobody at all?"

"Only my sulky cousin; I don't call him anybody, " drawled Sir Charles, who was now relapsing into his normal condition of semi-apathy. 

"Oh, " said Miss Bruce gayly, "you must expect him to be a little cross. It is not so very nice to be disinherited, let me tell you. "

"And who has disinherited the fellow?"

"I forget; but you disinherited him among you. Never mind; it can't behelped now. When did you come back to town? I didn't see you at Ladyd'Arcy's ball, did I?"

"You did not, unfortunately for me; but you would if I had known youwere to be there. But about Richard: he may tell you what he likes, buthe was not disinherited; he was bought out. The fact is, his father wasuncommonly fast. My grandfather paid his debts again and again; but atlast the old gentleman found he was dealing with the Jews for hisreversion. Then there was an awful row. It ended in my grandfatheroutbidding the Jews. He bought the reversion of his estate from his ownson for a large sum of money (he had to raise it by mortgages); thenthey cut off the entail between them, and he entailed the mortgagedestate on his other son, and his grandson (that was me), and on myheir-at-law. Richard's father squandered his thirty thousand poundsbefore he died; my father husbanded the estates, got into Parliament, and they put a tail to his name. "

Sir Charles delivered this version of the facts with a languidcomposure that contrasted deliciously with Richard's heat in tellingthe story his way (to be sure, Sir Charles had got Huntercombe andBassett, and it is easier to be philosophical on the right side of theboundary hedge), and wound up with a sort of corollary: "Dick Bassettsuffers by his father's vices, and I profit by mine's virtues. Where'sthe injustice?"

"Nowhere, and the sooner you are reconciled the better. "

Sir Charles demurred. "Oh, I don't want to quarrel with the fellow: buthe is a regular thorn in my side, with his little trumpery estate, allin broken patches. He shoots my pheasants in the unfairest way. " Herethe landed proprietor showed real irritation, but only for a moment. Heconcluded calmly, "The fact is, he is not quite a gentleman. Fancy hiscoming and whining to you about our family affairs, and then tellingyou a falsehood!"

"No, no; he did not mean. It was his way of looking at things. You canafford to forgive him. "

"Yes, but not if he sets you against me. "

"But he cannot do that. The more any one was to speak against you, themore I--of course. "

This admission fired Sir Charles; he drew nearer, and, thanks to hiscousin's interference, spoke the language of love more warmly anddirectly than he had ever done before. 

The lady blushed, and defended herself feebly. Sir Charles grew warmer, and at last elicited from her a timid but tender avowal, that made himsupremely happy. 

When he left her this brief ecstasy was succeeded by regrets on accountof the years he had wasted in follies and intrigues. 

He smoked five cigars, and pondered the difference between the purecreature who now honored him with her virgin affections and beauties ofa different character who had played their parts in his luxurious life. 

After profound deliberation he sent for his solicitor. They lighted theinevitable cigars, and the following observations struggled feebly outalong with the smoke. 

"Mr. Oldfield, I'm going to be married. "

"Glad to hear it, Sir Charles. " (Vision of settlements. ) "It is a hightime you were. " (Puff-puff. )

"Want your advice and assistance first. "

"Certainly. "

"Must put down my pony-carriage now, you know. "

"A very proper retrenchment; but you can do that without my assistance. "

"There would be sure to be a row if I did. I dare say there will be asit is. At any rate, I want to do the thing like a gentleman. "

"Send 'em to Tattersall's. " (Puff. )

"And the girl that drives them in the park, and draws all the duchessesand countesses at her tail--am I to send her to Tattersall's?" (Puff. )

"Oh, it is _her_ you want to put down, then?"

"Why, of course. "

CHAPTER II. 

SIR CHARLES and Mr. Oldfield settled that lady's retiring pension, andMr. Oldfield took the memoranda home, with instructions to prepare adraft deed for Miss Somerset's approval. 

Meantime Sir Charles visited Miss Bruce every day. Her affections forhim grew visibly, for being engaged gave her the courage to love. 

Mr. Bassett called pretty often; but one day he met Sir Charles on thestairs, and scowled. 

That scowl cost him dear, for Sir Charles thereupon represented toBella that a man with a grievance is a bore to the very eye, and askedher to receive no more visits from his scowling cousin. The ladysmiled, and said, with soft complacency, "I obey. "

Sir Charles's gallantry was shocked. 

"No, don't say 'obey. ' It is a little favor I ventured to ask. "

"It is like you to ask what you have a right to command. I shall be outto him in future, and to every one who is disagreeable to you. What!does 'obey' frighten you from my lips? To me it is the sweetest in thelanguage. Oh, please let me 'obey' you! _May_ I?"

Upon this, as vanity is seldom out of call, Sir Charles swelled like aturkey-cock, and loftily consented to indulge Bella Bruce's strangepropensity. From that hour she was never at home to Mr. Bassett. 

He began to suspect; and one day, after he had been kept out with theloud, stolid "Not at home" of practiced mendacity, he watched, and sawSir Charles admitted. 

He divined it all in a moment, and turned to wormwood. What! was he tobe robbed of the lady he loved--and her fifteen thousand pounds--by thevery man who had robbed him of his ancestral fields? He dwelt on thedouble grievance till it nearly frenzied him. But he could do nothing:it was his fate. His only hope was that Sir Charles, the arrant flirt, would desert this beauty after a time, as he had the others. 

But one afternoon, in the smoking-room of his club, a gentleman said tohim, "So your cousin Charles is engaged to the Yorkshire beauty, BellBruce?"

"He is flirting with her, I believe, " said Richard. 

"No, no, " said the other; "they are engaged. I know it for a fact. Theyare to be married next month. "

Mr. Richard Bassett digested this fresh pill in moody silence, whilethe gentlemen of the club discussed the engagement with easy levity. They soon passed to a topic of wider interest, viz. , who was to succeedSir Charles with La Somerset. Bassett began to listen attentively, andlearned for the first time Sir Charles Bassett's connection with thatlady, and also that she was a woman of a daring nature and furioustemper. At first he was merely surprised; but soon hatred and jealousywhispered in his ear that with these materials it must be possible towound those who had wounded him. 

Mr. Marsh, a young gentleman with a receding chin, and a mustachebetween hay and straw, had taken great care to let them all know he wasacquainted with Miss Somerset. So Richard got Marsh alone, and soundedhim. Could he call upon the lady without ceremony?

"You won't get in. Her street door is jolly well guarded, I can tellyou. "

"I am very curious to see her in her own house. "

"So are a good many fellows. "

"Could you not give me an introduction?"

Marsh shook his head sapiently for a considerable time, and with allthis shaking, as it appeared, out fell words of wisdom. "Don't see it. I'm awfully spooney on her myself; and, you know, when a fellowintroduces another fellow, that fellow always cuts the other out. "Then, descending from the words of the wise and their dark sayings to apetty but pertinent fact, he added, _"Besides, _ I'm only let in myselfabout once in five times. "

"She gives herself wonderful airs, it seems, " said Bassett, ratherbitterly. 

Marsh fired up. "So would any woman that was as beautiful, and as wittyand as much run after as she is. Why she is a leader of fashion. Lookat all the ladies following her round the park. They used to drive onthe north side of the Serpentine. She just held up her finger, and nowthey have cut the Serpentine, and followed her to the south drive. "

"Oh, indeed!" said Bassett. "Ah then this is a great lady; a poorcountry squire must not venture into her august presence. " He turnedsavagely on his heel, and Marsh went and made sickly mirth at hisexpense. 

By this means the matter soon came to the ears of old Mr. Woodgate, thefather of that club, and a genial gossip. He got hold of Bassett in thedinner-room and examined him. "So you want an introduction to LaSomerset, and Marsh refuses--Marsh, hitherto celebrated for his weakhead rather than his hard heart?"

Richard Bassett nodded rather sullenly. He had not bargained for thisrapid publicity. 

The venerable chief resumed: "We all consider Marsh's conductunclubable and a thing to be combined against. Wanted--anAnti-dog-in-the-manger League. I'll introduce you to the Somerset. "

"What! do _you_ visit her?" asked Bassett, in some astonishment. 

The old gentleman held up his hands in droll disclaimer, and chuckledmerrily "No, no; I enjoy from the shore the disasters of my youthfulfriends--that sacred pleasure is left me. Do you see that elegantcreature with the little auburn beard and mustache, waiting sweetly forhis dinner. He launched the Somerset. "

"Launched her?"

"Yes; but for him she might have wasted her time breaking hearts andslapping faces in some country village. He it was set her devastatingsociety; and with his aid she shall devastate you. --Vandeleur, will youjoin Bassett and me?"

Mr. Vandeleur, with ready grace, said he should be delighted, and theydined together accordingly. 

Mr. Vandeleur, six feet high, lank, but graceful as a panther, and thepink of politeness, was, beneath his varnish, one of the wildest youngmen in London--gambler, horse-racer, libertine, what not?--but insociety charming, and his manners singularly elegant and winning. Henever obtruded his vices in good company; in fact, you might dine withhim all your life and not detect him. The young serpent was torpid inwine; but he came out, a bit at a time, in the sunshine of Cigar. 

After a brisk conversation on current topics, the venerable chief toldhim plainly they were both curious to know the history of MissSomerset, and he must tell it them. 

"Oh, with pleasure, " said the obliging youth. "Let us go into thesmoking-room. "

"Let--me--see. I picked her up by the sea-side. She promised well atfirst. We put her on my chestnut mare, and she showed lots of courage, so she soon learned to ride; but she kicked, even down there. "

"Kicked!--whom?"

"Kicked all round; I mean showed temper. And when she got to London, and had ridden a few times in the park, and swallowed flattery, therewas no holding her. I stood her cheek for a good while, but at last Itold the servants they must not turn her out, but they could keep herout. They sided with me for once. She had ridden over them, as well. The first time she went out they bolted the doors, and handed her boxesup the area steps. "

"How did she take that?"

"Easier than we expected. She said, 'Lucky for you beggars that I'm alady, or I'd break every d--d window in the house. '"

This caused a laugh. It subsided. The historian resumed. 

"Next day she cooled, and wrote a letter. "

"To you?"

"No, to my groom. Would you like to see it? It is a curiosity. "

He sent one of the club waiters for his servant, and his servant forhis desk, and produced the letter. 

"There!" said Vandeleur. "She looks like a queen, and steps like anempress, and this is how she writes:

"'DEAR JORGE--i have got the sak, an' praps your turn nex. Dear jorgehe alwaies promise me the grey oss, which now an oss is life an deathto me. If you was to ast him to lend me the grey he wouldn't refuseyou, "'Yours respecfully, "'RHODA SOMERSET. '"

When the letter and the handwriting, which, unfortunately, I cannotreproduce, had been duly studied and approved, Vandeleur continued--

"Now, you know, she had her good points, after all. If any creature wasill, she'd sit up all night and nurse them, and she used to go tochurch on Sundays, and come back with the sting out of her; only thenshe would preach to a fellow, and bore him. She is awfully fond ofpreaching. Her dream is to jump on a first-rate hunter, and ride acrosscountry, and preach to the villages. So, when George came grinning tome with the letter, I told him to buy a new side-saddle for the gray, and take her the lot, with my compliments. I had noticed a slightspavin in his near foreleg. She rode him that very day in the park, allalone, and made such a sensation that next day my gray was standing inLord Hailey's stables. But she rode Hailey, like my gray, with a longspur, and he couldn't stand it. None of 'em could except Sir CharlesBassett, and he doesn't play fair--never goes near her. "

"And that gives him an unfair advantage over his fascinatingpredecessors?" inquired the senior, slyly. 

"Of course it does, " said Vandeleur, stoutly. "You ask a girl to dineat Richmond once a month, and keep out of her way all the rest of thetime, and give her lots of money--she will never quarrel with you. "

"Profit by this information, young man, " said old Woodgate, severely;"it comes too late for me. In my day there existed no sure method ofpleasing the fair. But now that is invented, along with everythingelse. Richmond and--absence, equivalent to 'Richmond and victory!' Now, Bassett, we have heard the truth from the fountain-head, and it israther serious. She swears, she kicks, she preaches. Do you stilldesire an introduction? As for me, my manly spirit is beginning toquake at Vandeleur's revelations, and some lines of Scott recur to myGothic memory--

"'From the chafed tiger rend his prey, Bar the fell dragon's blightingway, But shun that lovely snare. "'

Bassett replied, gravely, that he had no such motive as Mr. Woodgategave him credit for, but still desired the introduction. 

"With pleasure, " said Vandeleur; "but it will be no use to you. Shehates me like poison; says I have no heart. That is what allill-tempered women say. "

Notwithstanding his misgivings the obliging youth called for writingmaterials, and produced the following epistle--

"DEAR MISS SOMERSET--Mr. Richard Bassett, a cousin of Sir Charles, wishes very much to be introduced to you, and has begged me to assistin an object so laudable. I should hardly venture to present myself, and, therefore, shall feel surprised as well as flattered if you willreceive Mr. Bassett on my introduction, and my assurance that he is arespectable country gentleman, and bears no resemblance in character to

"Yours faithfully, "ARTHUR VANDELEUR. "

Next day Bassett called at Miss Somerset's house in May Fair, anddelivered his introduction. 

He was admitted after a short delay and entered the lady's boudoir. Itwas Luxury's nest. The walls were rose colored satin, padded andpuckered; the voluminous curtains were pale satin, with floods andbillows of real lace; the chairs embroidered, the tables all buhl andormolu, and the sofas felt like little seas. The lady herself, in adelightful peignoir, sat nestled cozily in a sort of ottoman with arms. Her finely formed hand, clogged with brilliants, was just conveyingbrandy and soda-water to a very handsome mouth when Richard Bassettentered. 

She raised herself superbly, but without leaving her seat, and justlooked at a chair in a way that seemed to say, "I permit you to sitdown;" and that done, she carried the glass to her lips with the sameadmirable firmness of hand she showed in driving. Her lofty manner, coupled with her beautiful but rather haughty features, smacked ofimperial origin. Yet she was the writer to "jorge, " and four years agoa shrimp-girl, running into the sea with legs as brown as a berry. 

So swiftly does merit rise in this world which, nevertheless, somemorose folk pretend is a wicked one. 

I ought to explain, however, that this haughty reception was partlycaused by a breach of propriety. Vandeleur ought first to have writtento her and asked permission to present Richard Bassett. He had nobusiness to send the man and the introduction together. This law aParliament of Sirens had passed, and the slightest breach of it was abitter offense Equilibrium governs the world. These ladies were boundto be overstrict in something or other, being just a little lax incertain things where other ladies are strict. 

Now Bassett had pondered well what he should say, but he wasdisconcerted by her superb presence and demeanor and her large grayeyes, that rested steadily upon his face. 

However, he began to murmur mellifluously. Said he had often seen herin public, and admired her, and desired to make her acquaintance, etc. , etc. 

"Then why did you not ask Sir Charles to bring you here?" said MissSomerset, abruptly, and searching him with her eyes, that were not tosay bold, but singularly brave, and examiners pointblank. 

"I am not on good terms with Sir Charles. He holds the estates thatought to be mine; and now he has robbed me of my love. He is the lastman in the world I would ask a favor of. "

"You came here to abuse him behind his back, eh?" asked the lady withundisguised contempt. 

Bassett winced, but kept his temper. "No, Miss Somerset; but you seemto think I ought to have come to you through Sir Charles. I would notenter your house if I did not feel sure I shall not meet him here. "

Miss Somerset looked rather puzzled. "Sir Charles does not come hereevery day, but he comes now and then, and he is always welcome. "

"You surprise me. "

"Thank you. Now some of my gentlemen friends think it is a wonder hedoes not come every minute. "

"You mistake me. What surprises me is that you are such good friendsunder the circumstances. "

"Circumstances! what circumstances?"

"Oh, you know. You are in his confidence, I presume?"--this rathersatirically. So the lady answered, defiantly:

"Yes, I am; he knows I can hold my tongue, so he tells me things hetells nobody else. "

"Then, if you are in his confidence, you know he is about to bemarried. "

"Married! Sir Charles married!"

"In three weeks. "

"It's a lie! You get out of my house this moment!"

Mr. Bassett colored at this insult. He rose from his seat with somelittle dignity, made her a low bow, and retired. But her blood was up:she made a wonderful rush, sweeping down a chair with her dress as shewent, and caught him at the door, clutched him by the shoulder and halfdragged him back, and made him sit down again, while she stood oppositehim, with the knuckles of one hand resting on the table. 

"Now, " said she, panting, "you look me in the face and say that again. "

"Excuse me; you punish me too severely for telling the truth. "

"Well, I beg your pardon--there. Now tell me--this instant. Can't youspeak, man?" And her knuckles drummed the table. 

"He is to be married in three weeks. "

"Oh! Who to?"

"A young lady I love. "

"Her name?"

"Miss Arabella Bruce. "

"Where does she live?"

"Portman Square. "

"I'll stop that marriage. "

"How?" asked Richard, eagerly. 

"I don't know; that I'll think over. But he shall not marryher--never!"

Bassett sat and looked up with almost as much awe as complacency at thefury he had evoked; for this woman was really at times a poeticimpersonation of that fiery passion she was so apt to indulge. Shestood before him, her cheek pale, her eyes glittering and rovingsavagely, and her nostrils literally expanding, while her tall bodyquivered with wrath, and her clinched knuckles pattered on the table. 

"He shall not marry her. I'll kill him first!"

CHAPTER III. 

RICHARD BASSETT eagerly offered his services to break off the obnoxiousmatch. But Miss Somerset was beginning to be mortified at having shownso much passion before a stranger. 

"What have you to do with it?" said she, sharply. 

"Everything. I love Miss Bruce. "

"Oh, yes; I forgot that. Anything else? There is, now. I see it in youreye. What is it?"

 "Sir Charles's estates are mine by right, and they will return to myline if he does not marry and have issue. "

"Oh, I see. That is so like a man. It's always love, and something moreimportant, with you. Well, give me your address. I'll write if I wantyou. "

"Highly flattered, " said Bassett, ironically-wrote his address and lefther. 

Miss Somerset then sat down and wrote:

"DEAR SIR CHARLES--please call here, I want to speak to you. 

yours respecfuly, "RHODA SOMERSET. "

Sir Charles obeyed this missive, and the lady received him with agracious and smiling manner, all put on and catlike. She talked withhim of indifferent things for more than an hour, still watching to seeif he would tell her of his own accord. 

When she was quite sure he would not, she said, "Do you know there's a ridiculous report about that you are going to bemarried?"

"Indeed!"

"They even tell her name--Miss Bruce. Do you know the girl?"

"Yes. "

"Is she pretty?"

"Very. "

"Modest?"

"As an angel. "

"And are you going to marry her?"

"Yes. "

"Then you are a villain. "

"The deuce I am!"

"You are, to abandon a woman who has sacrificed all for you. "

Sir Charles looked puzzled, and then smiled; but was too polite to givehis thoughts vent. Nor was it necessary; Miss Somerset, whose braveeyes never left the person she was speaking to, fired up at the smilealone, and she burst into a torrent of remonstrance, not to sayvituperation. Sir Charles endeavored once or twice to stop it, but itwas not to be stopped; so at last he quietly took up his hat, to go. 

He was arrested at the door by a rustle and a fall. He turned round, and there was Miss Somerset lying on her back, grinding her white teethand clutching the air. 

He ran to the bell and rang it violently, then knelt down and did hisbest to keep her from hurting herself; but, as generally happens inthese cases, his interference made her more violent. He had hard workto keep her from battering her head against the floor, and her armsworked like windmills. 

Hearing the bell tugged so violently, a pretty page ran headlong intothe room--saw--and; without an instant's diminution of speed, describeda curve, and ran headlong out, screaming "Polly! Polly!"

The next moment the housekeeper, an elderly woman, trotted in at thedoor, saw her mistress's condition, and stood stock-still, calling, "Polly, " but with the most perfect tranquillity the mind can conceive. 

In ran a strapping house-maid, with black eyes and brown arms, wentdown on her knees, and said, firmly though respectfully, "Give her me, sir. "

She got behind her struggling mistress, pulled her up into her own lap, and pinned her by the wrists with a vigorous grasp. 

The lady struggled, and ground her teeth audibly, and flung her armsabroad. The maid applied all her rustic strength and harder muscle tohold her within bounds. The four arms went to and fro in a magnificentstruggle, and neither could the maid hold the mistress still, nor themistress shake off the maid's grasp, nor strike anything to hurtherself. 

Sir Charles, thrust out of the play looked on with pity and anxiety, and the little page at the door--combining art and nature--stuckstock-still in a military attitude, and blubbered aloud. 

As for the housekeeper, she remained in the middle of the room withfolded arms, and looked down on the struggle with a singular expressionof countenance. There was no agitation whatever, but a sort ofthoughtful examination, half cynical, half admiring. 

However, as soon as the boy's sobs reached her ear she wakened up, andsaid, tenderly, "What is the child crying for? Run and get a basin ofwater, and fling it all over her; that will bring her to in a minute. "

The page departed swiftly on this benevolent errand. 

Then the lady gave a deep sigh, and ceased to struggle. 

Next she stared in all their faces, and seemed to return toconsciousness. 

Next she spoke, but very feebly. "Help me up, " she sighed. 

Sir Charles and Polly raised her, and now there was a marvelous change. The vigorous vixen was utterly weak, and limp as a wet towel--a womanof jelly. As such they handled her, and deposited her gingerly on thesofa. 

Now the page ran in hastily with the water. Up jumps the poor laxsufferer, with flashing eyes: "You dare come near me with it!" Then tothe female servants: "Call yourselves women, and water my lilac silk, not two hours old?" Then to the housekeeper: "You old monster, youwanted it for your Polly. Get out of my sight, _the lot!"_

Then, suddenly remembering how feeble she was, she sank instantly down, and turned piteously and languidly to Sir Charles. "They eat my bread, and rob me, and hate me, " said she, faintly. "I have but one friend onearth. " She leaned tenderly toward Sir Charles as that friend; butbefore she quite reached him she started back, her eyes filled withsudden horror. "And he forsakes me!" she cried; and so turned away fromhim despairingly, and began to cry bitterly, with head averted over thesofa, and one hand hanging by her side for Sir Charles to take andcomfort her. He tried to take it. It resisted; and, under cover of thatlittle disturbance, the other hand dexterously whipped two pins out ofher hair. The long brown tresses--all her own--fell over her eyes anddown to her waist, and the picture of distressed beauty was complete. 

Even so did the women of antiquity conquer male pity--_"solutiscrinibus. "_

The females interchanged a meaning glance, and retired; then the boyfollowed them with his basin, sore perplexed, but learning life in thisadmirable school. 

Sir Charles then, with the utmost kindness, endeavored to reconcile theweeping and disheveled fair to that separation which circumstancesrendered necessary. But she was inconsolable, and he left the house, perplexed and grieved; not but what it gratified his vanity a little tofind himself beloved all in a moment, and the Somerset unvixened. Hecould not help thinking how wide must be the circle of his charms, which had won the affections of two beautiful women so opposite incharacter as Bella Bruce and La Somerset. 

The passion of this latter seemed to grow. She wrote to him every day, and begged him to call on her. 

She called on him--she who had never called on a man before. 

She raged with jealousy; she melted with grief. She played on him withall a woman's artillery; and at last actually wrung from him what shecalled a reprieve. 

Richard Bassett called on her, but she would not receive him; so thenhe wrote to her, urging co-operation, and she replied, frankly, thatshe took no interest in his affairs; but that she was devoted to SirCharles, and should keep him for herself. Vanity tempted her to addthat he (Sir Charles) was with her every day, and the weddingpostponed. 

This last seemed too good to be true, so Richard Bassett set hisservant to talk to the servants in Portman Square. He learned that thewedding was now to be on the 15th of June, instead of the 31st of May. 

Convinced that this postponement was only a blind, and that themarriage would never be, he breathed more freely at the news. 

But the fact is, although Sir Charles had yielded so far to dread ofscandal, he was ashamed of himself, and his shame became remorse whenhe detected a furtive tear in the dove-like eyes of her he really lovedand esteemed. 

He went and told his trouble to Mr. Oldfield. "I am afraid she will dosomething desperate, " he said. 

Mr. Oldfield heard him out, and then asked him had he told MissSomerset what he was going to settle on her. 

"Not I. She is not in a condition to be influenced by that, atpresent. "

"Let me try her. The draft is ready. I'll call on her to-morrow. " Hedid call, and was told she did not know him. 

"You tell her I am a lawyer, and it is very much to her interest to seeme, " said Mr. Oldfield to the page. 

He was admitted, but not to a _tete-a-tete. _ Polly was kept in theroom. The Somerset had peeped, and Oldfield was an old fellow, withwhite hair; if he had been a young fellow, with black hair, she mighthave thought that precaution less necessary. 

 "First, madam, " said Oldfield, "I must beg you to accept my apologiesfor not coming sooner. Press of business, etc. "

"Why have you come at all? That is the question, " inquired the lady, bluntly. 

"I bring the draft of a deed for your approval. Shall I read it toyou?"

"Yes; if it is not very long. " He began to read it. The ladyinterrupted him characteristically. 

"It's a beastly rigmarole. What does it mean--in three words?"

"Sir Charles Bassett secures to Rhoda Somerset four hundred pounds ayear, while single; this is reduced to two hundred if you marry. Thedeed further assigns to you, without reserve, the beneficial lease ofthis house, and all the furniture and effects, plate, linen, wine, etc. "

"I see--a bribe. "

"Nothing of the kind, madam. When Sir Charles instructed me to preparethis deed he expected no opposition on your part to his marriage; buthe thought it due to him and to yourself to mark his esteem for you, and his recollection of the pleasant hours he has spent in yourcompany. "

Miss Somerset's eyes searched the lawyer's face. He stood the batteryunflinchingly. She altered her tone, and asked, politely and almostrespectfully, whether she might see that paper. 

Mr. Oldfield gave it her. She took it, and ran her eye over it; indoing which, she raised it so that she could think behind itunobserved. She handed it back at last, with the remark that SirCharles was a gentleman and had done the right thing. 

"He has; and you will do the right thing too, will you not?"

"I don't know. I am just beginning to fall in love with him myself. "

"Jealousy, madam, not love, " said the old lawyer. "Come, now! I see youare a young lady of rare good sense; look the thing in the face: SirCharles is a landed gentleman; he must marry, and, have heirs. He isover thirty, and his time has come. He has shown himself your friend;why not be his? He has given you the means to marry a gentleman ofmoderate income, or to marry beneath you, if you prefer it--"

"And most of us do--"

"Then why not make his path smooth? Why distress him with your tearsand remonstrances?"

He continued in this strain for some time, appealing to her good senseand her better feelings. 

When he had done she said, very quietly, "How about the ponies and mybrown mare? Are they down in the deed?"

"I think not; but if you will do your part handsomely I'll guaranteeyou shall have them. "

"You are a good soul. " Then, after a pause, "Now just you tell meexactly what you want me to do for all this. "

Oldfield was pleased with this question. He said, "I wish you toabstain from writing to Sir Charles, and him to visit you only oncemore before his marriage, just to shake hands and part, with mutualfriendship and good wishes. "

"You are right, " said she, softly; "best for us both, and only fair tothe girl. " Then, with sudden and eager curiosity, "Is she very pretty?"

"I don't know. "

"What, hasn't he told you?"

"He says she is lovely, and every way adorable; but then he is in love. The chances are she is not half so handsome as yourself. "

"And yet he is in love with her?"

"Over head and ears. "

"I don't believe it. If he was really in love with one woman hecouldn't be just to another. _I_ couldn't. He'll be coming back to mein a few months. "

"God forbid!"

"Thank you, old gentleman. "

Mr. Oldfield began to stammer excuses. She interrupted him: "Oh, botherall that; I like you none the worse for speaking your mind. " Then, after a pause, "Now excuse me; but suppose Sir Charles should changehis mind, and never sign this paper?"

"I pledge my professional credit. "

"That is enough, sir; I see I can trust you. Well, then, I consent tobreak off with Sir Charles, and only see him once more--as a friend. Poor Sir Charles! I hope he will be happy" (she squeezed out a tear forhim)--"happier than I am. And when he does come he can sign the deed, you know. "

Mr. Oldfield left her, and joined Sir Charles at Long's, as had beenpreviously agreed. 

"It is all right, Sir Charles; she is a sensible girl, and will giveyou no further trouble. "

"How did you get over the hysterics?"

"We dispensed with them. She saw at once it was to be business, notsentiment. You are to pay her one more visit, to sign, and partfriends. If you please, I'll make that appointment with both parties, as soon as the deed is engrossed. Oh, by-the-by, she did shed a tear ortwo, but she dried them to ask me for the ponies and the brown mare. "

Sir Charles's vanity was mortified. But he laughed it off, and said sheshould have them, of course. 

So now his mind was at ease, his conscience was at rest, and he couldgive his whole time where he had given his heart. 

Richard Bassett learned, through his servant, that the wedding-dresseswere ordered. He called on Miss Somerset. She was out. 

Polly opened the door and gave him a look of admiration--due to hisfresh color--that encouraged him to try and enlist her in his service. 

He questioned her, and she told him in a general way how matters weregoing. "But, " said she, "why not come and talk to her yourself? Ten toone but she tells you. She is pretty outspoken. "

"My pretty dear, " said Richard, "she never will receive me. "

"Oh, but I'll make her!" said Polly. 

And she did exert her influence as follows:

"Lookee here, the cousin's a-coming to-morrow and I've been andpromised he should see you. "

"What did you do that for?"

"Why, he's a well-looking chap, and a beautiful color, fresh from thecountry, like me. And he's a gentleman, and got an estate belike; andwhy not put yourn to hisn, and so marry him and be a lady? You mighthave me about ye all the same, till my turn comes. "

"No, no, " said Rhoda; "that's not the man for me. If ever I marry, itmust be one of my own sort, or else a fool, like Marsh, that I can makea slave of. "

"Well, any way, you must see him, not to make a fool of _me, _ for I didpromise him; which, now I think on't, 'twas very good of me, for Icould find in my heart to ask him down into the kitchen, instead ofbringing him upstairs to you. "

All this ended, somehow, in Mr. Bassett's being admitted. 

To his anxious inquiry how matters stood, she replied coolly that SirCharles and herself were parted by mutual consent. 

"What! after all your protestations?" said Bassett, bitterly. 

But Miss Somerset was not in an irascible humor just then. She shruggedher shoulders, and said:

"Yes, I remember I put myself in a passion, and said some ridiculousthings. But one can't be always a fool. I have come to my senses. Thissort of thing always does end, you know. Most of them part enemies, buthe and I part friends and well-wishers. "

"And you throw _me_ over as if I was nobody, " said Richard, white withanger. 

"Why, what are you to me?" said the Somerset. "Oh, I see. You thoughtto make a cat's-paw of me. Well, you won't, then. "

"In other words, you have been bought off. "

"No, I have not. I am not to be bought by anybody--and I am not to beinsulted by you, you ruffian! How dare you come here and affront a ladyin her own house--a lady whose shoestrings your betters are ready totie, you brute? If you want to be a landed proprietor, go and marrysome ugly old hag that's got it, and no eyesight left to see you're nogentleman. Sir Charles's land you'll never have; a better man has gotit, and means to keep it for him and his. Here, Polly! Polly! Polly!take this man down to the kitchen, and teach him manners if you can: heis not fit for my drawing-room, by a long chalk. "

Polly arrived in time to see the flashing eyes, the swelling veins, andto hear the fair orator's peroration. 

"What, you are in your tantrums again!" said she. "Come along, sir. Needs must when the devil drives. You'll break a blood-vessel some day, my lady, like your father afore ye. "

And with this homely suggestion, which always sobered Miss Somerset, and, indeed, frightened her out of her wits, she withdrew the offender. She did not take him into the kitchen, but into the dining-room, andthere he had a long talk with her, and gave her a sovereign. 

She promised to inform him if anything important should occur. 

He went away, pondering and scowling deeply. 

CHAPTER IV. 

SIR CHARLES BASSETT was now living in Elysium. Never was rake morethoroughly transformed. Every day he sat for hours at the feet of BellaBruce, admiring her soft, feminine ways and virgin modesty even morethan her beauty. And her visible blush whenever he appeared suddenly, and the soft commotion and yielding in her lovely frame whenever hedrew near, betrayed his magnetic influence, and told all but the blindshe adored him. 

She would decline all invitations to dine with him and her father--astrong-minded old admiral, whose authority was unbounded, only, toBella's regret, very rarely exerted. Nothing would have pleased hermore than to be forbidden this and commanded that; but no! the admiralwas a lion with an enormous paw, only he could not be got to put itinto every pie. 

In this charming society the hours glided, and the wedding-day drewclose. So deeply and sincerely was Sir Charles in love that when Mr. Oldfield's letter came, appointing the day and hour to sign MissSomerset's deed, he was unwilling to go, and wrote back to ask if thedeed could not be sent to his house. 

Mr. Oldfield replied that the parties to the deed and the witnessesmust meet, and it would be unadvisable, for several reasons, toirritate the lady's susceptibility previous to signature; theappointment having been made at her house, it had better remain so. 

That day soon came. 

Sir Charles, being due in Mayfair at 2 P. M. , compensated himself forthe less agreeable business to come by going earlier than usual toPortman Square. By this means he caught Miss Bruce and two other youngladies inspecting bridal dresses. Bella blushed and looked ashamed, and, to the surprise of her friends, sent the dresses away, and setherself to talk rationally with Sir Charles--as rationally as loverscan. 

The ladies took the cue, and retired in disgust. 

Sir Charles apologized. 

"This is too bad of me. I come at an unheard-of hour, and frighten awayyour fair friends; but the fact is, I have an appointment at two, and Idon't know how long they will keep me, so I thought I would make sureof two happy hours at the least. "

And delightful hours they were. Bella Bruce, excited by this littlesurprise, leaned softly on his shoulder, and prattled her maiden lovelike some warbling fountain. 

Sir Charles, transfigured by love, answered her in kind--three monthsago he could not--and they compared pretty little plans of wedded life, and had small differences, and ended by agreeing. 

Complete and prompt accord upon two points: first, they would not havea single quarrel, like other people; their love should never lose itsdelicate bloom; second, they would grow old together, and die the sameday--the same minute if possible; if not, they must be content with thesame day, but, on that, inexorable. 

But soon after this came a skirmish. Each wanted to obey t'other. 

Sir Charles argued that Bella was better than he, and therefore morefit to conduct the pair. 

Bella, who thought him divinely good, pounced on this reason furiously. He defended it. He admitted, with exemplary candor, that he was goodnow--"awfully good. " But he assured her that he had been anything butgood until he knew her; now she had been always good; therefore, heargued, as his goodness came originally from her, for her to obey himwould be a little too much like the moon commanding the sun. 

"That is too ingenious for me, Charles, " said Bella. "And, for shame!Nobody was ever so good as you are. I look up to you and--Now I couldstop your mouth in a minute. I have only to remind you that I shallswear at the altar to obey you, and you will not swear to obey me. ButI will not crush you under the Prayer-book--no, dearest; but, indeed, to obey is a want of my nature, and I marry you to supply that want:and that's a story, for I marry you because I love and honor andworship and adore you to distraction, my own--own--own!" With this sheflung herself passionately, yet modestly on his shoulder, and, beingthere, murmured, coaxingly, "You will let me obey you, Charles?"

Thereupon Sir Charles felt highly gelatinous, and lost, for the moment, all power of resistance or argument. 

"Ah, you will; and then you will remind me of my dear mother. She knewhow to command; but as for poor dear papa, he is very disappointing. Inselecting an admiral for my parent, I made sure of being ordered about. Instead of that--now I'll show you--there he is in the next room, inventing a new system of signals, poor dear--"

She threw the folding-doors open. 

"Papa dear, shall I ask Charles to dinner to-day?"

"As you please, my dear. "

"Do you think I had better walk or ride this afternoon?"

"Whichever you prefer. "

"There, " said Bella, "I told you so. That is always the way. Papa dear, you used always to be firing guns at sea. Do, please, fire one in thishouse--just one--before I leave it, and make the very windows rattle. "

"I beg your pardon, Bella; I never wasted powder at sea. If the convoysailed well and steered right I never barked at them. You are a modest, sensible girl, and have always steered a good course. Why should Ihoist a petticoat and play the small tyrant? Wait till I see you goingto do something wrong or silly. "

"Ah! then you _would_ fire a gun, papa?"

"Ay, a broadside. "

"Well, that is something, " said Bella, as she closed the door softly. 

"No, no; it amounts to just nothing, " said Sir Charles; "for you neverwill do anything wrong or silly. I'll accommodate you. I have thoughtof a way. I shall give you some blank cards; you shall write on them, 'I think I should like to do so and so. ' You shall be careless, andleave them about; I'll find them, and bluster, and say, 'I command youto do so and so, Bella Bassett'--the very thing on the card, you know. "

Bella colored to the brow with pleasure and modesty. After a pause shesaid: "How sweet! The worst of it is, I should get my own way. Now whatI want is to submit my will to yours. A gentle tyrant--that is what youmust be to Bella Bassett. Oh, you sweet, sweet, for calling me that!"

These projects were interrupted by a servant announcing luncheon. Thismade Sir Charles look hastily at his watch, and he found it was pasttwo o'clock. 

"How time flies in this house!" said he. "I must go, dearest; I ambehind my appointment already. What do you do this afternoon?"

"Whatever you please, my own. "

"I could get away by four. "

"Then I will stay at home for you. "

He left her reluctantly, and she followed him to the head of thestairs, and hung over the balusters as if she would like to fly afterhim. 

He turned at the street-door, saw that radiant and gentle face beamingafter him, and they kissed hands to each other by one impulse, as ifthey were parting for ever so long. 

He had gone scarcely half an hour when a letter, addressed to her, wasleft at the door by a private messenger. 

"Any answer?" inquired the servant. 

"No. "

The letter was sent up, and delivered to her on a silver salver. 

She opened it; it was a thing new to her in her young life--ananonymous letter. 

"MISS BRUCE--I am almost a stranger to you, but I know your characterfrom others, and cannot bear to see you abused. You are said to beabout to marry Sir Charles Bassett. I think you can hardly be awarethat he is connected with a lady of doubtful repute, called Somerset, and neither your beauty nor your virtue has prevailed to detach himfrom that connection. 

"If, on engaging himself to you, he had abandoned her, I should nothave said a word. But the truth is, he visits her constantly, and Iblush to say that when he leaves you this day it will be to spend theafternoon at her house. 

"I inclose you her address, and you can learn in ten minutes whether Iam a slanderer or, what I wish to be, "A FRIEND OF INJURED INNOCENCE. "

CHAPTER V. 

SIR CHARLES was behind his time in Mayfair; but the lawyer and hisclerk had not arrived, and Miss Somerset was not visible. 

She appeared, however, at last, in a superb silk dress, the broadluster of which would have been beautiful, only the effect was brokenand frittered away by six rows of gimp and fringe. But why blame her?This is a blunder in art as universal as it is amazing, when oneconsiders the amount of apparent thought her sex devotes to dress. Theymight just as well score a fair plot of velvet turf with rows of box, or tattoo a blooming and downy cheek. 

She held out her hand, like a man, and talked to Sir Charles onindifferent topics, till Mr. Oldfield arrived. She then retired intothe background, and left the gentlemen to discuss the deed. Whenappealed to, she evaded direct replies, and put on languid and imperialindifference. When she signed, it was with the air of some princessbestowing a favor upon solicitation. 

But the business concluded, she thawed all in a moment, and invited thegentlemen to luncheon with charming cordiality. Indeed, her genuine_bonhomie_ after her affected indifference was rather comic. Everybodywas content. Champagne flowed. The lady, with her good mother-wit, keptconversation going till the lawyer was nearly missing his nextappointment. He hurried away; and Sir Charles only lingered, out ofgood-breeding, to bid Miss Somerset good-by. In the course ofleave-taking he said he was sorry he left her with people about her ofwhom he had a bad opinion. "Those women have no more feeling for youthan stones. When you lay in convulsions, your housekeeper looked on asphilosophically as if you had been two kittens at play--you and Polly. "

"I saw her. "

"Indeed! You appeared hardly in a condition to see anything. "

"I did, though, and heard the old wretch tell the young monkey to watermy lilac dress. That was to get it for her Polly. She knew I'd neverwear it afterward. "

"Then why don't you turn her off?"

"Who'd take such a useless old hag, if I turned her off?"

"You carry a charity a long way. "

"I carry everything. What's the use doing things by halves, good orbad?"

"Well, but that Polly! She is young enough to get her living elsewhere;and she is extremely disrespectful to you. "

"That she is. If I wasn't a lady, I'd have given her a good hiding thisvery day for her cheek!"

"Then why not turn her off this very day for her cheek?"

"Well, I'll tell you, since you and I are parted forever. No, I don'tlike. "

"Oh, come! No secrets between friends. "

"Well, then, the old hag is--my mother. "

"What?"

"And the young jade--is my sister. "

"Good Heavens!"

"And the page--is my little brother. "

"Ha, ha, ha!"

"What, you are not angry?"

"Angry? no. Ha, ha, ha!"

"See what a hornets' nest you have escaped from. My dear friend, thosetwo women rob me through thick and thin. They steal my handkerchiefs, and my gloves, and my very linen. They drink my wine like fishes. They'd take the hair off my head, if it wasn't fast by the roots--for awonder. "

"Why not give them a ten-pound note and send them home?"

"They'd pocket the note, and blacken me in our village. That was why Ihad them up here. First time I went home, after running about with thatlittle scamp, Vandeleur--do you know him?"

"I have not the honor. "

"Then your luck beats mine. One thing, he is going to the dogs as fastas he can. Some day he'll come begging to me for a fiver. You mark mywords now. "

"Well, but you were saying--"

"Yes, I went off about Van. Polly _says_ I've a mind like runningwater. Well, then, when I went home the first time--after Van, motherand Polly raised a virtuous howl. 'All right, ' said I--for, of course, I know how much virtue there is under _their_ skins. Virtue of thelower orders! Tell that to gentlefolks that don't know them. I do. I'vebeen one of 'em--'I know all about that, ' says I. 'You want to sharethe plunder, that is the sense of your virtuous cry. ' So I had 'em uphere; and then there was no more virtuous howling, but a deal ofvirtuous thieving, and modest drinking, and pure-minded selling of mystreet-door to the highest male bidder. And they will corrupt the boy;and if they do, I'll cuts their black hearts out with my riding-whip. But I suppose I must keep them on; they are my own flesh and blood; andif I was to be ill and dying, they'd do all they knew to keep mealive--for their own sakes. I'm their milch cow, these countryinnocents. "

Sir Charles groaned aloud, and said, "My poor girl, you deserve abetter fate than this. Marry some honest fellow, and cut the wholething. "

"I'll see about it. You try it first, and let us see how you like it. "

And so they parted gayly. 

In the hall, Polly intercepted him, all smiles. He looked at her, smiled in his sleeve, and gave her a handsome present. "If you please, sir, " said she, "an old gentleman called for you. "

"When?"

"About an hour ago. Leastways, he asked if Sir Charles Bassett wasthere. I said yes, but you wouldn't see no one. "

"Who could it be? Why, surely you never told anybody I was to be hereto-day?"

"La, no, sir! how could I?" said Polly, with a face of brass. 

Sir Charles thought this very odd, and felt a little uneasy about it. All to Portman Square he puzzled over it; and at last he was driven tothe conclusion that Miss Somerset had been weak enough to tell someperson, male or female, of the coming interview, and so somebody hadcalled there--doubtless to ask him a favor. 

At five o'clock he reached Portman Square, and was about to enter, as amatter of course; but the footman stopped him. "I beg pardon, SirCharles, " said the man, looking pale and agitated; "but I have strictorders. My young lady is very ill. "

"Ill! Let me go to her this instant. "

"I daren't, Sir Charles, I daren't. I know you are a gentleman; praydon't lose me my place. You would never get to see her. We none of usknow the rights, but there's something up. Sorry to say it, SirCharles, but we have strict orders not to admit you. Haven't you theadmiral's letter, sir?"

"No; what letter?"

"He has been after you, sir; and when he came back he sent Roger off toyour house with a letter. "

A cold chill began to run down Sir Charles Bassett. He hailed a passinghansom, and drove to his own house to get the admiral's letter; and ashe went he asked himself, with chill misgivings, what on earth hadhappened. 

What had happened shall be told the reader precisely but briefly. . 

In the first place, Bella had opened the anonymous letter and read itscontents, to which the reader is referred. 

There are people who pretend to despise anonymous letters. Puredelusion! they know they ought to, and so fancy they do; but theydon't. The absence of a signature gives weight, if the letter is ablywritten and seems true. 

As for poor Bella Bruce, a dove's bosom is no more fit to rebuff apoisoned arrow than she was to combat that foulest and direst of all amiscreant's weapons, an anonymous letter. She, in her goodness andinnocence, never dreamed that any person she did not know couldpossibly tell a lie to wound her. The letter fell on her like a cruelrevelation from heaven. 

The blow was so savage that, at first, it stunned her. 

She sat pale and stupefied; but beneath the stupor were the risingthrobs of coming agonies. 

After that horrible stupor her anguish grew and grew, till it foundvent in a miserable cry, rising, and rising, and rising, in agony. 

"Mamma! mamma! mamma!"

Yes; her mother had been dead these three years, and her father sat inthe next room; yet, in her anguish, she cried to her mother--a cry thewhich, if your mother had heard, she would have expected Bella's tocome to her even from the grave. 

Admiral Bruce heard this fearful cry--the living calling on thedead--and burst through the folding-doors in a moment, white as aghost. 

He found his daughter writhing on the sofa, ghastly, and grinding inher hand the cursed paper that had poisoned her young life. 

"My child! my child!"

"Oh, papa! see! see!" And she tried to open the letter for him, but herhands trembled so she could not. 

He kneeled down by her side, the stout old warrior, and read theletter, while she clung to him, moaning now, and quivering all overfrom head to foot. 

"Why, there's no signature! The writer is a coward and, perhaps, aliar. Stop! he offers a test. I'll put him to it this minute. "

He laid the moaning girl on the sofa, ordered his servants to admitnobody into the house, and drove at once to Mayfair. 

He called at Miss Somerset's house, saw Polly, and questioned her. 

He drove home again, and came into the drawing-room looking as he hadbeen seen to look when fighting his ship; but his daughter had neverseen him so. "My girl, " said he, solemnly, "there's nothing for you todo but to be brave, and hide your grief as well as you can, for the manis unworthy of your love. That coward spoke the truth. He is there atthis moment. "

"Oh, papa! papa! let me die! The world is too wicked for me. Let medie!"

"Die for an unworthy object? For shame! Go to your own room, my girl, and pray to your God to help you, since your mother has left us. Oh, how I miss her now! Go and pray, and let no one else know what wesuffer. Be your father's daughter. Fight and pray. "

Poor Bella had no longer to complain that she was not commanded. Shekissed him, and burst into a great passion of weeping; but he led herto the door, and she tottered to her own room, a blighted girl. 

The sight of her was harrowing. Under its influence the admiral dashedoff a letter to Sir Charles, calling him a villain, and inviting him togo to France and let an indignant father write scoundrel on hiscarcass. 

But when he had written this his good sense and dignity prevailed overhis fury; he burned the letter, and wrote another. This he sent by handto Sir Charles's house, and ordered his servants--but that the readerknows. 

Sir Charles found the admiral's letter in his letter-rack. It ran thus:

"SIR--We have learned your connection with a lady named Somerset, and Ihave ascertained that you went from my daughter to her house this veryday. 

"Miss Bruce and myself withdraw from all connection with you, and Imust request you to attempt no communication with her of any kind. Suchan attempt would be an additional insult. 

"I am, sir, your obedient servant, "JOHN URQUHART BRUCE. "

At first Sir Charles Bassett was stunned by this blow. Then his mindresisted the admiral's severity, and he was indignant at beingdismissed for so common an offense. This gave way to deep grief andshame at the thought of Bella and her lost esteem. But soon all otherfeelings merged for a time in fury at the heartless traitor who haddestroyed his happiness, and had dashed the cup of innocent love fromhis very lips. Boiling over with mortification and rage, he drove atonce to that traitor's house. Polly opened the door. He rushed pasther, and burst into the dining-room, breathless, and white withpassion. 

He found Miss Somerset studying the deed by which he had made herindependent for life. She started at his strange appearance, andinstinctively put both hands flat upon the deed. 

"You vile wretch!" cried Sir Charles. "You heartless monster! Enjoyyour work. " And he flung her the admiral's letter. But he did not waitwhile she read it; he heaped reproaches on her; and, for the first timein her life, she did not reply in kind. 

"Are you mad?" she faltered. "What have I done?"

"You have told Admiral Bruce. "

"That's false. "

"You told him I was to be here to-day. "

"Charles, I never did. Believe me. "

"You did. Nobody knew it but you. He was here to-day at the very hour. "

"May I never get up alive off this chair if I told a soul. Yes, ourPolly. I'll ring for her. "

"No, you will not. She is your sister. Do you think I'll take the wordof such reptiles against the plain fact? You have parted my love andme--parted us on the very day I had made you independent for life. Aninnocent love was waiting to bless me, and an honest love was in yourpower, thanks to me, your kind, forgiving friend and benefactor. I haveheaped kindness on you from the first moment I had the misfortune toknow you. I connived at your infidelities--"

"Charles! Don't say that. I never _was. "_

"I indulged your most expensive whims, and, instead of leaving you witha curse, as all the rest did that ever knew you, and as you deserve, Ibought your consent to lead a respectable life, and be blessed with avirtuous love. You took the bribe, but robbed me of theblessing--viper! You have destroyed me, body and soul--monster! perhapsblighted her happiness as well; you she-devils hate an angel worse thanHeaven hates you. But you shall suffer with us; not your heart, for youhave none, but your pocket. You have broken faith with me, and sent allmy happiness to hell; I'll send your deed to hell after it!" With this, he flung himself upon the deed, and was going to throw it into thefire. Now up to that moment she had been overpowered by this man'sfury, whom she had never seen the least angry before; but when he laidhands on her property it acted like an electric shock. "No! no!" shescreamed, and sprang at him like a wildcat. 

Then ensued a violent and unseemly struggle all about the room; chairswere upset, and vases broken to pieces; and the man and woman draggedeach other to and fro, one fighting for her property, as if it was herlife, and the other for revenge. 

Sir Charles, excited by fury, was stronger than himself, and at lastshook off one of her hands for a moment, and threw the deed into thefire. She tried to break from him and save it, but he held her likeiron. 

Yet not for long. While he was holding her back, and she strainingevery nerve to get to the fire, he began to show sudden symptoms ofdistress. He gasped loudly, and cried, "Oh! oh! I'm choking!" and thenhis clutch relaxed. She tore herself from it, and, plunging forward, rescued the smoking parchment. 

At that moment she heard a great stagger behind her, and a pitifulmoan, and Sir Charles fell heavily, striking his head against the edgeof the sofa. She looked round--as she knelt, and saw him, black in theface, rolling his eyeballs fearfully, while his teeth gnashed awfully, and a little jet of foam flew through his lips. 

Then she shrieked with terror, and the blackened deed fell from herhands. At this moment Polly rushed into the room. She saw the fearfulsight, and echoed her sister's scream. But they were neither of themwomen to lose their heads and beat the air with their hands. They gotto him, and both of them fought hard with the unconscious sufferer, whose body, in a fresh convulsion, now bounded away from the sofa, andbade fair to batter itself against the ground. 

They did all they could to hold him with one arm apiece, and to releasehis swelling throat with the other. Their nimble fingers whipped offhis neck-tie in a moment; but the distended windpipe pressed so againstthe shirt-button they could not undo it. Then they seized the collar, and, pulling against each other, wrenched the shirt open so powerfullythat the button flew into the air, and tinkled against a mirror a longway off. 

A few more struggles, somewhat less violent, and then the face, frompurple, began to whiten, the eyeballs fixed; the pulse went down; theman lay still. 

"Oh, my God!" cried Rhoda Somerset. "He is dying! To the nearestdoctor! There's one three doors off. No bonnet! It's life and deaththis moment. Fly!"

Polly obeyed, and Doctor Andrews was actually in the room within fiveminutes. 

He looked grave, and kneeled down by the patient, and felt his pulseanxiously. 

Miss Somerset sat down, and, being from the country, though she did notlook it, began to weep bitterly, and rock herself in rustic fashion. 

The doctor questioned her kindly, and she told him, between her sobs, how Sir Charles had been taken. 

The doctor, however, instead of being alarmed by those frightfulsymptoms she related, took a more cheerful view directly. "Then do notalarm yourself unnecessarily, " he said. "It was only an epileptic fit. "

"Only!" sobbed Miss Somerset. "Oh, if you had seen him! And he lieslike death. "

"Yes, " said Dr. Andrews; "a severe epileptic fit is really a terriblething to look at; but it is not dangerous in proportion. Is he used tohave them?"

"Oh, no, doctor--never had one before. "

Here she was mistaken, I think. 

"You must keep him quiet; and give him a moderate stimulant as soon ashe can swallow comfortably; the quietest room in the house; and don'tlet him be hungry, night or day. Have food by his bedside, and watchhim for a day or two. I'll come again this evening. "

The doctor went to his dinner--tranquil. 

Not so those he left. Miss Somerset resigned her own luxurious bedroom, and had the patient laid, just as he was, upon her bed. She sent thepage out to her groom and ordered two loads of straw to be laid beforethe door; and she watched by the sufferer, with brandy and water by herside. 

Sir Charles now might have seemed to be in a peaceful slumber, but forhis eyes. They were open, and showed more white, and less pupil, thanusual. 

However, in time he began to sigh and move, and even mutter; and, gradually, some little color came back to his pale cheeks. 

Then Miss Somerset had the good sense to draw back out of his sight, and order Polly to take her place by his side. Polly did so, and, sometime afterward, at a fresh order, put a teaspoonful of brandy to hislips, which were still pale and even bluish. 

The doctor returned, and brought his assistant. They put the patient tobed. 

"His life is in no danger, " said he. "I wish I was as sure about hisreason. "

At one o'clock in the morning, as Polly was snoring by the patient'sbedside, a hand was laid on her shoulder. It was Rhoda. 

"Go to bed, Polly: you are no use here. "

"You'd be sleepy if you worked as hard as I do. "

"Very likely, " said Rhoda, with a gentleness that struck Polly as verysingular. "Good-night. "

Rhoda spent the night watching, and thinking harder than she had everthought before. 

Next morning, early, Polly came into the sick-room. There sat hersister watching the patient, out of sight. 

"La, Rhoda! Have you sat there all night?"

"Yes. Don't speak so loud. Come here. You've set your heart on thislilac silk. I'll give it to you for your black merino. "

"Not you, my lady; you are not so fond of mereeny, nor of me neither. "

"I'm not a liar like you, " said the other, becoming herself for amoment, "and what I say I'll do. You put out your merino for me in thedressing-room. "

"All right, " said Polly, joyfully. 

"And bring me two buckets of water instead of one. I have never closedmy eyes. "

"Poor soul! and now you be going to sluice yourself all the same. Whatever you can see in cold water, to run after it so, I can't think. If I was to flood myself like you, it would soon float me to my longhome. "

"How do you know? _You never gave it a trial. _ Come, no more chat. Giveme my bath: and then you may wash yourself in a tea-cup if youlike--only don't wash my spoons in the same water, for _mercy's sake!"_

Thus affectionately stimulated in her duties, Polly brought cold watergalore, and laid out her new merino dress. In this sober suit, withplain linen collar and cuffs, the Somerset dressed herself, and resumedher watching by the bedside. She kept more than ever out of sight, forthe patient was now beginning to mutter incoherently, yet in a way thatshowed his clouded faculties were dwelling on the calamity which hadbefallen him. 

About noon the bell was rung sharply, and, on Polly entering, Rhodacalled her to the window and showed her two female figures ploddingdown the street. "Look, " said she. "Those are the only women I envy. Sisters of Charity. Run you after them, and take a good look at thosebeastly ugly caps: then come and tell me how to make one. "

"Here's a go!" said Polly; but executed the commission promptly. 

It needed no fashionable milliner to turn a yard of linen into one ofthose ugly caps, which are beautiful banners of Christian charity andwomanly tenderness to the sick and suffering. The monster cap was madein an hour, and Miss Somerset put it on, and a thick veil, and then sheno longer thought it necessary to sit out of the patient's sight. 

The consequence was that, in the middle of his ramblings, he broke offand looked at her. The sister puzzled him. At last he called to her inFrench. 

She made no reply. 

"Je suis a l'hopital, n'est ce pas bonne soeur?"

"I am English, " said she, softly. 

CHAPTER VI. 

"ENGLISH!" said Sir Charles. "Then tell me, how did I come here? Wheream I?"

"You had a fit, and the doctor ordered you to be kept quiet; and I amhere to nurse you. "

"A fit! Ay, I remember. That vile woman!"

"Don't think of her: give your mind to getting well: remember, there issomebody who would break her heart if you--"

"Oh, my poor Bella! my sweet, timid, modest, loving Bella!" He was soweakened that he cried like a child. 

Miss Somerset rose, and laid her forehead sadly upon the window-sill. 

"Why do I cry for her, like a great baby?" muttered Sir Charles. "Shewouldn't cry for me. She has cast me off in a moment. "

"Not she. It is her father's doing. Have a little patience. The wholething shall be explained to them; and then she will soon soften the oldman. 'It is not as if you were really to blame. "

"No more I was. It is all that vile woman. "

"Oh, don't! She is so sorry; she has taken it all to heart. She hadonce shammed a fit, on the very place; and when you had a real fitthere--on the very spot--oh, it was so fearful--and lay like one dead, she saw God's finger, and it touched her hard heart. Don't say anythingmore against her just now. She is trying so hard to be good. And, besides, it is all a mistake: she never told that old admiral; shenever breathed a word out of her own house. Her own people havebetrayed her and you. She has made me promise two things: to find outwho told the admiral, and--"

"Well?"

"The second thing I have to do--Well, that is a secret between me andthat unhappy woman. She is bad enough, but not so heartless as youthink. "

Sir Charles shook his head incredulously, but said no more; and soonafter fell asleep. 

In the evening he woke, and found the Sister watching. 

She now turned her head away from him, and asked him quietly todescribe Miss Bella Bruce to her. 

He described her in minute and glowing terms. "But oh, Sister, " saidhe, "it is not her beauty only, but the beauty of her mind. So gentle, so modest, so timid, so docile. She would never have had the heart toturn me off. But she will obey her father. She looked forward to obeyme, sweet dove. "

"Did she say so?"

"Yes, that is her dream of happiness, to obey. "

The Sister still questioned him with averted head, and he told her whathad passed between Bella and him the last time he saw her, and alltheir innocent plans of married happiness. He told her, with the tearin his eye, and she listened, with the tear in hers. "And then, " saidhe, laying his hand on her shoulder, "is it not hard? I just went toMayfair, not to please myself, but to do an act of justice--of morethan justice; and then, for that, to have her door shut in my face. Only two hours between the height of happiness and the depth ofmisery. "

The Sister said nothing, but she hid her face in her hands, andthought. 

The next morning, by her order, Polly came into the room, and said, "You are to go home. The carriage is at the door. " With this sheretired, and Sir Charles's valet entered the room soon after to helphim dress. 

"Where am I, James?"

"Miss Somerset's house, Sir Charles. "

"Then get me out of it directly. "

"Yes, Sir Charles. The carriage is at the door. "

"Who told you to come, James?"

"Miss Somerset, Sir Charles. "

"That is odd. "

"Yes, Sir Charles. "

When he got home he found a sofa placed by a fire, with wraps andpillows; his cigar case laid out, and a bottle of salts, and also asmall glass of old cognac, in case of faintness. 

"Which of you had the gumption to do all this?"

"Miss Somerset, Sir Charles. "

"What, has she been _here?"_

"Yes, Sir Charles. "

"Curse her!"

"Yes, Sir Charles. "

CHAPTER VII. 

"LOVE LIES BLEEDING. "

BELLA BRUCE was drinking the bitterest cup a young virgin soul cantaste. Illusion gone--the wicked world revealed as it is, how unlikewhat she thought it was--love crushed in her, and not crushed out ofher, as it might if she had been either proud or vain. 

Frail men and women should see what a passionate but virtuous woman cansuffer, when a revelation, of which they think but little, comes andblasts her young heart, and bids her dry up in a moment the deep wellof her affection, since it flows for an unworthy object, and flows invain. I tell you that the fair head severed from the chaste body isnothing to her compared with this. The fair body, pierced with heathenarrows, was nothing to her in the days of old compared with this. 

In a word--for nowadays we can but amplify, and so enfeeble, what someold dead master of language, immortal though obscure, has said in wordsof granite--here

 "Love lay bleeding. "

No fainting--no vehement weeping; but oh, such deep desolation; suchweariness of life; such a pitiable restlessness. Appetite gone; thetaste of food almost lost; sleep unwilling to come; and oh, the tortureof waking--for at that horrible moment all rushed back at once, the joythat had been, the misery that was, the blank that was to come. 

She never stirred out, except when ordered, and then went like anautomaton. Pale, sorrow-stricken, and patient, she moved about, theghost of herself; and lay down a little, and then tried to work alittle, and then to read a little; and could settle to nothing butsorrow and deep despondency. 

Not that she nursed her grief. She had been told to be brave, and shetried. But her grief was her master. It came welling through her eyesin a moment, of its own accord. 

She was deeply mortified too. But, in her gentle nature, anger couldplay but a secondary part. Her indignation was weak beside her grief, and did little to bear her up. 

Yet her sense of shame was vivid; and she tried hard not to let herfather see how deeply she loved the man who had gone from her to MissSomerset. Besides, he had ordered her to fight against a love that nowcould only degrade her; he had ordered, and it was for her to obey. 

As soon as Sir Charles was better, he wrote her a long, humble letter, owning that, before he knew her, he had led a free life; but assuringher that, ever since that happy time, his heart and his time had beensolely hers; as to his visit to Miss Somerset, it had been one ofbusiness merely, and this he could prove, if she would receive him. Theadmiral could be present at that interview, and Sir Charles hoped toconvince him he had been somewhat hasty and harsh in his decision. 

Now the admiral had foreseen Sir Charles would write to her; so he hadordered his man to bring all letters to him first. 

He recognized Sir Charles's hand, and brought the latter in to Bella. "Now, my child, " said he, "be brave. Here is a letter from that man. "

"Oh, papa! I thought he would. I knew he would. " And the pale face wasflushed with joy and hope all in a moment. 

"Do what?"

"Write and explain. "

"Explain? A thing that is clear as sunshine. He has written to throwdust in your eyes again. You are evidently in no state to judge. _I_shall read this letter first. "

"Yes, papa, " said Bella, faintly. 

He did read it, and she devoured his countenance all the time. 

"There is nothing in it. He offers no real explanation, but only sayshe can explain, and asks for an interview--to play upon your weakness. If I give you this letter, it will only make you cry, and render yourtask more difficult. I must be strong for your good, and set you anexample. I loved this young man too; but, now I know him"--then heactually thrust the letter into the fire. 

But this was too much. Bella shrieked at the act, and put her hand toher heart, and shrieked again. "Ah! you'll kill us, you'll kill usboth!" she cried. "Poor Charles! Poor Bella! You don't love yourchild--you have no pity. " And, for the first time, her misery wasviolent. She writhed and wept, and at last went into violent hysterics, and frightened that stout old warrior more than cannon had everfrightened him; and presently she became quiet, and wept at his knees, and begged his forgiveness, and said he was wiser than she was, and shewould obey him in everything, only he must not be angry with her if shecould not live. 

Then the stout admiral mingled his tears with hers, and began torealize what deep waters of affliction his girl was wading in. 

Yet he saw no way out but firmness. He wrote to Sir Charles to say thathis daughter was too ill to write; but that no explanation waspossible, and no interview could be allowed. 

Sir Charles, who, after writing, had conceived the most sanguine hopes, was now as wretched as Bella. Only, now that he was refused a hearing, he had wounded pride to support him a little under wounded love. 

Admiral Bruce, fearing for his daughter's health, and even for herlife--she pined so visibly--now ordered her to divide her day intoseveral occupations, and exact divisions of time--an hour for this, anhour for that; an hour by the clock--and here he showed practicalwisdom. Try it, ye that are very unhappy, and tell me the result. 

As a part of this excellent system, she had to walk round the squarefrom eleven to twelve A. M. , but never alone; he was not going to haveSir Charles surprising her into an interview. He always went with her, and, as he was too stiff to walk briskly, he sat down, and she had towalk in sight. He took a stout stick with him--for Sir Charles. But SirCharles was proud, and stayed at home with his deep wound. 

One day, walking round the square with a step of Mercury and heart oflead, Bella Bruce met a Sister of Charity pacing slow and thoughtful;their eyes met and drank, in a moment, every feature of each other. 

The Sister, apparently, had seen the settled grief on that fair face;for the next time they met, she eyed her with a certain sympathy, whichdid not escape Bella. 

This subtle interchange took place several times and Bella could nothelp feeling a little grateful. "Ah!" she thought to herself, "how kindreligious people are! I should like to speak to her. " And the next timethey met she looked wistfully in the Sister's face. 

She did not meet her again, for she went and rested on a bench, insight of her father, but at some distance from him. Unconsciously toherself, his refusal even to hear Sir Charles repelled her. That was sohard on him and her. It looked like throwing away the last chance, thelast little chance of happiness. 

By-and-by the Sister came and sat on the same bench. 

Bella was hardly surprised, but blushed high, for she felt that her owneyes had invited the sympathy of a stranger; and now it seemed to becoming. The timid girl felt uneasy. The Sister saw that, and approachedher with tact. "You look unwell, " said she, gently, but with noappearance of extravagant interest or curiosity. 

"I am--a little, " said Bella, very reservedly. 

"Excuse my remarking it. We are professional nurses, and apt to be alittle officious, I fear. "

No reply. 

"I saw you were unwell. But I hope it is not serious. I can generallytell when the sick are in danger. " A peculiar look. "I am glad not tosee it in so young and--good a face. "

"You are young, too; very young, and--" she was going to say"beautiful, " but she was too shy--"to be a Sister of Charity. But I amsure you never regret leaving such a world as this is. "

"Never. I have lost the only thing I ever valued in it. "

"I have no right to ask you what that was. "

"You shall know without asking. One I loved proved unworthy. "

The Sister sighed deeply, and then, hiding her face with her hands fora moment, rose abruptly, and left the square, ashamed, apparently, ofhaving been betrayed into such a confession. 

Bella, when she was twenty yards off, put out a timid hand, as if todetain her; but she had not the courage to say anything of the kind. 

She never told her father a word. She had got somebody now who couldsympathize with her better than he could. 

Next day the Sister was there, and Bella bowed to her when she met her. This time it was the Sister who went and sat on the bench. 

Bella continued her walk for some time, but at last could not resistthe temptation. She came and sat down on the bench, and blushed; asmuch as to say, "I have the courage to come, but not to speak upon acertain subject, which shall be nameless. "

The Sister, as may be imagined, was not so shy. She opened aconversation. "I committed a fault yesterday. I spoke to you of myself, and of the past: it is discouraged by our rules. We are bound toinquire the griefs of others; not to tell our own. "

This was a fair opening, but Bella was too delicate to show her woundsto a fresh acquaintance. 

The Sister, having failed at that, tried something very different. 

"But I could tell you a pitiful case about another. Some time ago Inursed a gentleman whom love had laid on a sick-bed. "

"A gentleman! What! can they love as we do?" said Bella, bitterly. 

"Not many of them; but this was an exception. But I don't know whetherI ought to tell these secrets to so young a lady. "

"Oh, yes--please--what else is there in this world worth talking about?Tell me about the poor man who could love as we can. "

The Sister seemed to hesitate, but at last decided to go on. 

"Well, he was a man of the world, and he had not always been a goodman; but he was trying to be. He had fallen in love with a young lady, and seen the beauty of virtue, and was going to marry her and lead agood life. But he was a man of honor, and there was a lady for whom hethought it was his duty to provide. He set his lawyer to draw a deed, and his lawyer appointed a day for signing it at her house. The poorman came because his lawyer told him. Do you think there was any greatharm in that?"

"No; of course not. "

"Well, then, he lost his love for that. "

Miss Bruce's color began to come and go, and her supple figure tocrouch a little. She said nothing. 

The Sister continued: "Some malicious person went and told the younglady's father the gentleman was in the habit of visiting that lady, andwould be with her at a certain hour. And so he was; but it was thelawyer's appointment, you know. You seem agitated. "

"No, no; not agitated, " said Bella, "but astonished; it is so like astory I know. A young lady, a friend of mine, had an anonymous letter, telling her that one she loved and esteemed was unworthy. But what youhave told me shows me how deceitful appearances may be. What was yourpatient's name?"

"It is against our rules to tell that. But you said an 'anonymousletter. ' Was your friend so weak as to believe an anonymous letter? Thewriter of such a letter is a coward, and a coward always is a liar. Show me your friend's anonymous letter. I may, perhaps, be able tothrow a light on it. "

The conversation was interrupted by Admiral Bruce, who had approachedthem unobserved. "Excuse me, " said he, "but you ladies seem to have hitupon a very interesting theme. "

"Yes, papa, " said Bella. "I took the liberty to question this lady asto her experiences of sick-beds, and she was good enough to give mesome of them. "

Having uttered this with a sudden appearance of calmness that firstamazed the Sister, then made her smile, she took her father's arm, bowed politely, and a little stiffly, to her new friend, and drew theadmiral away. 

"Oh!" thought the Sister. "I am not to speak to the old gentleman. Heis not in her confidence. Yet she is very fond of him. How she hangs onhis arm! Simplicity! Candor! We are all tarred with the same stick--wewomen. "

That night Bella was a changed girl--exalted and depressed by turns, and with no visible reason. 

Her father was pleased. Anything better than that deadly languor. 

The next day Bella sat by her father's side in the square, longing togo to the Sister, yet patiently waiting to be ordered. 

At last the admiral, finding her dull and listless, said, "Why don'tyou go and talk to the Sister? She amuses you. I'll join you when Ihave smoked this cigar. "

The obedient Bella rose, and went toward the Sister as if compelled. But when she got to her her whole manner changed. She took her warmlyby the hand, and said, trembling and blushing, and all on fire, "I havebrought you the anonymous letter. "

The elder actress took it and ran her eye over it--an eye that nowsparkled like a diamond. "Humph!" said she, and flung off all thedulcet tones of her assumed character with mighty little ceremony. "This hand is disguised a little, but I think I know it. I am sure Ido! The dirty little rascal!"

"Madam!" cried Bella, aghast with surprise at this language. 

"I tell you I know the writer and his rascally motive. You must lend methis for a day or two. "

"Must I?" said Bella. "Excuse me! Papa would be so angry. "

"Very likely; but you will lend it to me for all that; for with this Ican clear Miss Bruce's lover and defeat his enemies. "

Bella uttered a faint cry, and trembled, and her bosom heavedviolently. She looked this way and that, like a frightened deer. "Butpapa? His eye is on us. "

"Never deceive your father!" said the Sister, almost sternly; "but, "darting her gray eyes right into those dove-like orbs, "give me fiveminutes' start--IF YOU REALLY LOVE SIR CHARLES BASSETT. "

With these words she carried off the letter; and Bella ran, blushing, panting, trembling, to her father, and clung to him. 

He questioned her, but could get nothing from her very intelligibleuntil the Sister was out of sight, and then she told him all withoutreserve. 

"I was unworthy of him to doubt him. An anonymous slander. I'll nevertrust appearances again. Poor Charles! Oh, my darling! what he musthave suffered if he loves like me. " Then came a shower of happy tears;then a shower of happy kisses. 

The admiral groaned, but for a long time he could not get a word in. When he did it was chilling. "My poor girl, " said he, "this unhappylove blinds you. What, don't you see the woman is no nun, but some slyhussy that man has sent to throw dust in your eyes?"

Nothing she could say prevailed to turn him from this view, and heacted upon it with resolution: he confined her excursions to a littlegarden at the back of the house, and forbade her, on any pretense, tocross the threshold. 

Miss Somerset came to the square in another disguise, armed withimportant information. But no Bella Bruce appeared to meet her. 

All this time Richard Bassett was happy as a prince. 

So besotted was he with egotism, and so blinded by imaginary wrongs, that he rejoiced in the lovers' separation, rejoiced in his cousin'sattack. 

Polly, who now regarded him almost as a lover, told him all about it;and already in anticipation he saw himself and his line once more lordsof the two manors--Bassett and Huntercombe--on the demise of SirCharles Bassett, Bart. , deceased without issue. 

And, in fact, Sir Charles was utterly defeated. He lay torpid. 

But there was a tough opponent in the way--all the more dangerous thatshe was not feared. 

One fine day Miss Somerset electrified her groom by ordering her ponycarriage to the door at ten A. M. 

She took the reins on the pavement, like a man, jumped in light as afeather, and away rattled the carriage into the City. The ponies wereall alive, the driver's eye keen as a bird's; her courage and herjudgment equal. She wound in and out among the huge vehicles withperfect composure; and on those occasions when, the traffic beinginterrupted, the oratorical powers were useful to fill up the time, sheshone with singular brilliance. The West End is too often in debt tothe City, but, in the matter of chaff, it was not so this day; forwhenever she took a peck she returned a bushel; and so she rattled tothe door of Solomon Oldfield, solicitor, Old Jewry. 

She penetrated into the inner office of that worthy, and told him hemust come with her that minute to Portman Square. 

"Impossible, madam!" And, as they say in the law reports, gave hisreasons. 

"Certain, sir!" And gave no reasons. 

He still resisted. 

Thereupon she told him she should sit there all day and chaff hisclients one after another, and that his connection with the Bassett andHuntercombe estates should end. 

Then he saw he had to do with a termagant, and consented, with a sigh. 

She drove him westward, wincing every now and then at her closedriving, and told him all, and showed him what she was pleased to callher little game. He told her it was too romantic. Said he, "You ladiesread nothing but novels; but the real world is quite different from theworld of novels. " Having delivered this remonstrance--which wastolerably just, for she never read anything but novels and sermons--hesubmitted like a lamb, and received her instructions. 

She drove as fast as she talked, so that by this time they were atAdmiral Bruce's door. 

Now Mr. Oldfield took the lead, as per instructions. "Mr. Oldfield, solicitor, and a lady--on business. "

The porter delivered this to the footman with the accuracy which allwho send verbal messages deserve and may count on. "Mr. Oldfield andlady. "

The footman, who represented the next step in oral tradition, withoutwhich form of history the Heathen world would never have known thatHannibal softened the rocks with vinegar, nor the Christian world thateleven thousand virgins dwelt in a German town the size of Putney, announced the pair as "Mr. And Mrs. Hautville. "

"I don't know them, I think. Well, I will see them. "

They entered, and the admiral stared a little, and wondered how thiscouple came together--the keen but plain old man, with clothes hangingon him, and the dashing beauty, with her dress in the height of thefashion, and her gauntleted hands. However, he bowed ceremoniously, andbegged his visitors to be seated. 

Now the folding-doors were ajar, and the _soi-disant_ Mrs. Oldfieldpeeped. She saw Bella Bruce at some distance, seated by the fire, in areverie. 

Judge that young lady's astonishment when she looked up and observed alarge white, well-shaped hand, sparkling with diamonds and rubies, beckoning her furtively. 

The owner of that sparkling hand soon heard a soft rustle of silk cometoward the door; the very rustle, somehow, was eloquent, and betrayedlove and timidity, and something innocent yet subtle. The jeweled handwent in again directly. 

CHAPTER VIII. 

MEANTIME Mr. Oldfield began to tell the admiral who he was, and that hewas come to remove a false impression about a client of his, SirCharles Bassett. 

"That, sir, " said the admiral, sternly, "is a name we never mentionhere. "

He rose and went to the folding-doors, and deliberately closed them. 

The Somerset, thus defeated, bit her lip, and sat all of a heap, like acat about to spring, looking sulky and vicious. 

Mr. Oldfield persisted, and, as he took the admiral's hint and loweredhis voice, he was interrupted no more, but made a simple statement ofthose facts which are known to the reader. 

Admiral Bruce heard them, and admitted that the case was not quite sobad as he had thought. 

Then Mr. Oldfield proposed that Sir Charles should be re-admitted. 

"No, " said the old admiral, firmly; "turn it how you will, it is toougly; the bloom of the thing is gone. Why should my daughter take thatwoman's leavings? Why should I give her pure heart to a man abouttown?"

"Because you will break it else, " said Miss Somerset, with affectedpoliteness. 

"Give her credit for more dignity, madam, if you please, " repliedAdmiral Bruce, with equal politeness. 

"Oh, bother dignity!" cried the Somerset. 

At this free phrase from so well-dressed a lady Admiral Bruce openedhis eyes, and inquired of Oldfield, rather satirically, who was thislady that did him the honor to interfere in his family affairs. 

Oldfield looked confused; but Somerset, full of mother-wit, was not tobe caught napping. "I'm a by-stander; and they always see clearer thanthe folk themselves. You are a man of honor, sir, and you are veryclever at sea, no doubt, and a fighter, and all that; but you are nomatch for land-sharks. You are being made a dupe and a tool of. Who doyou think wrote that anonymous letter to your daughter? A friend oftruth? a friend of injured innocence? Nothing of the sort. One RichardBassett--Sir Charles's cousin. Here, Mr. Oldfield, please compare thesetwo handwritings closely, and you will see I am right. " She put downthe anonymous letter and Richard Bassett's letter to herself; but shecould not wait for Mr. Oldfield to compare the documents, now hertongue was set going. "Yes, gentlemen, this is new to you; but you'llfind that little scheming rascal wrote them both, and with as base amotive and as black a heart as any other anonymous coward's. His gameis to make Sir Charles Bassett die childless, and so then this dirtyfellow would inherit the estate; and owing to you being so green, andswallowing an anonymous letter like pure water from the spring, he verynearly got his way. Sir Charles has been at death's door along of allthis. "

"Hush, madam! not so loud, please, " whispered Admiral Bruce, lookinguneasily toward the folding, doors. 

"Why not?" bawled the Somerset. "THE TRUTH MAY BE BLAMED, BUT IT CAN'TBE SHAMED. I tell you that your precious letter brought Sir CharlesBassett to the brink of the grave. Soon as ever he got it he cametearing in his cab to Miss Somerset's house, and accused her of tellingthe lie to keep him--and he might have known better, for the jade neverdid a sneaking thing in her life. But, any way, he thought it must beher doing, miscalled her like a dog, and raged at her dreadful, and atlast--what with love and fury and despair--he had the terriblest fityou ever saw. He fell down as black as your hat, and his eyes rolled, and his teeth gnashed, and he foamed at the mouth, and took four tohold him; and presently as white as a ghost, and given up for dead. Nopulse for hours; and when his life came back his reason was gone. "

"Good Heavens, madam!"

"For a time it was. How he did rave! and 'Bella' the only name on hislips. And now he lies in his own house as weak as water. Come, oldgentleman, don't you be too hard; you are not a child, like yourdaughter; take the world as it is. Do you think you will ever find aman of fortune who has not had a lady friend? Why, every singlegentleman in London that can afford to keep a saddle-horse has anarticle of that sort in some corner or other; and if he parts with heras soon as his banns are cried, that is all you can expect. Do youthink any mother in Belgravia would make a row about that? They aredownier than you are; they would shrug their aristocratic shoulders, and decline to listen to the _past_ lives of their sons-in-law--unlessit was all in the newspapers, mind you. "

"If Belgravian mothers have mercenary minds, that is no reason why Ishould, whose cheeks have bronzed in the service of a virtuous queen, and whose hairs have whitened in honor. "

On receiving this broadside the Somerset altered her tone directly, andsaid, obsequiously: "That is true, sir, and I beg your pardon forcomparing you to the trash. But brave men are pitiful, you know. Thenshow your pity here. Pity a gentleman that repented his faults as soonas your daughter showed him there was a better love within reach, andnow lies stung by an anonymous viper, and almost dying of love andmortification; and pity your own girl, that will soon lose her health, and perhaps her life, if you don't give in. "

"She is not so weak, madam. She is in better spirits already. "

"Ay, but then she didn't know what he had suffered for _her. _ She doesnow, for I heard her moan; and she will die for him now, or else shewill give you twice as many kisses as usual some day, and cry abucketful over you, and then run away with her lover. I know womenbetter than you do; I am one of the precious lot. "

The admiral replied only with a look of superlative scorn. Thisincensed the Somerset; and that daring woman, whose ear was nearer tothe door, and had caught sounds that escaped the men, actually turnedthe handle, and while her eye flashed defiance, her vigorous footspurned the folding-doors wide open in half a moment. 

Bella Bruce lay with her head sidewise on the table, and her handsextended, moaning and sobbing piteously for poor Sir Charles. 

"For shame, madam, to expose my child, " cried the admiral, burstingwith indignation and grief. He rushed to her and took her in his arms. 

She scarcely noticed him, for the moment he turned her she caught sightof Miss Somerset, and recognized her face in a moment. "Ah! the Sisterof Charity!" she cried, and stretched out her hands to her, with a lookand a gesture so innocent, confiding, and imploring, that the Somerset, already much excited by her own eloquence, took a turn not uncommonwith termagants, and began to cry herself. 

But she soon stopped that, for she saw her time was come to go, andavoid unpleasant explanations. She made a dart and secured the twoletters. "Settle it among yourselves, " said she, wheeling round andbestowing this advice on the whole party; then shot a sharp arrow atthe admiral as she fled: "If you must be a tool of Richard Bassett, don't be a tool and a dupe by halves. _He_ is in love with her too. Marry her to the blackguard, and then you will be sure to kill SirCharles. " Having delivered this with such volubility that the wordspattered out like a roll of musketry, she flounced out, with red cheeksand wet eyes, rushed down the stairs, and sprang into her carriage, whipped the ponies, and away at a pace that made the spectators stare. 

Mr. Oldfield muttered some excuses, and retired more sedately. 

All this set Bella Bruce trembling and weeping, and her father was sometime before he could bring her to anything like composure. Her firstwords, when she could find breath, were, "He is innocent; he isunhappy. Oh, that I could fly to him!"

"Innocent! What proof?"

"That brave lady said so. "

"Brave lady! A bold hussy. Most likely a friend of the woman Somerset, and a bird of the same feather. Sir Charles has done himself no goodwith me by sending such an emissary. "

"No, papa; it was the lawyer brought her, and then her own good heart_made her burst out. _ Ah! she is not like me: she has courage. What anoble thing courage is, especially in a woman!"

"Pray did you hear the language of this noble lady?"

"Every word nearly; and I shall never forget them. They were diamondsand pearls. "

"Of the sort you can pick up at Billingsgate. "

"Ah, papa, she pleaded for _him_ as I cannot plead, and yet I love him. It was true eloquence. Oh, how she made me shudder! Only think: he hada fit, and lost his reason, and all for me. What shall I do? What shallI do?"

This brought on a fit of weeping. 

Her father pitied her, and gave her a crumb of sympathy: said he wassorry for Sir Charles. 

"But, " said he, recovering his resolution, "it cannot be helped. Hemust expiate his vices, like other men. Do, pray, pluck up a littlespirit and sense. Now try and keep to the point. This woman came fromhim; and you say you heard her language, and admire it. Quote me someof it. "

"She said he fell down as black as his hat, and his eyes rolled, andhis poor teeth gnashed, and--oh, my darling! my darling! oh! oh! oh!"

"There--there--I mean about other things. "

Bella complied, but with a running accompaniment of the sweetest littlesobs. 

"She said I must be very green, to swallow an anonymous letter likespring water. Oh! oh!"

"Green? There was a word!"

"Oh! oh! But it is the right word. You can't mend it. Try, and you willsee you can't. Of course I was green. Oh! And she said every gentlemanwho can afford to keep a saddle-horse has a female friend, till hisbanns are called in church. Oh! oh!"

"A pretty statement to come to your ears!"

"But if it is the truth! 'THE TRUTH MAY BE BLAMED, BUT IT CAN'T BESHAMED. ' Ah! I'll not forget that: I'll pray every night I may rememberthose words of the brave lady. Oh!"

"Yes, take her for your oracle. "

"I mean to. I always try to profit by my superiors. She has courage: Ihave none. I beat about the bush, and talk skim-milk; she uses the veryword. She said we have been the dupe and the tool of a little schemingrascal, an anonymous coward, with motives as base as his heart isblack--oh! oh! Ay, that is the way to speak of such a man; I can't doit myself, but I reverence the brave lady who can. And she wasn'tafraid even of you, dear papa. 'Come, old gentleman'--ha! ha!ha!--'take the world as it is; Belgravian mothers would not break_both_ their hearts for what is past and gone. ' What hard good sense! athing I always _did_ admire: because I've got none. But her _heart_ isnot hard; after all her words of fire, that went so straight instead ofbeating the bush, she ended by crying for me. Oh! oh! oh! Bless her!Bless her! If ever there was a good woman in the world, that is one. She was not born a lady, I am afraid; but that is nothing: she was borna woman, and I mean to make her acquaintance, and take her for myexample in all things. No, dear papa, women are not so pitiful to womenwithout cause. She is almost a stranger, yet she cried for me. Can yoube harder to me than she is? No; pity your poor girl, who will lose herhealth, and perhaps her life. Pity poor Charles, stung by an anonymousviper, and laid on a bed of sickness for me. Oh! oh! oh!"

"I do pity you, Bella. When you cry like this, my heart bleeds. "

"I'll try not to cry, papa. Oh! oh!"

"But most of all, I pity your infatuation, your blindness. Poor, innocent dove, that looks at others by the light of her own goodness, and so sees all manner of virtues in a brazen hussy. Now answer me oneplain question. You called her 'the Sister!' Is she not the same womanthat played the Sister of Charity?"

Bella blushed to the temples, and said, hesitatingly, she was not quitesure. 

"Come, Bella. I thought you were going to imitate the jade, and notbeat about the bush. Yes or no?"

"The features are very like. "

"Bella, you know it is the same woman. You recognized her in a moment. That speaks volumes. But she shall find I am not to be made 'a dupe anda tool of' quite so easily as she thinks. I'll tell you what--this issome professional actress Sir Charles has hired to waylay you. Littlesimpleton!"

He said no more at that time; but after dinner he ruminated, and took avery serious, indeed almost a maritime, view of the crisis. "I'movermatched now, " thought he. "They will cut my sloop out under thevery guns of the flagship if we stay much longer in this port--a lawyeragainst me, and a woman too; there's nothing to be done but heaveanchor, hoist sail, and run for it. "

He sent off a foreign telegram, and then went upstairs. "Bella, mydear, " said he, "pack up your clothes for a journey. We startto-morrow. "

"A journey, papa! A long one?"

"No. We shan't double the Horn this time. "

"Brighton? Paris?"

"Oh, farther than that. "

"The grave: that is the journey I should like to take. "

 "So you shall, some day; but just now it is a _foreign_ port you arebound for. Go and pack. "

"I obey. " And she was creeping off, but he called her back and kissedher, and said, "Now I'll tell you where you are going; but you mustpromise me solemnly not to write one line to Sir Charles. "

She promised, but cried as soon as she had promised; whereat theadmiral inferred he had done wisely to exact the promise. 

"Well, my dear, " said he, "we are going to Baden. Your aunt Molineux isthere. She is a woman of great delicacy and prudence, and has daughtersof her own all well married, thanks to her motherly care. She willbring you to your senses better than I can. "

Next evening they left England by the mail; and the day after RichardBassett learned this through his servant, and went home triumphant, and, indeed, wondering at his success. He ascribed it, however, to theNemesis which dogs the heels of those who inherit the estate ofanother. 

Such was the only moral reflection he made, though the business ingeneral, and particularly his share in it, admitted of several. 

 Miss Somerset also heard of it, and told Mr. Oldfield; he told SirCharles Bassett. 

That gentleman sighed deeply, and said nothing. He had lost all hope. 

The whole matter appeared stagnant for about ten days; and then adelicate hand stirred the dead waters cautiously. Mr. Oldfield, of allpeople in the world, received a short letter from Bella Bruce. 

"Konigsberg Hotel, BADEN. 

"Miss Bruce presents her compliments to Mr. Oldfield, and will feelmuch obliged if he will send her the name and address of that bravelady who accompanied him to her father's house. 

"Miss Bruce desires to thank that lady, personally, for her nobledefense of one with whom it would be improper for her to communicate;but she can never be indifferent to his welfare, nor hear of hissufferings without deep sorrow. "

"Confound it!" said Solomon Oldfield. "What am I to do? I mustn't tellher it is Miss Somerset. " So the wary lawyer had a copy of the lettermade, and sent to Miss Somerset for instructions. 

Miss Somerset sent for Mr. Marsh, who was now more at her beck and callthan ever, and told him she had a ticklish letter to write. "I can talkwith the best, " said she, "but the moment I sit down and take up a pensomething cold runs up my shoulder, and then down my backbone, and I'mpalsied; now you are always writing, and can't say 'Bo' to a goose incompany. Let us mix ourselves; I'll walk about and speak my mind, andthen you put down the cream, and send it. "

From this ingenious process resulted the following composition:

"She whom Miss Bruce is good enough to call 'the brave lady' happenedto know the truth, and that tempted her to try and baffle an anonymousslanderer, who was ruining the happiness of a lady and gentleman. Beinga person of warm impulses, she went great lengths; but she now wishesto retire into the shade. She is flattered by Miss Bruce's desire toknow her, and some day, perhaps, may remind her of it; but at presentshe must deny herself that honor. If her reasons were known, Miss Brucewould not be offended nor hurt; she would entirely approve them. "

Soon after this, as Sir Charles Bassett sat by the fire, disconsolate, his servant told him a lady wanted to see him. 

"Who is it?"

"Don't know, Sir Charles; but it is a kind of a sort of a nun, SirCharles. "

"Oh, a Sister of Charity! Perhaps the one that nursed me. Admit her, byall means. "

The Sister came in. She had a large veil on. Sir Charles received herwith profound respect, and thanked her, with some little hesitation, for her kind attention to him. She stopped him by saying that wasmerely her duty. "But, " said she, softly, "words fell from you, on thebed of sickness, that touched my heart; and besides I happen to knowthe lady. "

"You know my Bella!" cried Sir Charles. "Ah, then no wonder you speakso kindly; you can feel what I have lost. She has left England to avoidme. "

"All the better. Where she is the door cannot be closed in your face. She is at Baden. Follow her there. She has heard the truth from Mr. Oldfield, and she knows who wrote the anonymous letter. "

"And who did?"

"Mr. Richard Bassett. "

This amazed Sir Charles. 

"The scoundrel!" said he, after a long silence. 

"Well, then, why let that fellow defeat you, for his own ends? I wouldgo at once to Baden. Your leaving England would be one more proof toher that she has no rival. Stick to her like a man, sir, and you willwin her, I tell you. "

These words from a nun amazed and fired him. He rose from his chair, flushed with sudden hope and ardor. "I'll leave for Baden to-morrowmorning. "

The Sister rose to retire. 

"No, no, " cried Sir Charles. "I have not thanked you. I ought to godown on my knees and bless you for all this. To whom am I so indebted?"

"No matter, sir. "

"But it does matter. You nursed me, and perhaps saved my life, and nowyou give me back the hopes that make life sweet. You will not trust mewith your name?"

"We have no name. "

"Your voice at times sounds very like--no, I will not affront you bysuch a comparison. "

"I'm her sister, " said she, like lightning. 

This announcement quite staggered Sir Charles, and he was silent anduncomfortable. It gave him a chill. 

The Sister watched him keenly, but said nothing. 

Sir Charles did not know what to say, so he asked to see her face. "Itmust be as beautiful as your heart. "

The Sister shook her head. "My face has been disfigured by a frightfuldisorder. "

Sir Charles uttered an ejaculation of regret and pity. 

"I could not bear to show it to one who esteems me as you seem to do. But perhaps it will not always be so. "

"I hope not. You are young, and Heaven is good. Can I do nothing foryou, who have done so much for me?"

"Nothing--unless--" said she, feigning vast timidity, "you could spareme that ring of yours, as a remembrance of the part I have played inthis affair. "

Sir Charles colored. It was a ruby of the purest water, and had beentwo centuries in his family. He colored, but was too fine a gentlemanto hesitate. He said, "By all means. But it is a poor thing to offer_you. "_

"I shall value it very much. "

"Say no more. I am fortunate in having anything you deign to accept. "

And so the ring changed hands. 

The Sister now put it on her middle finger, and held up her hand, andher bright eyes glanced at it, through her veil, with that delightwhich her sex in general feel at the possession of a new bauble. Sherecovered herself, however, and told him, soberly, the ring shouldreturn to his family at her death, if not before. 

"I will give you a piece of advice for it, " said she. "Miss Bruce hasfoxy hair; and she is very timid. Don't you take her advice aboutcommanding her. She would like to be your slave! Don't let her. Coaxher to speak her mind. Make a friend of her. Don't you put her tothis--that she must displease you, or else deceive you. She mightchoose wrong, especially with that colored hair. "

"It is not in her nature to deceive. "

"It is not in her nature to displease. Excuse me; I am too fanciful, and look at women too close. But I know your happiness depends on her. All your eggs are in that one basket. Well, I have told you how tocarry the basket. Good-by. "

Sir Charles saw her out, and bowed respectfully to her in the hall, while his servant opened the street door. He did her this homage as hisbenefactress. 

When admiral and Miss Bruce reached Baden Mrs. Molineux was away on avisit; and this disappointed Admiral Bruce, who had counted on herassistance to manage and comfort Bella. Bella needed the latter verymuch. A glance at her pale, pensive, lovely face was enough to showthat sorrow was rooted at her heart. She was subjected to no restraint, but kept the house of her own accord, thinking, as persons of her ageare apt to do, that her whole history must be written in her face. Still, of course, she did go out sometimes; and one cold but brightafternoon she was strolling languidly on the parade, when all in amoment she met Sir Charles Bassett face to face. 

She gave an eloquent scream, and turned pale a moment, and then the hotblood came rushing, and then it retired, and she stood at bay, withheaving bosom--and great eyes. 

Sir Charles held out both hands pathetically. "Don't you be afraid ofme. "

When she found he was so afraid of offending her she became morecourageous. "How dare you come here?" said she, but with more curiositythan violence, for it had been her dream of hope he would come. 

"How could I keep away, when I heard you were here?"

"You must not speak to me, sir; I am forbidden. "

"Pray do not condemn me unheard. "

"If I listen to you I shall believe you. I won't hear a word. Gentlemencan do things that ladies cannot even speak about. Talk to my auntMolineux; our fate depends on her. This will teach you not to be sowicked. What business have gentlemen to be so wicked? Ladies are not. No, it is no use; I will not hear a syllable. I am ashamed to be seenspeaking to you. You are a bad character. Oh, Charles, is it true youhad a fit?"

"Yes. "

"And have you been very ill? You look ill. "

"I am better now, dearest. "

"Dearest! Don't call me names. How dare you keep speaking to me when Irequest you not?"

"But I can't excuse myself, and obtain my pardon, and recover yourlove, unless I am allowed to speak. "

"Oh, you can speak to my aunt Molineux, and she will read you a finelesson. "

"Where is she?"

"Nobody knows. But there is her house, the one with the iron gate. Gether ear first, if you really love me; and don't you ever waylay meagain. If you do, I shall say something rude to you, sir. Oh, I'm sohappy!"

Having let this out, she hid her face with her hands, and fled like thevery wind. 

At dinner-time she was in high spirits. 

The admiral congratulated her. 

"Brava, Bell! Youth and health and a foreign air will soon cure you ofthat folly. "

Bella blushed deeply, and said nothing. The truth struggled within her, too, but she shrank from giving pain, and receiving expostulation. 

She kept the house, though, for two days, partly out of modesty, partlyout of an honest and pious desire to obey her father as much as shecould. 

The third day Mrs. Molineux arrived, and sent over to the admiral. 

He invited Bella to come with him. She consented eagerly, but was solong in dressing that he threatened to go without her. She implored himnot to do that; and after a monstrous delay, the motive of which thereader may perhaps divine, father and daughter called on Mrs. Molineux. She received them very affectionately. But when the admiral, with somehesitation, began to enter on the great subject, she said, quietly, "Bella, my dear, go for a walk, and come back to me in half an hour. "

"Aunt Molineux!" said Bella, extending both her hands imploringly tothat lady. 

Mrs. Molineux was proof against this blandishment, and Bella had to go. 

When she was gone, this lady, who both as wife and mother was literallya model, rather astonished her brother the admiral. She said: "I amsorry to tell you that you have conducted this matter with perfectimpropriety, both you and Bella. She had no business to show you thatanonymous letter; and when she did show it you, you should have takenit from her, and told her not to believe a word of it. "

"And married my daughter to a libertine! Why, Charlotte, I am ashamedof you. "

Mrs. Molineux colored high; but she kept her temper, and ignored theinterruption. "Then, if you decided to go into so indelicate a questionat all (and really you were not bound to do so on anonymousinformation), why, then, you should have sent for Sir Charles, andgiven him the letter, and put him on his honor to tell you the truth. He would have told you the fact, instead of a garbled version; and thefact is that before he knew Bella he had a connection, which heprepared to dissolve, on terms very honorable to himself, as soon as heengaged himself to your daughter. What is there in that? Why, it iscommon, universal, among men of fashion. I am so vexed it ever came toBella's knowledge: really it is dreadful to me, as a mother, that sucha thing should have been discussed before that child. Completeinnocence means complete ignorance; and that is how all my girls wentto their husbands. However, what we must do now is to tell her SirCharles has satisfied me he was not to blame; and after that thesubject must never be recurred to. Sir Charles has promised me never tomention it, and no more shall Bella. And now, my dear John, let mecongratulate you. Your daughter has a high-minded lover, who adoresher, with a fine estate: he has been crying to me, poor fellow, as menwill to a woman of my age; and if you have any respect for myjudgment--ask him to dinner. "

She added that it might be as well if, after dinner, he were to take alittle nap. 

Admiral Bruce did not fall into these views without discussion. I sparethe reader the dialogue, since he yielded at last; only he stipulatedthat his sister should do the dinner, and the subsequent siesta. 

Bella returned looking very wistful and anxious. 

"Come here, niece, " said Mrs. Molineux. "Kneel you at my knee. Nowlook--me in the face. Sir Charles has loved you, and you only, from theday he first saw you. He loves you now as much as ever. Do you lovehim?"

"Oh, aunt! aunt!" A shower of kisses, and a tear or two. 

"That is enough. Then dry your eyes, and dress your beautiful hair alittle better than _that;_ for he dines with me to-day!"

Who so bright and happy now as Bella Bruce?

The dreaded aunt did not stop there. She held that after the peep intoreal life Bella Bruce had obtained, for want of a mother's vigilance, she ought to be a wife as soon as possible. So she gave Sir Charles ahint that Baden was a very good place to be married in; and from thatmoment Sir Charles gave Bella and her father no rest till theyconsented. 

Little did Richard Bassett, in England, dream what was going on atBaden. He now surveyed the chimneys of Huntercombe Hall withresignation, and even with growing complacency, as chimneys that wouldone day be his, since their owner would not be in a hurry to loveagain. He shot Sir Charles's pheasants whenever they strayed into hishedgerows, and he lived moderately and studied health. In a word, content with the result of his anonymous letter, he confined himselfnow to cannily out-living the wrongful heir--his cousin. 

One fine frosty day the chimneys of Huntercombe began to show signs oflife; vertical columns of blue smoke rose in the air, one afteranother, till at last there were about forty going. 

Old servants flowed down from London. New ones trickled in, with theirboxes, from the country. Carriages were drawn out into the stable-yard, horses exercised, and a whisper ran that Sir Charles was coming to liveon his estates, and not alone. 

Richard Bassett went about inquiring cautiously. 

The rumor spread and was confirmed by some little facts. 

At last, one fine day, when the chimneys were all smoking, thechurch-bells began to peal. 

Richard Bassett heard, and went out, scowling deeply. He found thevillage all agog with expectation. 

Presently there was a loud cheer from the steeple, and a flag floatedfrom the top of Huntercombe House. Murmurs. Distant cheers. Approachingcheers. The clatter of horses' feet. The roll of wheels. Huntercombegates flung wide open by a cluster of grooms and keepers. 

Then on came two outriders, ushered by loud hurrahs, and followed by acarriage and four that dashed through the village amid peals of delightfrom the villagers. The carriage was open, and in it sat Sir Charlesand Bella Bassett. She was lovelier than ever; she dazzled the very airwith her beauty and her glorious hair. The hurrahs of the villagersmade her heart beat; she pressed Sir Charles's hand tenderly, andliterally shone with joy and pride; and so she swept past RichardBassett; she saw him directly, shuddered a moment, and half clung toher husband; then on again, and passed through the open gates amid loudcheers. She alighted in her own hall, and walked, nodding and smilingsunnily, through two files of domestics and retainers; and thought nomore of Richard Bassett than some bright bird that has flown over arattlesnake and glanced down at him. 

But a gorgeous bird cannot always be flying. A snake can sometimescreep under her perch, and glare, and keep hissing, till she shuddersand droops and lays her plumage in the dust. 

CHAPTER IX. 

GENERALLY deliberate crimes are followed by some great punishment; butthey are also often attended in their course by brieferchastisements--single strokes from the whip that holds the round dozenin reserve. These precursors of the grand expiation are sharp butkindly lashes, for they tend to whip the man out of the wrong road. 

Such a stroke fell on Richard Bassett: he saw Bella Bruce sweep pasthim, clinging to her husband, and shuddering at himself. For this, then, he had plotted and intrigued and written an anonymous letter. Theonly woman he had ever loved at all went past him with a look ofaversion, and was his enemy's wife, and would soon be the mother ofthat enemy's children, and blot him forever out of the covetedinheritance. 

The man crept home, and sat by his little fireside, crushed. Indeed, from that hour he disappeared, and drank his bitter cup alone. 

After a while it transpired in the village that he was very ill. Theclergyman went to visit him, but was not admitted. The only person whogot to see him was his friend Wheeler, a small but sharp attorney, bywhose advice he acted in country matters. This Wheeler was very fond ofshooting, and could not get a crack at a pheasant except on Highmore;and that was a bond between him and its proprietor. It was Wheeler whohad first told Bassett not to despair of possessing the estates, sincethey had inserted Sir Charles's heir at law in the entail. 

This Wheeler found him now so shrunk in body, so pale and haggard inface, and dejected in mind, that he was really shocked, and asked leaveto send a doctor from a neighboring town. 

"What to do?" said Richard, moodily. "It's my mind; it's not my body. Ah, Wheeler, it is all over. I and mine shall never have Huntercombenow. "

"I'll tell you what it is, " said Wheeler, almost angrily, "you willhave six feet by two of it before long if you go on this way. Was eversuch folly! to fret yourself out of this jolly world because you can'tget one particular slice of its upper crust. Why, one bit of land is asgood as another; and I'll show you how to get land--in thisneighborhood, too. Ay, right under Sir Charles's nose. "

"Show me that, " said Bassett, gloomily and incredulously. 

"Leave off moping, then, and I will. I advise the bank, you know, and'Splatchett's' farm is mortgaged up to the eyes. It is not the onlyone. I go to the village inns, and pick up all the gossip I hearthere. "

"How am I to find money to buy land?"

"I'll put you up to that, too; but you must leave off moping. Hang it, man, never say die. There are plenty of chances on the cards. Get yourcolor back, and marry a girl with money, and turn that into land. Thefirst thing is to leave off grizzling. Why, you are playing the enemy'sgame. That can't be right, can it?"

This remark was the first that really roused the sick man. 

Wheeler had too few clients to lose one. He now visited Bassett almostdaily, and, being himself full of schemes and inventions, he gotBassett, by degrees, out of his lethargy, and he emerged into daylightagain; but he looked thin, and yellow as a guinea, and he had turnedmiser. He kept but one servant, and fed her and himself at Sir CharlesBassett's expense. He wired that gentleman's hares and rabbits in hisown hedges. He went out with his gun every sunny afternoon, and shot abrace or two of pheasants, without disturbing the rest; for he took nodog with him to run and yelp, but a little boy, who quietly tapped thehedgerows and walked the sunny banks and shaws. They never came homeempty-handed. 

But on those rarer occasions when Sir Charles and his friends beat theBassett woods Richard was sure to make a large bag; for he was a cool, unerring shot, and flushed the birds in hedgerows, slips of underwood, etc. , to which the fairer sportsmen had driven them. 

These birds and the surplus hares he always sold in the market-town, and put the money into a box. The rabbits he ate, and also squirrels, and, above all, young hedgehogs: a gypsy taught him how to cook them, viz. , by inclosing them in clay, and baking them in wood embers; thenthe bristles adhere to the burned clay, and the meat is juicy. He washis own gardener, and vegetables cost him next to nothing. 

So he went on through all the winter months, and by the spring hishealth and strength were restored. Then he turned woodman, cut downevery stick of timber in a little wood near his house, and sold it; andthen set to work to grub up the roots for fires, and cleared it fortillage. The sum he received for the wood was much more than heexpected, and this he made a note of. 

He had a strong body, that could work hard all day, a big hate, and amania for the possession of land. And so he led a truly Spartan life, and everybody in the village said he was mad. 

While he led this hard life Sir Charles and Lady Bassett were thegayest of the gay. She was the beauty and the bride. Visits andinvitations poured in from every part of the country. Sir Charles, flattered by the homage paid to his beloved, made himself younger andless fastidious to indulge her; and the happy pair often drove twelvemiles to dinner, and twenty to dine and sleep--an excellent custom inthat country, one of whose favorite toasts is worth recording: "MAY YOUDINE WHERE YOU PLEASE, AND SLEEP WHERE YOU DINE. "

They were at every ball, and gave one or two themselves. 

Above all, they enjoyed society in that delightful form which isconfined to large houses. They would have numerous and well-assortedvisitors staying at the house for a week or so, and all dining at ahuge round table. But two o'clock P. M. Was the time to see how hostsand guests enjoyed themselves. The hall door of Huntercombe wasapproached by a flight of stone steps, easy of ascent, and abouttwenty-four feet wide. At the riding hour the county ladies used tocome, one after another, holding up their riding-habits with one hand, and perch about this gigantic flight of steps like peacocks, andchatter like jays, while the servants walked their horses about thegravel esplanade, and the four-in-hand waited a little in the rear. Afine champing of bits and fidgeting of thoroughbreds there was, tillall were ready; then the ladies would each put out her little foot, with charming nonchalance, to the nearest gentleman or groom, with aslight preference for the grooms, who were more practiced. The manlifted, the lady sprang at the same time, and into her saddle like abird--Lady Bassett on a very quiet pony, or in the carriage to pleasesome dowager--and away they clattered in high spirits, a regularcavalcade. It was a hunting county, and the ladies rode well; squareseat, light hand on the snaffle, the curb reserved for cases ofnecessity; and, when they had patted the horse on the neck at starting, as all these coaxing creatures must, they rode him with that well-bredease and unconsciousness of being on a horse which distinguishes ladieswho have ridden all their lives from the gawky snobbesses in Hyde Park, who ride, if riding it can be called, with their elbows uncouthlyfastened to their sides as if by a rope, their hands at the pit oftheir stomachs, and both those hands, as heavy as a housemaid's, sawingthe poor horse with curb and snaffle at once, while the whole bodybreathes pretension and affectation, and seems to say, "Look at me; Iam on horseback! Be startled at that--as I am! and I have had lessonsfrom a riding-master. He has taught me how a lady should ride"--in hisopinion, poor devil. 

The champing, the pawing, the mounting, and the clattering of thesebright cavalcades, with the music of the women excited by motion, furnished a picture of wealth and gayety and happy country life thatcheered the whole neighborhood, and contrasted strangely with the sternSpartan life of him who had persuaded himself he was the rightful ownerof Huntercombe Hall. 

Sir Charles Bassett was a magistrate, and soon found himself a bad one. One day he made a little mistake, which, owing to his popularity, wasvery gently handled by the Bench at their weekly meeting; but still SirCharles was ashamed and mortified. He wrote directly to Oldfield forlaw books, and that gentleman sent him an excellent selection bound insmooth calf. 

Sir Charles now studied three hours every day, except hunting days, when no squire can work; and as his study was his justice room, he tookcare to find an authority before he acted. He was naturally humane, andrustic offenders, especially poachers and runaway farm servants, usedto think themselves fortunate if they were taken before him and notbefore Squire Powys, who was sure to give them the sharp edge of thelaw. So now Sir Charles was useful as well as ornamental. 

Thus passed fourteen months of happiness, with only one littlecloud--there was no sign yet of a son and heir. But let a man be everso powerful, it is an awkward thing to have a bitter, inveterate enemyat his door watching for a chance. Sir Charles began to realize this inthe sixteenth month of his wedded bliss. A small estate called"Splatchett's" lay on his north side, and a marginal strip of thisproperty ran right into a wood of his. This strip was wretched land, and the owner, unable to raise any wheat crop on it, had planted itwith larches. 

Sir Charles had made him a liberal offer for "Splatchett's" about sixyears ago; but he had refused point-blank, being then in goodcircumstances. 

Sir Charles now received a hint from one of his own gamekeepers thatthe old farmer was in a bad way, and talked of selling. So Sir Charlescalled on him, and asked him if he would sell "Splatchett's" now. "Why, I can't sell it twice, " said the old man, testily. "You ha' got it, han't ye?" It turned out that Richard Bassett had been beforehand. Thebank had pressed for their money, and threatened foreclosure; thenBassett had stepped in with a good price; and although the conveyancewas not signed, a stamped agreement was, and neither vender norpurchaser could go back. What made it more galling, the proprietor wasnot aware of the feud between the Bassetts, and had thought to pleaseSir Charles by selling to one of his name. 

Sir Charles Bassett went home seriously vexed. He did not mean to tellhis wife; but love's eye read his face, love's arm went round his neck, and love's soft voice and wistful eyes soon coaxed it out of him. "DearCharles, " said she, "never mind. It is mortifying; but think how muchyou have, and how little that wicked man has. Let him have that farm;he has lost his self-respect, and that is worth a great many farms. Formy part, I pity the poor wretch. Let him try to annoy you; your wifewill try, against him, to make you happy, my own beloved; and I think Imay prove as strong as Mr. Bassett, " said she, with a look ofinspiration. 

Her sweet and tender sympathy soon healed so slight a scratch. 

But they had not done with "Splatchett's" yet. Just after Christmas SirCharles invited three gentlemen to beat his more distant preserves. Their guns bellowed in quick succession through the woods, and at lastthey reached North Wood. Here they expected splendid shooting, as agreat many cock pheasants had already been seen running ahead. 

But when they got to the end of the wood they found Lawyer Wheelerstanding against a tree just within "Splatchett's" boundary, and one oftheir own beaters reported that two boys were stationed in the road, each tapping two sticks together to confine the pheasants to that stripof land, on which the low larches and high grass afforded a strongcovert. 

Sir Charles halted on his side of the boundary. 

Then Wheeler told his man to beat, and up got the cock pheasants, oneafter another. Whenever a pheasant whirred up the man left off beating. 

The lawyer knocked down four brace in no time, and those that escapedhim and turned back for the wood were brought down by Bassett, firingfrom the hard road. Only those were spared that flew northward into"Splatchett's. " It was a veritable slaughter, planned with judgment, and carried out in a most ungentlemanlike and unsportsmanlike manner. 

It goaded Sir Charles beyond his patience. After several vain effortsto restrain himself, he shouldered his gun, and, followed by hisfriends, went bursting through the larches to Richard Bassett. 

"Mr. Bassett, " said he, "this is most ungentlernanly conduct. "

"What is the matter, sir? Am I on your ground?"

"No, but you are taking a mean advantage of our being out. Who everheard of a gentleman beating his boundaries the very day a neighbor wasout shooting, and filling them with his game?"

"Oh, that is it, is it? When justice is against you you can talk oflaw, and when law is against you you appeal to justice. Let us be inone story or the other, please. The Huntercombe estates belong to me bybirth. You have got them by legal trickery. Keep them while you live. _They will come to me one day, you know. _ Meantime, leave me my littleestate of 'Splatchett's. ' For shame, sir; you have robbed me of myinheritance and my sweetheart; do you grudge me a few cock pheasants?Why, you have made me so poor they are an object to me now. "

"Oh!" said Sir Charles, "if you are stealing my game to keep body andsoul together, I pity you. In that case, perhaps you will let myfriends help you fill your larder. "

Richard Bassett hesitated a moment; but Wheeler, who had drawn near atthe sound of the raised voices, made him a signal to assent. 

"By all means, " said he, adroitly. "Mr. Markham, your father often shotwith mine over the Bassett estates. You are welcome to poor little'Splatchett's. ' Keep your men off, Sir Charles; they are noisybunglers, and do more harm than good. Here, Tom! Bill! beat for thegentlemen. They shall have the sport. I only want the birds. "

Sir Charles drew back, and saw pheasant after pheasant thunder and whizinto the air, then collapse at a report, and fall like lead, followedby a shower of feathers. 

His friends seemed to be deserting him for Richard Bassett. He leftthem in charge of his keepers, and went slowly home. 

He said nothing to Lady Bassett till night, and then she got it allfrom him. She was very indignant at many of the things; but as for SirCharles, all his cousin's arrows glided off that high-minded gentleman, except one, and that quivered in his heart. "Yes, Bella, " said he, "hetold me he should inherit these estates. That is because we are notblessed with children. "

Lady Bassett sighed. "But we shall be some day. Shall we not?"

"God knows, " said Sir Charles, gloomily. "I wonder whether there wasreally anything unfair done on our side when the entail was cut off?"

"Is that likely, dearest? Why?"

"Heaven seems to be on his side. "

"On the side of a wicked man?"

"But he may be the father of innocent children. "

"Why, he is not even married. "

"He will marry. He will not throw a chance away. It makes my headdizzy, and my heart sick. Bella, now I can understand two enemiesmeeting alone in some solitary place, and one killing the other in amoment of rage; for when this scoundrel insulted me I remembered hisanonymous letter, and all his relentless malice. Bella, I could haveraised my gun and shot him like a weasel. "

Lady Bassett screamed faintly, and flung her arms round his neck. "Oh, Charles, pray to God against such thoughts. You shall never go nearthat man again. Don't think of our one disappointment: think of all theblessings we enjoy. Never mind that wretched man's hate. Think of yourwife's love. Have I not more power to make you happy than he has toafflict you, my adored?" These sweet words were accompanied by a wife'sdivine caresses; with the honey of her voice, and the liquid sunshineof her loving eyes. Sir Charles slept peacefully that night, and forgothis one grief and his one enemy for a time. 

Not so Lady Bassett. She lay awake all night and thought deeply ofRichard Bassett and "his unrelenting, impenitent malice. " Women of herfine fiber, when they think long and earnestly on one thing, have oftendivinations. The dark future seems to be lit a moment at a time byflashes of lightning, and they discern the indistinct form of events tocome, And so it was with Lady Bassett: in the stilly night a terror ofthe future and of Richard Bassett crept over her--a terrordisproportioned to his past acts and apparent power. Perhaps she wasoppressed by having an enemy--she, who was born to be loved. At allevents, she was full of feminine divinations and forebodings, and saw, by flashes, many a poisoned arrow fly from that quiver and strike thebeloved breast. It had already discharged one that had parted them fora time, and nearly killed Sir Charles. 

Daylight cleared away much of this dark terror, but left a sober dreadand a strange resolution. This timid creature, stimulated by love, determined to watch the foe, and defend her husband with all her littlepower. All manner of devices passed through her head, but wererejected, because, if Love said "Do wonders, " Timidity said "Do nothingthat you have not seen other wives do. " So she remained, scheming, andlonging, and fearing, and passive, all day. But the next day sheconceived a vague idea, and, all in a heat, rang for her maid. Whilethe maid was coming she fell to blushing at her own boldness, and, justas the maid opened the door, her thermometer fell so low that--she senther upstairs for a piece of work. Oh, lame and impotent conclusion!

Just before luncheon she chanced to look through a window, and to seethe head gamekeeper crossing the park, and coming to the house. Nowthis was the very man she wanted to speak to. The sudden temptationsurprised her out of her timidity. She rang the bell again, and sentfor the man. 

That Colossus wondered in his mind, and felt uneasy at an invitation sonovel. However, he clattered into the morning-room, in his velveteencoat, and leathern gaiters up to his thigh, pulled his front hair, bobbed his head, and then stood firm in body as was he of Rhodes, butin mind much abashed at finding himself in her ladyship's presence. 

The lady, however, did not prove so very terrible. "May I inquire yourname, sir?" said she, very respectfully. 

"Moses Moss, my lady. "

"Mr. Moss, I wish to ask you a question or two. _May_ I?"

"That you may, my lady. "

"I want you to explain, if you will be so good, how the proprietor of'Splatchett's' can shoot all Sir Charles's pheasants. "

"Lord! my lady, we ain't come down to that. But he do shoot more thanhis share, that's sure an' sartain. Well, my lady, if you please, gameis just like Christians: it will make for sunny spots. Highmore has gota many of them there, with good cover; so we breeds for him. As for'Splatchett's, ' that don't hurt we, my lady; it is all arable land anddead hedges, with no bottom; only there's one little tongue of it runsinto North Wood, and planted with larch; and, if you please, my lady, there is always a kind of coarse grass grows under young larches, andmakes a strong cover for game. So, beat North Wood which way you will, them artful old cocks will run ahead of ye, or double back into themlarches. And you see Mr. Bassett is not a gentleman, like Sir Charles;he is always a-mouching about, and the biggest poacher in the parish;and so he drops on to 'em out of bounds. "

"Is there no way of stopping all this, sir?"

"We might station a dozen beaters ahead. They would most likely getshot; but I don't think as they'd mind that much if you had set yourheart on it, my lady. Dall'd if I would, for one. "

"Oh, Mr. Moss! Heaven forbid that any man should be shot for me. No, not for all the pheasants in the world. I'll try and think of someother way. I should like to see the place. _May_ I?"

"Yes, my lady, and welcome. "

"How shall I get to it, sir?"

"You can ride to the 'Woodman's Rest, ' my lady, and it is scarce astone's-throw from there; but 'tis baddish traveling for the likes ofyou. "

She appointed an hour, rode with her groom to the public-house, andthence was conducted through bush, through brier, to the place whereher husband had been so annoyed. 

Moss's comments became very intelligible to her the moment she saw theplace. She said very little, however, and rode home. 

Next day she blushed high, and asked Sir Charles for a hundred poundsto spend upon herself. 

Sir Charles smiled, well pleased, and gave it her, and a kiss into thebargain. 

"Ah! but, " said she, "that is not all. "

"I am glad of it. You spend too little money on yourself--a great dealtoo little. "

"That is a complaint you won't have long to make. I want to cut down afew trees. _May_ I?"

"Going to build?"

"Don't ask me. It is for myself. "

"That is enough. Cut down every stick on the estate if you like. Thebarer it leaves us the better. "

"Ah, Charles, you promised me not. I shall cut with great discretion, Iassure you. "

"As you please, " said Sir Charles. "If you want to make me happy, denyyourself nothing. Mind, I shall be angry if you do. "

 Soon after this a gaping quidnunc came to Sir Charles and told himLady Bassett was felling trees in North Wood. 

"And pray who has a better right to fell trees in any wood of mine?"

"But she is building a wall. "

"And who has a better right to build a wall?"

With the delicacy of a gentleman he would not go near the place afterthis till she asked him; and that was not long, She came into hisstudy, all beaming, and invited him to a ride. She took him into NorthWood, and showed him her work. Richard Bassett's plantation, hithertodivided from North Wood only by a boundary scarcely visible, was nowshut off by a brick wall: on Sir Charles's side of that wall everystick of timber was felled and removed for a distance of fifty yards, and about twenty yards from the wall a belt of larches was planted, alittle higher than cabbages. 

Sir Charles looked amazed at first, but soon observed how thoroughlyhis enemy was defeated. "My poor Bella, " said he, "to think of yourtaking all this trouble about such a thing!" He stopped to kiss hervery tenderly, and she shone with joy and innocent pride. "And I neverthought of this! You astonish me, Bella. "

"Ay, " said she, in high spirits now; "and, what is more, I haveastonished Mr. Moss. He said, 'I wish I had your head-piece, my lady. 'I could have told him Love sharpens a woman's wits; but I reserved thatlittle adage for you. "

"It's all mighty fine, fair lady, but you have told me a fib. You saidit was to be all for yourself, and got a hundred pounds out of me. "

"And so it was for myself, you silly thing. Are you not myself? and thepart of myself I love the best?" And her supple wrist was round hisneck in a moment. 

They rode home together, like lovers, and comforted each other. 

Richard Bassett, with Wheeler's assistance, had borrowed money onHighmore to buy "Splatchett's"; he now borrowed money on"Splatchett's, " and bought Dean's Wood--a wood, with patches of grass, that lay on the east of Sir Charles's boundary. He gave seventeenhundred pounds for it, and sold two thousand pounds' worth of timberoff it the first year. This sounds incredible; but, owing to the customof felling only ripe trees, landed proprietors had no sure clew to thevalue of all the timber on an acre. Richard Bassett had found this out, and bought Dean's Wood upon the above terms--_i. E. , _ the vender gavehim the soil and three hundred pounds gratis. He grubbed the roots andsold them for fuel, and planted larches to catch the overflow of SirCharles's game. The grass grew beautifully, now the trees were down, and he let it for pasture. 

He then, still under Wheeler's advice, came out into the world again, improved his dress, and called on several county families, with a viewto marrying money. 

Now in the country they do not despise a poor gentleman of goodlineage, and Bassett was one of the oldest names in the county; soevery door was open to him; and, indeed, his late hermit life hadstimulated some curiosity. This he soon turned to sympathy, by tellingthem that he was proud but poor. Robbed of the vast estates thatbelonged to him by birth, he had been unwilling to take a lowerposition. However, Heaven had prospered him; the wrongful heir waschildless; he was the heir at law, and felt he owed it to the estate, which must return to his line, to assume a little more publicimportance than he had done. 

Wherever he was received he was sure to enlarge upon his wrongs; and hewas believed; for he was notoriously the direct heir to Bassett andHuntercombe, but the family arrangement by which his father had beenbought out was known only to a few. He readily obtained sympathy, andmany persons were disgusted at Sir Charles's illiberality in not makinghim some compensation. To use the homely expression of Govett, a smallproprietor, the baronet might as well have given him back one pig outof his own farrow--_i. E. , _ one of the many farms comprised in thatlarge estate. 

Sir Charles learned that Richard was undermining him in the county, butwas too proud to interfere; he told Lady Bassett he should say nothinguntil some _gentleman_ should indorse Mr. Bassett's falsehoods. 

One day Sir Charles and Lady Bassett were invited to dine and sleep atMr. Hardwicke's, distance fifteen miles; they went, and found RichardBassett dining there, by Mrs. Hardwicke's invitation, who was one ofthose ninnies that fling guests together with no discrimination. 

Richard had expected this to happen sooner or later, so he wascomparatively prepared, and bowed stiffly to Sir Charles. Sir Charlesstared at him in return. This was observed. People were uncomfortable, especially Mrs. Hardwicke, whose thoughtlessness was to blame for itall. 

At a very early hour Sir Charles ordered his carriage, and drove home, instead of staying all night. 

Mrs. Hardwicke, being a fool, must make a little more mischief. Sheblubbered to her husband, and he wrote Sir Charles a remonstrance. 

Sir Charles replied that he was the only person aggrieved; Mr. Hardwicke ought not to have invited a blackguard to meet _him. _

Mr. Hardwicke replied that he had never heard a Bassett called ablackguard before, and had seen nothing in Mr. Bassett to justify anepithet so unusual among gentlemen. "And, to be frank with you, SirCharles, " said he, "I think this bitterness against a poor gentleman, whose estates you are so fortunate as to possess, is not consistentwith your general character, and is, indeed, unworthy of you. "

To this Sir Charles Bassett replied:

"DEAR MR. HARDWICK--You have applied some remarks to me which I willendeavor to forget, as they were written in entire ignorance of thetruth. But if we are to remain friends, I expect you to believe me whenI tell you that Mr. Richard Bassett has never been wronged by me ormine, but has wronged me and Lady Bassett deeply. He is a dishonorablescoundrel, not entitled to be received in society; and if, after thisassurance, you receive him, I shall never darken your doors again. Soplease let me know your decision. 

"I remain

"Yours truly, "CHARLES DYKE BASSETT. "

Mr. Hardwicke chafed under this; but Prudence stepped in. He was one ofthe county members, and Sir Charles could command three hundred votes. 

He wrote back to say he had received Sir Charles's letter with pain, but, of course, he could not disbelieve him, and therefore he shouldinvite Mr. Bassett no more till the matter was cleared. 

But Mr. Hardwicke, thus brought to book, was nettled at his ownmeanness; so he sent Sir Charles's letter to Mr. Richard Bassett. 

Bassett foamed with rage, and wrote a long letter, raving with insults, to Sir Charles. 

He was in the act of directing it when Wheeler called on him. Bassettshowed him Sir Charles's letter. Wheeler read it. 

"Now read what I say to him in reply. "

Wheeler read Bassett's letter, threw it into the fire, and kept itthere with the poker. 

"Lucky I called, " said he, dryly. "Saved you a thousand pounds or so. You must not write a letter without me. "

"What, am I to sit still and be insulted? You're a pretty friend. "

"I am a wise friend. This is a more serious matter than you seem tothink. "

"Libel?"

"Of course. Why, if Sir Charles had consulted _me, _ I could not havedictated a better letter. It closes every chink a defendant in libelcan creep out by. Now take your pen and write to Mr. Hardwicke. "

"DEAR SIR--I have received your letter, containing a libel written bySir Charles Bassett. My reply will be public. 

"Yours very truly, "RICHARD BASSETT. "

"Is that all?"

"Every syllable. Now mind; you never go to Hardwicke House again; SirCharles has got you banished from that house; special damage! Therenever was a prettier case for a jury--the rightful heir foullyslandered by the possessor of his hereditary estates. "

This picture excited Bassett, and he walked about raving with malice, and longing for the time when he should stand in the witness-box anddenounce his enemy. 

"No, no, " said Wheeler, "leave that to counsel; you must play the mildvictim in the witness-box. Who is the defendant solicitor? We ought toserve the writ on him at once. "

"No, no; serve it on himself. "

"What for? Much better proceed like gentlemen. "

Bassett got in a passion at being contradicted in everything. "I tellyou, " said he, "the more I can irritate and exasperate this villain thebetter. Besides, he slandered me behind my back; and I'll have the writserved upon himself. I'll do everything I can to take him down. If aman wants to be my lawyer he must enter into my feelings a little. "

Wheeler, to whom he was more valuable than ever now, consented somewhatreluctantly, and called at Huntercombe Hall next day with the writ, andsent in his card. 

Lady Bassett heard of this, and asked if it was Mr. Bassett's friend. 

The butler said he thought it was. 

Lady Bassett went to Sir Charles in his study. "Oh, my dear, " said she, "here is Mr. Bassett's lawyer. "

"Well?"

"Why does he come here?"

"I don't know. "

"Don't see him. "

"Why not?"

"I am so afraid of Mr. Bassett. He is our evil genius. Let me see thisperson instead of you. _May_ I?"

"Certainly not. "

"Might I see him _first, _ love?"

"You will not see him at all. "

"Charles!"

"No, Bella; I cannot have these animals talking to my wife. "

"But, dear love, I am so full of forebodings. You know, Charles, Idon't often presume to meddle; but I am in torture about this man. Ifyou receive him, may I be with you? Then we shall be two to one. "

"No, no, " said Sir Charles, testily. Then, seeing her beautiful eyesfill at the refusal and the unusual tone, he relented. "You may be inhearing if you like. Open that door, and sit in the little room. "

"Oh, thank you!"

She stepped into the room--a very small sitting-room. She had neverbeen in it before, and while she was examining it, and thinking how shecould improve its appearance, Mr. Wheeler was shown into the study. SirCharles received him standing, to intimate that the interview must bebrief. This, and the time he had been kept waiting in the hall, rousedWheeler's bile, and he entered on his subject more bruskly than he hadintended. 

"Sir Charles Bassett, you wrote a letter to Mr. Hardwicke, reflectingon my client, Mr. Bassett--a most unjustifiable letter. "

"Keep your opinion to yourself, sir. I wrote a letter, calling him whathe is. "

"No, sir; that letter is a libel. "

"It is the truth. "

"It is a malicious libel, sir; and we shall punish you for it. I herebyserve you with this copy of a writ. Damages, five thousand pounds. "

A sigh from the next room passed unnoticed by the men, for their voiceswere now raised in anger. 

"And so that is what you came here for. Why did you not go to mysolicitor? You must be as great a blackguard as your client, to serveyour paltry writs on me in my own house. "

"Not blackguard enough to insult a gentleman in my own house. If youhad been civil I might have accommodated matters; but now I'll make yousmart--ugh!"

Nothing provokes a high-spirited man more than a menace. Sir Charles, threatened in his wife's hearing, shot out his right arm withsurprising force and rapidity, and knocked Wheeler down in a moment. 

In came Lady Bassett, with a scream, and saw the attorney lying doubledup, and Sir Charles standing over him, blowing like a grampus with rageand excitement. 

But the next moment be staggered and gasped, and she had to support himto a seat. She rang the bell for aid, then kneeled, and took histhrobbing temples to her wifely bosom. 

Wheeler picked himself up, and, seated on his hams, eyed the pair withconcentrated fury. 

"Aha! You have hurt yourself more than me. Two suits against you nowinstead of one. "

"Conduct this person from the house, " said Lady Bassett to a servantwho entered at that moment. 

"All right, my lady, " said Wheeler; "I'll remind you of that word whenthis house belongs to us. "

CHAPTER X. 

WITH this bitter reply Wheeler retired precipitately; the shaft piercedbut one bosom; for the devoted wife, with the swift ingenuity ofwoman's love, had put both her hands right over her husband's ears thathe might hear no more insults. 

Sir Charles very nearly had a fit; but his wife loosened his neckcloth, caressed his throbbing head, and applied eau-de-Cologne to hisnostrils. He got better, but felt dizzy for about an hour. She made himcome into her room and lie down; she hung over him, curling as a vineand light as a bird, and her kisses lit softly as down upon his eyes, and her words of love and pity murmured music in his ears till heslept, and that danger passed. 

For a day or two after this both Sir Charles and Lady Bassett avoidedthe unpleasant subject. But it had to be faced; so Mr. Oldfield wassummoned to Huntercombe, and all engagements given up for the day, thathe might dine alone with them and talk the matter over. 

Sir Charles thought he could justify; but when it came to the point hecould only prove that Richard had done several ungentleman-like thingsof a nature a stout jury would consider trifles. 

Mr. Oldfield said of course they must enter an appearance; and, thisdone, the wisest course would be to let him see Wheeler, and try tocompromise the suit. "It will cost you a thousand pounds, Sir Charles, I dare say; but if it teaches you never to write of an enemy or to anenemy without showing your lawyer the letter first, the lesson will becheap. Somebody in the Bible says, 'Oh, that mine enemy would write abook!' I say, 'Oh, that he would write a letter--without consulting hissolicitor. "

It was Lady Bassett's cue now to make light of troubles. "What does itmatter, Mr. Oldfield? All they want is money. Yes, offer them athousand pounds to leave him in peace. "

So next day Mr. Oldfield called on Wheeler, all smiles and civility, and asked him if he did not think it a pity cousins should quarrelbefore the whole county. 

"A great pity, " said Wheeler. "But my client has no alternative. Nogentleman in the county would speak to him if he sat quiet under suchcontumely. "

After beating about the bush the usual time, Oldfield said that SirCharles was hungry for litigation, but that Lady Bassett was averse toit. "In short, Mr. Wheeler, I will try and get Mr. Bassett a thousandpounds to forego this scandal. "

"I will consult him, and let you know, " said Wheeler. "He happens to bein the town. "

Oldfield called again in an hour. Wheeler told him a thousand poundswould be accepted, with a written apology. 

Oldfield shook his head. "Sir Charles will never write an apology:right or wrong, he is too sincere in his conviction. "

"He will never get a jury to share it. "

"You must not be too sure of that. You don't know the defense. "

Oldfield said this with a gravity which did him credit. 

"Do you know it yourself?" said the other keen hand. 

Mr. Oldfield smiled haughtily, but said nothing. Wheeler had hit themark. 

"By the by, " said the latter, "there is another little matter. SirCharles assaulted me for doing my duty to my client. I mean to sue him. Here is the writ; will you accept service?"

"Oh, certainly, Mr. Wheeler and I am glad to find you do not make ahabit of serving writs on gentlemen in person. "

"Of course not. I did it on a single occasion, contrary to my own wish, and went in person--to soften the blow--instead of sending my clerk. "

After this little spar, the two artists in law bade each other farewellwith every demonstration of civility. 

Sir Charles would not apologize. 

The plaintiff filed his declaration. 

The defendant pleaded not guilty, but did not disclose a defense. Thelaw allows a defendant in libel this advantage. 

Plaintiff joined issue, and the trial was set down for the nextassizes. 

Sir Charles was irritated, but nothing more. Lady Bassett, with awoman's natural shrinking from publicity, felt it more deeply. Shewould have given thousands of her own money to keep the matter out ofcourt. But her very terror of Richard Bassett restrained her. She wasalways thinking about him, and had convinced herself he was the ablestvillain in the wide world; and she thought to herself, "If, with hissmall means, he annoys Charles so, what would he do if I were to enrichhim? He would crush us. "

As the trial drew near she began to hover about Sir Charles in hisstudy, like an anxious hen. The maternal yearnings were awakened in herby marriage, and she had no child; so her Charles in trouble washusband and child. 

Sometimes she would come in and just kiss his forehead, and run outagain, casting back a celestial look of love at the door, and, thoughit was her husband she had kissed, she blushed divinely. At last oneday she crept in and said, very timidly, "Charles dear, the anonymousletter--is not that an excuse for libeling him--as they call tellingthe truth?"

"Why, of course it is. Have you got it?"

"Dearest, the brave lady took it away. "

"The brave lady! Who is that?"

"Why, the lady that came with Mr. Oldfield and pleaded your cause withpapa--oh, so eloquently! Sometimes when I think of it now I feel almostjealous. Who is she?"

"From what you have always told me, I think it was the Sister ofCharity who nursed me. "

"You silly thing, she was no Sister of Charity; that was only put on. Charles, tell me the truth. What does it matter _now?_ It was some ladywho loved you. "

"Loved me, and set her wits to work to marry me to you?"

"Women's love is so disinterested--sometimes. "

"No, no; she told me she was a sister of--, and no doubt that is thetruth. "

"A sister of whom?"

"No matter: don't remind me of the past; it is odious to me; and, onsecond thoughts, rather than stir up all that mud, it would be betternot to use the anonymous letter, even if you could get it again. "

Lady Bassett begged him to take advice on that; meantime she would tryto get the letter, and also the evidence that Richard Bassett wrote it. 

"I see no harm in that, " said Sir Charles; "only confine yourcommunication to Mr. Oldfield. I will not have you speaking or writingto a woman I don't know: and the more I think of her conduct the less Iunderstand it. "

"There are people who do good by stealth, " suggested Bella timidly. 

"Fiddledeedee!" replied Sir Charles; "you are a goose--I mean anangel. "

Lady Bassett complied with the letter, but, goose or not, evaded thespirit of Sir Charles's command with considerable dexterity. 

"DEAR MR. OLDFIELD--You may guess what trouble I am in. Sir Charleswill soon have to appear in open court, and be talked against by somegreat orator. That anonymous letter Mr. Bassett wrote me was very base, and is surely some justification of the violent epithets my dearhusband, in an unhappy moment of irritation, has applied to him. Thebrave lady has it. I am sure she will not refuse to send it me. I wishI dare ask her to give it me with her own hand; but I must not, Isuppose. Pray tell her how unhappy I am, and perhaps she will favor uswith a word of advice as well as the letter. 

"I remain, yours faithfully, "BELLA BASSETT. "

This letter was written at the brave lady; and Mr. Oldfield did whatwas expected, he sent Miss Somerset a copy of Lady Bassett's letter, and some lines in his own hand, describing Sir Charles's difficulty ina more businesslike way. 

In due course Miss Somerset wrote him back that she was in the country, hunting, at no very great distance from Huntercombe Hall; she wouldsent up to town for her desk; the letter would be there, if she hadkept it at all. 

Oldfield groaned at this cool conjecture, and wrote back directly, urging expedition. 

This produced an effect that he had not anticipated. 

One morning Lord Harrowdale's foxhounds met at a large covert, aboutfive miles from Huntercombe, and Sir Charles told Lady Bassett she mustride to cover. 

"Yes, dear. Charles, love, I have no spirit to appear in public. Weshall soon have publicity enough. "

"That is my reason. I have not done nor said anything I am ashamed of, and you will meet the county on this and on every public occasion. "

"I obey, " said Bella. 

"And look your best. "

"I will, dearest. "

"And be in good spirits. "

"Must I?"

"Yes. "

"I will try. Oh!--oh!--oh!"

"Why, you poor-spirited little goose! Dry your eyes this moment. "

"There. Oh!"

"And kiss me. "

"There. Ah! kissing you is a great comfort. "

"It is one you are particularly welcome to. Now run away and put onyour habit. I'll have two grooms out; one with a fresh horse for me, and one to look after you. "

"Oh, Charles! Pray don't make me hunt. "

"No, no. Not so tyrannical as that; hang it all!"

"Do you know what I do while you are hunting? I pray all the time thatyou may not get a fall and be hurt; and I pray God to forgive you andall the gentlemen for your cruelty in galloping with all those dogsafter one poor little inoffensive thing, to hunt it and kill it--killit twice, indeed; once with terror, and then over again with manglingits poor little body. "

"This is cheerful, " said Sir Charles, rather ruefully. "We cannot allbe angels, like you. It is a glorious excitement. There! you are toogood for this world; I'll let you off going. "

"Oh no, dear. I won't be let off, now I know your wish. Only I beg toride home as soon as the poor thing runs away. You wouldn't get me outof the thick covers if I were a fox. I'd run round and round, and callon all my acquaintances to set them running. "

As she said this her eyes turned toward each other in a peculiar way, and she looked extremely foxy; but the look melted away directly. 

The hounds met, and Lady Bassett, who was still the beauty of thecounty, was surrounded by riders at first; but as the hounds began towork, and every now and then a young hound uttered a note, theycantered about, and took up different posts, as experience suggested. 

At last a fox was found at the other end of the cover, and awaygalloped the hunters in that direction, all but four persons, LadyBassett, and her groom, who kept respectfully aloof, and a lady andgentleman who had reined their horses up on a rising ground about afurlong distant. 

Lady Bassett, thus left alone, happened to look round, and saw the ladylevel an opera-glass toward her and look through it. 

As a result of this inspection the lady cantered toward her. She was ona chestnut gelding of great height and bone, and rode him as if theywere one, so smoothly did she move in concert with his easy, magnificent strides. 

When she came near Lady Bassett she made a little sweep and drew upbeside her on the grass. 

There was no mistaking that tall figure and commanding face. It was thebrave lady. Her eyes sparkled; her cheek was slightly colored withexcitement; she looked healthier and handsomer than ever, and also morefeminine, for a reason the sagacious reader may perhaps discern if heattends to the dialogue. 

_"So, "_ said she, without bowing or any other ceremony, "that littlerascal is troubling you again. "

Lady Bassett colored and panted, and looked lovingly at her, before shecould speak. At last she said, "Yes; and you have come to help usagain. "

"Well, the lawyer said there was no time to lose; so I have brought youthe anonymous letter. "

"Oh, thank you, madam, thank you. "

"But I'm afraid it will be of no use unless you can prove Mr. Bassettwrote it. It is in a disguised hand. "

"But you found him out by means of another letter. "

"Yes; but I can't give you that other letter to have it read in a courtof law, because--Do you see that gentleman there?"

"Yes. "

"That is Marsh. "

"Oh, is it?"

"He is a fool; but I am going to marry him. I have been very ill sinceI saw you, and poor Marsh nursed me. Talk of women nurses! If ever youare ill in earnest, as I was, write to me, and I'll send you Marsh. Oh, I have no words to tell you his patience, his forbearance, hiswatchfulness, his tenderness to a sick woman. It is no use--I mustmarry him; and I could have no letter published that would give himpain. "

"Of course not. Oh, madam, do you think I am capable of doing anythingthat would give you pain, or dear Mr. Marsh either?"

"No, no; you are a good woman. "

"Not half so good as you are. "

"You don't know what you are saying. "

"Oh yes, I do. "

"Then I say no more; it is rude to contradict. Good-by, Lady Bassett. "

"Must you leave me so soon? Will you not visit us? May I not know thename of so good a friend?"

"Next week I shall be _Mrs. Marsh. "_

"And you will give me the great pleasure of having you at my house--youand your husband?"

The lady showed some agitation at this--an unusual thing for her. Shefaltered: "Some day, perhaps, if I make him as good a wife as I hopeto. What a lady you are! Vulgar people are ashamed to be grateful; butyou are a born lady. Good-by, before I make a fool of myself; and theyare all coming this way, by the dogs' music. "

"Won't you kiss me, after bringing me this?"

"Kiss you?" and she opened her eyes. 

"If you please, " said Lady Bassett, bending toward her, with eyes fullof gratitude and tenderness. 

Then the other woman took her by the shoulders, and plunged her greatgray orbs into Bella's. 

They kissed each other. 

At that contact the stranger seemed to change her character all in amoment. She strained Bella to her bosom and kissed her passionately, and sobbed out, wildly, "O God! you are good to sinners. This is thehappiest hour of my life--it is a forerunner. Bless you, sweet dove ofinnocence! You will be none the worse, and I am all the better--Ah!Sir Charles. Not one word about me to him. "

And with these words, uttered with sudden energy, she spurred her greathorse, leaped the ditch, and burst through the dead hedge into thewood, and winded out of sight among the trees. 

Sir Charles came up astonished. "Why, who was that?"

Bella's eyes began to rove, as I have before described; but she repliedpretty promptly, "The brave lady herself; she brought me the anonymousletter for your defense. "

"Why, how came she to know about it?"

"She did not tell me that. She was in a great hurry. Her fiance waswaiting for her. "

"Was it necessary to kiss her in the hunting-field?" said Sir Charles, with something very like a frown. 

"I'd kiss the whole field, grooms and all, if they did you a greatservice, as that dear lady has, " said Bella. The words were brave, butthe accent piteous. 

"You are excited, Bella. You had better ride home, " said Sir Charles, gently enough, but moodily. 

"Thank you, Charles, " said Bella, glad to escape further examinationabout this mysterious lady. She rode home accordingly. There she foundMr. Oldfield, and showed him the anonymous letter. 

He read it, and said it was a defense, but a disagreeable one. "Supposehe says he wrote it, and the facts were true?"

"But I don't think he will confess it. He is not a gentleman. He isvery untruthful. Can we not make this a trap to catch him, sir? _He_has no scruples. "

Oldfield looked at her in some surprise at her depth. 

"We must get hold of his handwriting, " said he. "We must ransack thelocal banks; find his correspondents. "

"Leave all that to me, " said Lady Bassett, in a low voice. 

 Mr. Oldfield thought he might as well please a beautiful and lovingwoman, if he could; so he gave her something to do for her husband. "Very well; collect all the materials of comparison you can--letters, receipts, etc. Meantime I will retain the two principal experts inLondon, and we will submit your materials to them the night before thetrial. "

Lady Bassett, thus instructed, drove to all the banks, but found noclerk acquainted with Mr. Bassett's handwriting. He did not bank withanybody in the county. 

She called on several persons she thought likely to possess letters orother writings of Richard Bassett. Not a scrap. 

Then she began to fear. The case looked desperate. 

Then she began to think. And she thought very hard indeed, especiallyat night. 

In the dead of night she had an idea. She got up, and stole from herhusband's side, and studied the anonymous letter. 

Next day she sat down with the anonymous letter on her desk, andblushed, and trembled, and looked about like some wild animal scared. She selected from the anonymous letter several words--"character, abused, Sir, Charles, Bassett, lady, abandoned, friend, whether, ten, slanderer" etc. --and wrote them on a slip of paper. Then she locked upthe anonymous letter. Then she locked the door. Then she sat down to asheet of paper, and, after some more wild and furtive glances allaround, she gave her whole mind to writing a letter. 

And to whom did she write, think you?

To Richard Bassett. 

CHAPTER XI. 

"MR. BASSETT--I am sure both yourself and my husband will suffer inpublic estimation, unless some friend comes between you, and thisunhappy lawsuit is given up. 

"Do not think me blind nor presumptuous; Sir Charles, when he wrotethat letter, had reason to believe you had done him a deep injury byunfair means. Many will share that opinion if this cause is tried. Youare his cousin, and his heir at law. I dread to see an unhappy feudinflamed by a public trial. Is there no personal sacrifice by which Ican compensate the affront you have received, without compromising SirCharles Bassett's veracity, who is the soul of honor?

"I am, yours obediently, "BELLA BASSETT. "

She posted this letter, and Richard Bassett had no sooner received itthan he mounted his horse and rode to Wheeler's with it. 

That worthy's eyes sparkled. "Capital!" said he. "We must draw her on, and write an answer that will read well in court. "

He concocted an epistle just the opposite of what Richard Bassett, leftto himself, would have written. Bassett copied, and sent it as his own. 

"LADY BASSETT--I thank you for writing to me at this moment, when I amweighed down by slander. Your own character stands so high that youwould not deign to write to me if you believed the abuse that has beenlavished on me. With you I deplore this family feud. It is not of myseeking; and as for this lawsuit, it is one in which the plaintiff isreally the defendant. Sir Charles has written a defamatory letter, which has closed every house in this county to his victim. If, as I nowfeel sure, you disapprove the libel, pray persuade him to retract it. The rest our lawyers can settle, "Yours very respectfully, "RICHARD BASSETT. "

When Lady Bassett read this, she saw she had an adroit opponent. Yetshe wrote again:

"MR. BASSETT--There are limits to my influence with Sir Charles. I haveno power to make him say one word against his convictions. 

"But my lawyer tells me you seek pecuniary compensation for an affront. I offer you, out of my own means, which are ample, that which youseek--offer it freely and heartily; and I honestly think you had betterreceive it from me than expose yourself to the risks and mortificationsof a public trial. 

"I am, yours obediently, "BELLA BASSETT. "

"LADY BASSETT--You have fallen into a very natural error. It is true Isue Sir Charles Bassett for money; but that is only because the lawallows me my remedy in no other form. What really brings me into courtis the defense of my injured honor. How do you meet me? You say, virtually, 'Never mind your character: here is money. ' Permit me todecline it on such terms. 

"A public insult cannot be cured in private. 

"Strong in my innocence, and my wrongs, I court what you call the risksof a public trial. 

"Whatever the result, _you_ have played the honorable and womanly partof peacemaker; and it is unfortunate for your husband that your gentleinfluence is limited by his vanity, which perseveres in a cruelslander, instead of retracting it while there is yet time. 

"I am, madam, yours obediently, "RICHARD BASSETT. "

"MR. BASSETT--I retire from a correspondence which appears to beuseless, and might, if prolonged, draw some bitter remark from me, asit has from you. 

"After the trial, which you court and I deprecate, you will perhapsreview my letters with a more friendly eye. 

"I am, yours obediently, "BELLA BASSETT. "

In this fencing-match between a lawyer and a lady each gained anadvantage. The lawyer's letters, as might have been expected, were thebest adapted to be read to a jury; but the lady, subtler in her way, obtained, at a small sacrifice, what she wanted, and that withoutraising the slightest suspicion of her true motive in thecorrespondence. 

She announced her success to Mr. Oldfield; but, in the midst of it, shequaked with terror at the thought of what Sir Charles would say to herfor writing to Mr. Bassett at all. 

She now, with the changeableness of her sex, hoped and prayed Mr. Bassett would admit the anonymous letter, and so all her subtlety andpains prove superfluous. 

Quaking secretly, but with a lovely face and serene front, she took herplace at the assizes, before the judge, and got as near him as shecould. 

The court was crowded, and many ladies present. 

_Bassett v. Bassett_ was called in a loud voice; there was a hum ofexcitement, then a silence of expectation, and the plaintiff's counselrose to address the jury. 

CHAPTER XII. 

"MAY it please your Lordship: Gentlemen of the Jury--The plaintiff inthis case is Richard Bassett, Esquire, the direct and linealrepresentative of that old and honorable family, whose monuments are tobe seen in several churches in this county, and whose estates are thelargest, I believe, in the county. He would have succeeded, as a matterof course, to those estates, but for an arrangement made only a yearbefore he was born, by which, contrary to nature and justice, he wasdenuded of those estates, and they passed to the defendant. Thedefendant is nowise to blame for that piece of injustice; but heprofits by it, and it might be expected that his good fortune wouldsoften his heart toward his unfortunate relative. I say that ifuncommon tenderness might be expected to be shown by anybody to thisdeserving and unfortunate gentleman, it would be by Sir CharlesBassett, who enjoys his cousin's ancestral estates, and can so wellappreciate what that cousin has lost by no fault of his own. "

"Hear! hear!"

"Silence in the court!"

_The Judge. _--I must request that there may be no manifestation offeeling. 

_Counsel. _--I will endeavor to provoke none, my lord. It is a verysimple case, and I shall not occupy you long. Well, gentlemen, Mr. Bassett is a poor man, by no fault of his; but if he is poor, he isproud and honorable. He has met the frowns of fortune like agentleman--like a man. He has not solicited government for a place. Hehas not whined nor lamented. He has dignified unmerited poverty byprudence and self-denial; and, unable to forget that he is a Bassett, he has put by a little money every year, and bought a small estate ortwo, and had even applied to the Lord-Lieutenant to make him a justiceof the peace, when a most severe and unexpected blow fell upon him. Among those large proprietors who respected him in spite of his humblercircumstances was Mr. Hardwicke, one of the county members. Well, gentlemen, on the 21st of last May Mr. Bassett received a letter fromMr. Hardwicke inclosing one purporting to be from Sir Charles Bassett--

_The Judge. _--Does Sir Charles Bassett admit the letter?

_Defendant's Counsel_ (after a word with Oldfield). --Yes, my lord. 

_Plaintiff's Counsel. _--A letter admitted to be written by Sir CharlesBassett. That letter shall be read to you. 

The letter was then read. 

The counsel resumed: "Conceive, if you can, the effect of this blow, just as my unhappy and most deserving client was rising a little in theworld. I shall prove that it excluded him from Mr. Hardwicke's house, and other houses too. He is a man of too much importance to riskaffronts. He has never entered the door of any gentleman in this countysince his powerful relative published this cruel libel. He has drawnhis Spartan cloak around him, and he awaits your verdict to resume thatplace among you which is due to him in every way--due to him as theheir in direct line to the wealth, and, above all, to the honor of theBassetts; due to him as Sir Charles Bassett's heir at law; and due tohim on account of the decency and fortitude with which he has borneadversity, and with which he now repels foul-mouthed slander. "

"Hear! hear!"

"Silence in the court!"

"I have done, gentlemen, for the present. Indeed, eloquence, even if Ipossessed it, would be superfluous; the facts speak forthemselves. --Call James Hardwicke, Esq. "

Mr. Hardwicke proved the receipt of the letter from Sir Charles, andthat he had sent it to Mr. Bassett; and that Mr. Bassett had notentered his house since then, nor had he invited him. 

Mr. Bassett was then called, and, being duly trained by Wheeler, abstained from all heat, and wore an air of dignified dejection. Hiscounsel examined him, and his replies bore out the opening statement. Everybody thought him sure of a verdict. 

He was then cross-examined. Defendant's counsel pressed him about hisunfair way of shooting. The judge interfered, and said that wastrifling. If there was no substantial defense, why not settle thematter?

"There is a defense, my lord. "

"Then it is time you disclosed it. "

"Very well, my lord. Mr. Bassett, did you ever write an anonymousletter?"

"Not that I remember. "

"Oh, that appears to you a trifle. It is not so considered. "

_The Judge. _--Be more particular in your question. 

"I will, my lord. --Did you ever write an anonymous letter, to makemischief between Sir Charles and Lady Bassett?"

"Never, " said the witness; but he turned pale. 

"Do you mean to say you did not write this letter to Miss Bruce? Lookat the letter, Mr. Bassett, before you reply. "

Bassett cast one swift glance of agony at Wheeler; then braced himselflike iron. He examined the letter attentively, turned it over, lived anage, and said it was not his writing. 

"Do you swear that?"

"Certainly. "

_Defendant's Counsel. _--I shall ask your lordship to take down thatreply. If persisted in, my client will indict the witness for perjury. 

_Plaintiff's Counsel. _--Don't threaten the witness as well as insulthim, please. 

_The Judge. _--He is an educated man, and knows the duty he owes to Godand the defendant. --Take time, Mr. Bassett, and recollect. Did youwrite that letter?"

"No, my lord. "

Counsel waited for the judge to note the reply, then proceeded. 

"You have lately corresponded with Lady Bassett, I think?"

"Yes. Her ladyship opened a correspondence with me. "

"It is a lie!" roared Sir Charles Bassett from the door of the grandjury room. 

"Silence in the court!"

_The Judge. _--Who made that unseemly remark?

_Sir Charles. _--I did, my lord. My wife never corresponded with thecur. 

_The Plaintiff. _--It is only one insult more, gentlemen, and as falseas the rest. Permit me, my lord. My own counsel would never have putthe question. I would not, for the world, give Lady Bassett pain; butSir Charles and his counsel have extorted the truth from me. Herladyship did open a correspondence with me, and a friendly one. 

_The Plaintiff's Counsel. _--Will your lordship ask whether that wasafter the defendant had written the libel?

The question was put, and answered in the affirmative. 

Lady Bassett hid her face in her hands. Sir Charles saw the movement, and groaned aloud. 

_The Judge. _--I beg the case may not be encumbered with irrelevantmatter. 

Counsel replied that the correspondence would be made evidence in thecase. _(To the witness. )_--"You wrote this letter to Lady Bassett?"

"Yes. "

"And every word in it?"

"And every word in it, " faltered Bassett, now ashy pale, for he beganto see the trap. 

"Then you wrote this word 'character, ' and this word 'injured, ' andthis word--"

_The Judge_ (peevishly). --He tells you he wrote every word in thoseletters to Lady Bassett. --What more would you have?

_Counsel. _--If your lordship will be good enough to examine thecorrespondence, and compare those words in it I have underlined withthe same words in the anonymous letter, you will perhaps find I know mybusiness better than you seem to think. (The counsel who ventured onthis remonstrance was a sergeant. )

"Brother Eitherside, " said the judge, with a charming manner, "yousatisfied me of that, to my cost, long ago, whenever I had you againstme in a case. Please hand me the letters. "

While the judge was making a keen comparison, counsel continued thecross-examination. 

"You are aware that this letter caused a separation between Sir CharlesBassett and the lady he was engaged to?"

"I know nothing about it. "

"Indeed! Well, were you acquainted with the Miss Somerset mentioned inthis letter?"

"Slightly. "

"You have been at her house?"

"Once or twice. "

"Which? Twice is double as often as once, you know. "

"Twice. "

"No more?"

"Not that I recollect. "

"You wrote to her?"

"I may have. "

"Did you, or did you not?"

"I did. "

"What was the purport of that letter?"

"I can't recollect at this distance of time. "

"On your oath, sir, did you not write urging her to co-operate with youto keep Sir Charles Bassett from marrying his affianced, Miss BellaBruce, to whom that anonymous letter was written with the same object?"

The perspiration now rolled in visible drops down the tortured liar'sface. Yet still, by a gigantic effort, he stood firm, and even planteda blow. 

"I did not write the anonymous letter. But I believe I told MissSomerset I loved Miss Bruce, and that _her_ lover was robbing me ofmine, as he had robbed me of everything else. "

"And that was all you said--on your oath?"

"All I can recollect. " With this the strong man, cowed, terrified, expecting his letter to Somerset to be produced, and so the iron chainof evidence completed, gasped out, "Man, you tear open all my wounds atonce!" and with this burst out sobbing, and lamenting aloud that he hadever been born. 

Counsel waited calmly till he should be in a condition to receiveanother dose. 

"Oh, will nobody stop this cruel trial?" said Lady Bassett, with thetears trickling down her face. 

The judge heard this remark without seeming to do so. 

He said to defendant's counsel, "Whatever the truth may be, you haveproved enough to show Sir Charles Bassett might well have an honestconviction that Mr. Bassett had done a dastardly act. Whether a jurywould ever agree on a question of handwriting must always be doubtful. Looking at the relationship of the parties, is it advisable to carrythis matter further? If I might advise the gentlemen, they would eachconsent to withdraw a juror. "

Upon this suggestion the counsel for both parties put their headstogether in animated whispers; and during this the judge made a remarkto the jury, intended for the public: "Since Lady Bassett's name hasbeen drawn into this, I must say that I have read her letters to Mr. Bassett, and they are such as she could write without in the leastcompromising her husband. Indeed, now the defense is disclosed, theyappear to me to be wise and kindly letters, such as only a good wife, ahigh-bred lady, and a true Christian could write in so delicate amatter. "

_Plaintiff's Counsel. _--My lord, we are agreed to withdraw a juror. 

_Defendant's Counsel. _--Out of respect for your lordship's advice, andnot from any doubt of the result on _our_ part. 

_The Crier. _--WACE _v. _ HALIBURTON!

And so the car of justice rolled on till it came to Wheeler v. Bassett. 

This case was soon disposed of. 

Sir Charles Bassett was dignified and calm in the witness-box, andtreated the whole matter with high-bred nonchalance, as one unworthy ofthe attention the Court was good enough to bestow on it. The judgedisapproved the assault, but said the plaintiff had drawn it on himselfby unprofessional conduct, and by threatening a gentleman in his ownhouse. Verdict for the plaintiff--40s. The judge refused to certifyfor costs. 

Lady Bassett, her throat parched with excitement, drove home, andawaited her husband's return with no little anxiety. As soon as sheheard him in his dressing-room she glided in and went down on her kneesto him. "Pray, pray don't scold me; I couldn't bear you to be defeated, Charles. "

Sir Charles raised her, but did not kiss her. 

"You think only of me, " said he, rather sadly. "It is a sorry victory, too dearly bought. "

Then she began to cry. 

Sir Charles begged her not to cry; but still he did not kiss her, norconceal his mortification: he hardly spoke to her for several days. 

She accepted her disgrace pensively and patiently. She thought it allover, and felt her husband was right, and loved her like a man. But shethought, also, that she was not very wrong to love him in her way. Wrong or not, she felt she could not sit idle and see his enemy defeathim. 

The coolness died away by degrees, with so much humility on one sideand so much love on both: but the subject was interdicted forever. 

A week after the trial Lady Bassett wrote to Mrs. Marsh, under cover toMr. Oldfield, and told her how the trial had gone, and, with manyexpressions of gratitude, invited her and her husband to HuntercombeHall. She told Sir Charles what she had done, and he wore a verystrange look. "Might I suggest that we have them alone?" said he dryly. 

"By all means, " said Lady Bassett. "I don't want to share my paragonwith anybody. "

In due course a reply came; Mr. And Mrs. Marsh would avail themselvessome day of Lady Bassett's kindness: at present they were going abroad. The letter was written by a man's hand. 

About this time Oldfield sent Sir Charles Miss Somerset's deed, canceled, and told him she had married a man of fortune, who wasdevoted to her, and preferred to take her without any dowry. 

Bassett and Wheeler went home, crestfallen, and dined together. Theydiscussed the two trials, and each blamed the other. They quarreled andparted: and Wheeler sent in an enormous bill, extending over fiveyears. Eighty-five items began thus: "Attending you at your house forseveral hours, on which occasion you asked my advice as to whether--"etc. 

Now as a great many of these attendances had been really to shoot gameand dine on rabbits at Bassett's expense, he thought it hard theconversation should be charged and the rabbits not. 

Disgusted with his defeat, and resolved to evade this bill, hedischarged his servant, and put a retired soldier into his house, armedhim with a blunderbuss, and ordered him to keep all doors closed, andpresent the weapon aforesaid at all rate collectors, tax collectors, debt collectors, and applicants for money to build churches or convertthe heathen; but not to _fire_ at anybody except his friend Wheeler, nor at him unless he should try to shove a writ in at some chink of thebuilding. 

This done, he went on his travels, third-class, with his eyes alwaysopen, and his heart full of bitterness. 

Nothing happened to Richard Bassett on his travels that I need relateuntil one evening when he alighted at a small commercial inn in thecity of York, and there met a person whose influence on the events I amabout to relate seems at this moment incredible to me, though it issimple fact. 

He found the commercial room empty, and rang the bell. In came thewaiter, a strapping girl, with coal-black eyes and brows to match, anda brown skin, but glowing cheeks. 

They both started at sight of each other. It was Polly Somerset. 

"Why, Polly! How d'ye do? How do you come here?"

"It's along of you I'm here, young man, " said Polly, and began towhimper. She told him her sister had found out from the page she hadbeen colloguing with him, and had never treated her like a sister afterthat. "And when she married a gentleman she wouldn't have me aside herfor all I could say, but she did pack me off into service, and here Ibe. "

The girl was handsome, and had a liking for him. Bassett was idle, andtime hung heavy on his hands: he stayed at the inn a fortnight, morefor Polly's company than anything: and at last offered to put her intoa vacant cottage on his own little estate of Highmore. But the girl wasshrewd, and had seen a great deal of life this last three years; sheliked Richard in her way, but she saw he was all self, and she wouldnot trust him. "Nay, " said she, "I'll not break with Rhoda for anyyoung man in Britain. If I leave service she will never own me at all:she is as hard as iron. "

"Well, but you might come and take service near me, and then we couldoften get a word together. "

"Oh, I'm agreeable to that: you find me a good place. I like an innbest; one sees fresh faces. "

Bassett promised to manage that for her. On reaching home he found aconciliatory letter from Wheeler, coupled with his permission to taxthe bill according to his own notion of justice. This and other letterswere in an outhouse; the old soldier had not permitted them topenetrate the fortress. He had entered into the spirit of hisinstructions, and to him a letter was a probable hand-grenade. 

Bassett sent for Wheeler; the bill was reduced, and a small paymentmade; the rest postponed till better times. Wheeler was then consultedabout Polly, and he told his client the landlady of the "Lamb" wanted agood active waitress; he thought he could arrange that little affair. 

In due course, thanks to this artist, Mary Wells, hitherto known asPolly Somerset, landed with her boxes at the "Lamb "; and with herquick foot, her black eyes, and ready tongue soon added to thepopularity of the inn. Richard Bassett, Esq. , for one, used to supthere now and then with his friend Wheeler, and even sleep there aftersupper. 

By-and-by the vicar of Huntercombe wanted a servant, and offered toengage Mary Wells. 

She thought twice about that. She could neither write nor read, andtherefore was dreadfully dull without company; the bustle of an inn, and people coming and going, amused her. However, it was a temptationto be near Richard Bassett; so she accepted at last. Unable to write, she could not consult him; and she made sure he would be delighted. 

But when she got into the village the prudent Mr. Bassett drew in hishorns, and avoided her. She was mortified and very angry. She revengedherself on her employer; broke double her wages. The vicar had neverbeen able to convert a smasher; so he parted with her very readily toLady Bassett, with a hint that she was rather unfortunate in glass andchina. 

In that large house her spirits rose, and, having a hearty manner and aclapper tongue, she became a general favorite. 

One day she met Mr. Bassett in the village, and he seemed delighted atthe sight of her, and begged her to meet him that night at a certainplace where Sir Charles's garden was divided from his own by a ha-ha. It was a very secluded spot, shut out from view, even in daylight, bythe trees and shrubs and the winding nature of the walk that led to it;yet it was scarcely a hundred yards from Huntercombe Hall. 

Mary Wells came to the tryst, but in no amorous mood. She came merelyto tell Mr. Bassett her mind, viz. , that he was a shabby fellow, andshe had had her cry, and didn't care a straw for him now. And she didtell him so, in a loud voice, and with a flushed cheek. 

But he set to work, humbly and patiently, to pacify her; he representedthat, in a small house like the vicarage, every thing is known; heshould have ruined her character if he had not held aloof. "But it isdifferent now, " said he. "You can run out of Huntercombe House, andmeet me here, and nobody be the wiser. "

"Not I, " said Mary Wells, with a toss. "The worse thing a girl can dois to keep company with a gentleman. She must meet him in holes andcorners, and be flung off, like an old glove, when she has served histurn. "

"That will never happen to you, Polly dear. We must be prudent for thepresent; but I shall be more my own master some day, and then you willsee how I love you. "

"Seeing is believing, " said the girl, sullenly. "You be too fond ofyourself to love the likes o' me. "

Such was the warning her natural shrewdness gave her. But perseveranceundermined it. Bassett so often threw out hints of what he would dosome day, mixed with warm protestations of love, that she began almostto hope he would marry her. She really liked him; his fine figure andhis color pleased her eye, and he had a plausible tongue to boot. 

As for him, her rustic beauty and health pleased his senses; but, forhis heart, she had little place in that. What he courted her for justnow was to keep him informed of all that passed in Huntercombe Hall. His morbid soul hung about that place, and he listened greedily to MaryWells's gossip. He had counted on her volubility; it did not disappointhim. She never met him without a budget, one-half of it lies orexaggerations. She was a born liar. One night she came in high spirits, and greeted him thus: "What d'ye think? I'm riz! Mrs. Eden, thatdresses my lady's hair, she took ill yesterday, and I told thehousekeeper I was used to dress hair, and she told my lady. If youdidn't please our Rhoda at that, 'twas as much as your life was worth. You mustn't be thinking of your young man with her hair in your hand, or she'd rouse you with a good crack on the crown with a hair-brush. SoI dressed my lady's hair, and handled it like old chaney; by the sametoken, she is so pleased with me you can't think. She is a real lady;not like our Rhoda. Speaks as civil to me as if I was one of her ownsort; and, says she, 'I should like to have you about me, if I might. 'I had it on my tongue to tell her she was mistress; but I was a littleskeared at her at first, you know. But she will have me about her; Isee it in her eye. "

Bassett was delighted at this news, but he did not speak his mind allat once; the time was not come. He let the gypsy rattle on, and bidedhis time. He flattered her, and said he envied Lady Bassett to havesuch a beautiful girl about her. "I'll let my hair grow, " said he. 

"Ay, do, " said she, "and then I'll pull it for you. "

This challenge ended in a little struggle for a kiss, the sincerity ofwhich was doubtful. Polly resisted vigorously, to be sure, but briefly, and, having given in, returned it. 

One day she told him Sir Charles had met her plump, and had given agreat start. 

This made Bassett very uneasy. "Confound it, he will turn you away. Hewill say, 'This girl knows too much. '"

"How simple you be!" said the girl. "D'ye think I let him know? Sayshe, 'I think I have seen you before. ' 'Yes, sir, ' says I, 'I washousemaid here before my lady had me to dress her. ' 'No, ' says he, 'Imean in London--in Mayfair, you know. ' I declare you might ha' knockedme down wi' a feather. So I looks in his face, as cool as marble, and Isaid, 'No, sir; I never had the luck to see London, sir, ' says I. 'Allthe better for you, ' says he; and he swallowed it like spring water, assister Rhoda used to say when she told one and they believed it. "

"You are a clever girl, " said Bassett. "He would have turned you out ofthe house if he had known who you were. "

She disappointed him in one thing; she was bad at answering questions. Morally she was not quite so great an egotist as himself, butintellectually a greater. Her volubility was all egotism. She couldscarcely say ten words, except about herself. So, when Bassettquestioned her about Sir Charles and Lady Bassett, she said "Yes, " or"No, " or "I don't know, " and was off at a tangent to her own sayingsand doings. 

Bassett, however, by great patience and tact, extracted from her atlast that Sir Charles and Lady Bassett were both sore at not havingchildren, and that Lady Bassett bore the blame. 

"That is a good joke, " said he. "The smoke-dried rake! Polly, you mightdo me a good turn. You have got her ear; open her eyes for me. Whatmight not happen?" His eyes shone fiendishly. 

The young woman shook her head. "Me meddle between man and wife! I'mtoo fond of my place. "

"Ah, you don't love me as I love you. You think only of yourself. "

"And what do you think of? Do you love me well enough to find me abetter place, if you get me turned out of Huntercombe Hall?"

"Yes, I will; a much better. "

"That is a bargain. "

Mary Wells was silly in some things, but she was very cunning, too; andshe knew Richard Bassett's hobby. She told him to mind himself, as wellas Sir Charles, or perhaps he would die a bachelor, and so his fleshand blood would never inherit Huntercombe. This remark entered hismind. The trial, though apparently a drawn battle, had been fatal tohim--he was cut; he dared not pay his addresses to any lady in thecounty, and he often felt very lonely now. So everything combined todraw him toward Mary Wells--her swarthy beauty, which shone out atchurch like a black diamond among the other women; his own loneliness;and the pleasure these stolen meetings gave him. Custom itself ispleasant, and the company of this handsome chatterbox became a habit, and an agreeable one. The young woman herself employed a woman's arts;she was cold and loving by turns till at last he gave her what she wasworking for, a downright promise of marriage. She pretended not tobelieve him, and so led him further; he swore he would marry her. 

He made one stipulation, however. She really must learn to read andwrite first. 

When he had sworn this Mary became more uniformly affectionate; and aswomen who have been in service learn great self-government, and cangenerally please so long as it serves their turn, she made herself soagreeable to him that he began really to have a downright liking forher--a liking bounded, of course, by his incurable selfishness; but asfor his hobby, that was on her side. 

Now learning to read and write was wormwood to Mary Wells; but theprize was so great; she knew all about the Huntercombe estates, partlyfrom her sister, partly from Bassett himself. (He must tell his wrongseven to this girl. ) So she resolved to pursue matrimony, even on thesevere condition of becoming a scholar. She set about it as follows:One day that she was doing Lady Bassett's hair she sighed severaltimes. This was to attract the lady's attention, and it succeeded. 

"Is there anything the matter, Mary?"

"No, my lady. "

"I think there is. "

"Well, my lady, I am in a little trouble; but it is my own people'sfault for not sending of me to school. I might be married to-morrow ifI could only read and write. "

"And can you not?"

"No, my lady. "

"Dear me! I thought everybody could read and write nowadays. "

"La, no, my lady! not half of them in our village. "

"Your parents are much to blame, my poor girl. Well, but it is not toolate. Now I think of it, there is an adult school in the village. ShallI arrange for you to go to it?"

"Thank you, my lady. But then--"

"Well?"

"All my fellow-servants would have a laugh against me. "

"The person you are engaged to, will he not instruct you?"

"Oh, he have no time to teach me. Besides, I don't want him to know, either. But I won't be his wife to shame him. " (Another sigh. )

"Mary, " said Lady Bassett, in the innocence of her heart, "you shallnot be mortified, and you shall not lose a good marriage. I will tryand teach you myself. "

Mary was profuse in thanks. Lady Bassett received them rather coldly. She gave her a few minutes' instruction in her dressing-room every day;and Mary, who could not have done anything intellectual for half anhour at a stretch, gave her whole mind for those few minutes. She wasquick, and learned very fast. In two months she could read a great dealmore than she could understand, and could write slowly but veryclearly. 

Now by this time Lady Bassett had become so interested in her pupilthat she made her read letters and newspapers to her at those parts ofthe toilet when her services were not required. 

Mary Wells, though a great chatterbox, was the closest girl in England. Limpet never stuck to a rock as she could stick to a lie. She neversaid one word to Bassett about Lady Bassett's lessons. She kept strictsilence till she could write a letter, and then she sent him a line tosay she had learned to write for love of him, and she hoped he wouldkeep his promise. 

Bassett's vanity was flattered by this. But, on reflection, hesuspected it was a falsehood. He asked her suddenly, at their nextmeeting, who had written that note for her. 

"You shall see me write the fellow to it when you like, " was the reply. 

Bassett resolved to submit the matter to that test some day. Atpresent, however, he took her word for it, and asked her who had taughther. 

"I had to teach myself. Nobody cares enough for me to teach me. Well, I'll forgive you if you will write me a nice letter for mine. "

"What! when we can meet here and say everything?"

"No matter; I have written to you, and you might write to me. They allget letters, except me; and the jades hold 'em up to me: they see Inever get one. When you are out, post me a letter now and then. It willonly cost you a penny. I'm sure I don't ask you for much. "

Bassett humored her in this, and in one of his letters called her hiswife that was to be. 

This pleased her so much that the next time they met she hung round hisneck with a good deal of feminine grace. 

Richard Bassett was a man who now lived in the future. Everybody in thecounty believed he had written that anonymous letter, and he had nohope of shining by his own light. It was bitter to resign his personalhopes; but he did, and sullenly resolved to be obscure himself, but thefather of the future heirs of Huntercombe. He would marry Mary Wells, and lay the blame of the match upon Sir Charles, who had blackened himin the county, and put it out of his power to win a lady's hand. 

He told Wheeler he was determined to marry; but he had not the courageto tell him all at once what a wife he had selected. 

The consequence of this half confession was that Wheeler went to workto find him a girl with money, and not under county influence. 

One of Wheeler's clients was a retired citizen, living in a prettyvilla near the market town. Mr. Wright employed him in little matters, and found him active and attentive. There was a Miss Wright, a meeklittle girl, palish, on whom her father doted. Wheeler talked to thisgirl of his friend Bassett, his virtues and his wrongs, and interestedthe young lady in him. This done, he brought him to the house, and thegirl, being slight and delicate, gazed with gentle but undisguisedadmiration on Bassett's _torso. _ Wheeler had told Richard Miss Wrightwas to have seven thousand pounds on her wedding-day, and that exciteda corresponding admiration in the athletic gentleman. 

After that Bassett often called by himself, and the father encouragedthe intimacy. He was old, and wished to see his daughter married beforehe left her and this seemed an eligible match, though not a brilliantone; a bit of land and a good name on one side, a smart bit of money onthe other. The thing went on wheels. Richard Bassett was engaged toJane Wright almost before he was aware. 

Now he felt uneasy about Mary Wells, very uneasy; but it was only theuneasiness of selfishness. 

He began to try and prepare; he affected business visits to distantplaces, etc. , in order to break off by degrees. By this means theirmeetings were comparatively few. When they did meet (which was nowgenerally by written appointment), he tried to prepare by telling herhe had encountered losses, and feared that to marry her would be a badjob for her as well as for him, especially if she should have children. 

Mary replied she had been used to work, and would rather work for ahusband than any other master. 

On another occasion she asked him quietly whether a gentleman everbroke his oath. 

"Never, " said Richard. 

In short, she gave him no opening. She would not quarrel. She adheredto him as she had never adhered to anything but a lie before. 

Then he gave up all hope of smoothing the matter. He coolly cut her;never came to the trysting-place; did not answer her letters; and, being a reckless egotist, married Jane Wright all in a hurry, byspecial license. 

He sent forward to the clerk of Huntercombe church, and engaged theringers to ring the church-bells from six o'clock till sundown. Thiswas for Sir Charles's ears. 

It was a balmy evening in May. Lady Bassett was commencing her toiletin an indolent way, with Mary Wells in attendance, when thechurch-bells of Huntercombe struck up a merry peal. 

"Ah!" said Lady Bassett; "what is that for? Do you know, Mary?"

"No, my lady. Shall I ask?"

"No; I dare say it is a village wedding. "

"No, my lady, there's nobody been married here this six weeks. Ourkitchen-maid and the baker was the last, you know. I'll send, and knowwhat it is for. " Mary went out and dispatched the first house-maid shecaught for intelligence. The girl ran into the stable to hersweetheart, and he told her directly. 

Meantime Lady Bassett moralized upon church-bells. 

"They are always sad--saddest when they seem to be merriest. Poorthings! they are trying hard to be merry now; but they sound very sadto me--sadder than usual, somehow. "

The girl knocked at the door. Mary half opened it, and the news shotin--"'Tis for Squire Bassett; he is bringing of his bride home toHighmore to-day. "

"Mr. Bassett--married--that is sudden. Who could he find to marry him?"There was no reply. The house-maid had flown off to circulate the news, and Mary Wells was supporting herself by clutching the door, sick withthe sudden blow. 

Close as she was, her distress could not have escaped another woman'seye, but Lady Bassett never looked at her. After the first surprise shehad gone into a reverie, and was conjuring up the future to the soundof those church-bells. She requested Mary to go and tell Sir Charles;but she did not lift her head, even to give this order. 

Mary crept away, and knocked at Sir Charles's dressing-room. 

"Come in, " said Sir Charles, thinking, of course, it was his valet. 

Mary Wells just opened the door and held it ajar. "My lady bids me tellyou, sir, the bells are ringing for Mr. Bassett; he's married, andbrings her home tonight. "

A dead silence marked the effect of this announcement on Sir Charles. Mary Wells waited. 

"May Heaven's curse light on that marriage, and no child of theirs evertake my place in this house!"

"A-a-men!" said Mary Wells. 

"Thank you, sir!" said Sir Charles. He took her voice for a man's, sodeep and guttural was her "A--a--men" with concentrated passion. 

She closed the door and crept back to her mistress. 

Lady Bassett was seated at her glass, with her hair down and hershoulders bare. Mary clinched her teeth, and set about her usual work;but very soon Lady Bassett gave a start, and stared into the glass. "Mary!" said she, "what _is_ the matter? You look ghastly, and yourhands are as cold as ice. Are you faint?"

"No. "

"Then you are ill; very ill. "

"I have taken a chill, " said Mary, doggedly. 

"Go instantly to the still-room maid, and get a large glass of spiritsand hot water--quite hot. "

Mary, who wanted to be out of the room, fastened her mistress's backhair with dogged patience, and then moved toward the door. 

"Mary, " said Lady Bassett, in a half-apologetic tone. 

"My lady. "

"I should like to hear what the bride is like. "

"I'll know that to-night, " said Mary, grinding her teeth. 

"I shall not require you again till bedtime. "

Mary left the room, and went, not to the still-room, but to her owngarret, and there she gave way. She flung herself, with a wild cry, upon her little bed, and clutched her own hair and the bedclothes, andwrithed all about the bed like a wild-cat wounded. 

In this anguish she passed an hour she never forgot nor forgave. Shegot up at last, and started at her own image in the glass. Hair like asavage's, cheek pale, eyes blood-shot. 

She smoothed her hair, washed her face, and prepared to go downstairs;but now she was seized with a faintness, and had to sit down and moan. She got the better of that, and went to the still-room, and got somespirits; but she drank them neat, gulped them down like water. Theysent the devil into her black eye, but no color into her pale cheek. She had a little scarlet shawl; she put it over her head, and went intothe village. She found it astir with expectation. 

Mr. Bassett's house stood near the highway, but the entrance to thepremises was private, and through a long white gate. 

By this gate was a heap of stones, and Mary Wells got on that heap andwaited. 

When she had been there about half an hour, Richard Bassett drove up ina hired carriage, with his pale little wife beside him. At his own gatehis eye encountered Mary Wells, and he started. She stood above him, with her arms folded grandly; her cheek, so swarthy and ruddy, was nowpale, and her black eyes glittered like basilisks at him and his bride. The whole woman seemed lifted out of her low condition, and dignifiedby wrong. 

He had to sustain her look for a few seconds, while the gate was beingopened, and it seemed an age. He felt his first pang of remorse when hesaw that swarthy, ruddy cheek so pale. Then came admiration of herbeauty, and disgust at the woman for whom he had jilted her; and thatgave way to fear: the hater looked into those glittering eyes, and sawhe had roused a hate as unrelenting as his own. 

CHAPTER XIII. 

FOR the first few days Richard Bassett expected some annoyance fromMary Wells; but none came, and he began to flatter himself she was toofond of him to give him pain. 

This impression was shaken about ten days after the little scene I havedescribed. He received a short note from her, as follows:

"SIR--You must meet me to-night, at the same place, eight o'clock. Ifyou do not come it will be the worse for you. 

"M. W. "

Richard Bassett's inclination was to treat this summons with contempt;but he thought it would be wiser to go and see whether the girl had anyhostile intentions. Accordingly he went to the tryst. He waited forsome time, and at last he heard a quick, firm foot, and Mary Wellsappeared. She was hooded with her scarlet shawl, that contrastedadmirably with her coal-black hair; and out of this scarlet frame herdark eyes glittered. She stood before him in silence. 

He said nothing. 

She was silent too for some time. But she spoke first. 

"Well, sir, you promised one, and you have married another. Now whatare you going to do for me?"

"What _can_ I do, Mary? I'm not the first that wanted to marry forlove, but money came in his way and tempted him. "

"No, you are not the first. But that's neither here nor there, sir. That chalk-faced girl has bought you away from me with her money, andnow I mean to have my share on't. "

"Oh, if that is all, " said Richard, "we can soon settle it. I wasafraid you were going to talk about a broken heart, and all that stuff. You are a good, sensible girl; and too beautiful to want a husbandlong. I'll give you fifty pounds to forgive me. "

"Fifty pounds!" said Mary Wells, contemptuously. "What! when youpromised me I should be your wife to-day, and lady of Huntercombe Hallby-and-by? Fifty pounds! No; not five fifties. "

"Well, I'll give you seventy-five; and if that won't do, you must go tolaw, and see what you can get. "

"What, han't you had your bellyful of law? Mind, it is an unked thingto forswear yourself, and that is what you done at the 'sizes. I haveseen what you did swear about your letter to my sister; Sir Charleshave got it all wrote down in his study: and you swore a lie to thejudge, as you swore a lie to me here under heaven, you villain!" Sheraised her voice very loud. "Don't you gainsay me, or I'll soon haveyou by the heels in jail for your lies. You'll do as I bid you, andvery lucky to be let off so cheap. You was to be my master, but youchose her instead: well, then, you shall be my servant. You shall comehere every Saturday at eight o'clock, and bring me a sovereign, which Inever could keep a lump o' money, and I have had one or two from Rhoda;so I'll take it a sovereign a week till I get a husband of my own sort, and then you'll have to come down handsome once for all. "

Bassett knitted his brows and thought hard. His natural impulse was todefy her; but it struck him that a great many things might happen in afew months; so at last he said, humbly, "I consent. I have been toblame. Only I'd rather pay you this money in some other way. "

"My way, or none. "

"Very well, then, I will bring it you as you say. "

"Mind you do, then, " said Mary Wells, and turned haughtily on her heel. 

Bassett never ventured to absent himself at the hour, and, at first, the blackmail was delivered and received with scarcely a word; butby-and-by old habits so far revived that some little conversation tookplace. 

Then, after a while, Bassett used to tell her he was unhappy, and sheused to reply she was glad of it. 

Then he began to speak slightingly of his wife, and say what a fool hehad been to marry a poor, silly nonentity, when he might have wedded abeauty. 

Mary Wells, being intensely vain, listened with complacency to this, although she replied coldly and harshly. 

By-and-by her natural volubility overpowered her, and she talked toBassett about herself and Huntercombe House, but always with a secretreserve. 

Later--such is the force of habit--each used to look forward withsatisfaction to the Saturday meeting, although each distrusted andfeared the other at bottom. 

Later still that came to pass which Mary Wells had planned from thefirst with deep malice, and that shrewd insight into human nature whichmany a low woman has--the cooler she was the warmer did Richard Bassettgrow, till at last, contrasting his pale, meek little wife with thisglowing Hebe, he conceived an unholy liking for the latter. She met itsometimes with coldness and reproaches, sometimes with affected alarm, sometimes with a half-yielding manner, and so tormented him to herheart's content, and undermined his affection for his wife. Thus sherevenged herself on them both to her heart's content. 

But malice so perverse is apt to recoil on itself; and women, inparticular, should not undertake a long and subtle revenge of thissort; since the strongest have their hours of weakness, and aresurprised into things they never intended. The subsequent history ofMary Wells will exemplify this. Meantime, however, meek little Mrs. Bassett was no match for the beauty and low cunning of her rival. 

Yet a time came when she defended herself unconsciously. She didsomething that made her husband most solicitous for her welfare andhappiness. He began to watch her health with maternal care, to shieldher from draughts, to take care of her diet, to indulge her in all herwhims instead of snubbing her, and to pet her, till she was thehappiest wife in England for a time. She deserved this at his hands, for she assisted him there where his heart was fixed; she aided hishobby; did more for it than any other creature in England could. 

To return to Huntercombe Hall: the loving couple that owned it were nolonger happy. The hope of offspring was now deserting them, and thedisappointment was cruel. They suffered deeply, with thisdifference--that Lady Bassett pined and Sir Charles Bassett fretted. 

The woman's grief was more pure and profound than the man's. If therehad been no Richard Bassett in the world, still her bosom would haveyearned and pined, and the great cry of Nature, "Give me children or Idie, " would have been in her heart, though it would never have risen toher lips. 

Sir Charles had, of course, less of this profound instinct than hiswife, but he had it too; only in him the feeling was adulterated and atthe same time imbittered by one less simple and noble. An enemy sat athis gate. That enemy, whose enduring malice had at last begotten equalhostility in the childless baronet, was now married, and would probablyhave heirs; and, if so, that hateful brood--the spawn of an anonymousletter-writer--would surely inherit Bassett and Huntercombe, succeedingto Sir Charles Bassett, deceased without issue. This chafed thechildless man, and gradually undermined a temper habitually sweet, though subject, as we have seen, to violent ebullitions where theprovocation was intolerable. Sir Charles, then, smarting under hiswound, spoke now and then rather unkindly to the wife he loved sodevotedly; that is to say, his manner sometimes implied that he blamedher for their joint calamity. 

Lady Bassett submitted to these stings in silence. They were rare, andspeedily followed by touching regrets; and even had it not been so shewould have borne them with resignation; for this motherless wife lovedher husband with all a wife's devotion and a mother's unselfishpatience. Let this be remembered to her credit. It is the truth, andshe may need it. 

Her own yearning was too deep and sad for fretfulness; yet though, unlike her husband's, it never broke out in anger, the day was gone bywhen she could keep it always silent. It welled out of her at times inways that were truly womanly and touching. 

When she called on a wife the lady was sure to parade her children. Theboasted tact of women--a quality the narrow compass of which hasescaped their undiscriminating eulogists--was sure to be swept away bymaternal egotism; and then poor Lady Bassett would admire the childrenloudly, and kiss them, to please the cruel egotist, and hide the tearsthat rose to her own eyes; but she would shorten her visit. 

When a child died in the village Mary Wells was sure to be sent withwords of comfort and substantial marks of sympathy. 

Scarcely a day passed that something or other did not happen to makethe wound bleed; but I will confine myself to two occasions, on each ofwhich her heart's agony spoke out, and so revealed how much it musthave endured in silence. 

Since the day when Sir Charles allowed her to sit in a little roomclose to his study while he received Mr. Wheeler's visit she had fittedup that room, and often sat there to be near Sir Charles; and he wouldsometimes call her in and tell her his justice cases. One day she wasthere when the constable brought in a prisoner and several witnesses. The accused was a stout, florid girl, with plump cheeks and pale grayeyes. She seemed all health, stupidity, and simplicity. She carried achild on her left arm. No dweller in cities could suspect this face ofcrime. As well indict a calf. 

Yet the witnesses proved beyond a doubt that she had been seen with herbaby in the neighborhood of a certain old well on a certain day atnoon; that soon after noon she had been seen on the road without herbaby, and being asked what had become of it, had said she had left itwith her aunt, ten miles off; and that about an hour after that a faintcry had been heard at the bottom of the old well--it was ninety feetdeep; people had assembled, and a brave farmer's boy had been loweredin the bight of a cart-rope, and had brought up a dead hen, and a livechild, bleeding at the cheek, having fallen on a heap of fagots at thebottom of the well; which child was the prisoner's. 

Sir Charles had the evidence written down, and then told the accusedshe might make a counter-statement if she chose, but it would be wiserto say nothing at all. 

Thereupon the accused dropped him a little short courtesy, looked himsteadily in the face with her pale gray eyes, and delivered herself asfollows:

"If you please, sir, I was a-sitting by th' old well, with baby in myarms; and I was mortal tired, I was, wi' carring of him; he be uncommonheavy for his age; and, if you please, sir, he is uncommon resolute;and while I was so he give a leap right out of my arms and fell downth' old well. I screams, and runs away to tell my brother's wife, aslives at top of the hill; but she was gone into North Wood for drysticks to light her oven; and when I comes back they had got him out ofthe well, and I claims him directly; and the constable said we mustcome before you, sir; so here we be. "

This she delivered very glibly, without tremulousness, hesitation, orthe shadow of a blush, and dropped another little courtesy at the endto Sir Charles. 

Thereupon he said not one word to her, but committed her for trial, andgave the farmer's boy a sovereign. 

The people were no sooner gone than Lady Bassett came in, with thetears streaming, and threw herself at her husband's knees. "Oh, Charles! can such things be? Does God give a child to a woman that hasthe heart to kill it, and refuse one to me, who would give my heart'sblood to save a hair of its little head? Oh, what have we done that hesingles us out to be so cruel to us?"

Then Sir Charles tried to comfort her, but could not, and the childlessones wept together. 

It began to be whispered that Mrs. Bassett was in the family way. Neither Sir Charles nor Lady Bassett mentioned this rumor. It wouldhave been like rubbing vitriol into their own wounds. But this reservewas broken through one day. It was a sunny afternoon in June, justthirteen months after Mr. Bassett's wedding--Lady Bassett was with herhusband in his study, settling invitations for a ball, and writingthem--when the church-bells struck up a merry peal. They both left off, and looked at each other eloquently. Lady Bassett went out, but soonreturned, looking pale and wild. 

_"Yes!"_ said she, with forced calmness. Then, suddenly losing herself-command, she broke out, pointing through the window at Highmore, _"He_ has got a fine boy--to take our place here. Kill me, Charles!Send me to heaven to pray for you, and take another wife that will loveyou less but be like other wives. That villain has married a fruitfulvine, and" (lifting both arms to heaven, with a gesture unspeakablypiteous, poetic, and touching) "I am a barren stock. "

CHAPTER XIV. 

OF all the fools Nature produces with the help of Society, fathers offirst-borns are about the most offensive. 

The mothers of ditto are bores too, flinging their human dumplings atevery head; but, considering the tortures they have suffered, and theanguish the little egotistical viper they have just hatched will mostlikely give them, and considering further that their love of theirfirstborn is greater than their pride, and their pride unstained byvanity, one must make allowances for them. 

But the male parent is not so excusable. His fussy vanity is aninferior article to the mother's silly but amiable pride. His obtrusiveaffection is two-thirds of it egotism, and blindish egotism, too; forif, at the very commencement of the wife's pregnancy the husband issent to India, or hanged, the little angel, as they call it--Lordforgive them!--is nurtured from a speck to a mature infant by the otherparent, and finally brought into the world by her just as effectuallyas if her male confederate had been tied to her apron-string: all thetime, instead of expatriated or hanged. 

Therefore the Law--for want, I suppose, of studying Medicine--is alittle inconsiderate in giving children to fathers, and taking them byforce from such mothers _as can support them;_ and therefore letGallina go on clucking over her first-born, but Gallus be quiet, orsing a little smaller. 

With these preliminary remarks, let me introduce to you a character newin fiction, but terribly old in history--

 THE CLUCKING COCK. 

Upon the birth of a son and heir Mr. Richard Bassett was inflatedalmost to bursting. He became suddenly hospitable, collected all hisfew friends about him, and showed them all the Boy at great length, andtalked Boy and little else. He went out into the world and made callson people merely to remind them he had a son and heir. 

His self-gratulation took a dozen forms; perhaps the most amusing, andthe richest food for satire, was the mock-querulous style, of which heshowed himself a master. 

"Don't you ever marry, " said he to Wheeler and others. "Look at me; doyou think I am the master of my own house? Not I; I am a regular slave. First, there is a monthly nurse, who orders me out of my wife'spresence, or graciously lets me in, just as she pleases; that is Queen1. Then there's a wet-nurse, Queen 2, whom I must humor in everything, or she will quarrel with me, and avenge herself by souring her milk. But these are mild tyrants compared with the young King himself. If hedoes but squall we must all skip, and find out what he ails, or what hewants. As for me, I am looked upon as a necessary evil; the women seemto admit that a father is an incumbrance without which these littleangels could not exist, but that is all. "

He had a christening feast, and it was pretty well attended, for hereminded all he asked that the young Christian was the heir to theBassett estates. They feasted, and the church-bells rang merrily. 

He had his pew in the church new lined with cloth, and took his wife tobe churched. The nurse was in the pew too, with his son and heir. Itsqualled and spoiled the Liturgy. Thereat Gallus chuckled. 

He made a gravel-walk all along the ha-ha that separated his gardenfrom Sir Charles's, and called it "The Heir's Walk. " Here the nurse andchild used to parade on sunny afternoons. 

He got an army of workmen, and built a nursery fit for a duke's ninechildren. It occupied two entire stories, and rose in the form of asquare tower high above the rest of his house, which, indeed, was ashumble as "The Heir's Tower" was pretentious. "The Heir's Tower" had aflat lead roof easy of access, and from it you could inspectHuntercombe Hall, and see what was done on the lawn or at some of thewindows. 

Here, in the August afternoons, Mr. And Mrs. Bassett used to sitdrinking their tea, with nurse and child; and Bassett would talk to hisunconscious boy, and tell him that the great house and all thatbelonged to it should be his in spite of the arts that had been used torob him of it. 

Now, of course, the greater part of all this gratulation was merelyamusing, and did no harm except stirring up the bile of a few oldbachelors, and imbittering them worse than ever against clucking cocks, crowing hens, inflated parents, and matrimony in general. 

But the overflow of it reached Huntercombe Hall, and gave cruel pain tothe childless ones, over whom this inflated father was, in fact, exulting. 

As for the christening, and the bells that pealed for it, and thesubsequent churching, they bore these things with sore hearts, andbravely, being things of course. But when it came to their ears thatBassett and his family called his new gravel-walk "The Heir's Walk, "and his ridiculous nursery "The Heir's Tower, " this roused a bitteranimosity, and, indeed, led to reprisals. Sir Charles built a long wallat the edge of his garden, shutting out "The Heir's Walk" andintercepting the view of his own premises from that walk. 

Then Mr. Bassett made a little hill at the end of his walk, so that theheir might get one peep over the wall at his rich inheritance. 

Then Sir Charles began to fell timber on a gigantic scale. He went towork with several gangs of woodmen, and all his woods, which were veryextensive, rang with the ax, and the trees fell like corn. He made nosecret that he was going to sell timber to the tune of several thousandpounds and settle it on his wife. 

Then Richard Bassett, through Wheeler, his attorney, remonstrated inhis own name, and that of his son, against this excessive fall oftimber on an entailed estate. 

Sir Charles chafed like a lion stung by a gad-fly, but vouchsafed noreply: the answer came from Mr. Oldfield; he said Sir Charles had aright under the entail to fell every stick of timber, and turn hiswoods into arable ground, if he chose; and even if he had not, lookingat his age and his wife's, it was extremely improbable that RichardBassett would inherit the estates: the said Richard Bassett was notpersonally named in the entail, and his rights were all in supposition:if Mr. Wheeler thought he could dispute both these positions, the Courtof Chancery was open to his client. 

Then Wheeler advised Bassett to avoid the Court of Chancery in a matterso debatable; and Sir Charles felled all the more for the protest. Thedead bodies of the trees fell across each other, and daylight peepedthrough the thick woods. It was like the clearing of a primeval forest. 

Richard Bassett went about with a witness and counted the fallen. 

The poor were allowed the lopwood: they thronged in for miles round, and each built himself a great wood pile for the winter; the poorblessed Sir Charles: he gave the proceeds, thirteen thousand pounds, tohis wife for her separate use. He did not tie it up. He restricted herno further than this: she undertook never to draw above 100 pounds at atime without consulting Mr. Oldfield as to the application. Sir Charlessaid he should add to this fund every year; his beloved wife should notbe poor, even if the hated cousin should outlive him and turn her outof Huntercombe. 

And so passed the summer of that year; then the autumn; and then came asingularly mild winter. There was more hunting than usual, and RichardBassett, whom his wife's fortune enabled to cut a better figure thanbefore, was often in the field, mounted on a great bony horse that wasnot so fast as some, being half-bred, but a wonderful jumper. 

Even in this pastime the cousins were rivals. Sir Charles's favoritehorse was a magnificent thoroughbred, who was seldom far off at thefinish: over good ground Richard's cocktail had no chance with him; butsometimes, if toward the close of the run they came to stiff fallowsand strong fences, the great strength of the inferior animal, and thatprudent reserve of his powers which distinguishes the canny cocktailfrom the higher-blooded animal, would give him the advantage. 

Of this there occurred, on a certain 18th of November, an examplefraught with very serious consequences. 

That day the hounds met on Sir Charles's estate. Sir Charles and LadyBassett breakfasted in Pink; he had on his scarlet coat, white tie, irreproachable buckskins, and top-boots. (It seemed a pity a speck ofdirt should fall on them. ) Lady Bassett was in her riding-habit; andwhen she mounted her pony, and went to cover by his side, with herblue-velvet cap and her red-brown hair, she looked more like abrilliant flower than a mere woman. 

A veteran fox was soon found, and went away with unusual courage andspeed, and Lady Bassett paced homeward to wait her lord's return, withan anxiety men laugh at, but women can appreciate. It was a form ofquiet suffering she had constantly endured, and never complained, noreven mentioned the subject to Sir Charles but once, and then hepooh-poohed her fancies. 

The hunt had a burst of about forty minutes that left Richard Bassett'scocktail in the rear; and the fox got into a large beech wood withplenty of briars, and kept dodging about it for two hours, and puzzledthe scent repeatedly. 

Richard Bassett elected not to go winding in and out among trees, riskhis horse's legs in rabbit-holes, and tire him for nothing. He had keptfor years a little note book he called "Statistics of Foxes, " and thattold him an old dog-fox of uncommon strength, if dislodged from thatparticular wood, would slip into Bellman's Coppice, and if driven outof that would face the music again, would take the open country forHigham Gorse, and probably be killed before he got there; but oncethere a regiment of scythes might cut him out, but bleeding, sneezingfox-hounds would never work him out at the tail of a long run. 

So Richard Bassett kept out of the wood, and went gently on toBellman's Coppice and waited outside. 

His book proved an oracle. After two hours' dodging and maneuvering thefox came out at the very end of Bellman's Coppice, with nothing nearhim but Richard Bassett. Pug gave him the white of his eye in an uglyleer, and headed straight as a crow for Higham Gorse. 

Richard Bassett blew his horn, collected the hunt, and laid the dogson. Away they went, close together, thunder-mouthed on the hot scent. 

After a three miles' gallop they sighted the fox for a moment justgoing over the crest of a rising ground two furlongs off. Then thehullabbaloo and excitement grew furious, and one electric fury animateddogs, men, and horses. Another mile, and the fox ran in sight scarcelya furlong off; but many of the horses were distressed: the Bassetts, however, kept up, one by his horse being fresh, the other by hisanimal's native courage and speed. 

Then came some meadows, bounded by a thick hedge, and succeeded by aplowed field of unusual size--eighty acres. 

When the fox darted into this hedge the hounds were yelling at hisheels; the hunt burst through the thin fence, expecting to see themkill close to it. 

But the wily fox had other resources at his command than speed. Appreciating his peril, he doubled and ran sixty yards down the ditch, and the impetuous hounds rushed forward and overran the scent. Theyraved about to and fro, till at last one of the gentlemen descried thefox running down a double furrow in the middle of the field. He had gotinto this, and so made his way more smoothly than his four-footedpursuers could. The dogs were laid on, and away they wenthelter-skelter. 

At the end of this stiff ground a stiffish leap awaited them; an oldquickset had been cut down, and all the elm-trees that grew in it, anda new quickset hedge set on a high bank with double ditches. 

The huntsman had an Irish horse that laughed at this fence; he jumpedon to the bank, and then jumped off it into the next field. 

Richard Bassett's cocktail came up slowly, rose high, and landed hisforefeet in the field, and so scrambled on. 

Sir Charles went at it rather rashly; his horse, tried hard by thefallow, caught his heels against the edge of the bank, and wentheadlong into the other ditch, throwing Sir Charles over his head intothe field. Unluckily some of the trees were lying about, and SirCharles's head struck one of these in falling; the horse blundered outagain, and galloped after the hounds, but the rider lay theremotionless. 

Nobody stopped at first; the pace was too good to inquire; butpresently Richard Bassett, who had greeted the accident with a laugh, turned round in his saddle, and saw his cousin motionless, and two orthree gentlemen dismounting at the place. These were newcomers. Then heresigned the hunt, and rode back. 

Sir Charles's cap was crushed in, and there was blood on his whitewaistcoat; he was very pale, and quite insensible. 

The gentlemen raised him, with expressions of alarm and kindly concern, and inquired of each other what was best to be done. 

Richard Bassett saw an opportunity to conciliate opinion, and seizedit. "He must be taken home directly, " said he. "We must carry him tothat farmhouse, and get a cart for him. "

He helped carry him accordingly. The farmer lent them a cart, withstraw, and they laid the insensible baronet gently on it, RichardBassett supporting his head. "Gentlemen, " said he, rather pompously, "at such a moment everything but the tie of kindred is forgotten. "Which resounding sentiment was warmly applauded by the honest squires. 

They took him slowly and carefully toward Huntercombe, distant abouttwo miles from the scene of the accident. 

This 18th November Lady Bassett passed much as usual with her onhunting days. She was quietly patient till the afternoon, and thenrestless, and could not settle down in any part of the house till shegot to a little room on the first floor, with a bay-window commandingthe country over which Sir Charles was hunting. In this she sat, withher head against one of the mullions, and eyed the country-side as faras she could see. 

Presently she heard a rustle, and there was Mary Wells standing andlooking at her with evident emotion. 

"What is the matter, Mary?" said Lady Bassett. 

"Oh, my lady!" said Mary. And she trembled, and her hands worked. 

Lady Bassett started up with alarm painted in her countenance. 

"My lady, there's something wrong in the hunting field. "

"Sir Charles!"

"An accident, they say. "

Lady Bassett put her hand to her heart with a faint cry. Mary Wells ranto her. 

"Come with me directly!" cried Lady Bassett. She snatched up herbonnet, and in another minute she and Mary Wells were on their road tothe village, questioning every body they met. 

But nobody they questioned could tell them anything. The stable-boy, who had told the report in the kitchen of Huntercombe, said he had itfrom a gentleman's groom, riding by as he stood at the gates. 

The ill news thus flung in at the gate by one passing rapidly by wasnot confirmed by any further report, and Lady Bassett began to hope itwas false. 

But a terrible confirmation came at last. 

In the outskirts of the village mistress and servant encountered asorrowful procession: the cart itself, followed by five gentlemen onhorseback, pacing slowly, and downcast as at a funeral. 

In the cart Sir Charles Bassett, splashed all over with mud, and hiswhite waistcoat bloody, lay with his head upon Richard Bassett's knee. His hair was wet with blood, some of which had trickled down his cheekand dried. Even Richard's buckskins were slightly stained with it. 

At that sight Lady Bassett uttered a scream, which those who heard itnever forgot, and flung herself, Heaven knows how, into the cart; butshe got there, and soon had that bleeding head on her bosom. She tookno notice of Richard Bassett, but she got Sir Charles away from him, and the cart took her, embracing him tenderly, and kissing his hurthead, and moaning over him, all through the village to HuntercombeHall. 

Four years ago they passed through the same village in acarriage-and-four--bells pealing, rustics shouting--to take possessionof Huntercombe, and fill it with pledges of their great and happy love;and as they flashed past the heir at law shrank hopeless into hislittle cottage. Now, how changed the pageant!--a farmer's cart, asplashed and bleeding and senseless form in it, supported by achildless, despairing woman, one weeping attendant walking at the side, and, among the gentlemen pacing slowly behind, the heir at law, withhis head lowered in that decent affectation of regret which all heirscan put on to hide the indecent complacency within. 

CHAPTER XV. 

AT the steps of Huntercombe Hall the servants streamed out, andrelieved the strangers of the sorrowful load. Sir Charles was carriedinto the Hall, and Richard Bassett turned away, with one triumphantflash of his eye, quickly suppressed, and walked with impenetrablecountenance and studied demeanor into Highmore House. 

Even here he did not throw off the mask. It peeled off by degrees. Hebegan by telling his wife, gravely enough, Sir Charles had met with asevere fall, and he had attended to him and taken him home. 

"Ah, I am glad you did that, Richard, " said Mrs. Bassett. "And is hevery badly hurt?"

"I am afraid he will hardly get over it. He never spoke. He justgroaned when they took him down from the cart at Huntercombe. "

"Poor Lady Bassett!"

"Ay, it will be a bad job for her. Jane!"

"Yes, dear. "

"There is a providence in it. The fall would never have killed him; buthis head struck a tree upon the ground; and that tree was one of thevery elms he had just cut down to rob our boy. "

"Indeed?"

"Yes; he was felling the very hedgerow timber, and this was one of theold elms in a hedge. He must have done it out of spite, for elm-woodfetches no price; it is good for nothing I know of, except coffins. Well, he has cut down _his. "_

"Poor man! Richard, death reconciles enemies. Surely you can forgivehim now. "

"I mean to try. "

Richard Bassett seemed now to have imbibed the spirit of quicksilver. His occupations were not actually enlarged, yet, somehow or other, heseemed full of business. He was all complacent bustle about nothing. Heleft off inveighing against Sir Charles. And, indeed, if you are one ofthose weak spirits to whom censure is intolerable, there is a cheap andeasy way to moderate the rancor of detraction--you have only to die. Let me comfort genius in particular with this little recipe. 

Why, on one occasion, Bassett actually snubbed Wheeler for a mereallusion. That worthy just happened to remark, "No more felling oftimber on Bassett Manor for a while. "

"For shame!" said Richard. "The man had his faults, but he had his goodqualities too: a high-spirited gentleman, beloved by his friends andrespected by all the county. His successor will find it hard toreconcile the county to his loss. "

Wheeler stared, and then grinned satirically. 

This eulogy was never repeated, for Sir Charles proved ungrateful--heomitted to die, after all. 

Attended by first-rate physicians, tenderly nursed and watched by LadyBassett and Mary Wells, he got better by degrees; and every stage ofhis slow but hopeful progress was communicated to the servants and thevillage, and to the ladies and gentlemen who rode up to the door everyday and left their cards of inquiry. 

The most attentive of all these was the new rector, a young clergyman, who had obtained the living by exchange. He was a man highly giftedboth in body and mind--a swarthy Adonis, whose large dark eyes from thevery first turned with glowing admiration on the blonde beauties ofLady Bassett. 

He came every day to inquire after her husband; and she sometimes leftthe sufferer a minute or two to make her report to him in person. Atother times Mary Wells was sent to him. That artful girl soondiscovered what had escaped her mistress's observation. 

The bulletins were favorable, and welcomed on all sides. 

Richard Bassett alone was incredulous. "I want to see him about again, "said he. "Sir Charles is not the man to lie in bed if he was reallybetter. As for the doctors, they flatter a fellow till the last moment. Let me see him on his legs, and then I'll believe he is better. "

Strange to say, obliging Fate granted Richard Bassett this moderaterequest. One frosty but sunny afternoon, as he was inspecting hiscoming domain from "The Heir's Tower, " he saw the Hall door open, and amuffled figure come slowly down the steps between two women: It was SirCharles, feeble but convalescent. He crept about on the sunny gravelfor about ten minutes, and then his nurses conveyed him tenderly inagain. 

This sight, which might have touched with pity a more generous nature, startled Richard Bassett, and then moved his bile. "I was a fool, " saidhe; "nothing will ever kill that man. He will see me out; see us allout. And that Mary Wells nurses him, and I dare say in love with him bythis time; the fools can't nurse a man without. Curse the whole pack ofye!" he yelled, and turned away in rage and disgust. 

That same night he met Mary Wells, and, in a strange fit of jealousy, began to make hot protestations of love to her. He knew it was no usereproaching her, so he went on the other tack. 

She received his vows with cool complacency, but would only stay aminute, and would only talk of her master and mistress, toward whom herheart was really warming in their trouble. She spoke hopefully, andsaid: "'Tisn't as if he was one of your faint-hearted ones as meetdeath half-way. Why, the second day, when he could scarce speak, hesees me crying by the bed, and says he, almost in a whisper, 'What are_you_ crying for?' 'Sir, ' says I, ''tis for you--to see you lie like aghost. ' 'Then you be wasting of salt-water, ' says he. 'I wish I may, sir, ' says I. So then he raised himself up a little bit. 'Look at me, 'says he; 'I'm a Bassett. I am not the breed to die for a crack on theskull, and leave you all to the mercy of them that would have nomercy'--which he meant you, I suppose. So he ordered me to leavecrying, which I behooved to obey; for he will be master, mind ye, whilehe have a finger to wag, poor dear gentleman, he will. "

And, soon after this, she resisted all his attempts to detain her, andscudded back to the house, leaving Bassett to his reflections, whichwere exceedingly bitter. 

Sir Charles got better, and at last used to walk daily with LadyBassett. Their favorite stroll was up and down the lawn, close underthe boundary wall he had built to shut out "The Heir's Walk. "

The afternoon sun struck warm upon that wall and the walk by its side. 

On the other side a nurse often carried little Dicky Bassett, the heir;but neither of the promenaders could see each other for the wall. 

Richard Bassett, on the contrary, from "The Heir's Tower, " could seeboth these little parties; and, as some men cannot keep away from whatcauses their pain, he used to watch these loving walks, and see SirCharles get stronger and stronger, till at last, instead of leaning onhis beloved wife, he could march by her side, or even give her his arm. 

Yet the picture was, in a great degree, delusive; for, except duringthese blissful walks, when the sun shone on him, and Love and Beautysoothed him, Sir Charles was not the man he had been. The shake he hadreceived appeared to have damaged his temper strangely. He became soirritable that several of his servants left him; and to his wife herepined; and his childless condition, which had been hitherto only adeep disappointment, became in his eyes a calamity that outweighed hismany blessings. He had now narrowly escaped dying without an heir, andthis seemed to sink into his mind, and, co-operating with theconcussion his brain had received, brought him into a morbid state. Hebrooded on it, and spoke of it, and got back to it from every othertopic, in a way that distressed Lady Bassett unspeakably. She consoledhim bravely; but often, when she was alone, her gentle courage gaveway, and she cried bitterly to herself. 

Her distress had one effect she little expected; it completed what herinvariable kindness had begun, and actually won the heart of a servant. Those who really know that tribe will agree with me that this was amarvelous conquest. Yet so it was; Mary Wells conceived for her a realaffection, and showed it by unremitting attention, and a soft andtender voice, that soothed Lady Bassett, and drew many a silent butgrateful glance from her dove-like eyes. 

Mary listened, and heard enough to blame Sir Charles for hispeevishness, and she began to throw out little expressions ofdissatisfaction at him; but these were so promptly discouraged by thefaithful wife that she drew in again and avoided that line. But oneday, coming softly as a cat, she heard Sir Charles and Lady Bassetttalking over their calamity. Sir Charles was saying that it wasHeaven's curse; that all the poor people in the village had children;that Richard Bassett's weak, puny little wife had brought him an heir, and was about to make him a parent again; he alone was marked out anddoomed to be the last of his race. "And yet, " said he, "if I hadmarried any other woman, and you had married any other man, we shouldhave had children by the dozen, I suppose. "

Upon the whole, though he said nothing palpably unjust, he had the toneof a man blaming his wife as the real cause of their joint calamity, under which she suffered a deeper, nobler, and more silent anguish thanhimself. This was hard to bear; and when Sir Charles went away, MaryWells ran in, with an angry expression on the tip of her tongue. 

She found Lady Bassett in a pitiable condition, lying rather thanleaning on the table, with her hair loose about her, sobbing as if herheart would break. 

All that was good in Mary Wells tugged at her heart-strings. She flungherself on her knees beside her, and seizing her mistress's hand, anddrawing it to her bosom, fell to crying and sobbing along with her. 

This canine devotion took Lady Bassett by surprise. She turned hertearful eyes upon her sympathizing servant, and said, "Oh, Mary!" andher soft hand pressed the girl's harder palm gratefully. 

Mary spoke first. "Oh, my lady, " she sobbed, "it breaks my heart to seeyou so. And what a shame to blame you for what is no fault of yourn. IfI was your husband the cradles would soon be full in this house; butthese fine gentlemen, they be old before their time with smoking oftobacco; and then to come and lay the blame on we!"

"Mary, I value you very much--more than I ever did a servant in mylife; but if you speak against your master we shall part. "

"La, my lady, I wouldn't for the world. Sir Charles is a perfectgentleman. Why, he gave me a sovereign only the other day for nursingof him; but he didn't ought to blame you for no fault of yourn, and tomake you cry. It tears me inside out to see you cry; you that is sogood to rich and poor. I wouldn't vex myself so for that: dear heart, 'twas always so; God sends meat to one house, and mouths to another. "

"I could be patient if poor Sir Charles was not so unhappy, " sighedLady Bassett; "but if ever you are a wife, Mary, you will know howwretched it makes us to see a beloved husband unhappy. "

"Then I'd make him happy, " said Mary. 

"Ah, if I only could!"

"Oh, I could tell you a way; for I have known it done; and now he is ashappy as a prince. You see, my lady, some men are like children; tomake them happy you must give them their own way; and so, if I was inyour place, I wouldn't make two bites of a cherry, for sometimes Ithink he will fret himself out of the world for want on't. "

"Heaven forbid!"

"It is my belief you would not be long behind him. "

"No, Mary. Why should I?"

"Then--whisper, my lady!"

And, although Lady Bassett drew slightly back at this freedom, MaryWells poured into her ear a proposal that made her stare and shiver. 

As for the girl's own face, it was as unmoved as if it had been bronze. 

Lady Bassett drew back, and eyed her askant with amazement and terror. 

"What is this you have dared to say?"

"Why, it is done every day. "

"By people of your class, perhaps. No; I don't believe it. Mary, I havebeen mistaken in you. I am afraid you are a vicious girl. Leave me, please. I can't bear the sight of you. "

Mary went away, very red, and the tear in her eye. 

In the evening Lady Bassett gave Mary Wells a month's warning, and Maryaccepted it doggedly, and thought herself very cruelly used. 

After this mistress and maid did not exchange an unnecessary word formany days. 

This notice to leave was very bitter to Mary Wells, for she was in thevery act of making a conquest. Young Drake, a very small farmer andtenant of Sir Charles, had fallen in love with her, and she liked himand had resolved he should marry her, with which view she was playingthe tender but coy maiden very prettily. But Drake, though young andvery much in love, was advised by his mother, and evidently resolved togo the old-fashioned way--keep company a year, and know the girl beforeoffering the ring. 

Just before her month was out a more serious trouble threatened MaryWells. 

Her low, artful amour with Richard Bassett had led to its naturalresults. By degrees she had gone further than she intended, and now thefatal consequences looked her in the face. 

She found herself in an odious position; for her growing regard foryoung Drake, though not a violent attachment, was enough to set hermore and more against Richard Bassett, and she was preparing an entireseparation from the latter when the fatal truth dawned on her. 

Then there was a temporary revulsion of feeling; she told her conditionto Bassett, and implored him, with many tears, to aid her to disappearfor a time and hide her misfortune, especially from her sister. 

Mr. Bassett heard her, and then gave her an answer that made her bloodrun cold. "Why do you come to me?" said he. "Why don't you go to theright man--young Drake?"

He then told her he had had her watched, and she must not think to makea fool of him. She was as intimate with the young farmer as with him, and was in his company every day. 

Mary Wells admitted that Drake was courting her, but said he was acivil, respectful young man, who desired to make her his wife. "Youhave lost me that, " said she, bursting into tears; "and so, for God'ssake, show yourself a man for once, and see me through my trouble. "

The egotist disbelieved, or affected not to believe her, and said, "When there are two it is always the gentleman you girls deceive. Butyou can't make a fool of me, Mrs. Drake. Marry the farmer, and I'llgive you a wedding present; that is all I can do for any other man'ssweetheart. I have got my own family to provide for, and it is all Ican contrive to make both ends meet. "

He was cold and inflexible to her prayers. Then she tried threats. Helaughed at them. Said he, "The time is gone by for that: if you wantedto sue me for breach of promise, you should have done it at once; notwaited eighteen months and taken another sweetheart first. Come, come;you played your little game. You made me come here week after week andbleed a sovereign. A woman that loved a man would never have been sohard on him as you were on me. I grinned and bore it; but when you askme to own another man's child, a man of your own sort that you are inlove with--you hate me--that is a little too much: no, Mrs. Drake; ifthat is your game we will fight it out--before the public if you like. "And, having delivered this with a tone of harsh and loud defiance, heleft her--left her forever. She sat down upon the cold ground androcked herself. Despair was cold at her heart. 

She sat in that forlorn state for more than an hour. Then she got upand went to her mistress's room and sat by the fire, for her limbs werecold as well as her heart. 

She sat there, gazing at the fire and sighing heavily, till LadyBassett came up to bed. She then went through her work like anautomaton, and every now and then a deep sigh came from her breast. 

Lady Bassett heard her sigh, and looked at her. Her face was altered; asort of sullen misery was written on it. Lady Bassett was quick atreading faces, and this look alarmed her. "Mary, " said she, kindly, "isthere anything the matter?"

No reply. 

"Are you unwell?"

"No. "

"Are you in trouble?"

"Ay!" with a burst of tears. 

Lady Bassett let her cry, thinking it would relieve her, and then spoketo her again with the languid pensiveness of a woman who has also hertrouble. "You have been very attentive to Sir Charles, and a kind goodservant to me, Mary. "

"You are mocking me, my lady, " said Mary, bitterly. "You wouldn't haveturned me off for a word if I had been a good servant. "

Lady Bassett colored high, and was silenced for a moment. At last shesaid, "I feel it must seem harsh to you. You don't know how wicked itwas to tempt me. But it is not as if you had _done_ anything wrong. Ido not feel bound to mention mere words: I shall give you an excellentcharacter, Mary--indeed I _have. _ I think I have got a good place foryou. I shall know to-morrow, and when it is settled we will look overmy wardrobe together. "

This proposal implied a boxful of presents, and would have made Mary'sdark eyes flash with delight at another time; but she was past all thatnow. She interrupted Lady Bassett with this strange speech: "You arevery kind, my lady; will you lend me the key of your medicine chest?"

Lady Bassett looked surprised, but said, "Certainly, Mary, " and heldout the keys. 

But, before Mary could take them, she considered a moment, and askedher what medicine she required. 

"Only a little laudanum. "

"No, Mary; not while you look like that, and refuse to tell me yourtrouble. I am your mistress, and must exert my authority for your good. Tell me at once what is the matter. "

"I'd bite my tongue off sooner. "

"You are wrong, Mary. I am sure I should be your best friend. I feelmuch indebted to you for the attention and the affection you have shownme, and I am grieved to see you so despondent. Make a friend of me. There--think it over, and talk to me again to-morrow. "

Mary Wells took the true servant's view of Lady Bassett's kindness. Shelooked at it as a trap; not, indeed, set with malice prepense, butstill a trap. She saw that Lady Bassett meant kindly at present; but, for all that, she was sure that if she told the truth, her mistresswould turn against her, and say, "Oh! I had no idea your trouble aroseout of your own imprudence. I can do nothing for a vicious girl. "

She resolved therefore to say nothing, or else to tell some lie orother quite wide of the mark. 

Deplorable as this young woman's situation was, the duplicity andcoarseness of mind which had brought her into it would have somewhatblunted the mental agony such a situation must inflict; but it wasaggravated by a special terror; she knew that if she was found out shewould lose the only sure friend she had in the world. 

The fact is, Mary Wells had seen a great deal of life during the twoyears she was out of the reader's sight. Rhoda had been very good toher; had set her up in a lodging-house, at her earnest request. Shemisconducted it, and failed: threw it up in disgust, and begged Rhodato put her in the public line. Rhoda complied. Mary made a mess of thepublic-house. Then Rhoda showed her she was not fit to govern anything, and drove her into service again; and in that condition, having no morecares than a child, and plenty of work to do, and many a present fromRhoda, she had been happy. 

But Rhoda, though she forgave blunders, incapacity for business, andwaste of money, had always told her plainly there was one thing shenever would forgive. 

Rhoda Marsh had become a good Christian in every respect but one. Themale rake reformed is rather tolerant; but the female rake reformed is, as a rule, bitterly intolerant of female frailty; and Rhoda carriedthis female characteristic to an extreme both in word and in deed. Theywere only half-sisters, after all; and Mary knew that she would be castoff forever if she deviated from virtue so far as to be found out. 

Besides the general warning, there had been a special one. When sheread Mary's first letter from Huntercombe Hall Rhoda was rather takenaback at first; but, on reflection, she wrote to Mary, saying she couldstay there on two conditions: she must be discreet, and never mentionher sister Rhoda in the house, and she must not be tempted to renew heracquaintance with Richard Bassett. "Mind, " said she, "if ever you speakto that villain I shall hear of it, and I shall never notice youagain. "

This was the galling present and the dark future which had made soyoung and unsentimental a woman as Mary Wells think of suicide for amoment or two; and it now deprived her of her rest, and next day kepther thinking and brooding all the time her now leaden limbs werecarrying her through her menial duties. 

The afternoon was sunny, and Sir Charles and Lady Bassett took theirusual walk. 

Mary Wells went a little way with them, looking very miserable. LadyBassett observed, and said, kindly, "Mary, you can give me that shawl;I will not keep you; go where you like till five o'clock. "

Mary never said so much as "Thank you. " She put the shawl round hermistress, and then went slowly back. She sat down on the stone steps, and glared stupidly at the scene, and felt very miserable and leaden. She seemed to be stuck in a sort of slough of despond, and could notmove in any direction to get out of it. 

While she sat in this somber reverie a gentleman walked up to the door, and Mary Wells lifted her head and looked at him. Notwithstanding hermisery, her eyes rested on him with some admiration, for he was a modelof a man: six feet high, and built like an athlete. His face was oval, and his skin dark but glowing; his hair, eyebrows, and long eyelashesblack as jet; his gray eyes large and tender. He was dressed in black, with a white tie, and his clothes were well cut, and seemedsuperlatively so, owing to the importance and symmetry of the figurethey covered. It was the new vicar, Mr. Angelo. 

He smiled on Mary graciously, and asked her how Sir Charles was. 

She said he was better. 

Then Mr. Angelo asked, more timidly, was Lady Bassett at home. 

"She is just gone out, sir. "

A look of deep disappointment crossed Mr. Angelo's face. It did notescape Mary Wells. She looked at him full, and, lowering her voice alittle, said, "She is only in the grounds with Sir Charles. She will beat home about five o'clock. "

Mr. Angelo hesitated, and then said he would call again at five. Heevidently preferred a duet to a trio. He then thanked Mary Wells withmore warmth than the occasion seemed to call for, and retired veryslowly: he had come very quickly. 

Mary Wells looked after him, and asked herself wildly if she could notmake some use of him and his manifest infatuation. 

But before her mind could fix on any idea, and, indeed, before theyoung clergyman had taken twenty steps homeward, loud voices were hearddown the shrubbery. 

These were followed by an agonized scream. 

Mary Wells started up, and the young parson turned: they looked at eachother in amazement. 

Then came wild and piercing cries for help--in a woman's voice. 

The young clergyman cried out, _"Her_ voice! _her_ voice!" and dashedinto the shrubbery with a speed Mary Wells had never seen equaled. Hehad won the 200-yard race at Oxford in his day. 

The agonized screams were repeated, and Mary Wells screamed in responseas she ran toward the place. 

CHAPTER XVI. 

SIR CHARLES BASSETT was in high spirits this afternoon--indeed, alittle too high. 

"Bella, my love, " said he, "now I'll tell you why I made you give meyour signature this morning. The money has all come in for the wood, and this very day I sent Oldfield instructions to open an account foryou with a London banker. "

Lady Bassett looked at him with tears of tenderness in her eyes. "Dearest, " said she, "I have plenty of money; but the love to which Iowe this present, that is my treasure of treasures. Well, I accept it, Charles; but don't ask me to spend it on myself; I should feel I wasrobbing you. "

"It is nothing to me how you spend it; I have saved it from the enemy. "

Now that very enemy heard these words. He had looked from the "Heir'sTower, " and seen Sir Charles and Lady Bassett walking on their side thewall, and the nurse carrying his heir on the other side. 

He had come down to look at his child in the sun; but he walked softly, on the chance of overhearing Sir Charles and Lady Bassett say somethingor other about his health; his design went no further than that, butthe fate of listeners is proverbial. 

Lady Bassett endeavored to divert her husband from the topic he seemedto be approaching; it always excited him now, and did him harm. 

"Do not waste your thoughts on that enemy. He is powerless. "

"At this moment, perhaps; but his turn is sure to come again; and Ishall provide for it. I mean to live on half my income, and settle theother half on you. I shall act on the clause in the entail, and sellall the timber on the estate, except about the home park and my bestcovers. It will take me some years to do this; I must not glut themarket, and spoil your profits; but every year I'll have a fall, till Ihave denuded Mr. Bassett's inheritance, as he calls it, and swelledyour banker's account to a Plum. Bella, I have had a shake. Even nowthat I am better such a pain goes through my head, like a bulletcrushing through it, whenever I get excited. I don't think I shall be along-lived man. But never mind, I'll live as long as I can; and, whileI do live, I'll work for you, and against that villain. "

"Charles, " cried Lady Bassett, "I implore you to turn your thoughtsaway from that man, and to give up these idle schemes. Were you to dieI should soon follow you; so pray do not shorten your life by theseangry passions, or you will shorten mine. "

This appeal acted powerfully on Sir Charles, and he left off suddenlywith flushed cheeks and tried to compose himself. 

But his words had now raised a corresponding fury on the other side ofthat boundary wall. Richard Bassett, stung with rage, and, unlike hishigh-bred cousin, accustomed to mix cunning even with his fury, gavehim a terrible blow--a very _coup de Jarnac. _ He spoke _at_ him; he ranforward to the nurse, and said very loud: "Let me see the littledarling. He does you credit. What fat cheeks!--what arms!--an infanthercules! There, take him up the mound. Now lift him in your arms, andlet him see his inheritance. Higher, nurse, higher. Ay, crow away, youngster; all that is yours--house and land and all. They may stealthe trees; they can't make away with the broad acres. Ha! I believe heunderstands every word, nurse. See how he smiles and crows. "

At the sound of Bassett's voice Sir Charles started, and, at the firsttaunt, he uttered something between a moan and a roar, as of a woundedlion. 

"Come away, " cried Lady Bassett. "He is doing it on purpose. "

But the stabs came too fast. Sir Charles shook her off, and lookedwildly round for a weapon to strike his insulter with. 

"Curse him and his brat!" he cried. "They shall neither of them--I'llkill them both. "

He sprang fiercely at the wall, and, notwithstanding his weaklycondition, raised himself above it, and glared over with a face so fullof fury that Richard Bassett recoiled in dismay for a moment, and said, "Run! run! He'll hurt the child!"

But, the next moment, Sir Charles's hands lost their power; he uttereda miserable moan, and fell gasping under the wall in an epileptic fit, with all the terrible symptoms I have described in a previous portionof this story. These were new to his poor wife, and, as she strove invain to control his fearful convulsions, her shrieks rent the air. Indeed, her screams were so appalling that Bassett himself sprang atthe wall, and, by a great effort of strength, drew himself up, andpeered down, with white face, at the glaring eyes, clinched teeth, purple face, and foaming lips of his enemy, and his body that boundedconvulsively on the ground with incredible violence. 

At that moment humanity prevailed over every thing, and he flunghimself over the wall, and in his haste got rather a heavy fallhimself. "It is a fit!" he cried, and running to the brook close by, filled his hat with water, and was about to dash it over Sir Charles'sface. 

But Lady Bassett repelled him with horror. "Don't touch him, youvillain! You have killed him. " And then she shrieked again. 

At this moment Mr. Angelo dashed up, and saw at a glance what it was, for he had studied medicine a little. He said, "It is epilepsy. Leavehim to me. " He managed, by his great strength, to keep the patient'shead down till the face got pale and the limbs still; then, tellingLady Bassett not to alarm herself too much, he lifted Sir Charles, andactually proceeded to carry him toward the house. Lady Bassett, weeping, proffered her assistance, and so did Mary Wells; but thisathlete said, a little bruskly, "No, no; I have practiced this sort ofthing;" and, partly by his rare strength, partly by his familiaritywith all athletic feats, carried the insensible baronet to his ownhouse, as I have seen my accomplished friend Mr. Henry Neville carry atall actress on the mimic stage; only, the distance being much longer, the perspiration rolled down Mr. Angelo's face with so sustained aneffort. 

He laid him gently on the floor of his study, while Lady Bassett senttwo grooms galloping for medical advice, and half a dozen servantsrunning for this and that stimulant, as one thing after anotheroccurred to her agitated mind. The very rustling of dresses and scurryof feet overhead told all the house a great calamity had stricken it. 

Lady Bassett hung over the sufferer, sighing piteously, and was forsupporting his beloved head with her tender arm; but Mr. Angelo toldher it was better to keep the head low, that the blood might flow backto the vessels of the brain. 

She cast a look of melting gratitude on her adviser, and composedherself to apply stimulants under his direction and advice. 

Thus judiciously treated, Sir Charles began to recover consciousness inpart. He stared and muttered incoherently. Lady Bassett thanked God onher knees, and then turned to Mr. Angelo with streaming eyes, andstretched out both hands to him, with an indescribable eloquence ofgratitude. He gave her his hands timidly, and she pressed them bothwith all her soul. Unconsciously she sent a rapturous thrill throughthe young man's body: he blushed, and then turned pale, and felt for amoment almost faint with rapture at that sweet and unexpected pressureof her soft hands. 

But at this moment Sir Charles broke out in a sort of dry, business-like voice, "I'll kill the viper and his brood!" Then hestared at Mr. Angelo, and could not make him out at first. "Ah!" saidhe, complacently, "this is my private tutor: a man of learning. I readHomer with him; but I have forgotten it, all but one line--

"[greek]"

"That's a beautiful verse. Homer, old boy, I'll take your advice. I'llkill the heir at law, and his brat as well, and when they are dead andwell seasoned I'll sell them to that old timber-merchant, the devil, tomake hell hotter. Order my horse, somebody, this minute!"

During this tirade Lady Bassett's hands kept clutching, as if to stopit, and her eyes filled with horror. 

Mr. Angelo came again to her rescue. He affected to take it all as amatter of course, and told the servants they need not wait, Sir Charleswas coming to himself by degrees, and the danger was all over. 

But when the servants were gone he said to Lady Bassett, seriously, "Iwould not let any servant be about Sir Charles, except this one. She isevidently attached to you. Suppose we take him to his own room. "

He then made Mary Wells a signal, and they carried him upstairs. 

Sir Charles talked all the while with pitiable vehemence. Indeed, itwas a continuous babble, like a brook. 

Mary Wells was taking him into his own room, but Lady Bassett said, "No: into my room. Oh, I will never let him out of my sight again. "

Then they carried him into Lady Bassett's bedroom, and laid him gentlydown on a couch there. 

He looked round, observed the locality, and uttered a little sigh ofcomplacency. He left off talking for the present, and seemed to doze. 

The place which exerted this soothing influence on Sir Charles had acontrary and strange effect on Mr. Angelo. 

It was of palatial size, and lighted by two side windows, and an orielwindow at the end. The delicate stone shafts and mullions were such asare oftener seen in cathedrals than in mansions. The deep embrasure wasfilled with beautiful flowers and luscious exotic leaf-plants from thehot-houses. The floor was of polished oak, and some feet of this wereleft bare on all sides of the great Aubusson carpet made expressly forthe room. By this means cleanliness penetrated into every corner: theoak was not only cleaned, but polished like a mirror. The curtains wereFrench chintzes, of substance, and exquisite patterns, and veryvoluminous. On the walls was a delicate rose-tinted satin paper, towhich French art, unrivaled in these matters, had given the appearanceof being stuffed, padded, and divided into a thousand cozy pillows, bygold-headed nails. 

The wardrobes were of satin-wood. The bedsteads, one small, one large, were plain white, and gold in moderation. 

All this, however, was but the frame to the delightful picture of awealthy young lady's nest. 

The things that startled and thrilled Mr. Angelo were those hisimagination could see the fair mistress using. The exquisite toilettable; the Dresden mirror, with its delicate china frame muslined andribboned; the great ivory-handled brushes, the array of cut-glassgold-mounted bottles, and all the artillery of beauty; the baths ofvarious shapes and sizes, in which she laved her fair body; the bathsheets, and the profusion of linen, fine and coarse; the bed, with itsfrilled sheets, its huge frilled pillows, and its eider-down quilt, covered with bright purple silk. 

A delicate perfume came through the wardrobes, where strata of finelinen from Hamburg and Belfast lay on scented herbs; and this, permeating the room, seemed the very perfume of Beauty itself, andintoxicated the brain. Imagination conjured pictures proper to thescene: a goddess at her toilet; that glorious hair lying tumbled on thepillow, and burning in contrasted color with the snowy sheets and withthe purple quilt. 

From this reverie he was awakened by a soft voice that said, "How can Iever thank you enough, sir?"

Mr. Angelo controlled himself, and said, "By sending for me whenever Ican be of the slightest use. " Then, comprehending his danger, he added, hastily, "And I fear I am none whatever now. " Then he rose to go. 

Lady Bassett gave him both her hands again, and this time he kissed oneof them, all in a flurry; he could not resist the temptation. Then hehurried away, with his whole soul in a tumult. Lady Bassett blushed, and returned to her husband's side. 

Doctor Willis came, heard the case, looked rather grave and puzzled, and wrote the inevitable prescription; for the established theory isthat man is cured by drugs alone. 

Sir Charles wandered a little while the doctor was there, and continuedto wander after he was gone. 

Then Mary Wells begged leave to sleep in the dressing-room. 

Lady Bassett thanked her, but said she thought it unnecessary; a goodnight's rest, she hoped, would make a great change in the sufferer. 

Mary Wells thought otherwise, and quietly brought her little bed intothe dressing-room and laid it on the floor. 

Her judgment proved right; Sir Charles was no better the next day, northe day after. He brooded for hours at a time, and, when he talked, there was an incoherence in his discourse; above all, he seemedincapable of talking long on any subject without coming back to thefatal one of his childlessness; and, when he did return to this, it wassure to make him either deeply dejected or else violent against RichardBassett and his son; he swore at them, and said they were waiting forhis shoes. 

Lady Bassett's anxiety deepened; strange fears came over her. She putsubtle questions to the doctor; he returned obscure answers, and wenton prescribing medicines that had no effect. 

She looked wistfully into Mary Wells's face, and there she saw her ownthoughts reflected. 

"Mary, " said she, one day, in a low voice, "what do they say in thekitchen?"

"Some say one thing, some another. What can they say? They never seehim, and never shall while I am here. "

This reminded Lady Bassett that Mary's time was up. The idea of astranger taking her place, and seeing Sir Charles in his presentcondition, was horrible to her. "Oh, Mary, " said she, piteously, "surely you will not leave me just now?"

"Do you wish me to stay, my lady?"

"Can you ask it? How can I hope to find such devotion as yours, suchfidelity, and, above all, such secrecy? Ah, Mary, I am the most unhappylady in all England this day. "

Then she began to cry bitterly, and Mary Wells cried with her, and saidshe would stay as long as she could; "but, " said she, "I gave you goodadvice, my lady, and so you will find. "

Lady Bassett made no answer whatever, and that disappointed Mary, forshe wanted a discussion. 

The days rolled on, and brought no change for the better. Sir Charlescontinued to brood on his one misfortune. He refused to goout-of-doors, even into the garden, giving as his reason that he wasnot fit to be seen. "I don't mind a couple of women, " said he, gravely, "but no man shall see Charles Bassett in his present state. No. Patience! Patience! I'll wait till Heaven takes pity on me. After all, it would be a shame that such a race as mine should die out, and thesefine estates go to blackguards, and poachers, and anonymous-letterwriters. "

Lady Bassett used to coax him to walk in the corridor; but, even then, he ordered Mary Wells to keep watch and let none of the servants comethat way. From words he let fall it seems he thought "Childlessness"was written on his face, and that it had somehow degraded his features. 

Now a wealthy and popular baronet could not thus immure himself for anylength of time without exciting curiosity, and setting all manner ofrumors afloat. Visitors poured into Huntercombe to inquire. 

Lady Bassett excused herself to many, but some of her own sex shethought it best to encounter. This subjected her to the insidiousattacks of curiosity admirably veiled with sympathy. The assailantswere marvelously subtle; but so was the devoted wife. She gave kiss forkiss, and equivoque for equivoque. She seemed grateful for each visit;but they got nothing out of her except that Sir Charles's nerves wereshaken by his fall, and that she was playing the tyrant for once, andinsisting on absolute quiet for her patient. 

One visitor she never refused--Mr. Angelo. He, from the first, had beenher true friend; had carried Sir Charles away from the enemy, and thenhad dismissed the gaping servants. She saw that he had divined hercalamity and she knew from things he said to her that he would neverbreathe a word out-of-doors. She confided in him. She told him Mr. Bassett was the real cause of all this misery: he had insulted SirCharles. The nature of this insult she suppressed. "And oh, Mr. Angelo, " said she, "that man is my terror night and day! I don't knowwhat he can do, but I feel he will do something if he ever learns mypoor husband's condition. "

"I trust, Lady Bassett, you are convinced he will learn nothing fromme. Indeed, I will tell the ruffian anything you like. He has beensounding me a little; called to inquire after his poor cousin--thehypocrite!"

"How good you are! Please tell him absolute repose is prescribed for atime, but there is no doubt of Sir Charles's ultimate recovery. "

Mr. Angelo promised heartily. 

Mary Wells was not enough; a woman must have a man to lean on introuble, and Lady Bassett leaned on Mr. Angelo. She even obeyed him. One day he told her that her own health would fail if she sat always inthe sick-room; she must walk an hour every day. 

_"Must_ I?" said she, sweetly. 

"Yes, even if it is only in your own garden. "

From that time she used to walk with him nearly every day. 

Richard Bassett saw this from his tower of observation; saw it, andchuckled. "Aha!" said he. "Husband sick in bed. Wife walking in thegarden with a young man--a parson, too. He is dark, she is fair. Something will come of this. Ha, ha!"

Lady Bassett now talked of sending to London for advice; but Mary Wellsdissuaded her. "Physic can't cure him. There's only one can cure him, and that is yourself, my lady. "

"Ah, would to Heaven I could!"

"Try _my_ way, and you will see, my lady. "

"What, _that_ way! Oh, no, no!"

"Well, then, if you won't, nobody else can. "

Such speeches as these, often repeated, on the one hand, and SirCharles's melancholy on the other, drove Lady Bassett almost wild withdistress and perplexity. 

Meanwhile her vague fears of Richard Bassett were being graduallyrealized. 

Bassett employed Wheeler to sound Dr. Willis as to his patient'scondition. 

Dr. Willis, true to the honorable traditions of his profession, wouldtell him nothing. But Dr. Willis had a wife. She pumped him: andWheeler pumped her. 

By this channel Wheeler got a somewhat exaggerated account of SirCharles's state. He carried it to Bassett, and the pair put their headstogether. 

The consultation lasted all night, and finally a comprehensive plan ofaction was settled. Wheeler stipulated that the law should not bebroken in the smallest particular, but only stretched. 

Four days after this conference Mr. Bassett, Mr. Wheeler, and twospruce gentlemen dressed in black, sat upon the "Heir's Tower, "watching Huntercombe Hall. 

They watched, and watched, until they saw Mr. Angelo make his usualdaily call. 

Then they watched, and watched, until Lady Bassett and the youngclergyman came out and strolled together into the shrubbery. 

Then the two gentlemen went down the stairs, and were hastily conductedby Bassett to Huntercombe Hall. 

They rang the bell, and the taller said, in a business-like voice, "Dr. Mosely, from Dr. Willis. "

Mary Wells was sent for, and Dr. Mosely said, "Dr. Willis is unable tocome to-day, and has sent me. "

Mary Wells conducted him to the patient. The other gentleman followed. 

"Who is this?" said Mary. "I can't let all the world in to see him. "

"It is Mr. Donkyn, the surgeon. Dr. Willis wished the patient to beexamined with the stethoscope. You can stay outside, Mr. Donkyn. "

This new doctor announced himself to Sir Charles, felt his pulse, andentered at once into conversation with him. 

Sir Charles was in a talking mood, and very soon said one or twoinconsecutive things. Dr. Mosely looked at Mary Wells and said he wouldwrite a prescription. 

As soon as he had written it he said, very loud, "Mr. Donkyn!"

The door instantly opened, and that worthy appeared on the threshold. 

"Oblige me, " said the doctor to his confrere, "by seeing thisprescription made up; and you can examine the patient yourself; but donot fatigue him. "

With this he retired swiftly, and strolled down the corridor, to waitfor his companion. 

He had not to wait long. Mr. Donkyn adopted a free and easy style withSir Charles, and that gentleman marked his sense of the indignity byturning him out of the room, and kicking him industriously half-waydown the passage. 

Messrs. Mosely and Donkyn retired to Highmore. 

Bassett was particularly pleased at the baronet having kicked Donkyn;so was Wheeler; so was Dr. Mosely. Donkyn alone did not share thegeneral enthusiasm. 

When Sir Charles had disposed of Mr. Donkyn he turned on Mary Wells, and rated her soundly for bringing strangers into his room to gratifytheir curiosity; and when Lady Bassett came in he made his formalcomplaint, concluding with a proposal that one of two persons shouldleave Huntercombe, forever, that afternoon--Mary Wells or Sir CharlesBassett. 

Mary replied, not to him, but to her mistress, "He came from Dr. Willis, my lady. It was Dr. Mosely; and the other gent was a surgeon. "

"Two medical men, sent by Dr. Willis?" said Lady Bassett, knitting herbrow with wonder and a shade of doubt. 

"A couple of her own sweethearts, sent by herself, " suggested SirCharles. 

Lady Bassett sat down and wrote a hasty letter to Dr. Willis. "Send agroom with it, as fast as he can ride, " said she; and she was muchdiscomposed and nervous and impatient till the answer came bade. 

Dr. Willis came in person. "I sent no one to take my place, " said he. "I esteem my patient too highly to let any stranger prescribe for himor even see him--for a few days to come. "

Lady Bassett sank into a chair, and her eloquent face filled with anundefinable terror. 

Mary Wells, being on her defense, put in her word. "I am sure he was adoctor; for he wrote a prescription, and here 'tis. "

Dr. Willis examined the prescription, with no friendly eye. 

"Acetate of morphia! The very worst thing that could be given him. Thisis the favorite of the specialists. This fatal drug has eaten away athousand brains for one it has ever benefited. "

"Ah!" said Lady Bassett. "'Specialists!' what are they?"

"Medical men, who confine their practice to one disease. "

"Mad-doctors, he means, " said the patient, very gravely. 

Lady Bassett turned very pale. "Then those were mad-doctors. "

"Never you mind, Bella, " said Sir Charles. "I kicked the fellowhandsomely. "

"I am sorry to hear it, Sir Charles. "

"Why?"

Dr. Willis looked at Lady Bassett, as much as to say, "I shall not give_him_ my real reason;" and then said, "I think it very undesirable youshould be excited and provoked, until your health is thoroughlyrestored. "

Dr. Willis wrote a prescription, and retired. 

Lady Bassett sank into a chair, and trembled all over. Her divining fitwas on her; she saw the hand of the enemy, and filled with vague fears. 

Mary Wells tried to, comfort her. "I'll take care no more strangers getin here, " said she. "And, my lady, if you are afraid, why not have thekeepers, and two or three more, to sleep in the house? for, as for themfootmen, they be too soft to fight. "

"I will, " said Lady Bassett; "but I fear it will be no use. Our enemyhas so many resources unknown to me. How can a poor woman fight with ashadow, that comes in a moment and strikes; and then is gone and leaveshis victim trembling?"

Then she slipped into the dressing-room and became hysterical, out ofher husband's sight and hearing. 

Mary Wells nursed her, and, when she was better, whispered in her ear, "Lose no more time, then. Cure him. You know the way. "

CHAPTER XVII. 

IN the present condition of her mind these words produced a strangeeffect on Lady Bassett. She quivered, and her eyes began to rove inthat peculiar way I have already noticed; and then she started up andwalked wildly to and fro; and then she kneeled down and prayed; andthen, alarmed, perplexed, exhausted, she went and leaned her head onher patient's shoulder, and wept softly a long time. 

Some days passed, and no more strangers attempted to see Sir Charles. 

Lady Bassett was beginning to breathe again, when she was afflicted byan unwelcome discovery. 

Mary Wells fainted away so suddenly that, but for Lady Bassett's quickeye and ready hand, she would have fallen heavily. 

Lady Bassett laid her head down and loosened her stays, and discoveredher condition. She said nothing till the young woman was well, and thenshe taxed her with it. 

Mary denied it plump; but, seeing her mistress's disgust at thefalsehood, she owned it with many tears. 

Being asked how she could so far forget herself, she told Lady Bassettshe had long been courted by a respectable young man; he had come tothe village, bound on a three years' voyage, to bid her good-by, and, what with love and grief at parting, they had been betrayed into folly;and now he was on the salt seas, little dreaming in what condition hehad left her: "and, " said she, "before ever he can write to me, and Ito him, I shall be a ruined girl; that is why I wanted to put an end tomyself; I _will, _ too, unless I can find some way to hide it from theworld. "

Lady Bassett begged her to give up those desperate thoughts; she wouldthink what could be done for her. Lady Bassett could say no more to herjust then, for she was disgusted with her. 

But when she came to reflect that, after all, this was not a lady, andthat she appeared by her own account to be the victim of affection andfrailty rather than of vice, she made some excuses; and then the girlhad laid aside her trouble, her despair, and given her sorrowful mindto nursing and comforting Sir Charles. This would have outweighed acrime, and it made the wife's bowels yearn over the unfortunate girl. "Mary, " said she, "others must judge you; I am a wife, and can only seeyour fidelity to my poor husband. I don't know what I shall do withoutyou, but I think it is my duty to send you to him if possible. You aresure he really loves you?"

"Me cross the seas after a young man?" said Mary Wells. "I'd as lievehang myself on the nighest tree and make an end. No, my lady, if youare really my friend, let me stay here as long as I can--I will nevergo downstairs to be seen--and then give me money enough to get mytrouble over unbeknown to my sister; she is all my fear. She is marriedto a gentleman, and got plenty of money, and I shall never want whileshe lives, and behave myself; but she would never forgive me if sheknew. She is a hard woman; she is not like you, my lady. I'd liever cutmy hand off than I'd trust her as I would you. "

Lady Bassett was not quite insensible to this compliment; but she feltuneasy. 

"What, help you to deceive your sister?"

"For her good. Why, if any one was to go and tell her about me now, she'd hate them for telling her almost as much as she would hate me. "

Lady Bassett was sore perplexed. Unable to see quite clear in thematter, she naturally reverted to her husband and his interest. Thatdictated her course. She said, "Well, stay with us, Mary, as long asyou can; and then money shall not be wanting to hide your shame fromall the world; but I hope when the time comes you will alter your mindand tell your sister. May I ask what her name is?"

Mary, after a moment's hesitation, said her name was Marsh. 

"I know a Mrs. Marsh, " said Lady Bassett; "but, of course, that is notyour sister. My Mrs. Marsh is rather fair. "

"So is my sister, for that matter. "

"And tall?"

"Yes; but you never saw her. You'd never forget her it you had. She hasgot eyes like a lion. "

"Ah! Does she ride?"

"Oh, she is famous for that; and driving, and all. "

"Indeed! But no; I see no resemblance. "

"Oh, she is only my half-sister. "

"This is very strange. "

Lady Bassett put her hand to her brow, and thought. 

"Mary, " said she, "all this is very mysterious. We are wading in deepwaters. "

Mary Wells had no idea what she meant. 

The day was not over yet. Just before dinner-time a fly from thestation drove to the door, and Mr. Oldfield got out. 

He was detained in the hall by sentinel Moss. 

Lady Bassett came down to him. At the very sight of him she trembled, and said, "Richard Bassett?"

"Yes, " said Mr. Oldfield, "he is in the field again. He has been to theCourt of Chancery _ex parte, _ and obtained an injunction _ad interim_to stay waste. Not another tree must be cut down on the estate for thepresent. "

"Thank Heaven it is no worse than that. Not another tree shall befelled on the grounds. "

"Of course not. But they will not stop there. If we do not move todissolve the injunction, I fear they will go on and ask the Court toadminister the estate, with a view to all interests concerned, especially those of the heir at law and his son. "

"What, while my husband lives?"

"If they can prove him dead in law. "

"I don't understand you, Mr. Oldfield. "

"They have got affidavits of two medical men that he is insane. "

Lady Bassett uttered a faint scream, and put her hand to her heart. 

"And, of course, they will use that extraordinary fall of timber as afurther proof, and also as a reason why the Court should interfere toprotect the heir at law. Their case is well got up and very strong, "said Mr. Oldfield, regretfully. 

"Well, but you are a lawyer, and you have always beaten them hitherto. "

"I had law and fact on my side. It is not so now. To be frank, LadyBassett, I don't see what I can do but watch the case, on the chance ofsome error or illegality. It is very hard to fight a case when youcannot put your client forward--and I suppose that would not be safe. How unfortunate that you have no children!"

"Children! How could they help us?"

"What a question! How could Richard Bassett move the Court if he wasnot the heir at law?"

After a long conference Mr. Oldfield returned to town to see what hecould do in the way of procrastination, and Lady Bassett promised toleave no stone unturned to cure Sir Charles in the meantime. Mr. Oldfield was to write immediately if any fresh step was taken. 

When Mr. Oldfield was gone, Lady Bassett pondered every word he hadsaid, and, mild as she was, her rage began to rise against herhusband's relentless enemy. Her wits worked, her eyes roved in thatpeculiar half-savage way I have described. She became intolerablyrestless; and any one acquainted with her sex might see that somestrange conflict was going on in her troubled mind. 

Every now and then she would come and cling to her husband, and cryover him; and that seemed to still the tumult of her soul a little. 

She never slept all that night, and next day, clinging in her helplessagony to the nearest branch, she told Mary Wells what Bassett wasdoing, and said, "What shall I do? He is not mad; but he is in so veryprecarious a state that, if they get at him to torment him, they willdrive him mad indeed. "

"My lady, " said Mary Wells, "I can't go from my word. 'Tis no use inmaking two bites of a cherry. We must cure him: and if we don't, you'llnever rue it but once, and that will be all your life. "

"I should look on myself with horror afterward were I to deceive himnow. "

"No, my lady, you are too fond of him for that. Once you saw him happyyou'd be happy too, no matter how it came about. That Richard Bassettwill turn him out of this else. I am sure he will; he is a hard-heartedvillain. "

Lady Bassett's eyes flashed fire; then her eyes roved; then she sigheddeeply. 

Her powers of resistance were beginning to relax. As for Mary Wells, she gave her no peace; she kept instilling her mind into her mistress'swith the pertinacity of a small but ever-dripping fount, and we knowboth by science and poetry that small, incessant drops of water willwear a hole in marble. 

"Gutta cavat lapidem non vi sed saepe cadendo. "

And in the midst of all a letter came from Mr. Oldfield, to tell herthat Mr. Bassett threatened to take out a commission _de lunatico, _ andshe must prepare Sir Charles for an examination; for, if reportedinsane, the Court would administer the estates; but the heir at law, Mr. Bassett, would have the ear of the Court and the right ofapplication, and become virtually master of Huntercombe and Bassett;and, perhaps, considering the spirit by which he was animated, wouldcontrive to occupy the very Hall itself. Lady Bassett was in thedressing-room when she received this blow, and it drove her almostfrantic. She bemoaned her husband; she prayed God to take them both, and let their enemy have his will. She wept and raved, and at theheight of her distress came from the other room a feeble cry, "Childless! childless! childless!"

Lady Bassett heard that, and in one moment, from violent she becameunnaturally and dangerously calm. She said firmly to Mary Wells, "Thisis more than I can bear. You pretend you can save him--do it. "

Mary Wells now trembled in her turn; but she seized the opportunity. "My lady, whatever I say you'll stand to?"

"Whatever you say I'll stand to. "

CHAPTER XVIII. 

MARY WELLS, like other uneducated women, was not accustomed to thinklong and earnestly on any one subject; to use an expression she onceapplied with far less justice to her sister, her mind was like runningwater. 

But gestation affects the brains of such women, and makes them thinkmore steadily, and sometimes very acutely; added to which, the peculiardangers and difficulties that beset this girl during that anxiousperiod stimulated her wits to the very utmost. Often she sat quitestill for hours at a time, brooding and brooding, and asking herselfhow she could turn each new and unexpected event to her own benefit. Now so much does mental force depend on that exercise of keen and longattention, in which her sex is generally deficient, that this youngwoman's powers were more than doubled since the day she firstdiscovered her condition, and began to work her brains night and dayfor her defense. 

Gradually, as events I have related unfolded themselves, she caught aglimpse of this idea, that if she could get her mistress to have asecret, her mistress would help her to keep her own. Hence herinsidious whispers, and her constant praises of Mr. Angelo, who, shesaw, was infatuated with Lady Bassett. Yet the designing creature wasactually fond of her mistress: and so strangely compounded is a heartof this low kind that the extraordinary step she now took was halfaffectionate impulse, half egotistical design. 

She made a motion with her hand inviting Lady Bassett to listen, andstepped into Sir Charles's room. 

"Childless! childless! childless!"

"Hush, sir, " said Mary Wells. "Don't say so. We shan't be many mouthswithout one, please Heaven. "

Sir Charles shook his head sadly. 

"Don't you believe me?"

"No. "

"What, did ever I tell you a lie?"

"No: but you are mistaken. She would have told me. "

"Well, sir, my lady is young and shy, and I think she is afraid ofdisappointing you after all; for you know, sir, there's many a slip'twixt the cup and the lip. But 'tis as I tell you, sir. "

Sir Charles was much agitated, and said he would give her a hundredguineas if that was true. "Where is my darling wife? Why do I hear thisthrough a servant?"

Mary Wells cast a look at the door, and said, for Lady Bassett to hear, "She is receiving company. Now, sir, I have told you good news; willyou do something to oblige me? You shouldn't speak of it direct to mylady just yet; and if you want all to go well, you mustn't vex my ladyas you are doing now. What I mean, you mustn't be so downhearted--there's no reason for't--and you mustn't coop yourself up on thisfloor: it sets the folks talking, and worries my lady. You should giveher every chance, being the way she is. "

Sir Charles said eagerly he would not vex her for the world. "I'll walkin the garden, " said he; "but as for going abroad, you know I am not ina fit condition yet; my mind is clouded. "

"Not as I see. "

"Oh, not always. But sometimes a cloud seems to get into my head; andif I was in public I might do or say something discreditable. I wouldrather die. "

"La, sir!" said Mary Wells, in a broad, hearty way--"a cloud in yourhead! You've had a bad fall, and a fit at top on't, and no wonder yourpoor head do ache at times. You'll outgrow that--if you take the airand give over fretting about the t'other thing. I tell you you'll hearthe music of a child's voice and little feet a-pattering up and downthis here corridor before so very long--if so be you take my advice, and leave off fretting my lady with fretting of yourself. You shouldconsider: she is too fond of you to be well when you be ill. "

"I'll get well for her sake, " said Sir Charles, firmly. 

At this moment there was a knock at the door. Mary Wells opened it sothat the servant could see nothing. 

"Mr. Angelo has called. "

"My lady will be down directly. "

Mary Wells then slipped into the dressing-room, and found Lady Bassettlooking pale and wild. She had heard every word. 

"There, he is better already, " said Mary Wells. "He shall walk in thegarden with you this afternoon. "

"What have you done? I can't look him in the face now. Suppose hespeaks to me?"

"He will not. I'll manage that. You won't have to say a word. Onlylisten to what I say, and don't make a liar of me. He is betteralready. "

"How will this end?" cried Lady Bassett, helplessly. "What shall I do?"

"You must go downstairs, and not come here for an hour at least, oryou'll spoil my work. Mr. Angelo is in the drawing-room. "

"I will go to him. "

Lady Bassett slipped out by the other door, and it was three hours, instead of one, before she returned. 

For the first time in her life she was afraid to face her husband. 

CHAPTER XIX. 

MEANTIME Mary Wells had a long conversation with her master; and afterthat she retired into the adjoining room, and sat down to sewbaby-linen clandestinely. 

After a considerable tune Lady Bassett came in, and, sinking into achair, covered her face with her hands. She had her bonnet on. 

Mary Wells looked at her with black eyes that flashed triumph. 

After so surveying her for some time she said: "I have been at himagain, and there's a change for the better already. He is not the sameman. You go and see else. "

Lady Bassett now obeyed her servant: she rose and crept like a culpritinto Sir Charles's room. She found him clean shaved, dressed toperfection, and looking more cheerful than she had seen him for many along day. "Ah, Bella, " said he, "you have your bonnet on; let us have awalk in the garden. "

Lady Bassett opened her eyes and consented eagerly, though she was verytired. 

They walked together; and Sir Charles, being a man that never broke hisword, put no direct question to Lady Bassett, but spoke cheerfully ofthe future, and told her she was his hope and his all; she would bafflehis enemy, and cheer his desolate hearth. 

She blushed, and looked confused and distressed; then he smiled, andtalked of indifferent matters, until a pain in his head stopped him;then he became confused, and, putting his hand piteously to his head, proposed to retire at once to his own room. 

Lady Bassett brought him in, and he reposed in silence on the sofa. 

The next day, and, indeed, many days afterward, presented similarfeatures. 

Mary Wells talked to her master of the bright days to come, of the joythat would fill the house if all went well, and of the defeat in storefor Richard Bassett. She spoke of this man with strange virulence; said"she would think no more of sticking a knife into him than of eatingher dinner;" and in saying this she showed the white of her eye in amanner truly savage and vindictive. 

To hurt the same person is a surer bond than to love the same person;and this sentiment of Mary Wells, coupled with her uniform kindness tohimself, gave her great influence with Sir Charles in his presentweakened condition. Moreover, the young woman had an oily, persuasivetongue; and she who persuades us is stronger than he who convinces us. 

Thus influenced, Sir Charles walked every day in the garden with hiswife, and forbore all direct allusion to her condition, though hisconversation was redolent of it. 

He was still subject to sudden collapses of the intellect; but hebecame conscious when they were coming on; and at the first warning hewould insist on burying himself in his room. 

After some days he consented to take short drives with Lady Bassett inthe open carriage. This made her very joyful. Sir Charles refused toenter a single house, so high was his pride and so great his terrorlest he should expose himself; but it was a great point gained that shecould take him about the county, and show him in the character of amere invalid. 

Every thing now looked like a cure, slow, perhaps, but progressive; andLady Bassett had her joyful hours, yet not without a bitter alloy: herdivining mind asked itself what she should say and do when Sir Charlesshould be quite recovered. This thought tormented her, and sometimes sogoaded her that she hated Mary Wells for her well-meant interference, and, by a natural recoil from the familiarity circumstances had forcedon her, treated that young woman with great coldness and hauteur. 

The artful girl met this with extreme meekness and servility; the onlyreply she ever hazarded was an adroit one; she would take thisopportunity to say, "How much better master do get ever since I took inhand to cure him!"

This oblique retort seldom failed. Lady Bassett would look at herhusband, and her face would clear; and she would generally end bygiving Mary a collar, or a scarf, or something. 

Thus did circumstances enable the lower nature to play with the higher. Lady Bassett's struggles were like those of a bird in a silken net;they led to nothing. When it came to the point she could neither do norsay any thing to retard his cure. Any day the Court of Chancery, set inmotion by Richard Bassett, might issue a commission _de lunatico, _ and, if Sir Charles was not cured by that time, Richard Bassett wouldvirtually administer the estate--so Mr. Oldfield had told her--andthat, she felt sure, would drive Sir Charles mad for life. 

So there was no help for it. She feared, she writhed, she hatedherself; but Sir Charles got better daily, and so she let herself driftalong. 

Mary Wells made it fatally easy to her. She was the agent. Lady Bassettwas silent and passive. 

After all she had a hope of extrication. Sir Charles once cured, shewould make him travel Europe with her. Money would relieve her of MaryWells, and distance cut all the other cords. 

And, indeed, a time came when she looked back on her present situationwith wonder at the distress it had caused her. "I was in shallow waterthen, " said she--"but now!"

CHAPTER XX. 

SIR CHARLES observed that he was never trusted alone. He remarked this, and inquired, with a peculiar eye, why that was. 

Lady Bassett had the tact to put on an innocent look and smile, andsay: "That is true, dearest. I _have_ tied you to my apron-stringwithout mercy. But it serves you right for having fits and frighteningme. You get well, and my tyranny will cease at once. "

However, after this she often left him alone in the garden, to removefrom his mind the notion that he was under restraint from her. 

Mr. Bassett observed this proceeding from his tower. 

One day Mr. Angelo called, and Lady Bassett left Sir Charles in thegarden, to go and speak to him. 

She had not been gone many minutes when a boy ran to Sir Charles, andsaid, "Oh, sir, please come to the gate; the lady has had a fall, andhurt herself. "

Sir Charles, much alarmed, followed the boy, who took him to a sidegate opening on the high-road. Sir Charles rushed through this, and waspassing between two stout fellows that stood one on each side the gate, when they seized him, and lifted him in a moment into a close carriagethat was waiting on the spot. He struggled, and cried loudly forassistance; but they bundled him in and sprang in after him; a thirdman closed the door, and got up by the side of the coachman. He droveoff, avoiding the village, soon got upon a broad road, and bowled alongat a great rate, the carriage being light, and drawn by two powerfulhorses. 

So cleverly and rapidly was it done that, but for a woman's quick ear, the deed might not have been discovered for hours; but Mary Wells heardthe cry for help through an open window, recognized Sir Charles'svoice, and ran screaming downstairs to Lady Bassett: she ran wildlyout, with Mr. Angelo, to look for Sir Charles. He was nowhere to befound. Then she ordered every horse in the stables to be saddled; andshe ran with Mary to the place where the cry had been heard. 

For some time no intelligence whatever could be gleaned; but at last anold man was found who said he had heard somebody cry out, and soonafter that a carriage had come tearing by him, and gone round thecorner: but this direction was of little value, on account of the manyroads, any one of which it might have taken. 

However, it left no doubt that Sir Charles had been taken away from theplace by force. 

Terror-stricken, and pale as death, Lady Bassett never lost her headfor a moment. Indeed, she showed unexpected fire; she sent off coachmanand grooms to scour the country and rouse the gentry to help her; shegave them money, and told them not to come back till they had found SirCharles. 

Mr. Angelo said, eagerly, "I'll go to the nearest magistrate, and wewill arrest Richard Bassett on suspicion. "

"God bless you, dear friend!" sobbed Lady Bassett. "Oh, yes, it is hisdoing--murderer!"

Off went Mr. Angelo on his errand. 

He was hardly gone when a man was seen running and shouting across thefields. Lady Bassett went to meet him, surrounded by her humblesympathizers. It was young Drake: he came up panting, with adouble-barreled gun in his hand (for he was allowed to shoot rabbits onhis own little farm), and stammered out, "Oh, my lady--SirCharles--they have carried him off against his will!"

"Who? Where? Did you see him?"

"Ay, and heerd him and all. I was ferreting rabbits by the side of theturnpike-road yonder, and a carriage came tearing along, and SirCharles put out his head and cried to me, ' Drake, they are kidnappingme. Shoot!' But they pulled him back out of sight. "

"Oh, my poor husband! And did you let them? Oh!"

"Couldn't catch 'em, my lady: so I did as I was bid; got to my gun asquick as ever I could, and gave the coachman both barrels hot. "

"What, kill him?"

"Lord, no; 'twas sixty yards off; but made him holler and squeak a goodun. Put thirty or forty shots into his back, I know. "

"Give me your hand, Mr. Drake. I'll never forget that shot. " Then shebegan to cry. 

"Doant ye, my lady, doant ye, " said the honest fellow, and was withinan ace of blubbering for sympathy. "We ain't a lot o' babies, to seeour squire kidnaped. If you would lend Abel Moss there and me a coupleo' nags, we'll catch them yet, my lady. "

"That we will, " cried Abel. "You take me where you fired that shot, andwe'll follow the fresh wheel-tracks. They can't beat us while they keepto a road. "

The two men were soon mounted, and in pursuit, amid the cheers of thenow excited villagers. But still the perpetrators of the outrage hadmore than an hour's start; and an hour was twelve miles. 

And now Lady Bassett, who had borne up so bravely, was seized with adeadly faintness, and supported into the house. 

All this spread like wild-fire, and roused the villagers, and they musthave a hand in it. Parson had said Mr. Bassett was to blame; and thatpassed from one to another, and so fermented that, in the evening, acrowd collected round Highmore House and demanded Mr. Bassett. 

The servants were alarmed, and said he was not at home. 

Then the men demanded boisterously what he had done with Sir Charles, and threatened to break the windows unless they were told; and, asnobody in the house could tell them, the women egged on the men, andthey did break the windows; but they no sooner saw their own work thanthey were a little alarmed at it, and retired, talking very loud tosupport their waning courage and check their rising remorse at theirdeed. 

They left a house full of holes and screams, and poor little Mrs. Bassett half dead with fright. 

As for Lady Bassett, she spent a horrible night of terror, suspense, and agony. She could not lie down, nor even sit still; she walkedincessantly, wringing her hands, and groaning for news. 

Mary Wells did all she could to comfort her; but it was a situationbeyond the power of words to alleviate. 

Her intolerable suspense lasted till four o'clock in the morning; andthen, in the still night, horses' feet came clattering up to the door. 

Lady Bassett went into the hall. It was dimly lighted by a single lamp. The great door was opened, and in clattered Moss and Drake, splashedand weary and downcast. 

"Well?" cried Lady Bassett, clasping her hands. 

"My lady, " said Moss, "we tracked the carriage into the next county, toa place thirty miles from here--to a lodge--and there they stopped us. The place is well guarded with men and great big dogs. We heerd 'embark, didn't us, Will?"

"Ay, " said Drake, dejectedly. 

"The man as kept the lodge was short, but civil. Says he, 'This is aplace nobody comes in but by law, and nobody goes out but by law. Ifthe gentleman is here you may go home and sleep; he is safe enough. '"

"A prison? No!"

"A 'sylum, my lady. "

CHAPTER XXI. 

THE lady put her hand to her heart, and was silent a long time. 

At last she said, doggedly but faintly, "You will go with me to thatplace to-morrow, one of you. "

"I'll go, my lady, " said Moss. "Will, here, had better not show hisface. They might take the law on him for that there shot. "

Drake hung his head, and his ardor was evidently cooled by discoveringthat Sir Charles had been taken to a mad-house. 

Lady Bassett saw and sighed, and said she would take Moss to show herthe way. 

At eleven o'clock next morning a light carriage and pair came round tothe Hall gate, and a large basket, a portmanteau, and a bag were placedon the roof under care of Moss; smaller packages were put inside; andLady Bassett and her maid got in, both dressed in black. 

They reached Bellevue House at half-past two. The lodge-gate was open, to Lady Bassett's surprise, and they drove through some pleasantgrounds to a large white house. 

The place at first sight had no distinctive character: great ingenuityhad been used to secure the inmates without seeming to incarceratethem. There were no bars to the lower front windows, and the sidewindows, with their defenses, were shrouded by shrubs. The sentinelswere out of sight, or employed on some occupation or other, but withincall. Some patients were playing at cricket; some ladies looking on;others strolling on the gravel with a nurse, dressed very much likethemselves, who did not obtrude her functions unnecessarily. All wasapparent indifference, and Argus-eyed vigilance. So much for thesurface. 

Of course, even at this moment, some of the locked rooms had violentand miserable inmates. 

The hall door opened as the carriage drew up; a respectable servantcame forward. 

Lady Bassett handed him her card, and said, "I am come to see myhusband, sir. "

The man never moved a muscle, but said, "You must wait, if you please, till I take your card in. "

He soon returned, and said, "Dr. Suaby is not here, but the gentlemanin charge will see you. "

Lady Bassett got out, and, beckoning Mary Wells, followed the servantinto a curious room, half library, half chemist's shop; they called it"the laboratory. "

Here she found a tall man leaning on a dirty mantelpiece, who receivedher stiffly. He had a pale mustache, very thin lips, and altogether asevere manner. His head bald, rather prematurely, and whiskersabundant. 

Lady Bassett looked him all over with one glance of her woman's eye, and saw she had a hard and vain man to deal with. 

"Are you the gentleman to whom this house belongs?" she faltered. 

"No, madam; I am in charge during Dr. Suaby's absence. "

"That comes to the same thing. Sir, I am come to see my dear husband. "

"Have you an order?"

"An order, sir? I am his wife. "

Mr. Salter shrugged his shoulders a little, and said, "I have noauthority to let any visitor see a patient without an order from theperson by whose authority he is placed here, or else an order from thecommissioners. "

"But that cannot apply to his wife; to her who is one with him, forbetter for worse, in sickness or health. "

"It seems hard; but I have no discretion in the matter. The patientonly came yesterday--much excited. He is better to-day, and aninterview with you would excite him again. "

"Oh no! no! no! I can always soothe him. I will be so mild, so gentle. You can be present, and hear every word I say. I will only kiss him, and tell him who has done this, and to be brave, for his wife watchesover him; and, sir, I will beg him to be patient, and not blame you norany of the people here. "

"Very proper, very proper; but really this interview must be postponedtill you have an order, or Dr. Suaby returns. He can violate his ownrules if he likes; but I cannot, and, indeed, I dare not. "

"Dare not let a lady see her husband? Then you are not a man. Oh, canthis be England? It is too inhuman. "

Then she began to cry and wring her hands. 

"This is very painful, " said Mr. Salter, and left the room. 

The respectable servant looked in soon after, and Lady Bassett toldhim, between her sobs, that she had brought some clothes and things forher husband. "Surely, sir, " said she, "they will not refuse me that?"

"Lord, no, ma'am, " said the man. "You can give them to the keeper andnurse in charge of him. "

Lady Bassett slipped a guinea into the man's hand directly. "Let me seethose people, " said she. 

The man winked, and vanished: he soon reappeared, and said, loudly, "Now, madam, if you will order the things into the hall. "

Lady Bassett came out and gave the order. 

A short, bull-necked man, and rather a pretty young woman with aflaunting cap, bestirred themselves getting down the things; and Mr. Salter came out and looked on. 

Lady Bassett called Mary Wells, and gave her a five-pound note to slipinto the man's hand. She telegraphed the girl, who instantly came nearher with an India rubber bath, and, affecting ignorance, asked her whatthat was. 

Lady Bassett dropped three sovereigns into the bath, and said, "Tentimes, twenty times that, if you are kind to him. Tell him it is hiscousin's doing, but his wife watches over him. "

"All right, " said the girl. "Come again when the doctor is here. "

All this passed, in swift whispers, a few yards from Mr. Salter, and henow came forward and offered his arm to conduct Lady Bassett to thecarriage. 

But the wretched, heart-broken wife forgot her art of pleasing. Sheshrank from him with a faint cry of aversion, and got into her carriageunaided. Mary Wells followed her. 

Mr. Salter was unwilling to receive this rebuff. He followed, and said, "The clothes shall be given, with any message you may think fit tointrust to me. "

Lady Bassett turned away sharply from him, and said to Mary Wells, "Tell him to drive home. Home! I have none now. Its light is torn fromme. "

The carriage drove away as she uttered these piteous words. 

She cried at intervals all the way home; and could hardly drag herselfupstairs to bed. 

Mr. Angelo called next day with bad news. Not a magistrate would move afinger against Mr. Bassett: he had the law on his side. Sir Charles wasevidently insane; it was quite proper he should be put in securitybefore he did some mischief to himself or Lady Bassett. "They say, whywas he hidden for two months, if there was not something very wrong?"

Lady Bassett ordered the carriage and paid several calls, to counteractthis fatal impression. 

She found, to her horror, she might as well try to move a rock. Therewas plenty of kindness and pity; but the moment she began to assurethem her husband was not insane she was met with the dead silence ofpolite incredulity. One or two old friends went further, and said, "Mydear, we are told he could not be taken away without two doctors'certificates: now, consider, they must know better than you. Havepatience, and let them cure him. "

Lady Bassett withdrew her friendship on the spot from two ladies forcontradicting her on such a subject; she returned home almost wildherself. 

In the village her carriage was stopped by a woman with her hair allflying, who told her, in a lamentable voice, that Squire Bassett hadsent nine men to prison for taking Sir Charles's part and ill-treatinghis captors. 

"My lawyer shall defend them at my expense, " said Lady Bassett, with asigh. 

At last she got home, and went up to her own room, and there was MaryWells waiting to dress her. 

She tottered in, and sank into a chair. But, after this temporaryexhaustion, came a rising tempest of passion; her eyes roved, herfingers worked, and her heart seemed to come out of her in words offire. "I have not a friend in all the county. That villain has only tosay 'Mad, ' and all turn from me, as if an angel of truth had said'Criminal. ' We have no friend but one, and she is my servant. Now goand envy wealth and titles. No wife in this parish is so poor as I;powerless in the folds of a serpent. I can't see my husband without anorder from _him. _ He is all power, I and mine all weakness. " She raisedher clinched fists, she clutched her beautiful hair as if she wouldtear it out by the roots. "I shall, go mad! I shall go mad! No!" saidshe, all of a sudden. "That will not do. That is what he wants--andthen my darling _would_ be defenseless. I will not go mad. " Thensuddenly grinding her white teeth: "I'll teach him to drive a lady todespair. I'll fight. "

She descended, almost without a break, from the fury of a Pythoness toa strange calm. Oh! then it is her sex are dangerous. 

"Don't look so pale, " said she, and she actually smiled. "All is fairagainst so foul a villain. You and I will defeat him. Dress me, Mary. "

Mary Wells, carried away by the unusual violence of a superior mind, was quite bewildered. 

Lady Bassett smiled a strange smile, and said, "I'll show you how todress me;" and she did give her a lesson that astonished her. 

"And now, " said Lady Bassett, "I shall dress you. " And she took a loosefull dress out of her wardrobe, and made Mary Wells put it on; butfirst she inserted some stuffing so adroitly that Mary seemed verybuxom, but what she wished to hide was hidden. Not so Lady Bassettherself. Her figure looked much rounder than in the last dress shewore. 

With all this she was late for dinner, and when she went down Mr. Angelo had just finished telling Mr. Oldfield of the mishap to thevillagers. 

Lady Bassett came in animated and beautiful. 

Dinner was announced directly, and a commonplace conversation kept uptill the servants were got rid of. She then told Mr. Oldfield how shehad been refused admittance to Sir Charles at Bellevue House, a plainproof, to her mind, they knew her husband was not insane; and beggedhim to act with energy, and get Sir Charles out before his reason couldbe permanently injured by the outrage and the horror of his situation. 

This led to a discussion, in which Mr. Angelo and Lady Bassett threwout various suggestions, and Mr. Oldfield cooled their ardor with soundobjections. He was familiar with the Statutes de Lunatico, and saidthey had been strictly observed both in the capture of Sir Charles andin Mr. Salter's refusal to let the wife see the husband. In short, heappeared either unable or unwilling to see anything except the stronglegal position of the adverse party. 

Mr. Oldfield was one of those prudent lawyers who search for theadversary's strong points, that their clients may not be taken bysurprise; and that is very wise of them. But wise things require to bedone wisely: he sometimes carried this system so far as to discouragehis client too much. It is a fine thing to make your client think hiscase the weaker of the two, and then win it for him easily; thatgratifies your own foible, professional vanity. But suppose, with yourdiscouraging him so, he flings up or compromises a winning case?Suppose he takes the huff and goes to some other lawyer, who will warmhim with hopes instead of cooling him with a one-sided and hostile viewof his case?

In the present discussion Mr. Oldfield's habit of beginning by admiringhis adversaries, together with his knowledge of law and little else, and his secret conviction that Sir Charles was unsound of mind, combined to paralyze him; and, not being a man of invention, he couldnot see his way out of the wood at all; he could negative Mr. Angelo'ssuggestions and give good reasons, but he could not, or did not, suggest anything better to be done. 

Lady Bassett listened to his negative wisdom with a bitter smile, andsaid, at last, with a sigh: "It seems, then, we are to sit quiet and donothing, while Mr. Bassett and his solicitor strike blow upon blow. There! I'll fight my own battle; and do you try and find some way ofdefending the poor souls that are in trouble because they did not sitwith their hands before them when their benefactor was outraged. Command my purse, if money will save them from prison. "

Then she rose with dignity, and walked like a camelopard all down theroom on the side opposite to Mr. Oldfield. Angelo flew to open thedoor, and in a whisper begged a word with her in private. She bowedascent, and passed on from the room. 

"What a fine creature!" said Mr. Oldfield. "How she walks!"

Mr. Angelo made no reply to this, but asked him what was to be done forthe poor men: "they will be up before the Bench to-morrow. "

Stung a little by Lady Bassett's remark, Mr. Oldfield answered, promptly, "We must get some tradesmen to bail them with our money. Itwill only be a few pounds apiece. If the bail is accepted, they shalloffer pecuniary compensation, and get up a defense; find somebody toswear Sir Charles was sane--that sort of evidence is always to be got. Counsel must do the rest. Simple natives--benefactor outraged--honestimpulse--regretted, the moment they understood the capture had beenlegally made. Then throw dirt on the plaintiff. He is malicious, andcan be proved to have forsworn himself in Bassett _v. _ Bassett. "

A tap at the door, and Mary Wells put in her head. "If you please, sir, my lady is tired, and she wishes to say a word to you before she goesupstairs. "

"Excuse me one minute, " said Mr. Angelo, and followed Mary Wells. Sheushered him into a boudoir, where he found Lady Bassett seated in anarmchair, with her head on her hand, and her eyes fixed sadly on thecarpet. 

She smiled faintly, and said, "Well, what do you wish to say to me?"

"It is about Mr. Oldfield. He is clearly incompetent. "

"I don't know. I snubbed him, poor man: but if the law is all againstus!"

"How does he know that? He assumes it because he is prejudiced in favorof the enemy. How does he _know_ they have done _everything_ the Act ofParliament requires? And, if they have, Law is not invincible. When Lawdefies Morality, it gets baffled, and trampled on in all civilizedcommunities. "

"I never heard that before. "

"But you would if you had been at Oxford, " said he, smiling. 

"Ah!"

"What we want is a man of genius, of invention; a man who will seeevery chance, take every chance, lawful or unlawful, and fight with allmanner of weapons. "

Lady Bassett's eye flashed a moment. "Ah!" said she; "but where can Ifind such a man, with knowledge to guide his zeal?"

"I think I know of a man who could at all events advise you, if youwould ask him. "

"Ah! Who?"

"He is a writer; and opinions vary as to his merit. Some say he hastalent; others say it is all eccentricity and affectation. One thing iscertain--his books bring about the changes he demands. And then he isin earnest; he has taken a good many alleged lunatics out ofconfinement. "

"Is it possible? Then let us apply to him at once. "

"He lives in London; but I have a friend who knows him. May I send anoutline to him through that friend, and ask him whether he can adviseyou in the matter?"

"You may; and thank you a thousand times!"

"A mind like that, with knowledge, zeal, and invention, must surelythrow some light. "

"One would think so, dear friend. "

"I'll write to-night and send a letter to Greatrex; we shall perhapsget an answer the day after to-morrow. "

"Ah! you are not the one to go to sleep in the service of a friend. Awriter, did you say? What does he write?"

"Fiction. "

"What, novels?"

"And dramas and all. "

Lady Bassett sighed incredulously. "I should never think of going toFiction for wisdom. "

"When the Family Calas were about to be executed unjustly, with theconsent of all the lawyers and statesmen in France, one man in a nationsaw the error, and fought for the innocent, and saved them; and thatone wise man in a nation of fools was a writer of fiction. "

"Oh! a learned Oxonian can always answer a poor ignorant thing like me. One swallow does not make summer, for all that. "

"But this writer's fictions are not like the novels you read; they areworks of laborious research. Besides, he is a lawyer, as well as anovelist. "

"Oh, if he is a lawyer!"

"Then I may write?"

"Yes, " said Lady Bassett, despondingly. 

"What is to become of Oldfield?"

"Send him to the drawing-room. I will go down and endure him foranother hour. You can write your letter here, and then please come andrelieve me of Mr. Negative. "

She rang, and ordered coffee and tea into the drawing-room; and Mr. Oldfield found her very cold company. 

In half an hour Mr. Angelo came down, looking flushed and veryhandsome; and Lady Bassett had some fresh tea made for him. 

This done she bade the gentlemen goodnight, and went to her room. Hereshe found Mary Wells full of curiosity to know whether the lawyer wouldget Sir Charles out of the asylum. 

Lady Bassett gave loose to her indignation, and said nothing was to beexpected from such a Nullity. "Mary, he could not see. I gave him everyopportunity. I walked slowly down the room before him after dinner; andI came into the drawing-room and moved about, and yet he could notsee. "

"Then you will have to tell him, that is all. "

"Never; no more shall you. I'll not trust my fate, and Sir Charles's, to a man that has no eyes. "

For this feminine reason she took a spite against poor Oldfield; but toMr. Angelo she suppressed the real reason, and entered into that ardentgentleman's grounds of discontent, though these alone would not haveentirely dissolved her respect for the family solicitor. 

Next afternoon Angelo came to her in great distress and ire. "Beaten!beaten! and all through our adversaries having more talent. Mr. Bassettdid not appear at first. Wheeler excused him on the ground that hiswife was seriously ill through the fright. Bassett's servants werecalled, and swore to the damage and to the men, all but one. He gotoff. Then Oldfield made a dry speech; and a tradesman he had preparedoffered bail. The magistrates were consulting, when in burst Mr. Bassett all in black, and made a speech fifty times stronger thanOldfield's, and sobbed, and told them the rioters had frightened hiswife so she had been prematurely confined, and the child was dead. Could they take bail for a riot, a dastardly attack by a mob of cowardson a poor defenseless woman, the gentlest and most inoffensive creaturein England? Then he went on: 'They were told I was not in the house;and then they found courage to fling stones, to terrify my wife andkill my child. Poor soul!' he said, 'she lies between life and deathherself: and I come here in an agony of fear, but I come for justice;the man of straw, who offers bail, is furnished with the money by thosewho stimulated the outrage. Defeat that fraud, and teach these cowardswho war on defenseless ladies that there is humanity and justice andlaw in the land. ' Then Oldfield tried to answer him with his hems andhis haws; but Bassett turned on him like a giant, and swept him away. "

"Poor woman!"

"Ah! that is true: I am afraid I have thought too little of her. Butyou suffer, and so must she. It is the most terrible feud; one wouldthink this was Corsica instead of England, only the fighting is notdone with daggers. But, after this, pray lean no more on that Oldfield. We were all carried away at first; but, now I think of it, Bassett musthave been in the court, and held back to make the climax. Oh, yes! itwas another surprise and another success. They are all sent to jail. Superior generalship! If Wheeler had been our man, we should have hadeight wives crying for pity, each with one child in her arms, andanother holding on to her apron. Do, pray, Lady Bassett, dismiss thatNullity. "

"Oh, I cannot do that; he is Sir Charles's lawyer; but I have promisedyou to seek advice elsewhere, and so I will. "

The conversation was interrupted by the tolling of the church-bell. 

The first note startled Lady Bassett, and she turned pale. 

"I must leave you, " said Angelo, regretfully. "I have to bury Mr. Bassett's little boy; he lived an hour. "

Lady Bassett sat and heard the bell toll. 

Strange, sad thoughts passed through her mind. "Is it saddest when ittolls, or when it rings--that bell? He has killed his own child byrobbing me of my husband. We are in the hands of God, after all, letWheeler be ever so cunning, and Oldfield ever so simple. --And I am notacting by that. --Where is my trust in God's justice?--Oh, thou oflittle faith!--What shall I do? Love is stronger in me thanfaith--stronger than anything in heaven or earth. God forgive me--Godhelp me--I will go back. 

"But oh, to stand still, and be good and simple, and to see my husbandtrampled on by a cunning villain!

"Why is there a future state, where everything is to be different? nohate; no injustice; all love. Why is it not all of a piece? Why beginwrong if it is to end all right? If I was omnipotent it should be rightfrom the first. --Oh, thou of little faith!--Ah, me! it is hard to seefools and devils, and realize angels unseen. Oh, that I could shut myeyes in faith and go to sleep, and drift on the right path; for I shallnever take it with my eyes open, and my heart bleeding for him. "

Then her head fell languidly back, her eyes closed, and the tearswelled through them: they knew the way by this time. 

CHAPTER XXII. 

NEXT morning in came Mr. Angelo, with glowing cheeks and sparklingeyes. 

"I have got a letter, a most gratifying one. My friend called on Mr. Rolfe, and gave him my lines; and he replies direct to me. May I readyou his letter?"

"Oh, yes. "

"'DEAR SIR--The case you have sent me, of a gentleman confined oncertificates by order of an interested relative--as you presume, foryou have not seen the order--and on grounds you think insufficient, isinteresting, and some of it looks true; but there are gaps in thestatement, and I dare not advise in so nice a matter till these arefilled; but that, I suspect, can only be done by the lady herself. Shehad better call on me in person; it may be worth her while. At homeevery day, 10--3, this week. As for yourself, you need not address methrough Greatrex. I have seen you pull No. 6, and afterward stroke inthe University boat, and you dived in Portsmouth Harbor, and saved asailor. See "Ryde Journal, " Aug. 10, p. 4, col. 3; cited in my Day-bookAug. 10, and also in my Index hominum, in voce "Angelo"--_ha! ha!here's a fellow for detail!_

"Yours very truly, "'ROLFE. '"

"And did you?"

"Did I what?"

"Dive and save a sailor. "

"No; I nailed him just as he was sinking. "

"How good and brave you are!"

Angelo blushed like a girl. "It makes me too happy to hear such wordsfrom you. But I vote we don't talk about me. Will you call on Mr. Rolfe?"

"Is he married?"

Angelo opened his eyes at the question. "I think not, " said he. "Indeed, I know he is not. "

"Could you get him down here?"

Angelo shook his head. "If he knew you, perhaps; but can you expect himto come here upon your business? These popular writers are spoiled bythe ladies. I doubt if he would walk across the street to advise astranger. Candidly, why should he?"

"No; and it was ridiculous vanity to suppose he would. But I nevercalled on a gentleman in my life. "

"Take me with you. You can go up at nine, and be back to a latedinner. "

"I shall never have the courage to go. Let me have his letter. "

He gave her the letter, and she took it away. 

At six o'clock she sent Mary Wells to Mr. Angelo, with a note to sayshe had studied Mr. Rolfe's letter, and there was more in it than shehad thought; but his going off from her husband to boat-racing seemedtrivial, and she could not make up her mind to go to London to consulta novelist on such a serious matter. 

At nine she sent to say she should go, but could not think of dragginghim there: she should take her maid. 

Before eleven, she half repented this resolution, but her maid kept herto it; and at half past twelve next day they reached Mr. Rolfe's door;an old-fashioned, mean-looking house, in one of the briskestthoroughfares of the metropolis; a cabstand opposite to the door, and atide of omnibuses passing it. 

Lady Bassett viewed the place discontentedly, and said to herself, "What a poky little place for a writer to live in; how noisy, howunpoetical!"

They knocked at the door. It was opened by a maid-servant. 

"Is Mr. Rolfe at home?"

"Yes, ma'am. Please give me your card, and write the business. "

Lady Bassett took out her card and wrote a line or two on the back ofit. The maid glanced at it, and showed her into a room, while she tookthe card to her master. 

The room was rather long, low, and nondescript; scarlet flock paper;curtains and sofas green Utrecht velvet; woodwork and pillars white andgold; two windows looking on the street; at the other end folding-doorswith scarcely any wood-work, all plate-glass, but partly hidden byheavy curtains of the same color and material as the others. Accustomedto large, lofty rooms, Lady Bassett felt herself in a long box here;but the colors pleased her. She said to Mary Wells, "What a funny, cozylittle place for a gentleman to live in!"

Mr. Rolfe was engaged with some one, and she was kept waiting; this wasquite new to her, and discouraged her, already intimidated by thenovelty of the situation. 

She tried to encourage herself by saying it was for her husband she didthis unusual thing; but she felt very miserable and inclined to cry. 

At last a bell rang; the maid came in and invited Lady Bassett tofollow her. She opened the glass folding-doors, and took them into asmall conservatory, walled like a grotto, with ferns sprouting out ofrocky fissures, and spars sparkling, water dripping. Then she openedtwo more glass folding-doors, and ushered them into an empty room, thelike of which Lady Bassett had never seen; it was large in itself, andmultiplied tenfold by great mirrors from floor to ceiling, with noframes but a narrow oak beading; opposite her, on entering, was abay-window all plate-glass, the central panes of which opened, likedoors, upon a pretty little garden that glowed with color, and wasbacked by fine trees belonging to the nation; for this garden ran up tothe wall of Hyde Park. 

The numerous and large mirrors all down to the ground laid hold of thegarden and the flowers, and by double and treble reflection filled theroom with delightful nooks of verdure and color. 

To confuse the eye still more, a quantity of young India-rubber trees, with glossy leaves, were placed before the large central mirror. Thecarpet was a warm velvet-pile, the walls were distempered, a Frenchgray, not cold, but with a tint of mauve that gave a warm and cheeringbloom; this soothing color gave great effect to the one or twomasterpieces of painting that hung on the walls and to the gilt frames;the furniture, oak and marqueterie highly polished; the curtains, scarlet merino, through which the sun shone, and, being a London sun, diffused a mild rosy tint favorable to female faces. Not a sound ofLondon could be heard. 

So far the room was romantic; but there was a prosaic corner to shockthose who fancy that fiction is the spontaneous overflow of a poeticfountain fed by nature only; between the fireplace and the window, andwithin a foot or two of the wall, stood a gigantic writing-table, withthe signs of hard labor on it, and of severe system. Three platedbuckets, each containing three pints, full of letters to be answered, other letters to be pasted into a classified guard-book, loose notes tobe pasted into various books and classified (for this writer used tosneer at the learned men who say, "I will look among my papers for it;"he held that every written scrap ought either to be burned, or pastedinto a classified guard-book, where it could be found by consulting theindex); five things like bankers' bill-books, into whose severalcompartments MS. Notes and newspaper cuttings were thrown, as apreliminary toward classification in books. 

Underneath the table was a formidable array of note-books, standingupright, and labeled on their backs. There were about twenty largefolios of classified facts, ideas, and pictures--for the very wood-cutswere all indexed and classified on the plan of a tradesman's ledger;there was also the receipt-book of the year, treated on the same plan. Receipts on a file would not do for this romantic creature. If atradesman brought a bill, he must be able to turn to that tradesman'sname in a book, and prove in a moment whether it had been paid or not. Then there was a collection of solid quartos, and of smaller folioguard-books called Indexes. There was "Index rerum et journalium"--"Index rerum et librorum, "--"Index rerum et hominum, " and a lot more;indeed, so many that, by way of climax, there was a fat folio ledgerentitled "Index ad Indices. "

By the side of the table were six or seven thick pasteboard cards, eachabout the size of a large portfolio, and on these the author's notesand extracts were collected from all his repertories into somethinglike a focus for a present purpose. He was writing a novel based onfacts; facts, incidents, living dialogue, pictures, reflections, situations, were all on these cards to choose from, and arranged inheaded columns; and some portions of the work he was writing on thisbasis of imagination and drudgery lay on the table in two forms, hisown writing, and his secretary's copy thereof, the latter corrected forthe press. This copy was half margin, and so provided for additions andimprovements; but for one addition there were ten excisions, great andsmall. Lady Bassett had just time to take in the beauty and artisticcharacter of the place, and to realize the appalling drudgery thatstamped it a workshop, when the author, who had dashed into his gardenfor a moment's recreation, came to the window, and furnished contrastNo. 3. For he looked neither like a poet nor a drudge, but a great fatcountry farmer. He was rather tall, very portly, smallish head, commonplace features mild brown eye not very bright, short beard, andwore a suit of tweed all one color. Such looked the writer of romancesfounded on fact. He rolled up to the window--for, if he looked like afarmer, he walked like a sailor--and stepped into the room. 

CHAPTER XXIII. 

MR. ROLFE surveyed the two women with a mild, inoffensive, ox-likegaze, and invited them to be seated with homely civility. 

He sat down at his desk, and turning to Lady Bassett, said, ratherdreamily, "One moment, please: let me look at the case and my notes. "

First his homely appearance, and now a certain languor about hismanner, discouraged Lady Bassett more than it need; for all artistsmust pay for their excitements with occasional languor. Her handstrembled, and she began to gulp and try not to cry. 

Mr. Rolfe observed directly, and said, rather kindly, "You areagitated; and no wonder. "

He then opened a sort of china closet, poured a few drops of acolorless liquid from a tiny bottle into a wine-glass, and filled theglass with water from a filter. "Drink that, if you please. "

She looked at him with her eyes brimming. _"Must_ I?"

"Yes; it will do you good for once in a way. It is only Ignatia. "

She drank it by degrees, and a tear along with it that fell into theglass. 

Meantime Mr. Rolfe had returned to his notes and examined them. He thenaddressed her, half stiffly, half kindly:

"Lady Bassett, whatever may be your husband's condition--whether hisillness is mental or bodily, or a mixture of the two--his clandestineexamination by bought physicians, and his violent capture, the naturaleffect of which must have been to excite him and retard his cure, werewicked and barbarous acts, contrary to God's law and the common law ofEngland, and, indeed, to all human law except our shallow, incautiousStatutes de Lunatico: they were an insult to yourself, who ought atleast to have been consulted, for your rights are higher and purer thanRichard Bassett's; therefore, as a wife bereaved of your husband byfraud and violence and the bare letter of a paltry statute whose spirithas been violated, you are quite justified in coming to me or to anypublic man you think can help your husband and you. " Then, with acertain _bonhomie, _ "So lay aside your nervousness; let us go into thismatter sensibly, like a big man and a little man, or like an old womanand a young woman, whichever you prefer. "

Lady Bassett looked at him and smiled assent. She felt a great dealmore at her ease after this opening. 

"I dare not advise you yet. I must know more than Mr. Angelo has toldme. Will you answer my questions frankly?"

"I will try, sir. "

"Whose idea was it confining Sir Charles Bassett to the house so much?"

"His own. He felt himself unfit for society. "

"Did he describe his ailment to you then?"

"Yes. "

"All the better; what did he say?"

"He said that, at times, a cloud seemed to come into his head, and thenhe lost all power of mind; and he could not bear to be seen in thatcondition. "

"This was after the epileptic seizure?"

"Yes, sir. "

"Humph! Now will you tell me how Mr. Bassett, by mere words, could soenrage Sir Charles as to give him a fit?"

Lady Bassett hesitated. 

"What did he say to Sir Charles?"

"He did not speak to him. His child and nurse were there, and he calledout loud, for Sir Charles to hear, and told the nurse to hold up hischild to look at his inheritance. "

"Malicious fool! But did this enrage Sir Charles so much as to give hima fit?"

"Yes. "

"He must be very sensitive. "

"On that subject. "

Mr. Rolfe was silent; and now, for the first time, appeared to thinkintently. 

His study bore fruit, apparently; for he turned to Lady Bassett andsaid, suddenly, "What is the strangest thing Sir Charles has said oflate--the very strangest?"

Lady Bassett turned red, and then pale, and made no reply. 

Mr. Rolfe rose and walked up to Mary Wells. 

"What is the maddest thing your master has ever said?"

Mary Wells, instead of replying, looked at her mistress. 

The writer instantly put his great body between them. "Come, none ofthat, " said he. "I don't want a falsehood--I want the truth. "

"La, sir, I don't know. My master he is not mad, I'm sure. The queerestthing he ever said was--he did say at one time 'twas writ on his faceas he had no children. "

"Ah! And that is why he would not go abroad, perhaps. "

"That was one reason, sir, I do suppose. " Mr. Rolfe put his handsbehind his back and walked thoughtfully and rather disconsolately backto his seat. 

"Humph!" said he. Then, after a pause, "Well, well; I know the worstnow; that is one comfort. Lady Bassett, you really must be candid withme. Consider: good advice is like a tight glove; it fits thecircumstances, and it does not fit other circumstances. No man advisesso badly on a false and partial statement as I do, for the very reasonthat my advice is a close fit. Even now I can't understand SirCharles's despair of having children of his own. "

The writer then turned his looks on the two women, with an entireabsence of expression; the sense of his eyes was turned inward, thoughthe orbs were directed toward his visitors. 

With this lack-luster gaze, and in the tone of thoughtful soliloquy, hesaid, "Has Sir Charles Bassett no eyes? and are there women so furtive, so secret, or so bashful, they do not tell their husbands?"

Lady Bassett turned with a scared look to Mary Wells, and that youngwoman showed her usual readiness. She actually came to Mr. Rolfe andhalf whispered to him, "If you please, sir, gentlemen are blind, and mylady she is very bashful; but Sir Charles knows it now; he have knownit a good while; and it was a great comfort to him; he was gettingbetter, sir, when the villains took him--ever so much better. "

This solution silenced Mr. Rolfe, though it did not quite satisfy him. He fastened on Mary Wells's last statement. "Now tell me: between theday when those two doctors got into his apartment and the day of hiscapture, how long?"

"About a fortnight. "

"And in that particular fortnight was there a marked improvement?"

"La, yes, sir; was there not, my lady?"

"Indeed there was, sir. He was beginning to take walks with me in thegarden, and rides in an open carriage. He was getting better every day;and oh, sir, that is what breaks my heart! I was curing my darling sofast, and now they will do all they can to destroy him. Their notletting his wife see him terrifies me. "

"I think I can explain that. Now tell me--what time do you expect--acertain event?"

Lady Bassett blushed and cast a hasty glance at the speaker; but he hada piece of paper before him, and was preparing to take down her reply, with the innocent face of a man who had asked a simple and necessaryquestion in the way of business. 

Then Lady Bassett looked at Mary Wells, and this look Mr. Rolfesurprised, because he himself looked up to see why the lady hesitated. 

After an expressive glance between the mistress and maid, the ladysaid, almost inaudibly, "More than three months;" and then she blushedall over. 

Mr. Rolfe looked at the two women a moment, and seemed a little puzzledat their telegraphing each other on such a subject; but he coolly noteddown Lady Bassett's reply on a card about the size of a foolscap sheet, and then set himself to write on the same card the other facts he hadelicited. 

While he was doing this very slowly, with great care and pains, thelady was eying him like a zoologist studying some new animal. Thesimplicity and straightforwardness of his last question won by degreesupon her judgment and reconciled her to her Inquisitor, the more so ashe was quiet but intense, and his whole soul in her case. She began torespect his simple straightforwardness, his civility without a grain ofgallantry, and his caution in eliciting all the facts before he wouldadvise. 

After he had written down his synopsis, looking all the time as if hislife depended on its correctness, he leaned back, and his ordinary butmobile countenance was transfigured into geniality. 

"Come, " said he, "grandmamma has pestered you with questions enough;now you retort--ask me anything--speak your mind: these things shouldbe attacked in every form, and sifted with every sieve. "

Lady Bassett hesitated a moment, but at last responded to thisinvitation. 

"Sir, one thing that discourages me cruelly--my solicitor seems soinferior to Mr. Bassett's. He can think of nothing but objections; andso he does nothing, and lets us be trampled on: it is his being unableto cope with Mr. Bassett's solicitor, Mr. Wheeler, that has led me inmy deep distress to trouble you, whom I had not the honor of knowing. "

"I understand your ladyship perfectly. Mr. Oldfield is a respectablesolicitor, and Wheeler is a sharp country practitioner; and--to use myfavorite Americanism--you feel like fighting with a blunt knife againsta sharp one. "

"That is my feeling, sir, and it drives me almost wild sometimes. "

"For your comfort, then, in my earlier litigations--I have had sixteenlawsuits for myself and other oppressed people--I had often that veryimpression; but the result always corrected it. Legal battles are likeother battles: first you have a skirmish or two, and then a greatbattle in court. Now sharp attorneys are very apt to win the skirmishand lose the battle. I see a general of this stamp in Mr. Wheeler, andyou need not fear him much. Of course an antagonist is never to bedespised; but I would rather have Wheeler against you than Oldfield. Anhonest man like Oldfield blunders into wisdom, the Lord knows how. YourWheelers seldom get beyond cunning; and cunning does not see far enoughto cope with men of real sagacity and forethought in matters socomplicated as this. Oldfield, acting for Bassett, would have pushedrapidly on to an examination by the court. You would have evaded it, and put yourself in the wrong; and the inquiry, well urged, might havebeen adverse to Sir Charles. Wheeler has taken a more cunning andviolent course--it strikes more terror, does more immediate harm; butwhat does it lead to? Very little; and it disarms them of theirsharpest weapon, the immediate inquiry; for we could now delay andgreatly prejudice an inquiry on the very ground of the outrage andunnecessary violence; and could demand time to get the patient as wellas he was before the outrage. And, indeed, the court is very jealous ofthose who begin by going to a judge, and then alter their minds, andtry to dispose of the case themselves. And to make matters worse, herethey do it by straining an Act of Parliament opposed to equity. "

"I wish it may prove so, sir; but, meantime, Mr. Wheeler is active, Mr. Oldfield is passive. He has not an idea. He is a mere negative. "

"Ah, that is because he is out of his groove. A smattering of law isnot enough here. It wants a smattering of human nature too. "

"Then, sir, would you advise me to part with Mr. Oldfield?"

"No. Why make an enemy? Besides, he is the vehicle of communicationwith the other side. You must simply ignore him for a time. "

"But is there nothing I can do, sir? for it is this cruel inactivitythat kills me. Pray advise me--you know all now. "

Mr. Rolfe, thus challenged, begged for a moment's delay. 

"Let us be silent a minute, " said he, "and think hard. "

And, to judge by his face, he did think with great intensity. 

"Lady Bassett, " said he, very gravely, "I assume that every fact youand Mr. Angelo have laid before me is true, and no vital part is keptback. Well, then, your present course is--Delay. Not the weak delay ofthose who procrastinate what cannot be avoided; but the wise delay of ageneral who can bring up overpowering forces, only give him time. Understand me, there is more than one game on the cards; but I preferthe surest. We could begin fighting openly to-morrow; but that would berisking too much for too little. The law's delay, the insolence ofoffice, the up-hill and thorny way, would hurt Sir Charles's mind atpresent. The apathy, the cruelty, the trickery, the routine, the hotand cold fits of hope and fear, would poison your blood, and perhapslose Sir Charles the heir he pines for. Besides, if we give battleto-day we fight the heir at law; but in three or four months we mayhave him on our side, and trustees appointed by you. By that time, too, Sir Charles will have got over that abominable capture, and be betterthan he was a week ago, constantly soothed and consoled--as he willbe--by the hope of offspring. When the right time comes, that moment westrike, and with a sledge-hammer. No letters to the commissioners then, no petitioning Chancery to send a jury into the asylum, stronghold ofprejudice. I will cut your husband in two. Don't be alarmed. I willmerely give him, with your help, an _alter ego, _ who shall effect hisliberation and ruin Richard Bassett--ruin him in damages and costs, anddrive him out of the country, perhaps. Meantime you are not to be a layfigure, or a mere negative. "

"Oh, sir, I am so glad of that!"

"Far from that: you will act defensively. Mr. Bassett has one chance;you must be the person to extinguish it. Injudicious treatment in theasylum might retard Sir Charles's cure; their leeches and theirsedatives, administered by sucking apothecaries, who reason it _apriori, _ instead of watching the effect of these things on the patient, might seriously injure your husband, for his disorder is connected witha weak circulation of blood in the vessels of the brain. We musttherefore guard against that at once. To work, then. Who keeps thisfamous asylum?"

"Dr. Suaby. "

"Suaby? I know that name. He has been here, I think. I must look in myIndex rerum et hominum. Suaby? Not down. Try Asyla. --Asyla; 'Suaby: seeletter-book for the year--, p. 368. ' An old letter-book. I must goelsewhere for that. "

He went out, and after some time returned with a folio letter-book. 

"Here are two letters to me from Dr. Suaby, detailing his system andinviting me to spend a week at his asylum. Come, come; Sir Charles iswith a man who does not fear inspection; for at this date I was bitteragainst private asylums--rather indiscriminately so, I fear. Stay! hevisited me; I thought so. Here's a description of him: 'A pale, thoughtful man, with a remarkably mild eye: is against restraint oflunatics, and against all punishment of them--Quixotically so. Beingcross-examined, declares that if a patient gave him a black eye hewould not let a keeper handle him roughly, being irresponsible. ' Nomore would I, if I could give him a good licking myself. Please studythese two letters closely; you may get a clew how to deal with theamiable writer in person. "

"Oh, thank you, Mr. Rolfe, " said Lady Bassett, flushing all over. Shewas so transported at having something to do. She quietly devoured theletters, and after she had read them said a load of fears was now takenoff her mind. 

Mr. Rolfe shook his head. "You must not rely on Dr. Suaby too much. Ina prison or an asylum each functionary is important in exact proportionto his nominal insignificance; and why? Because the greater his nominalunimportance the more he comes in actual contact with the patient. Thetheoretical scale runs thus: 1st. The presiding physician. 2d. Themedical subordinates. 3d. The keepers and nurses. The practical scaleruns thus: 1st. The keepers and nurses. 2d. The medical attendants. 3d. The presiding physician. "

"I am glad to hear you say so, sir; for when I went to the asylum, andthe medical attendant, Mr. Salter, would not let me see my husband. Igave his keeper and the nurse a little money to be kind to him in hisconfinement. "

"You did! Yet you come here for advice? This is the way: a mandiscourses and argues, and by profound reasoning--that is, by what hethinks profound, and it isn't--arrives at the right thing; and lo! awoman, with her understanding heart and her hard, good sense, goes anddoes that wise thing humbly, without a word. SURSUM CORDA!--_Cheer up, loving heart!"_ shouted he, like the roar of a lion in ecstasies; "youhave done a masterstroke--without Oldfield, or Rolfe, or any otherman. "

Lady Bassett clasped her hands with joy, and some electric fire seemedto run through her veins; for she was all sensibilities, and thissudden triumphant roaring out of strong words was quite new to her, andcarried her away. 

"Well, " said this eccentric personage, cooling quite as suddenly as hehad fired, "the only improvement I can suggest is, be a little moreprecise at your next visit. Promise his keepers twenty guineas apiecethe day Sir Charles is _cured;_ and promise them ten guineas apiece notto administer one drop of medicine for the next two months; and, ofcourse, no leech nor blister. The cursed sedatives they believe in aredestruction to Sir Charles Bassett. His circulation must not be madetoo slow one day, and too fast the next, which is the effect of asedative, but made regular by exercise and nourishing food. So, then, you will square the keepers by their cupidity; the doctor is on theright side _per se. _ Shall we rely on these two, and ignore the medicalattendants? No; why throw a chance away? What is the key to thesemedical attendants? Hum! Try flunkyism. I have great faith in Britishflunkyism. Pay your next visit with four horses, two outriders, andblazing liveries. Don't dress in perfect taste like _that;_ go in finerclothes than you ever wore in the morning, or ought to wear, except ata wedding; go not as a petitioner, but as a queen; and dazzle snobs;the which being dazzled, then tickle their vanity: don't speak of SirCharles as an injured man, nor as a man unsound in mind, but agentleman who is rather ill; 'but _now, _ gentlemen, I feel yourremarkable skill will soon set him right. ' Your husband runs that onerisk; make him safe: a few smiles and a little flattery will do it; andif not, why, fight with all a woman's weapons. Don't be too nice: wemust all hold a candle to the devil once in our lives. A wife's lovesanctifies a woman's arts in fighting with a villain and disarmingdonkeys. "

"Oh, I wish I was there now!"

"You are excited, madam, " said he, severely. "That is out of place--ina deliberative assembly. "

"No, no; only I want to be there, doing all this for my dear husband. "

"You are very excited; and it is my fault. You must be hungry too: youhave come a journey. There will be a reaction, and then you will behysterical. Your temperament is of that kind. "

He rang a bell and ordered his maid-servant to bring some beef-wafersand a pint of dry Champagne. 

Lady Bassett remonstrated, but he told her to be quiet; "for, " said he, "I have a smattering of medicine, as well as of law and of humannature. Sir Charles must correspond with you. Probably he has alreadywritten you six letters complaining of this monstrous act--a sane manincarcerated. Well, that class of letter goes into a letter-box in thehall of an asylum, but it never reaches its address. Please take a penand write a formula. " He dictated as follows:

"MY DEAR LOVE--The trifling illness I had when I came here is beginningto give way to the skill and attention of the medical gentlemen here. They are all most kind and attentive: the place, as it is conducted, isa credit to the country. "

Lady Bassett's eyes sparkled. "Oh, Mr. Rolfe, is not this ratherartful?"

"And is it not artful to put up a letter-box, encourage the writing ofletters, and then open them, and suppress whatever is disagreeable? Mayevery man who opens another man's letter find that letter a trap. Herecomes your medicine. You never drink champagne in the middle of theday, of course?"

"Oh, no. "

"Then it will be all the better medicine. "

He made both mistress and maid eat the thin slices of beef and drink aglass of champagne. 

While they were thus fortifying themselves he wrote his address on somestamped envelopes, and gave them to Lady Bassett, and told her she hadbetter write to him at once if anything occurred. "You must also writeto me if you really cannot get to see your husband. Then I will comedown myself, with the public press at my back. But I am sure that willnot be necessary in Dr. Suaby's asylum. He is a better Christian than Iam, confound him for it! You went too soon; your husband had beenagitated by the capture; Suaby was away; Salter had probably appliedwhat he imagined to be soothing remedies, leeches--a blister--morphia. Result, the patient was so much worse than he was before they touchedhim that Salter was ashamed to let you see him. Having really excitedhim, instead of soothing him, Sawbones Salter had to pretend that _you_would excite him. As if creation contained any mineral, drug simple, leech, Spanish fly, gadfly, or showerbath, so soothing as a loving wifeis to a man in affliction. New reading of an old song:

 'If the heart of a man is oppressed with cares, It makes him much worse when a woman appears. '

"Go to-morrow; you will see him. He will be worse than he was; but notmuch. Somebody will have told him that his wife put him in there--"

"Oh! oh!"

"And he won't have believed it. His father was a Bassett; his mother aLe Compton; his great-great-great-grandmother was a Rolfe: there is nocur's blood in him. After the first shock he will have found the spiritand dignity of a gentleman to sustain adversity: these men of fashionare like that; they are better steel than women--and writers. "

When he had said this he indicated by his manner that he thought he hadexhausted the subject, and himself. 

Lady Bassett rose and said, "Then, sir, I will take my leave; and oh! Iam sorry I have not your eloquent pen or your eloquent tongue to thankyou. You have interested yourself in a stranger--you have brought thepower of a great mind to bear on our distress. I came here a widow--nowI feel a wife again. Your good words have warmed my very heart. I canonly pray God to bless you, sir. "

"Pray say no more, madam, " said Mr. Rolfe, hastily. "A gentleman cannotbe always writing lies; an hour or two given to truth and justice is awholesome diversion. At all events, don't thank me till my advice hasproved worth it. "

He rang the bell; the servant came, and showed the way to the streetdoor. Mr. Rolfe followed them to the passage only, whence he bowedceremoniously once more to Lady Bassett as she went out. 

As she passed into the street she heard a fearful clatter. It was hercounselor tearing back to his interrupted novel like a distractedbullock. 

"Well, I don't think much of _he, "_ said Mary Wells. 

Lady Bassett was mute to that, and all the journey home very absorbedand taciturn, impregnated with ideas she could not have invented, butwas more able to execute than the inventor. She was absorbed indigesting Rolfe's every word, and fixing his map in her mind, andfilling in details to his outline; so small-talk stung her: she gaveher companion very short answers, especially when she disparaged Mr. Rolfe. 

"You couldn't get in a word edgeways, " said Mary Wells. 

"I went to hear wisdom, and not to chatter. "

"He doesn't think small beer of hisself, anyhow. "

"How _can_ he, and see other men?"

"Well. I don't think much of him, for my part. "

"I dare say the Queen of Sheba's lady's-maid thought Solomon a sillything. "

"I don't know; that was afore my time" (rather pertly). 

"Of course it was, or you couldn't imitate her. "

On reaching home she ordered a light dinner upstairs, and sentdirections to the coachman and grooms. 

At nine next morning the four-in-hand came round, and they started forthe asylum--coachman and two more in brave liveries; two outriders. 

Twenty miles from Huntercombe they changed the wheelers, two freshhorses having been sent on at night. 

They drove in at the lodge-gate of Bellevue House, which was leftostentatiously open, and soon drew up at the hall door, and set many apale face peeping from the upper windows. 

The door opened; the respectable servant came out with a respectfulair. 

"Is Mr. Salter at home, sir?"

"No, madam. Mr. Coyne is in charge to-day. "

Lady Bassett was glad to hear that, and asked if she might be allowedto see Mr. Coyne. 

"Certainly, madam. I'll tell him at once, " was the reply. 

Determined to enter the place, Lady Bassett requested her people toopen the carriage door, and she was in the act of getting out when Mr. Coyne appeared, a little oily, bustling man, with a good-humored, vulgar face, liable to a subservient pucker; he wore it directly atsight of a fine woman, fine clothes, fine footmen, and fine horses. 

"Mr. Coyne, I believe, " said Lady Bassett, with a fascinating smile. 

"At your service, madam. "

"May I have a word in private with you, sir?"

"Certainly, madam. "

"We have come a long way. May the horses be fed?"

"I am afraid, " said the little man, apologetically, "I must ask you tosend them to the inn. It is close by. "

"By all means. " (To one of the outriders:) "You will wait here fororders. "

Mary Wells had been already instructed to wait in the hall and look outsharp for Sir Charles's keeper and nurse, and tell them her ladyshipwanted to speak to them privately, and it would be money in their way. 

Lady Bassett, closeted with Mr. Coyne, began first to congratulateherself. "Mr. Bassett, " said she, "is no friend of mine, but he hasdone me a kindness in sending Sir Charles here, when he might have senthim to some place where he might have been made worse instead ofbetter. Here, I conclude, gentlemen of your ability will soon cure histrifling disorder, will you not?"

"I have good hopes, your ladyship; he is better to-day. "

"Now I dare say you could tell me to a month when he will be cured. "

"Oh, your ladyship exaggerates my skill too much. "

"Three months?"

"That is a short time to give us; but your ladyship may rely on it wewill do our best. "

"Will you? Then I have no fear of the result. Oh, by-the-by, Dr. Williswanted me to take a message to you, Mr. Coyne. He knows you byreputation. "

"Indeed! Really I was not aware that my humble--"

"Then you are better known than you in your modesty supposed. Let mesee: what was the message? Oh, it was a peculiarity in Sir Charles hewished you to know. Dr. Willis has attended him from a boy, and hewished me to tell you that morphia and other sedatives have some verybad effects on him. I told Dr. Willis you would probably find that andevery thing else out without a hint from him or any one else. "

"Yes; but I will make a note of it, for all that. "

"That is very kind of you. It will flatter the doctor, the more so ashe has so high an opinion of you. But now, Mr. Coyne, I suppose if I amvery good, and promise to soothe him, and not excite him, I may see myhusband to-day?"

"Certainly, madam. You have an order from the person who--"

"I forgot to bring it with me. I relied on your humanity. "

"That is unfortunate. I am afraid I must not--" He hesitated, lookedvery uncomfortable, and said he would consult Mr. Appleton; then, suddenly puckering his face into obsequiousness, "Would your ladyshiplike to inspect some of our arrangements for the comfort of ourpatients?"

Lady Bassett would have declined the proposal but for the singular playof countenance; she was herself all eye and mind, so she said, gravely, "I shall be very happy, sir. "

Mr. Coyne then led the way, and showed her a large sitting-room, wheresome ladies were seated at different occupations and amusements: theykept more apart from each other than ladies do in general; but this wasthe only sign a far more experienced observer than Lady Bassett couldhave discovered, the nurses having sprung from authoritative intounobtrusive positions at the sound of Mr. Coyne's footstep outside. 

"What!" said Lady Bassett; "are all these ladies--" She hesitated. 

"Every one, " said Mr. Coyne; "and some incurably. "

"Oh, please let us retire; I have no right to gratify my curiosity. Poor things! they don't seem unhappy. "

"Unhappy!" said Mr. Coyne. "We don't allow unhappiness here; our doctoris too fond of them; he is always contriving something to please them. "

At this moment Lady Bassett looked up and saw a woman watching her overthe rail of a corridor on the first floor. She recognized the facedirectly. The woman made her a rapid signal, and then disappeared intoone of the rooms. 

"Would there be any objection to our going upstairs, Mr. Coyne?" saidLady Bassett, with a calm voice and a heart thumping violently. 

"Oh, none whatever. I'll conduct you; but then, I am afraid I mustleave you for a time. "

He showed her upstairs, blew a whistle, handed her over to anattendant, and bowed and smiled himself away grotesquely. 

Jones was the very keeper she had feed last visit. She flushed with joyat sight of bull-necked, burly Jones. "Oh, Mr. Jones!" said she, putting her hands together with a look that might have melted ahangman. 

Jones winked, and watched Mr. Coyne out of sight. 

"I have seen your ladyship's maid, " said Jones, confidentially. "It isall right. Mr. Coyne have got the blinkers on. Only pass me your wordnot to excite him. "

"Oh no, sir, I will soothe him. " And she trembled all over. 

"Sally!" cried Jones. 

The nurse came out of a room and held the door ajar; she whispered, "Ihave prepared him, madam; he is all right. "

Lady Bassett, by a great effort, kept her feet from rushing, her heartfrom crying out with joy, and she entered the room. Sally closed thedoor like a shot, with a delicacy one would hardly have given hercredit for, to judge from appearances. 

Sir Charles stood in the middle of the room, beaming to receive her, but restraining himself. They met: he held her to his heart; she weptfor joy and grief upon his neck. Neither spoke for a long time. 

CHAPTER XXIV. 

THEY were seated hand in hand, comparing notes and comforting eachother. Then Lady Bassett met with a great surprise: forgetting, orrather not realizing, Sir Charles's sex and character, she began with aheavy heart to play the consoler; but after he had embraced her manytimes with tender rapture, and thanked God for the sight of her, lo andbehold, this doughty baronet claimed his rights of manhood, and, inspite of his capture, his incarceration, and his malady, set to work toconsole her, instead of lying down to be consoled. 

"My darling Bella, " said he, "don't you make a mountain of a mole-hill. The moment you told me I should be a father I began to get better, andto laugh at Richard Bassett's malice. Of course I was terribly knockedover at first by being captured like a felon and clapped under lock andkey; but I am getting over that. My head gets muddled once a day, thatis all. They gave me some poison the first day that made me drunktwelve hours after; but they have not repeated it. "

"Oh!" cried Lady Bassett, "then don't let me lose a moment. How could Iforget?" She opened the door, and called in Mr. Jones and the nurse. 

"Mr. Jones, " said she, "the first day my husband came here Mr. Saltergave him a sedative, or something, and it made him much worse. "

"It always do make 'em worse, " said Jones, bluntly. 

"Then why did he give it?"

"Out o' book, ma'am. His sort don't see how the medicines work; but wedo, as are always about the patient. "

"Mr. Jones, " said Lady Bassett, "if Mr. Salter, or anybody, prescribes, it is you who _administer_ the medicine. "

Jones assented with a wink. Winking was his foible, as puckering of theface was Coyne's. 

"Should you be offended if I were to offer you and the nurse tenguineas a month to pretend you had given him Mr. Salter's medicines, and not do it?"

"Oh, that is not much to do for a gentleman like Sir Charles, " saidJones. "But I didn't ought to take so much money for that. To be sure, I suppose, the lady won't miss it. "

"Don't be a donkey, Jones, " said Sir Charles, cutting short hishypocrisy. "Take whatever you can get; only earn it. "

"Oh, what I takes I earns. "

"Of course, " said Sir Charles. "So that is settled. You have got tophysic those flower-pots instead of me, that is all. "

This view of things tickled Jones so that he roared with laughter. However, he recollected himself all of a sudden, and stopped withludicrous abruptness. 

He said to Lady Bassett, with homely kindness, "You go homecomfortable, my lady; you have taken the stick by the right end. " Hethen had the good sense to retire from the room. 

Then Lady Bassett told Sir Charles of her visit to London, and hercalling on Mr. Rolfe. 

He looked blank at his wife calling on a bachelor; but her descriptionof the man, his age, and his simplicity, reconciled him to that; andwhen she told him the plan and order of campaign Mr. Rolfe had givenher he approved it very earnestly. 

He fastened in particular on something that Mr. Rolfe had dwelt lightlyon. "Dear as the sight of you is to me, sweet as the sound of yourloved voice is to my ears and my heart, I would rather not see youagain until our hopes are realized than jeopardize _that. "_

Lady Bassett sighed, for this seemed rather morbid. Sir Charles wenton: "So think of your own health first, and avoid agitations. I amtormented with fear lest that monster should take advantage of myabsence to molest you. If he does, leave Huntercombe. Yes, leave it; goto London; go, even for my sake; my health and happiness depend on you;they cannot be much affected by anything that happens here. 'Stonewalls do not a prison make, nor iron bars a cage. '"

Lady Bassett promised, but said she could not keep away from him, andhe must often write to her. She gave him Rolfe's formula, and told himall letters would pass that praised the asylum. 

Sir Charles made a wry face. 

Lady Bassett's wrist went round his neck in a moment. "Oh, Charles, dear, for my sake--hold a little, little candle to the devil. Mr. Rolfesays we must. Oblige me in this--I am not so noble as you--and thenI'll be very good and obedient in what your heart is set upon. "

At last Sir Charles consented. 

Then they made haste, and told each other everything that had happened, and it was late in the afternoon before they parted. 

Lady Bassett controlled her tears at parting as well as she could. 

Mr. Coyne had slyly hid himself, but emerged when she came down to thecarriage, and she shook him warmly by the hand, and he bowed at thedoor incessantly, with his face all in a pucker, till the cavalcadedashed away. 

CHAPTER XXV. 

LADY BASSETT timed her next visit so that she found Dr. Suaby at home. 

He received her kindly, and showed himself a master; told her SirCharles's was a mixed case, in which the fall, the fit, and a morbiddesire for offspring had all played their parts. 

He hoped a speedy cure, but said he counted on her assistance. Therewas no doubt what he meant. 

Oh, for one thing, he said to her, rather slyly, "Coyne tells me youhave been good enough to supply us with a hint as to his treatment;sedatives are opposed to his idiosyncrasy. "

Lady Bassett blushed high, and said something about Dr. Willis. 

"Oh, you are quite right, you and Dr. Willis; only you are not so veryconversant with that idiosyncrasy. Why have you let him smoke twentycigars every day of his life? the brain is accessible by other roadsthan the stomach. Well, we have got him down to four cigars, and in amonth we will have him down to two. The effect of that, and exercise, and simple food, and the absence of powerful excitements--you will see. Do your part, " said he, gayly, "we will do ours. He is the mostinteresting patient in the house, and born to adorn society, though bya concurrence of unhappy circumstances he is separated from it for awhile. "

She spent the whole afternoon with Sir Charles, and they dined togetherat the doctor's private table, with one or two patients who weretouched, but showed no signs of it on that occasion; for the gooddoctor really acted like oil on the troubled waters. 

Sir Charles and Lady Bassett corresponded, and so kept their hearts up;but after Rolfe's hint the correspondence was rather guarded. If theseletters were read in the asylum the curious would learn that SirCharles was far more anxious about his wife's condition than his own;but that these two patient persons were only waiting a certain nearevent to attack Richard Bassett with accumulated fury--that smolderingfire did not smoke by letter, but burned deep in both their sore andheavy, but enduring, Anglo-Saxon hearts. 

Lady Bassett wrote to Mr. Rolfe, thanking him again for his advice, andtelling him how it worked. 

She had a very short reply from that gentleman. 

But about six weeks after her visit he surprised her a little bywriting of his own accord, and asking her for a formal introduction toSir Charles Bassett, and begging her to back a request that Sir Charleswould devote a leisure hour or two to correspondence with him. "Not, "said he, "on his private affairs, but on a matter of general interest. I want a few of his experiences and observations in that place. I havethe less scruple in asking it, that whatever takes him out of himselfwill be salutary. "

Lady Bassett sent him the required introduction in such terms that SirCharles at once consented to oblige his wife by obliging Mr. Rolfe. 

"My DEAR SIR--In compliance with your wish, and Lady Bassett's, I sendyou a few desultory remarks on what I see here. 

"1st. The lines, 'Great wits to madness nearly are allied, And thin partitions do their bonds divide, '

are, in my opinion, exaggerated and untrue. Taking the people here as aguide, the insane in general appear to be people with very littlebrains, and enormous egotism. 

"My next observation is, that the women have far less imagination thanthe men; they cannot even realize their own favorite delusions. Forinstance, here are two young ladies, the Virgin Mary and the Queen ofEngland. How do they play their parts? They sit aloof from all therest, with their noses in the air. But gauge their imaginations; godown on one knee, or both, and address them as a saint and a queen;they cannot say a word in accordance; yet they are cunning enough tosee they cannot reply in character, so they will not utter a syllableto their adorers. They are like the shop-boys who go to a masquerade asBurleigh or Walsingham, and when you ask them who is Queen Bess'sfavorite just now, blush, and look offended, and pass sulkily on. 

"The same class of male lunatics can speak in character; and thisobservation has made me doubt whether philosophers are not mistaken insaying that women generally have more imagination than men. I suspectthey have infinitely less; and I believe their great love of novels, which has been set down to imagination, arises mainly from their wantof it. You writers of novels supply that defect for them by a pictorialstyle, by an infinity of minute details, and petty aids to realizing, all which an imaginative reader can do for himself on reading a barenarrative of sterling facts and incidents. 

"I find a monotony in madness. So many have inspirations, see phantoms, are the victims of vast conspiracies (principalities and powerscombined against a fly); their food is poisoned, their wine is drugged, etc. , etc. 

"These, I think, are all forms of that morbid egotism which is at thebottom of insanity. So is their antipathy for each other. They keepapart, because a madman is all self, and his talk is all self; thusegotisms, clash, and an antipathy arises; yet it is not, I think, pureantipathy, though so regarded, but a mere form of their boundlessegotism. 

"If, in visiting an asylum, you see two or three different patientsbuttonhole a fourth and pour their grievances into a listening ear, youmay safely suspect No. 4 of--sanity. 

"On the whole, I think the doctor himself, and one of his attendants, and Jones, a keeper, have more solid eccentricity and variety aboutthem than most of the patients. "

Extract from Letter 2, written about a fortnight later:

"Some insane persons have a way of couching their nonsense in languagethat sounds rational, and has a false air of logical connection. Theirperiods seem stolen from sensible books, and forcibly fitted toincongruous bosh. By this means the ear is confused, and a slow hearermight fancy he was listening to sense. 

"I have secured you one example of this. You must know that, in theevening, I sometimes collect a few together, and try to get them totell their stories. Little comes of it in general but interruptions. But, one night, a melancholy Bagman responded in good set terms, andall in a moment; one would have thought I had put a torch to a barrelof powder, he went off so quickly, in this style:

"'You ask my story: it is briefly told. Initiated in commerce from myearliest years, and traveled in the cotton trade. As representative ofa large house in Manchester, I visited the United States. 

"'Unfortunately for me, that country was then the chosen abode ofspirits; the very air was thick and humming with supernaturalia. Erelong spirit-voices whispered in my ear, and suggested pious aspirationsat first. That was a blind, no doubt; for very soon they went on toinsinuate things profane and indelicate, and urged me to deliver themin mixed companies; I forbore with difficulty, restrained by the earlylessons of a pious mother, and a disinclination to be kickeddownstairs, or flung out o' window. 

"'I consulted a friend, a native of the country; he said, in itsbeautiful Doric, "Old oss, I reckon you'd better change the air. " Igrasped his hand, muttered a blessing, and sailed for England. 

"'On ocean's peaceful bosom the annoyance ceased. But under thisdeceitful calm fresh dangers brooded. Two doctors had stolen into theship, unseen by human eye, and bided their time. Unable to act at sea, owing to the combined effect of wind and current, they concealedthemselves on deck under a black tarpaulin--that is to say, it had beenblack, but wind and weather had reduced it to a dirty brown--and there, adopting for the occasion the habits of the dormouse, the bear, thecaterpillar, and other ephemeral productions, they lay torpid. But themoment the vessel touched the quay, profiting by the commotion, theyemerged, and signed certificates with chalk on my portmanteau; thenvanished in the crowd. The Custom-house read the certificates, andseized my luggage as contraband. I was too old a traveler to leave myluggage; so then they seized me, and sent us both down here. (Withsudden and short-lived fury) that old hell-hound at the Lodge askedthem where I was booked for. "For the whole journey, " said a sepulchralvoice unseen. That means the grave, my boys, the silent grave. '

"Notwithstanding this stern decree, Suaby expects to turn him out curedin a few months. 

"Miss Wieland, a very pretty girl, put her arm in mine, and drew memysteriously apart. 'So you are collecting the villainies, ' said she, sotto voce. 'It will take you all your time. I'll tell you mine. There's a hideous old man wants me to marry him; and I won't. And hehas put me in here, and keeps me prisoner till I will. They are all onhis side, especially that sanctified old guy, Suaby. They drug my wine, they stupefy me, they give me things to make me naughty and tipsy; butit is no use; I never will marry that old goat--that for his money andhim--I'll die first. '

"Of course my blood boiled; but I asked my nurse, Sally, and sheassured me there was not one atom of truth in any part of the story. 'The young lady was put in here by her mother; none too soon, neither. 'I asked her what she meant. 'Why, she came here with her throat cut, and strapping on it. She is a suicidal. '"

This correspondence led eventually to some unexpected results; but I amobliged to interrupt it for a time, while I deal with a distinct seriesof events which began about five weeks after Lady Bassett's visit toMr. Rolfe, and will carry the reader forward beyond the date we havenow arrived at. 

It was the little dining-room at Highmore; a low room, of modest size, plainly furnished. An enormous fire-place, paved with plain tiles, onwhich were placed iron dogs; only wood and roots were burned in thisroom. 

Mrs. Bassett had just been packed off to bed by marital authority;Bassett and Wheeler sat smoking pipes and sipping whisky-and-water. Bassett professed to like the smell of peat smoke in whisky; what hereally liked was the price. 

After a few silent whiffs, said Bassett, "I didn't think they wouldtake it so quietly; did you?"

"Well, I really did not. But, after all, what can they do? They areevidently afraid to go to the Court of Chancery, and ask for a jury inthe asylum; and what else can they do?"

"Humph! They might arrange an escape, and hide him for fourteen days;then we could not recapture him without fresh certificates; could we?"

"Certainly not. "

"And the doors would be too well guarded; not a crack for two doctorsto creep in at. "

"You go too fast. _You_ know the law from me, and you are a daring manthat would try this sort of thing; but a timid woman, advised by arespectable muff like Oldfield! They will never dream of such a thing. "

"Oldfield is not her head-man. She has got another adviser, and he isthe very man to do something plucky. "

"I don't know who you mean. "

"Why, her lover, to be sure. "

"Her lover? Lady Bassett's lover!"

"Ay, the young parson. "

Wheeler smiled satirically. "You certainly are a good hater. Nothing istoo bad for those you don't like. If that Lady Bassett is not a truewife, where will you find one?"

"She is the most deceitful jade in England. "

"Oh! oh!"

"Ah! you may sneer. So you have forgotten how she outwitted us. Did thedevil himself ever do a cunninger thing than that? tempting a fellowinto a correspondence that seemed a piece of folly on her part, yet itwas a deep diabolical trick to get at my handwriting. Did _you_ see hergame? No more than I did. You chuckled at her writing letters to theplaintiff _pendente lite. _ We were both children, setting our witsagainst a woman's. I tell you I dread her, especially when I see her sounnaturally quiet, after what we have done. When you hook a largesalmon, and he makes a great commotion, but all of a sudden lies like astone, be on your guard; he means mischief. "

"Well, " said Wheeler, "this is all very true, but you have strayed fromthe point. What makes you think she has an improper attachment?"

"Is it so very unnatural? He is the handsomest fellow about, she is theloveliest woman; he is dark, she is fair; and they are thrown togetherby circumstances. Another thing: I have always understood that womenadmire the qualities they don't possess themselves--strength, forinstance. Now this parson is a Hercules. He took Sir Charles up like aboy and carried him in his arms all the way from where he had the fit. Lady Bassett walked beside them. Rely on it, a woman does not see oneman carry another so without making a comparison in favor of thestrong, and against the weak. But what am I talking about? They walklike lovers, those two. "

"What, hand in hand? he! he!"

"No, side by side; but yet like lovers for all that. "

"You must have a good eye. "

"I have a good opera-glass. "

Mr. Wheeler smoked in silence. 

"Well, but, " said he, after a pause, "if this is so, all the better foryou. Don't you see that the lover will never really help her to get thehusband out of confinement? It is not in the nature of things. He maystruggle with his own conscience a bit, being a clergyman, but he won'tgo too far; he won't break the law to get Sir Charles home, and so endthese charming duets with his lady-love. "

"By Jove, you are right!" cried Bassett, convinced in his turn. "I say, old fellow, two heads are better than one. I think we have got theclew, between us. Yes, by Heaven! it is so; for the carriage used to beout twice a week, but now she only goes about once in ten days. By-and-by it will be once a fortnight, then once a month, and theblack-eyed rector will preach patience and resignation. Oh, it was amaster-stroke, clapping him in that asylum! All we have got to do nowis to let well alone. When she is over head and ears in love withAngelo she will come to easy terms with us, and so I'll move across theway. I shall never be happy till I live at Huntercombe, and administerthe estate. "

The maid-servant brought him a note, and said it was from her mistress. Bassett took it rather contemptuously, and said, "The little woman isalways in a fidget now when you come here. She is all for peace. " Heread the letter. It ran thus:

"DEAREST RICHARD--I implore you to do nothing more to hurt Sir Charles. It is wicked, and it is useless. God has had pity on Lady Bassett, andhave you pity on her too. Jane has just heard it from one of theHuntercombe servants. "

"What does she mean with her 'its'? Why, surely--Read it, you. "

They looked at each other in doubt and amazement for some time. ThenRichard Bassett rushed upstairs, and had a few hasty words with hiswife. 

She told him her news in plainer English, and renewed her mildentreaties. He turned his back on her in the middle. He went out intothe nursery, and looked at his child. The little fellow, a beautifulboy, slept the placid sleep of infancy. He leaned over him and kissedhim, and went down to the dining-room. 

His feet came tramp, tramp, very slowly, and when he opened the doorMr. Wheeler was startled at the change in his appearance. He was pale, and his countenance fallen. 

"Why, what is the matter?" said Wheeler. 

"She has done us. Ah, I was wiser than you; I feared her. It is thesame thing over again; a woman against two children. This shows howstrong she is; you can't realize what she has done--even when you seeit. An heir was wanted to those estates. Love cried out for one. Hatecried out for one. Nature denied one. She has cut the Gordian knot; cutit as boldly as the lowest woman in Huntercombe would have cut it undersuch a terrible temptation. "

"Oh, for shame!"

"Think, and use your eyes. "

"My eyes have seen the lady; I think I see her now, kneeling like anangel over her husband, and pitying him for having knocked me down. Isay her only lover is her husband. "

"Oh, that was a long time ago. Time brings changes. You can't take theeyes out of my head. "

"Suppose it should be only a false alarm?"

"Is that likely? However, I will learn. Whether it is or not, thatchild shall never rob mine of Bassett and Huntercombe. Anything is fairagainst such a woman. "

CHAPTER XXVI. 

THAT very night, after Wheeler had gone home, Richard Bassett wrote acajoling letter to Mary Wells, asking her to meet him at the old place. 

When the girl got this letter she felt a little faint for a moment; butshe knew the man, his treachery, and his hard egotism and selfishnessso well, that she tossed the letter aside, and resolved to take nonotice. Her trust was all in her mistress, for whom, indeed, she hadmore real affection than for any living creature; as for RichardBassett she absolutely detested him. 

As the day wore on she took another view of matters: her deceiver wasthe enemy of her mistress; she might do her a service by going to thisrendezvous, might learn something from him, and use it against him. 

So she went to the rendezvous with a heart full of bitter hate. 

Bassett, with all his assurance, could not begin his interrogatory allin a moment. He made a sort of apology, said he felt he had beenunkind, and he had never been happy since he had deserted her. 

She cut that short. "I have found a better than you, " said she. "I amgoing to London very soon--to be married. "

"I am glad to hear it. "

"No doubt you are. "

"I mean for your sake. "

"For my sake? You think as little of me as I do of you. Come, now, whatdo you want of me--without a lie, if you _can?"_

"I wanted to see you, and talk to you, and hear your prospects. "

"Well, I have told you. " And she pretended to be going. 

"Don't be in such a hurry. Tell us the news. Is it true that LadyBassett is expected--"

"Oh, that is no news. "

"It is to me. "

"'Tain't no news in our house. Why, we have known it for months. "

This took away the man's breath for a minute. 

At last he said, with a great deal of intention:

"Will it be fair or dark?"

"As God pleases. "

"I'll bet you five pounds to one that it is dark. "

Mary shrugged her shoulders contemptuously, as if these speculationswere too childish for her. 

"It's my lady you want to talk about, is it? I thought it was to makeme a wedding present. "

He actually put his hand in his pocket and gave her two sovereigns. Shetook them with a grim smile. 

He presumed on this to question her minutely. 

She submitted to the interrogatory. 

Only, as the questions were not always delicate, and the answer wasinvariably an untruth, it may be as well to pass over the rest of thedialogue. Suffice it to say that, whenever the girl saw the drift of aquestion she lied admirably; and when she did not, still she lied uponprinciple: it must be a good thing to deceive the enemy. 

Richard Bassett was now perplexed, and saw himself in that veryposition which had so galled Lady Bassett six weeks or so before. Hecould not make any advantageous move, but was obliged to await events. All he could do was to spy a little on Lady Bassett, and note how oftenshe went to the asylum. 

After many days' watching he saw something new. 

Mr. Angelo was speaking to her with a good deal of warmth, whensuddenly she started from him, and then turned round upon him in a verycommanding attitude, and with prodigious fire. Angelo seemed then toaddress her very humbly. But she remained rigid. At last Angelo retiredand left her so; but he was no sooner out of sight than she droppedinto a garden seat, and, taking out her handkerchief, cried a longtime. 

"Why doesn't the fool come back?" said Bassett, from his tower ofobservation. 

He related this incident to Wheeler, and it impressed that worthy morethan all he had ever said before on the same subject. But in a day ortwo Wheeler, who was a great gossip, and picked up every thing, cameand told Bassett that the parson was looking out for a curate, andgoing to leave his living for a time, on the ground of health. "That israther against your theory, Mr. Bassett, " said he. 

"Not a bit, " said Bassett. "On the contrary, that is just what theseartful women do who sacrifice virtue but cling all the more toreputation. I read French novels, my boy. "

"Find 'em instructive?"

"Very. They cut deeper into human nature than our writers dare. Herturning away her lover _now_ is just the act of what the French call amasterly woman--_maitresse femme. _ She has got rid of him to close themouth of scandal; that is her game. "

"Well, " said Wheeler, "you certainly are very ingenious, and sofortified in your opinions that with you facts are no longer stubbornthings; you can twist them all your way. If he had stayed and buzzedabout her, while her husband was incarcerated, you would have found herguilty: he goes to Rome and leaves her, and therefore you find herguilty. You would have made a fine hanging judge in the good oldsanguinary times. "

"I use my eyes, my memory, and my reason. She is a monster of vice anddeceit. Anything is fair against such a woman. "

"I am sorry to hear you say that, " said Wheeler, becoming grave rathersuddenly. "A woman is a woman, and I tell you plainly I have gonepretty well to the end of my tether with you. "

"Abandon me, then, " said Bassett, doggedly; "I can go alone. "

Wheeler was touched by this, and said, "No, no; I am not the man todesert a friend; but pray do nothing rash--do nothing withoutconsulting me. "

Bassett made no reply. 

About a week after this, as Lady Bassett was walking sadly in her owngarden, a great Newfoundland dog ran up to her without any warning, andput his paws almost on her shoulder. 

She screamed violently, and more than once. 

One or two windows flew open, and among the women who put their headsout to see what was the matter, Mary Wells was the first. 

The owner of the dog instantly whistled, and the sportive animal ran tohim; but Lady Bassett was a good deal scared, and went in holding herhand to her side. Mary Wells hurried to her assistance, and she cried alittle from nervousness when the young woman came earnestly to her. 

"Oh, Mary! he frightened me so. I did not see him coming. "

"Mr. Moss, " said Mary Wells, "here's a villain come and frightened mylady. Go and shoot his dog, you and your son; and get the grooms, andfling him in the horse-pond directly. "

"No!" said Lady Bassett, firmly. "You will see that he does not enterthe house, that is all. Should he attempt that, then you will use forcefor my protection. Mary, come to my room. "

When they were together alone Lady Bassett put both hands on the girl'sshoulders, and made her turn toward her. 

"I think you love me, Mary?" said she, drinking the girl's eyes withher own. 

"Ah! that I do, my lady. "

"Why did you look so pale, and your eyes flash, and why did you incitethose poor men to--It might have led to bloodshed. "

"It would; and that is what I wanted, my lady!"

"Oh, Mary!"

"What, don't you see?"

"No, no; I don't want to think so. It might have been an accident. Thepoor dog meant no harm; it was his way of fawning, that was all. "

"The beast meant no harm, but the man did. He is worse than any beastthat ever was born; he is a cruel, cunning, selfish devil; and if I hadbeen a man he should never have got off alive. "

"But are you sure?"

"Quite. I was upstairs, and saw it all. "

This was not true; she had seen nothing till her mistress screamed. 

"Then--anything is fair against such a villain. "

"Of course it is. "

"Let me think. "

She leaned her head upon her hand, and that intelligent face of hersquite shone with hard thought. 

At last, after long and intense thinking, she spoke. 

"I'll teach you to be inhuman, Mr. Richard Bassett, " said she, slowly, and with a strange depth of resolution. 

Then Mary Wells and she put their heads together in close discussion;but now Lady Bassett took the lead, and revealed to her astonishedadviser extraordinary and astounding qualities. 

They had driven her to bay, and that is a perilous game to play withsuch a woman. 

Mary Wells found herself a child compared with her mistress, now thatthat lady was driven to put out all her powers. 

The conversation lasted about two hours: in that time the wholecampaign was settled. 

CHAPTER XXVII. 

MARY WELLS by order went down, in a loose morning wrapper her mistresshad given her, and dined in the servants' hall. She was welcomed with asort of shout, half ironical; and the chief butler said, "Glad to see you come back to us, Miss Wells. "

"The same to you, sir, " said Mary, with more pertness than logic;"which I'm only come to take leave, for to-morrow I go to London, onbusiness. "

"La! what's the business, I wonder?" inquired a house-maid, irreverentially. 

"Well, my business is not your business, Jane. However, if you want toknow, I'm going to be married. "

"And none too soon, " whispered the kitchen-maid to a footman. 

"Speak up, my dear, " said Mary. "There's nothing more vulgarer thanwhispering in company. "

"I said, 'What will Bill Drake say to that?'"

"Bill Drake will say he was a goose not to make up his mind quicker. This will learn him beauty won't wait for no man. If he cries when I amgone, you lend him your apron to wipe his eyes, and tell him womencan't abide shilly-shallying men. "

"That's a hexcellent sentiment, " said John the footman, "and a solemnwarning it is--"

"To all such as footmen be, " said Mary. 

"We writes it in the fly-leaf of our Bibles accordingly, " said John. 

"No, my man, write it somewhere where you'll have a chance to read it. "

This caused a laugh; and when it was over, the butler, who did not feelstrong enough to chaff a lady of this caliber, inquired obsequiouslywhether he might venture to ask who was the happy stranger to carry offsuch a prize. 

"A civil question deserves a civil answer, Mr. Wright, " said Mary. "Itis a sea-faring man, the mate of a ship. He have known me a few yearslonger than any man in these parts. Whenever he comes home from avoyage he tells me what he has made, and asks me to marry him. I havesaid 'No' so many times I'm sick and tired; so I have said 'Yes' foronce in a way. Changes are lightsome, you know. "

Thus airily did Mary Wells communicate her prospects, and next morningearly was driven to the station; a cart had gone before with herluggage, which tormented the female servants terribly; for, instead ofthe droll little servant's box, covered with paper, she had a largelady's box, filled with linen and clothes by the liberality of LadyBassett, and a covered basket, and an old carpet-bag, with some minorpackages of an unintelligible character. Nor did she make any secretthat she had money in both pockets; indeed, she flaunted some notesbefore the groom, and told him none but her lady knew all she had donefor Sir Charles. "But, " said she, "he is grateful, you see, and so isshe. "

She went off in the train, as gay as a lark; but she was no sooner outof sight than her face changed its whole expression, and she went up toLondon very grave and thoughtful. 

The traveling carriage was ordered at ten o'clock next day, and packedas for a journey. 

Lady Bassett took her housekeeper with her to the asylum. 

She had an interview with Sir Charles, and told him what Mr. Bassetthad done, and the construction Mary Wells had put on it. 

Sir Charles turned pale with rage, and said he could no longer play thepatient game. He must bribe a keeper, make his escape, and kill thatvillain. 

Lady Bassett was alarmed, and calmed it down. 

"It was only a servant's construction, and she might be wrong; but itfrightened me terribly; and I fear it is the beginning of a series ofannoyances and encroachments; and I have lost Mr. Angelo; he has goneto Italy. Even Mary Wells left me this morning to be married. I think Iknow a way to turn all this against Mr. Bassett; but I will not say it, because I want to hear what you advise, dearest. "

Sir Charles did not leave her long in doubt. He said, "There is but oneway; you must leave Huntercombe, and put yourself out of thatmiscreant's way until our child is born. "

"That would not grieve me, " said Lady Bassett. "The place is odious tome, now you are not there. But what would censorious people say?"

"What could they say, except that you obeyed your husband?"

"Is it a command, then, dearest?"

"It is a command; and, although you are free, and I am aprisoner--although you are still an ornament to society, and I pass foran outcast, still I expect you to obey me when I assume a husband'sauthority. I have not taken the command of you quite so much as youused to say I must; but on this occasion I do. You will leaveHuntercombe, and avoid that caitiff until our child is born. "

"That ends all discussion, " said Lady Bassett. "Oh, Charles, my onlyregret is that it costs me nothing to obey you. But when did it ever?My king!"

He had ordered her to do the very thing she wished to do. 

She now gave her housekeeper minute instructions, settled the boardwages of the whole establishment, and sent her home in the carriage, retaining her own boxes and packages at the inn. 

Richard Bassett soon found out that Lady Bassett had left Huntercombe. He called on Wheeler and told him. Wheeler suggested she had gone to benear her husband. 

"No, " said Bassett, "she has joined her lover. I wonder at oursimplicity in believing that fellow was gone to Italy. "

"This is rich, " said Wheeler. "A week ago she was guilty, and aMachiavel in petticoats; for why? she had quarreled with her Angelo, and packed him off to Italy. Now she is guilty; and why? because he isnot gone to Italy--not that you know whether he is or not. You reasonlike a mule. As for me, I believe none of this nonsense--till you findthem together. "

"And that is just what I mean to do. "

"We shall see. "

"You will see. "

Very soon after this a country gentleman met Wheeler on market-day, anddrew him aside to ask him a question. "Do you advise Mr. RichardBassett still?"

"Yes. "

"Did you set him to trespass on Lady Bassett's lawn, and frighten herwith a great dog in the present state of her health?"

"Heaven forbid! This is the first I've heard of such a thing. "

"I am glad to hear you say that, Tom Wheeler. There, read that. Yourclient deserves to be flogged out of the county, sir. " And he pulled aprinted paper out of his pocket. It was dated from the Royal Hotel, Bath, and had been printed with blanks, as follows; but a lady's handhad filled in the dates. 

"On the day ---- of ----, while I was walking alone in my garden, Mr. Richard Bassett, the person who has bereaved me by violence of myprotector, came, without leave, into my private grounds, and brought avery large dog; it ran to me, and frightened me so that I nearlyfainted with alarm. Mr. Bassett was aware of my condition. Next day Iconsulted my husband, and he ordered me to leave Huntercombe Hall, andput myself beyond the reach of trespassers and outrage. 

"One motive has governed Mr. Bassett in all his acts, from hisanonymous letter to me before my marriage--which I keep for yourinspection, together with the proofs that he wrote it--to the barbarousseizure of my husband upon certificates purchased beforehand, and thislast act of violence, which has driven me from the county for a time. 

"Sir Charles and I have often been your hosts and your guests; we nowask you to watch our property and our legal rights, so long as throughinjustice and cruelty my husband is a prisoner, his wife a fugitive. "

"There, " said the gentleman, "these papers are going all round thecounty. "

Wheeler was most indignant, and said he had never been consulted, andhad never advised a trespass. He begged a loan of the paper, and tookit to Bassett's that very same afternoon. 

"So you have been acting without advice, " said he, angrily; "and a finemess you have made of it. " And, though not much given to violent anger, he dashed the paper down on the table, and hurt his hand a little. Anger must be paid for, like other luxuries. 

Bassett read it, and was staggered a moment; but he soon recoveredhimself, and said, "What is the foolish woman talking about?"

He then took a sheet of paper, and said he would soon give her a Rolandfor an Oliver. 

"Ay, " said Wheeler, grimly, "let us see how you will put down _thefoolish woman. _ I'll smoke a cigar in the garden, and recover mytemper. "

Richard Bassett's retort ran thus:

"I never wrote an anonymous letter in my life; and if I put restraintupon Sir Charles, it was done to protect the estate. Experiencedphysicians represented him homicidal and suicidal; and I protected bothLady Bassett and himself by the act she has interpreted so harshly. 

"As for her last grievance, it is imaginary. My dog is gentle as alamb. I did not foresee Lady Bassett would be there, nor that the poordog would run and welcome her. She is playing a comedy: the real truthis, a gentleman had left Huntercombe whose company is necessary to her. She has gone to join him, and thrown the blame very adroitly upon

"RICHARD BASSETT. "

When he had written this Bassett ordered his dog-cart. 

Wheeler came in, read the letter, and said the last suggestion in itwas a libel, and an indictable one into the bargain. 

"What, if it is true--true to the letter?"

"Even then you would not be safe, unless you could prove it bydisinterested witnesses. "

"Well, if I cannot, I consent to cut this sentence out. Excuse me oneminute, I must put a few things in my carpetbag. "

"What! going away?"

"Of course I am. "

"Better give me your address, then, in case anything turns up. "

"If you were as sharp as you pass for you would know my address--RoyalHotel, Bath, to be sure. "

He left Wheeler staring, and was back in five minutes with hiscarpet-bag and wraps. 

"Wouldn't to-morrow morning do for this wild-goose chase?" askedWheeler. 

"No, " said Richard. "I'm not such a fool. Catch me losing twelve hours. In that twelve hours they would shift their quarters. It is always sowhen a fool delays. I shall breakfast at the Royal Hotel, Bath. "

The dog-cart came to the door as he spoke, and he rattled off to therailway. 

He managed to get to the Royal Hotel, Bath, at 7 A. M. , took a warm bathinstead of bed, and then ordered breakfast; asked to see the visitors'book, and wrote a false name; turned the leaves, and, to his delight, saw Lady Bassett's name. 

But he could not find Mr. Angelo's name in the book. 

He got hold of Boots, and feed him liberally, then asked him if therewas a handsome young parson there--very dark. 

Boots could not say there was. 

Then Bassett made up his mind that Angelo was at another hotel, orperhaps in lodgings, out of prudence. 

"Lady Bassett here still?" said he. 

Boots was not very sure; would inquire at the bar. Did inquire, andbrought him word Lady Bassett had left for London yesterday morning. 

Bassett ground his teeth with vexation. 

No train to London for an hour and a half. He took a stroll through thetown to fill up the time. 

How often, when a man abandons or remits his search for a time, Fatesends in his way the very thing he is after, but has given up huntingjust then! As he walked along the north side of a certain street, whatshould he see but the truly beautiful and remarkable eyes and eyebrowsof Mr. Angelo, shining from afar. 

That gentleman was standing, in a reverie, on the steps of a smallhotel. 

Bassett drew back at first, not to be seen. Looking round he saw he wasat the door of a respectable house that let apartments. He hurried in, examined the drawing-room floor, took it for a week, paid in advance, and sent to the Royal for his bag. 

He installed himself near the window, to await one of two things, andact accordingly. If Angelo left the place he should go by the sametrain, and so catch the parties together; if the lady doubled back toBath, or had only pretended to leave it, he should soon know that, bydiligent watch and careful following. 

He wrote to Wheeler to announce this first step toward success. 

CHAPTER XXVIII. 

SOME days after this Mr. Rolfe received a line from Lady Bassett, tosay she was at the Adelphi Hotel, in John Street. He put some lettersinto his pocket and called on her directly. 

She received him warmly, and told him, more fully than she had byletter, how she had acted on his advice; then she told him of RichardBassett's last act, and showed him her retort. 

He knitted his brows at first over it; but said he thought herproclamation could do no harm. 

"As a rule, " said he, "I object to flicking with a lady's whip when Iam going to crush, but--yes--it is able, and gives you a good excusefor keeping out of the way of annoyances till we strike the blow. Andnow I have something to consult you upon. May I read you some extractsfrom your husband's letters to me?"

"Oh, yes. "

"Forgive a novelist; but this is a new situation, reading a husband'sletters to his wife. However, I have a motive, and so I had insoliciting the correspondence with Sir Charles. " He then read her theletters that are already before the reader, and also the followingextracts:

"Mr. Johnson, a broken tradesman, has some imagination, though not of apoetic kind; he is imbued with trade, and, in the daytime, exercisesseveral, especially a butcher's. When he sees any of us coming, hewhips before the nearest door or gate, and sells meat. He sells it verycheap; the reason is, his friends allow him only a shilling or two incoppers, and as every madman is the center of the universe, he thinksthat the prices of all commodities are regulated by the amount ofspecie in his pocket. This is his style, 'Come, buy, buy, choice muttonthree farthings the carcass. Retail shop next door, ma'am. Jack, servethe lady. Bill, tell him he can send me home those twenty bullocks, atthree half-pence each--' and so on. But at night he subsides into anauctioneer, and, with knocking down lots while others are conversing, gets removed occasionally to a padded room. Sometimes we humor him, andhe sells us the furniture after a spirited competition, and debits theamounts, for cash is not abundant here. The other night, heated withbusiness, he went on from the articles of furniture to the company, andput us all up in succession. 

"Having a good many dislikes, he sometimes forgot the auctioneer in theman, and depreciated some lots so severely that they had to be passed;but he set Miss Wieland in a chair, and descanted on her beauty, goodtemper, and other gifts, in terms florid enough for Robins, or anyother poet. Sold for eighteen pounds, and to a lady. This lady hadformed a violent attachment to Miss W. ; so next week they will be atdaggers drawn. My turn came, and the auctioneer did me the honor todescribe me as 'the lot of the evening. ' He told the bidders to mindwhat they were about, they might never again be able to secure a livebaronet at a moderate price, owing to the tightness of the moneymarket. Well, sir, I was honored with bids from several ladies; butthey were too timid and too honest to go beyond their means; my lessscrupulous sex soared above these considerations, and I was knockeddown for seventy-nine pounds fifteen shillings, amid loud applause atthe spirited result. My purchaser is a shop-keeper mad after gardening. Dr. Suaby has given him a plot to cultivate, and he whispered in myear, 'The reason I went to a fancy price was, I can kill two birds withone stone with you. You'll make a very good statee stuck up among myflowers; and you can hallo, and keep those plaguy sparrows off. '"

"Oh, what creatures for my darling to live among!" cried Lady Bassettpiteously. 

Mr. Rolfe stared, and said, "What, then, you are like all your sex--nosense of humor?"

"Humor! when my husband is in misery and degradation!"

"And don't you see that the brave writer of these letters is steeledagainst misery, and above degradation? Such men are not the mere sportof circumstances. Your husband carries a soul not to be quelled bythree months in a well-ordered mad-house. But I will read no more, since what gives me satisfaction gives you pain. "

"Oh, yes, yes! Don't let me lose a word my husband has ever uttered. "

"Well, I'll go on; but I'm horribly discouraged. "

"I'm so sorry for that sir. Please forgive me. "

Mr. Rolfe read the letter next in date--

"We are honored with one relic of antiquity, a Pythagorean. He hasobliged me with his biography. He was, to use his own words, engenderedby the sun shining on a dunghill at his father's door, ' and began hiscareer as a flea; but his identity was, somehow, shifted to a boy ofnine years old. He has had a long spell of humanity, and awaits thegreat change--which is to turn him to a bee. It will not find himunprepared; he has long practiced humming, in anticipation. A faithfulfriend, called Caffyn, used to visit him every week. Caffyn died lastyear, and the poor Pythagorean was very lonely and sad; but, two monthsago, he detected his friend in the butcher's horse, and is more thanconsoled, for he says, Caffyn comes six times a week now, instead ofonce. '"

"Poor soul!" said Lady Bassett. "What a strange world for him to beliving in. It seems like a dream. "

"There is something stranger coming in this last letter. "

"I have at last found one madman allied to Genius. It has taken me afortnight to master his delusion, and to write down the vocabulary hehas invented to describe the strange monster of his imagination. Allthe words I write in italics are his own. 

"Mr. Williams says that a machine has been constructed for malignantpurposes, which machine is an _air-loom. _ It rivals the human machinein this, that it can operate either on mind or matter. It was invented, and is worked, by a gang of villains superlatively skillful in_pneumatic chemistry, physiology, nervous influence, sympathy, _ and the_higher metaphysic, _ men far beyond the immature science of the presentera, which, indeed, is a favorite subject of their ridicule. 

"The gang are seven in number, but Williams has only seen the fourhighest: _Bill, the King, _ a master of the art of _magneticimpregnation; Jack, the schoolmaster, _ the short-hand writer of thegang; _Sir Archy, _ Chief Liar to the Association; and the_glove-woman, _ so called from her always wearing cotton mittens. Thispersonage has never been known to speak to any one. 

"The materials used in the air-loom by these _pneumatic adepts_ areinfinite; but principally _effluvia of certain metals, poisons, soporific scents, _ etc. 

"The principal effects are:

"1st. EVENT-WORKING. --This is done by _magnetic manipulation_ of kings, emperors, prime ministers, and others; so that, while the world isfearing and admiring them, they are, in reality, mere puppets played bythe workers of the air-loom. 

"2d. CUTTING SOUL FROM SENSE. --This is done _by diffusing the magneticwarp from the root of the nose under the base of the skull, till itforms a veil; so that the sentiments of the heart can have nocommunication with the operations of the intellect. _

"3d. KITING. --As boys raise a kite in the air, so the air-loom can liftan idea into the brain, where it floats and undulates for hourstogether. The victim cannot get rid of an idea so insinuated. 

"4th. LOBSTER-CRACKING. --An external pressure of the magneticatmosphere surrounding the person assailed. Williams has been sooperated on, and says he felt as if he was grasped by an enormous pairof nut-crackers with teeth, and subjected to a piercing pressure, whichhe still remembers with horror. Death sometimes results fromLobster-cracking. 

"5th. LENGTHENING THE BRAIN. --_As the cylindrical mirror lengthens thecountenance, _ so these assailants find means to _elon_gate the brain. This distorts the ideas, and subjects the most serious are made sillyand ridiculous. 

"6th. THOUGHT-MAKING. --While one of these villains sucks at the brainof the assailed, and extracts his existing sentiments, another willpress into the vacuum ideas very different from his real thoughts. Thushis mind is physically enslaved. "

Then Sir Charles goes on to say:

"Poor Mr. Williams seems to me an inventor wasted. I thought I wouldtry and reason him out of his delusion. I asked if he had ever seenthis gang and their machine. 

"He said yes, they operated on him this morning. 'Then show them me, 'said I. 'Young man, ' said he, satirically, 'do you think theseassassins, and their diabolical machine, would be allowed to go on, ifthey could be laid hands on so easily? The gang are fertile indisguise; the machine operates at considerable distances. '

"To drive him into a corner, I said, 'Will you give me a drawing ofit?' He seemed to hesitate, so I said, 'If you can not draw it, younever saw it, and never will. ' He assented to that, and I was vainenough to think I had staggered him; but yesterday he produced theinclosed sketch and explanation. After this I sadly fear he isincurable. 

"There are three sane patients in this asylum, besides myself. I willtell you their stories when you come here, which I hope will be soon;for the time agreed on draws near, and my patience and self-control aresorely tried, as day after day rolls by, and sees me still in amadhouse. "

"There, Lady Bassett, " said Mr. Rolfe. "And now for my motive inreading these letters. Sir Charles may still have a crotchet, aninordinate desire for an heir; but, even if he has, the writer of theseletters has nothing to fear from any jury; and, therefore, I am nowready to act. I propose to go down to the asylum to-morrow, and get himout as quickly as I can. "

Lady Bassett uttered an ejaculation of joy. Then she turned suddenlypale, and her countenance fell. She said nothing. 

Mr. Rolfe was surprised at this, since, at their last meeting, she waswrithing at her inaction. He began to puzzle himself. She watched himkeenly. He thought to himself, "Perhaps she dreads the excitement ofmeeting--for herself. "

At last Lady Bassett asked him how long it would take to liberate SirCharles. 

"Not quite a week, if Richard Bassett is well advised. If he fightsdesperately it may take a fortnight. In any case I don't leave the workan hour till it is done. I can delay, and I can fight; but I never mixthe two. Come, Lady Bassett, there is something on your mind you don'tlike to say. Well, what does it matter? I will pack my bag, and writeto Dr. Suaby that he may expect me soon; but I will wait till I get aline from you to go ahead. Then I'll go down that instant and do thework. "

This proposal was clearly agreeable to Lady Bassett, and she thankedhim. 

"You need not waste words over it, " said he. "Write one word, 'ACT!'That will be the shortest letter you ever wrote. "

The rest of the conversation is not worth recording. 

Mr. Rolfe instructed a young solicitor minutely, packed his bag, andwaited. 

But day after day went by, and the order never came to act. 

Mr. Rolfe was surprised at this, and began to ask himself whether hecould have been deceived in this lady's affection for her husband. Buthe rejected that. Then he asked himself whether it might have cooled. He had known a very short incarceration produce that fatal effect. Bothhusband and wife interested him, and he began to get irritated at thedelay. 

Sir Charles's letters made him think they had already wasted time. 

At last a letter came from Gloucester Place. 

"Will my kind friend now ACT?

"Gratefully, "BELLA BASSETT. "

Mr. Rolfe, upon this, cast his discontent to the winds and started forBellevue House. 

On the evening of that day a surgeon called Boddington was drinking teawith his wife, and they were talking rather disconsolately; for he hadleft a fair business in the country, and, though a gentleman ofundoubted skill, was making his way very slowly in London. 

The conversation was agreeably interrupted by a loud knock at the door. 

A woman had come to say that he was wanted that moment for a lady oftitle in Gloucester Place, hard by. 

"I will come, " said he, with admirably affected indifference; and, assoon as the woman was out of sight, husband and wife embraced eachother. 

"Pray God it may all go well, for your sake and hers, poor lady. "

Mr. Boddington hurried to the number in Gloucester Place. The door wasopened by the charwoman. 

He asked her with some doubt if that was the house. 

The woman said yes, and she believed it was a surprise. The lady wasfrom the country, and was looking out for some servants. 

This colloquy was interrupted by an intelligent maid, who asked, overthe balusters, if that was the medical man; and, on the woman's sayingit was, begged him to step upstairs at once. 

He found his patient attended only by her maid, but she was alldiscretion, and intelligence. She said he had only to direct her, shewould do anything for her dear mistress. 

Mr. Boddington said a single zealous and intelligent woman, who couldobey orders, was as good as a number, or better. 

He then went gently to the bedside, and his experience told him at oncethat the patient was in labor. 

He told the attendant so, and gave her his directions. 

CHAPTER XXIX. 

ME. ROLFE reached Bellevue House in time to make a hasty toilet, anddine with Dr. Suaby in his private apartments. 

The other guests were Sir Charles Bassett, Mr. Hyam--a meek, sorrowfulpatient--an Exquisite, and Miss Wieland. 

Dr. Suaby introduced him to everybody but the Exquisite. 

Mr. Rolfe said Sir Charles Bassett and he were correspondents. 

"So I hear. He tells you the secrets of the prison-house, eh?"

"The humors of the place, you mean. "

"Yes, he has a good eye for character. I suppose he has dissected mealong with the rest?"

"No, no; he has only dealt with the minor eccentricities. His penfailed at you. 'You must come and _see_ the doctor, ' he said. So here Iam. "

"Oh, " said the doctor, "if your wit and his are both to be leveled atme, I had better stop your mouths. Dinner! dinner! Sir Charles, willyou take Miss Wieland? Sorry we have not another lady to keep youcompany, madam. "

"Are you? Then I'm not, " said the lady smartly. 

The dinner passed like any other, only Rolfe observed that Dr. Suabytook every fair opportunity of drawing the pluckless Mr. Hyam intoconversation, and that he coldly ignored the Exquisite. 

"I have seen that young man about town, I think, " said Mr. Rolfe. "Where was it, I wonder?"

"The Argyll Rooms, or the Casino, probably. "

"Thank you, doctor. Oh, I forgot; you owed me one. He is no favorite ofyours. "

"Certainly not. And I only invited him medicinally. "

"Medicinally? That's too deep for a layman. "

"To flirt with Miss Wieland. Flirting does her good. "

"Medicine embraces a wider range than I thought. "

"No doubt. You are always talking about medicine; but you know verylittle, begging your pardon. "

"That is the theory of compensation. When you know very little about athing you must talk a great deal about it. Well, I'm here forinstruction; thirsting for it. "

"All the better; we'll teach you to drink deep ere you depart. "

"All right: but not of your favorite Acetate of Morphia; because thatis the draught that takes the reason prisoner. "

"It's no favorite of mine. Indeed, experience has taught me that allsedatives excite; if they soothe at first, they excite next day. Myantidotes to mental excitement are packing in lukewarm water, and, bestof all, hard bodily exercise and the perspiration that follows it. Toput it shortly--prolonged bodily excitement antidotes mentalexcitement. "

"I'll take a note of that. It is the wisest thing I ever heard from anylearned physician. "

"Yet many a learned physician knows it. But you are a little prejudicedagainst the faculty. "

"Only in their business. They are delightful out of that. But, comenow, nobody hears us--confess, the system which prescribes drugs, drugs, drugs at every visit and in every case, and does not give asevere selection of esculents the first place, but only the second orthird, must be rotten at the core. Don't you despise a layman's eye. All the professions want it. "

"Well, you are a writer; publish a book, call it Medicina laici, andsend me a copy. "

"To slash in the _Lancet?_ Well, I will: when novels cease to pay andtruth begins to. "

In the course of the evening Mr. Rolfe drew Dr. Suaby apart, and said, "I must tell you frankly, I mean to relieve you of one of yourinmates. "

"Only one? I was in hopes you would relieve me of all the sane people. They say you are ingenious at it. All I know is, I can't get rid of aninmate if the person who signed the order resists. Now, for instance, here's a Mrs. Hallam came here unsound: religious delusion. Has beencured two months. I have reported her so to her son-in-law, who signedthe order; but he will not discharge her. He is vicious, shescriptural; bores him about eternity. Then I wrote to the Commissionersin Lunacy; but they don't like to strain their powers, so they wrote tothe affectionate son-in-law, and he politely declines to act. SirCharles Bassett the same: three weeks ago I reported him cured, and thedetaining relative has not even replied to me. "

"Got a copy of your letter?"

"Of course. But what if I tell you there is a gentleman here who neverhad any business to come, yet he is as much a fixture as the grates. Itook him blindfold along with the house. I signed a deed, and it is sostringent I can't evade one of my predecessor's engagements. This oldrogue committed himself to my predecessor's care, under medicalcertificates; the order he signed himself. "

"Illegal, you know. "

"Of course; but where's the remedy? The person who signed the ordermust rescind it. But this sham lunatic won't rescind it. Altogether thetenacity of an asylum is prodigious. The statutes are written withbird-lime. Twenty years ago that old Skinflint found the rates andtaxes intolerable; and doesn't everybody find them intolerable? Toavoid these rates and taxes he shut up his house, captured himself, andtook himself here; and here he will end his days, excluding somegenuine patient, unless _you_ sweep him into the street for me. "

"Sindbad, I will try, " said Rolfe, solemnly; "but I must begin with SirCharles Bassett. By-the-by, about his crotchet?"

"Oh, he has still an extravagant desire for children. But the cerebralderangement is cured, and the other, standing by itself, is a foible, not a mania. It is only a natural desire in excess. If they brought meRachel merely because she had said, 'Give me children, or I die, ' and Ifound her a healthy woman in other respects, I should object to receiveher on that score alone. "

"You are deadly particular--compared with some of them, " said Rolfe. 

That evening he made an appointment with Sir Charles, and visited himin his room at 8 A. M. He told him he had seen Lady Bassett in London, and, of course, he had to answer many questions. He then told him hecame expressly to effect his liberation. 

"I am grateful to you, sir, " said Sir Charles, with a suppressed andmanly emotion. 

"Here are my instructions from Lady Bassett; short, but to the point. "

"May I keep that?"

"Why, of course. "

Sir Charles kissed his wife's line, and put the note in his breast. 

"The first step, " said Rolfe, "is to cut you in two. That is soon done. You must copy in your own hand, and then sign, this writing. " And hehanded him a paper. 

"I, Charles Dyke Bassett, being of sound mind, instruct James Sharpe, of Gray's Inn, my Solicitor, to sue the person who signed the order formy incarceration--in the Court of Common Pleas; and to take such othersteps for my relief as may be advised by my counsel--Mr. FrancisRolfe. "

"Excuse me, " said Sir Charles, "if I make one objection. Mr. Oldfieldhas been my solicitor for many years. I fear it will hurt his feelingsif I intrust the matter to a stranger. Would there be any objection tomy inserting Mr. Oldfield's name, sir?"

"Only this: he would think he knew better than I do; and then I, whoknow better than he does, and am very vain and arrogant, should throwup the case in a passion, and go back to my MS. ; and humdrum Oldfieldwould go to Equity instead of law; and all the costs would fall on yourestate instead of on your enemy; and you would be here eighteen monthsinstead of eight or ten days. No, Sir Charles, you can't mix champagneand ditch-water; you can't make Invention row in a boat with AntiqueTwaddle, and you mustn't ask me to fight your battle with a bluntknife, when I have got a sharp knife that fits my hand. "

Mr. Rolfe said this with more irritation than was justified, andrevealed one of the great defects in his character. 

Sir Charles saw his foible, smiled, and said, "I withdraw a proposalwhich I see annoys you. " He then signed the paper. 

Mr. Rolfe broke out all smiles directly, and said, "Now you are cut intwo. One you is here; but Sharpe is another you. Thus, one you worksout of the asylum, and one in, and that makes all the difference. Compare notes with those who have tried the other way. Yet, simple andobvious as this is, would you believe it, I alone have discovered thismethod; I alone practice it. "

He sent his secretary off to London at once, and returned to SirCharles. "The authority will be with Sharpe at 2:30. He will be atWhitehall 3:15, and examine the order. He will take the writ out atonce, and if Richard Bassett is the man, he will serve it on himto-morrow in good time, and send one of your grooms over here onhorseback with the news. We serve the writ personally, because we haveshufflers to deal with, and I will not give them a chance. Now I mustgo and write a lie or two for the public; and then inspect the asylumwith Suaby. Before post-time I will write to a friend of mine who is aCommissioner of Lunacy, one of the strong-minded ones. We may as wellhave two strings to our bow. "

Sir Charles thanked him gracefully, and said, "It is a rare thing, inthis selfish world, to see one man interest himself in the wrongs ofanother, as you are good enough to do in mine. "

"Oh, " said Rolfe, "all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. Mybusiness is Lying; and I drudge at it. So to escape now and then to theplay-ground of Truth and Justice is a great amusement and recreation topoor me. Besides, it gives me fresh vigor to replunge into Mendacity;and that's the thing that pays. "

With this simple and satisfactory explanation he rolled away. 

Leaving, for the present, matters not essential to this vein ofincident, I jump to what occurred toward evening. 

Just after dinner the servant who waited told Dr. Suaby that a man hadwalked all the way from Huntercombe to see Sir Charles Bassett. 

"Poor fellow!" said Dr. Suaby; "I should like to see him. Would youmind receiving him here?"

"Oh, no. "

"On second thoughts, James, you had better light a candle in the nextroom--in case. "

A heavy clatter was heard, and the burly figure of Moses Moss enteredthe room. Being bareheaded, he saluted the company by pulling his head, and it bobbed. He was a little dazzled by the lights at first, but soondistinguished Sir Charles, and his large countenance beamed with simpleand affectionate satisfaction. 

"How d'ye do, Moss?" said Sir Charles. 

"Pretty well, thank ye, sir, in my body, but uneasy in my mind. Therebe a trifle too many rogues afoot to please me. However, I told mymistress this morning, says I, 'Before I puts up with this here anylonger, I must go over there and see him; for here's so many liesa-cutting about, ' says I, 'I'm fairly mazed. ' So, if you please, SirCharles, will you be so good as to tell me out of your own mouth, andthen I shall know: be you crazy or hain't you--ay or no?"

Suaby and Rolfe had much ado not to laugh right out; but Sir Charlessaid, gravely, he was not crazy. "Do I look crazy, Moss?"

"That ye doan't; you look twice the man you did. Why, your cheeks diduse to be so pasty like; now you've got a color--but mayhap" (castingan eye on the decanters) "ye're flustered a bit wi' drink. "

"No, no, " said Rolfe, "we have not commenced our nightly debauch yet;only just done dinner. "

"Then there goes another. This will be good news to home. Dall'd if Iwould not ha' come them there thirty miles on all-fours for't. But, sir, if so be you are not crazy, please think about coming home, forthings ain't as they should be in our parts. My lady she is away forher groaning, and partly for fear of this very Richard Bassett; and himand his lawyer they have put it about as you are dead in law; that isthe word: and so the servants they don't know what to think; and thevillage folk are skeared with his clapping four brace on 'em in jail:and Joe and I, we wants to fight un, but my dame she is timorous, andwon't let us, because of the laayer. And th' upshot is, this hereRichard Bassett is master after a manner, and comes on the very lawn, and brings men with a pole measure, and uses the place as his'n mostly;but our Joe bides in the Hall with his gun, and swears he'll shoot himif he sets foot in the house. Joe says he have my lady's leave andlicense so to do, but not outside. "

Sir Charles turned very red, and was breathless with indignation. 

Dr. Suaby looked uneasy, and said, "Control yourself, sir. '"

"I am not going to control _myself, "_ cried Rolfe, in a rage. "Don'tyou take it to heart, Sir Charles. It shall not last long. "

"Ah!"

"Dr. Suaby, can you lend me a gig or a dog-cart, with a good horse?"

"Yes. I have got a WONDERFUL roadster, half Irish, half Norman. "

"Then, Mr. Moss, to-morrow you and I go to Huntercombe: you shall showme this Bassett, and we will give him a pill. "

"Meantime, " said Dr. Suaby, "I take a leaf out of your Medicina laici, and prescribe a hearty supper, a quart of ale, and a comfortable bed toMr. Moss. James, see him well taken care of. Poor man!" said he, whenMoss had retired. "What simplicity! what good sense! what ignorance ofthe world! what feudality, if I may be allowed the expression. "

Sir Charles was manifestly discomposed, and retired to bed early. 

Rolfe drove off with Moss at eight o'clock, and was not seen again allday. Indeed, Sir Charles was just leaving Dr. Suaby's room when he camein rather tired, and would not say a word till they gave him a cup oftea: then he brightened up and told his story. 

"We went to the railway to meet Sharpe. The muff did not come nor sendby the first train. His clerk arrived by the second. We went toHuntercombe village together, and on the road I gave him some specialinstructions. Richard Bassett not at home. We used a little badlanguage and threw out a skirmisher--Moss, to wit--to find him. Mossdiscovered him on your lawn, planning a new arrangement of the flowerbeds, with Wheeler looking over the boundary wall. 

"We went up to Bassett, and the clerk served his copy of the writ. Hetook it quite coolly; but when he saw at whose suit it was he turnedpale. He recovered himself directly, though, and burst out laughing. 'Suit of Sir Charles Bassett. Why, he can't sue: he is civilitermortuus: mad as a March hare: in confinement. ' Clerk told him he wasmistaken; Sir Charles was perfectly sane. 'Good-day, sir. ' So thenBassett asked him to wait a little. He took the writ away, and showedit Wheeler, no doubt. He came back, and blustered, and said, 'Someother person has instructed you: you will get yourself into trouble, Ifear. ' The little clerk told him not to alarm himself; Mr. Sharpe wasinstructed by Sir Charles Bassett, in his own handwriting andsignature, and said, 'It is not my business to argue the case with you. You had better take the advice of counsel. ' 'Thank you, ' said Bassett;'that would be wasting a guinea. ' 'A good many thousand guineas havebeen lost by that sort of economy, ' says the little clerk, solemnly. Oh, and he told him Mr. Sharpe was instructed to indict him for atrespass if he ever came there again; and handed him a written paper tothat effect, which we two had drawn up at the station; and so left himto his reflections. We went into the house, and called the servantstogether, and told them to keep the rooms warm and the beds aired, since you might return any day. "

Upon this news Sir Charles showed no premature or undignified triumph, but some natural complacency, and a good deal of gratitude. 

The next day was blank of events, but the next after Mr. Rolfe receiveda letter containing a note addressed to Sir Charles Bassett. Mr. Rolfesent it to him. 

SIR--I am desired to inform you that I attended Lady Bassett lastnight, when she was safely delivered of a son. Have seen her again thismorning. Mother and child are doing remarkably well. 

"W. BODDINGTON, Surgeon, 17 Upper Gloucester Place. "

Sir Charles cried, "Thank God! thank God!" He held out the paper to Mr. Rolfe, and sat down, overpowered by tender emotions. 

Mr. Rolfe devoured the surgeon's letter at one glance, shook thebaronet's hand eloquently, and went away softly, leaving him with hishappiness. 

Sir Charles, however, began now to pine for liberty; he longed so tojoin his wife and see his child, and Rolfe, observing this, chafed withimpatience. He had calculated on Bassett, advised by Wheeler, takingthe wisest course, and discharging him on the spot. He had also hopedto hear from the Commissioner of Lunacy. But neither event took place. 

They could have cut the Gordian knot by organizing an escape: Giles andothers were to be bought to that: but Dr. Suaby's whole conduct hadbeen so kind, generous, and confiding, that this was out of thequestion. Indeed, Sir Charles had for the last month been there uponparole. 

Yet the thing had been wisely planned, as will appear when I come tonotice the advice counsel had given to Bassett in this emergency. ButBassett would not take advice: he went by his own head, and prepared anew and terrible blow, which Mr. Rolfe did not foresee. 

But meantime an unlooked-for and accidental assistant came into theasylum, without the least idea Sir Charles was there. 

Mrs. Marsh, early in her married life, converted her husband toreligion, and took him about the county preaching. She was in earnest, and had a vein of natural eloquence that really went straight topeople's bosoms. She was certainly a Christian, though an eccentricone. Temper being the last thing to yield to Gospel light, she stillgot into rages; but now she was very humble and penitent after them. 

Well, then, after going about doing good, she decided to settle downand do good. As for Marsh, he had only to obey. Judge for yourself: themild, gray-haired vicar of Calverly, who now leaned on la Marsh as on astaff, thought it right at the beginning to ascertain that she was notopposing her husband's views. He put a query of this kind as delicatelyas possible. 

"My husband!" cried she. "If he refused to go to heaven with me, I'dtake him there by the ear. " And her eye flashed with the threat. 

Well, somebody told this lady that Mr. Vandeleur was ruined, and in Dr. Suaby's asylum, not ten miles from her country-seat. This intelligencetouched her. She contrasted her own happy condition, both worldly andspiritual, with that of this unfortunate reprobate, and she felt boundto see if nothing could be done for the poor wretch. A timid Christianwould have sent some man to do the good work; but this was a lion-likeone. So she mounted her horse, and taking only her groom with her, wasat Bellevue in no time. 

She dismounted, and said she must speak to Dr. Suaby, sent in her card, and was received at once. 

"You have a gentleman here called Vandeleur?"

The doctor looked disappointed, but bowed. 

"I wish to see him. "

"Certainly, madam. --James, take Mrs. Marsh into a sitting-room, andsend Mr. Vandeleur to her. "

"He is not violent, is he?" said Mrs. Marsh, beginning to hesitate whenshe saw there was no opposition. 

"Not at all, madam--the Pink of Politeness. If you have any money aboutyou, it might be as well to confide it to me. "

"What, will he rob me?"

"Oh, no: much too well conducted: but he will most likely wheedle youout of it. "

"No fear of that, sir. " And she followed James. 

He took her to a room commanding the lawn. She looked out of thewindow, and saw several ladies and gentlemen walking at their ease, reading or working in the sun. 

"Poor things!" she thought; "they are not so very miserable: perhapsGod comforts them by ways unknown to us. I wonder whether preachingwould do them any good? I should like to try. But they would not letme; they lean on the arm of flesh. "

Her thoughts were interrupted at last by the door opening gently, andin came Vandeleur, with his graceful panther-like step, and a winningsmile he had put on for conquest. 

He stopped; he stared; he remained motionless and astounded. 

At last he burst out, "Somer--Was it me you wished to see?"

"Yes, " said she, very kindly. "I came to see you for old acquaintance. You must call me Mrs. Marsh now; I am married. "

By this time he had quite recovered himself, and offered her a chairwith ingratiating zeal. 

"Sit down by me, " said she, as if she was petting a child. "Are yousure you remember me?"

Says the Courtier, "Who could forget you that had ever had the honor--"

Mrs. Marsh drew back with sudden hauteur. "I did not come here forfolly, " said she. Then, rather naively, "I begin to doubt your being sovery mad. "

"Mad? No, of course I am not. "

"Then what brings you here?"

"Stumped. "

"What, have I mistaken the house? Is it a jail?"

"Oh, no! I'll tell you. You see I was dipped pretty deep, and dunsafter me, and the Derby my only chance; so I put the pot on. But a darkhorse won: the Jews knew I was done: so now it was a race which shouldtake me. Sloman had seven writs out: I was in a corner. I got a friendthat knows every move to sign me into this asylum. They thought it wasall up then, and he is bringing them to a shilling in the pound. "

Before he could complete this autobiographical sketch Mrs. Marshstarted up in a fury, and brought her whip down on the table with asmartish cut. 

"You little heartless villain!" she screamed. "Is this, the way youplay upon people: bringing me from my home to console a maniac, and, instead of that, you are only what you always were, a spendthrift and ascamp? Finely they will laugh at me. "

She clutched the whip in her white but powerful hand till it quiveredin the air, impatient for a victim. 

"Oh!" she cried, panting, and struggling with her passion, "if I wasn'ta child of God, I'd--"

"You'd give me a devilish good hiding, " said Vandeleur, demurely. 

"That I _would, "_ said she, very earnestly. 

"You forget that I never told you I was mad. How could I imagine youwould hear it? How could I dream you would come, even if you did?"

"I should be no Christian if I didn't come. "

"But I mean we parted bad friends, you know. "

"Yes, Van; but when I asked you for the gray horse you sent me a newsidesaddle. A woman does not forget those little things. You were agentleman, though a child of Belial. "

Vandeleur bowed most deferentially, as much as to say, "In both thosematters you are the highest authority earth contains. "

"So come, " said she, "here is plenty of writing-paper. Now tell me allyour debts, and I will put them down. "

"What is the use? At a shilling in the pound, six hundred will pay themall. "

"Are you sure?"

"As sure as that I am not going to rob you of the money. "

"Oh, I only mean to lend it you. "

"That alters the case. "

"Prodigiously. " And she smiled satirically. "Now your friend's address, that is treating with your creditors. "

"Must I?"

"Unless you want to put me in a great passion. "

"Anything sooner than that. " Then he wrote it for her. 

"And now, " said she, "grant me a little favor for old acquaintance. Just kneel you down there, and let me wrestle with Heaven for you, thatyou may be a brand plucked from the fire, even as I am. "

The Pink of Politeness submitted, with a sigh of resignation. 

Then she prayed for him so hard, so beseechingly, so eloquently, he wasamazed and touched. 

She rose from her knees, and laid her head on her hand, exhausted alittle by her own earnestness. 

He stood by her, and hung his head. 

"You are very good, " he said. "It is a shame to let you waste it on me. Look here--I want to do a little bit of good to another man, after youpraying so beautifully. "

"Ah! I am so glad. Tell me. "

"Well, then, you mustn't waste a thought on me, Rhoda. I'm a gamblerand a fool: let me go to the dogs at once; it is only a question oftime: but there's a fellow here that is in trouble, and doesn't deserveit, and he was a faithful friend to you, I believe. I never was. And hehas got a wife: and by what I hear, you could get him out, I think, andI am sure you would be angry with me afterward if I didn't tell you;you have such a good heart. It is Sir Charles Bassett. "

"Sir Charles Bassett here! Oh, his poor wife! What drove him mad? Poor, poor Sir Charles!"

"Oh, he is all right. They have cured him entirely; but there is nogetting him out, and he is beginning to lose heart, they say. There's aliterary swell here can tell you all about it; he has come downexpressly: but they are in a fix, and I think you could help them out. I wish you would let me introduce you to him. "

"To whom?"

"To Mr. Rolfe. You used to read his novels. "

"I adore him. Introduce me at once. But Sir Charles must not see me, nor know I am here. Say Mrs. Marsh, a friend of Lady Bassett's, begs tobe introduced. "

Sly Vandeleur delivered this to Rolfe; but whispered out of his ownhead, "A character for your next novel--a saint with the devil's owntemper. "

This insidious addition brought Mr. Rolfe to her directly. 

As might be expected from their go-ahead characters, these two kneweach other intimately in about twelve minutes; and Rolfe told her allthe facts I have related, and Marsh went into several passions, andcorrected herself, and said she had been a great sinner, but wasplucked from the burning, and therefore thankful to anybody who wouldgive her a little bit of good to do. 

Rolfe took prompt advantage of this foible, and urged her to see theCommissioners in Lunacy, and use all her eloquence to get one of themdown. "They don't act upon my letters, " said he; "but it will beanother thing if a beautiful, ardent woman puts it to them in person, with all that power of face and voice I see in you. You are all fire;and you can talk Saxon. "

"Oh, I'll talk to them, " said Mrs. Marsh, "and God will give me words;He always does when I am on His side. Poor Lady Bassett! my heartbleeds for her. I will go to London to-morrow; ay, to-night, if youlike. To-night? I'll go this instant!"

"What!" said Rolfe: "is there a lady in the world who will go a journeywithout packing seven trunks--and merely to do a good action?"

"You forget. Penitent sinners must make up for lost time. "

"At that rate impenitent ones like me had better lose none. So I'll armyou at once with certain documents, and you must not leave thecommissioners till they promise to send one of their number downwithout delay to examine him, and discharge him if he is as werepresent. "

Mrs. Marsh consented warmly, and went with Rolfe to Dr. Suaby's study. 

They armed her with letters and written facts, and she rode off at afiery pace; but not before she and Rolfe had sworn eternal friendship. 

The commissioners received Mrs. Marsh coldly. She was chilled, but notdaunted. She produced Suaby's letter and Rolfe's, and when they wereread she played the orator. She argued, she remonstrated, sheconvinced, she persuaded, she thundered. Fire seemed to come out of thewoman. 

Mr. Fawcett, on whom Mr. Rolfe had mainly relied, caught fire, anddeclared he would go down next day and look into the matter on thespot; and he kept his word. He came down; he saw Sir Charles and Suaby, and penetrated the case. 

Mr. Fawcett was a man with a strong head and a good heart, but ratheran arrogant manner. He was also slightly affected with officialpomposity and reticence; so, unfortunately, he went away withoutdeclaring his good intentions, and discouraged them all with the fearof innumerable delays in the matter. 

Now if Justice is slow, Injustice is swift. The very next day athunder-clap fell on Sir Charles and his friends. 

Arrived at the door a fly and pair, with three keepers from an asylumkept by Burdoch, a layman, the very opposite of the benevolent Suaby. His was a place where the old system of restraint prevailed, secretlybut largely: strait-waistcoats, muffles, hand-locks, etc. Here fleasand bugs destroyed the patients' rest; and to counteract the insectsmorphia was administered freely. Given to the bugs and fleas, it wouldhave been an effectual antidote; but they gave it to the patients, andso the insects won. 

These three keepers came with an order correctly drawn, and signed byRichard Bassett, to deliver Sir Charles to the agents showing theorder. 

Suaby, who had a horror of Burdoch, turned pale at the sight of theorder, and took it to Rolfe. 

"Resist!" said that worthy. 

"I have no right. "

"On second thoughts, do nothing, but gain time, while I--Has Bassettpaid you for Sir Charles's board?"

"No. "

"Decline to give him up till that is done, and be some time making outthe bill. Come what may, pray keep Sir Charles here till I send you anote that I am ready. "

He then hastened to Sir Charles and unfolded his plans, to him. 

Sir Charles assented eagerly. He was quite willing to run risks withthe hope of immediate liberation, which Rolfe held out. His own partwas to delay and put off till he got a line from Rolfe. 

Rolfe then borrowed Vandeleur on parole and the doctor's dog-cart, anddashed into the town, distant two miles. 

First he went to the little theater, and found them just concluding arehearsal. Being a playwright, he was known to nearly all the people, more or less, and got five supers and one carpenter to join him--for aconsideration. 

He then made other arrangements in the town, the nature of which willappear in due course. 

Meantime Suaby had presented his bill. One of the keepers got into thefly and took it back to the town. There, as Rolfe had anticipated, lurked Richard Bassett. He cursed the delay, gave the man the money, and urged expedition. The money was brought and paid, and Suabyinformed Sir Charles. 

But Sir Charles was not obliged to hurry. He took a long time to pack;and he was not ready till Vandeleur brought a note to him from Rolfe. 

Then Sir Charles came down. 

Suaby made Burdoch's keeper sign a paper to the effect that he had thebaronet in charge, and relieved Suaby of all further responsibility. 

Then Sir Charles took an affectionate leave of Dr. Suaby, and made himpromise to visit him at Huntercombe Hall. 

Then he got into the fly, and sat between two keepers, and the flydrove off. 

Sir Charles at that moment needed all his fortitude. The least mistakeor miscalculation on the part of his friends, and what might not be theresult to him?

As the fly went slowly through the gate he saw on his right hand alight carriage and pair moving up; but was it coming after him, or onlybringing visitors to the asylum?

The fly rolled on; even his stout heart began to quake. It rolled androlled. Sir Charles could stand it no longer. He tried to look out ofthe window to see if the carriage was following. 

One of the keepers pulled him in roughly. "Come, none of that, sir?"

"You insolent scoundrel!" said Sir Charles. 

"Ay, ay, " said the man; "we'll see about that when we get you home. "

Then Sir Charles saw he had offended a vindictive blackguard. 

He sank back in his seat, and a cold chill crept over him. 

Just then they passed a little clump of fir-trees. 

In a moment there rushed out of these trees a number of men in crapemasks, stopped the horses, surrounded the carriage, and opened it withbrandishing of bludgeons and life-preservers, and pointing of guns. 

CHAPTER XXX. 

A BIG man, who seemed the leader, fired a volley of ferocious oaths atthe keepers, and threatened to send them to hell that moment if theydid not instantly deliver up that gentleman. 

The keepers were thoroughly terrified, and roared for mercy. 

"Hand him out here, you scoundrels!"

"Yes! yes! Man alive, we are not resisting: what is the use?"

"Hand down his luggage. "

It was done all in a flutter. 

"Now get in again; turn your horses' heads the other way, and don'tcome back for an hour. You with your guns take stations in those trees, and shoot them dead if they are back before their time. "

These threats were interlarded with horrible oaths, and Burdoch's partywere glad to get off, and they drove away quickly in the directionindicated. 

However, as soon as they got over their first surprise they began tosmell a hoax; and, instead of an hour, it was scarcely twenty minuteswhen they came back. 

But meantime the supers were paid liberally among the fir-trees byVandeleur, pocketed their crape, flung their dummy guns into acornfield, dispersed in different directions, and left no trace. 

But Sir Charles was not detained for that: the moment he was recapturedhe and his luggage were whisked off in the other carriage, and, withRolfe and his secretary, dashed round the town, avoiding the mainstreet, to a railway eight miles off, at a pace almost defying pursuit. Not that they dreaded it: they had numbers, arms, and a firmdetermination to fight if necessary, and also three tongues to tell thetruth, instead of one. 

At one in the morning they were in London. They slept at Mr. Rolfe'shouse; and before breakfast Mr. Rolfe's secretary was sent to secure acouple of prize-fighters to attend upon Sir Charles till furthernotice. They were furnished with a written paper explaining the casebriefly, and were instructed to hit first and talk afterward should arecapture be attempted. Should a crowd collect, they were to producethe letter. These measures were to provide against his recapture underthe statute, which allows an alleged lunatic to be retaken upon the oldcertificates for fourteen days after his escape from confinement, butfor no longer. 

Money is a good friend in such contingencies as these. 

Sir Charles started directly after breakfast to find his wife andchild. The faithful pugilists followed at his heels in another cab. 

Neither Sir Charles nor Mr. Rolfe knew Lady Bassett's address: it wasthe medical man who had written: but that did not much matter; SirCharles was sure to learn his wife's address from Mr. Boddington. Hecalled on that gentleman at 17 Upper Gloucester Place. Mr. Boddingtonhad just taken his wife down to Margate for her health; had only beengone half an hour. 

This was truly irritating and annoying. Apparently Sir Charles mustwait that gentleman's return. He wrote a line, begging Mr. Boddingtonto send him Lady Bassett's address in a cab immediately on his return. 

He told Mr. Rolfe this; and then for the first time let out that hiswife's not writing to him at the asylum had surprised and alarmed him;he was on thorns. 

Mr. Boddington returned in the middle of the night, and at breakfasttime Sir Charles had a note to say Lady Bassett was at 119 GloucesterPlace, Portman Square. 

Sir Charles bolted a mouthful or two of breakfast, and then dashed offin a hansom to 119 Gloucester Place. 

There was a bill in the window, "To be let, furnished. Apply to Parker& Ellis. "

He knocked at the door. Nobody came. Knocked again. A lugubrious femaleopened the door. 

"Lady Bassett?"

"Don't live here, sir. House to be let. "

Sir Charles went to Mr. Boddington and told him. 

Mr. Boddington said he thought he could not be mistaken; but he wouldlook at his address-book. He did, and said it was certainly 119Gloucester Place; "Perhaps she has left, " said he. "She was veryhealthy--an excellent patient. But I should not have advised her tomove for a day or two more. "

Sir Charles was sore puzzled. He dashed off to the agents, Parker &Ellis. 

They said, Yes; the house was Lady Bassett's for a few months. Theywere instructed to let it. 

"When did she leave? I am her husband, and we have missed each othersomehow. "

The clerk interfered, and said Lady Bassett had brought the keys in hercarriage yesterday. 

Sir Charles groaned with vexation and annoyance. 

"Did she give you no address?"

"Yes, sir. Huntercombe Hall. "

"I mean no address in London?"

"No, sir; none. "

Sir Charles was now truly perplexed and distressed, and all manner ofstrange ideas came into his head. He did not know what to do, but hecould not bear to do nothing, so he drove to the _Times_ office andadvertised, requesting Lady Bassett to send her present address to Mr. Rolfe. 

At night he talked this strange business over with Mr. Rolfe. 

That gentleman thought she must have gone to Huntercombe; but by thelast post a letter came from Suaby, inclosing one from Lady Bassett toher husband. 

"119 Gloucester Place. 

"DARLING--The air here is not good for baby, and I cannot sleep for thenoise. We think of creeping toward home to-morrow, in an easy carriage. Pray God you may soon meet us at dear Huntercombe. Our first journeywill be to that dear old comfortable inn at Winterfield, where you andI were so happy, but not happier, dearest darling, than we shall soonbe again, I hope. 

"Your devoted wife. 

"BELLA BASSETT. 

"My heartfelt thanks to Mr. Rolfe for all he is doing. "

Sir Charles wanted to start that night for Winterfield, but Rolfepersuaded him not. "And mind, " said he, "the faithful pugilists must gowith you. "

The morning's post rendered that needless. It brought another letterfrom Suaby, informing Mr. Rolfe that the Commissioners had positivelydischarged Sir Charles, and notified the discharge to Richard Bassett. 

Sir Charles took leave of Mr. Rolfe as of a man who was to be his bosomfriend for life, and proceeded to hunt his wife. 

She had left Winterfield; but he followed her like a stanch hound, andwhen he stopped at a certain inn, some twenty miles from Huntercombe, awindow opened, there was a strange loving scream; he looked up, and sawhis wife's radiant face, and her figure ready to fly down to him. Herushed upstairs, into the right room by some mighty instinct, and heldher, panting and crying for joy, in his arms. 

That moment almost compensated what each had suffered. 

CHAPTER XXXI. 

So full was the joy of this loving pair that, for a long time, they satrocking in each other's arms, and thought of nothing but their sorrowspast, and the sea of bliss they were floating on. 

But presently Sir Charles glanced round for a moment. Swift tointerpret his every look, Lady Bassett rose, took two steps, came backand printed a kiss on his forehead, and then went to a door and openedit. 

"Mrs. Millar!" said she, with one of those tones by which these ladiesimpregnate with meaning a word that has none at all; and then she cameback to her husband. 

Soon a buxom woman of forty appeared, carrying a biggish bank of linenand lace, with a little face in the middle. The good woman held it upto Sir Charles, and he felt something novel stir inside him. He lookedat the little thing with a vast yearning of love, with pride, and agood deal of curiosity; and then turned smiling to his wife. She hadwatched him furtively but keenly, and her eyes were brimming over. Hekissed the little thing, and blessed it, and then took his wife'shands, and kissed her wet eyes, and made her stand and look at babywith him, hand in hand. It was a pretty picture. 

The buxom woman swelled her feathers, as simple women do when theyexhibit a treasure of this sort; she lifted the little mite slowly upand down, and said, "Oh, you Beauty!" and then went off into variousinarticulate sounds, which I recommend to the particular study of thenew philosophers: they cannot have been invented after speech; thatwould be retrogression; they must be the vocal remains of that hairy, sharp-eared quadruped, our Progenitor, who by accident discoveredlanguage, and so turned Biped, and went ahead of all the other hairyquadrupeds, whose ears were too long or not sharp enough to stumbleupon language. 

Under cover of these primeval sounds Lady Bassett drew her husband alittle apart, and looking in his face with piteous wistfulness, said, "You won't mind Richard Bassett and his baby now?"

"Not I. "

"You will never have another fit while you live?"

"I promise. "

"You will always be happy?"

"I must be an ungrateful scoundrel else, my dear. "

"Then baby is our best friend. Oh, you little angel!" And she pouncedon the mite, and kissed it far harder than Sir Charles had. Heavenknows what these gentle creatures are so rough with their mouths tochildren, but so it is. 

And now how can a mere male relate all the pretty childish things thatwere done and said to baby, and of baby, before the inevitablesqualling began, and baby was taken away to be consoled by another ofhis subjects. 

Sir Charles and Lady Bassett had a thousand things to tell each other, to murmur in each other's ears, sitting lovingly close to each other. 

But when all was quiet, and everybody else was in bed, Lady Bassettplucked up courage and said, "Charles, I am not quite happy. There isone thing wanting. " And then she hid her face in her hands and blushed. "I cannot nurse him. "

"Never mind, " said Sir Charles kindly. 

"You forgive me?"

"Forgive you, my poor girl! Why, is that a crime?"

"It leads to so many things. You don't know what a plague a nurse is, and makes one jealous. "

"Well, but it is only for a time. Come, Bella, this is a littlepeevish. Don't let us be ungrateful to Heaven. As for me, while you andour child live, I am proof against much greater misfortunes than that. "

Then Lady Bassett cleared up, and the subject dropped. 

But it was renewed next morning in a more definite form. 

Sir Charles rose early; and in the pride and joy of his heart, and notquite without an eye to triumphing over his mortal enemy and his coldfriends, sent a mounted messenger with orders to his servants toprepare for his immediate reception, and to send out his landau andfour horses to the "Rose, " at Staveleigh, half-way between Huntercombeand the place where he now was. Lady Bassett had announced herself ablefor the journey. 

After breakfast he asked her rather suddenly whether Mrs. Millar wasnot rather an elderly woman to select for a nurse. "I thought peoplegot a young woman for that office. "

"Oh, " said Lady Bassett, "why, Mrs. Millar is not _the_ nurse. Ofcourse nurse is young and healthy, and from the country, and the best Icould have in every way for baby. But yet--oh, Charles, I hope you willnot be angry--who do you think nurse is? It is Mary Gosport--Mary Wellsthat was. "

Sir Charles was a little staggered. He put this and that together, andsaid, "Why, she must have been playing the fool, then?"

"Hush! not so loud, dear. She is a married woman now, and her husbandgone to sea, and her child dead. Most wet-nurses have a child of theirown; and don't you think they must hate the stranger's child that partsthem from their own? Now baby is a comfort to Mary. And the wet-nurseis always a tyrant; and I thought, as this one has got into a habit ofobeying me, she might be more manageable; and then as to her havingbeen imprudent, I know many ladies who have been obliged to shut theireyes a little. Why, consider, Charles, would good wives and goodmothers leave their own children to nurse a stranger's? Would theirhusbands let them? And I thought, " said she, piteously, "we were sofortunate to get a young, healthy girl, imprudent but not vicious, whose fault had been covered by marriage, and then so attached to usboth as she is, poor thing!"

Sir Charles was in no humor to make mountains of mole-hills. "Why, mydear Bella, " said he, "after all, this is your department, not mine. "

"Yes, but unless I please you in every department there is no happinessfor me. "

"But you know you please me in everything; and the more I look intoanything, the wiser I always think you. You have chosen the bestwet-nurse possible. Send her to me. "

Lady Bassett hesitated. "You will be kind to her. You know theconsequence if anything happens to make her fret. Baby will suffer forit. "

"Oh, I know. Catch me offending this she potentate till he is weaned. Dress for the journey, my dear, and send nurse to me. "

Lady Bassett went into the next room, and after a long time Mary cameto Sir Charles with baby in her arms. 

Mary had lost for a time some of her ruddy color, but her skin wasclearer, and somehow her face was softened. She looked really abeautiful and attractive young woman. 

She courtesied to Sir Charles, and then took a good look at him. 

"Well, nurse, " said he, cheerfully, "here we are back again, both ofus. "

"That we be, sir. " And she showed her white teeth in a broad smile. "La, sir, you be a sight for sore eyes. How well you do look, to besure!"

"Thank you, Mary. I never was better in my life. You look pretty welltoo; only a little pale; paler than Lady Bassett does. "

"I give my color to the child, " said Mary, simply. 

She did not know she had said anything poetic; but Sir Charles was sotouched and pleased with her answer that he gave her a five-pound noteon the spot; and he said, "We'll bring your color back if beef and beerand kindness can do it. "

"I ain't afeard o' that, sir; and I'll arn it. 'Tis a lovely boy, sir, and your very image. "

Inspection followed; and something or other offended young master; hebegan to cackle. But this nurse did not take him away, as Mrs. Millarhad. She just sat down with him and nursed him openly, with rusticcomposure and simplicity. 

Sir Charles leaned his arm on the mantel-piece, and eyed the pair; forall this was a new world of feeling to him. His paid servant seemed tohim to be playing the mother to his child. Somehow it gave him astrange twinge, a sort of vicarious jealousy: he felt for his Bella. But I think his own paternal pride, in all its freshness, was hurt alittle too. 

At last he shrugged his shoulders, and was going out of the room, witha hint to Mary that she must wrap herself up, for it would be an opencarriage--

"Your own carriage, sir, and horses?"

"Certainly. "

"And do all the folk know as we are coming?"

Sir Charles laughed. "Most likely. Gossip is not dead at Huntercombe, Idare say. "

Nurse's black eyes flashed. "All the village will be out. I hope _he_will see us ride in, the black-hearted villain!"

Sir Charles was too proud to let her draw him into that topic; he wentabout his business. 

Lady Bassett's carriage, duly packed, came round, and Lady Bassett wasready soon afterward; so was Mrs. Millar; so was baby, imbedded now ina nest of lawn and lace and white fur. They had to wait for nurse. LadyBassett explained _sotto voce_ to her husband, "Just at the last momentshe was seized with a desire to wear a silk gown I gave her. I arguedwith her, but she only pouted. I was afraid for baby. It is very hardupon _you, _ dear. "

Her face and voice were so piteous that Sir Charles burst out laughing. 

"We must take the bitter along with the sweet. Don't you think thesweet rather predominates at present?"

Lady Bassett explored his face with all her eyes. "My darling is happynow; trifles cannot put him out. "

"I doubt if anything could shake me while I have you and our child. Asfor that jade keeping us all waiting while she dons silk attire, it issimply delicious. I wish Rolfe was here, that is all. Ha! ha! ha!"

Mrs. Gosport appeared at last in a purple silk gown, and marched to thecarriage without the slightest sign of the discomfort she really felt;but that was no wonder, belonging, as she did, to a sex which can walknot only smiling but jauntily, though dead lame on stilts, as you maysee any day in Regent Street. 

Sir Charles, with mock gravity, ushered King Baby and his attendants infirst, then Lady Bassett, and got in last himself. 

Before they had gone a mile Nurse No. 1 handed the child over to NurseNo. 2 with a lofty condescension, as who should say, "You suffice forporterage; I, the superior artist, reserve myself for emergencies. " No. 2 received the invaluable bundle with meek complacency. 

By-and-by Nurse 1 got fidgety, and kept changing her position. 

"What is the matter, Mary?" said Lady Bassett, kindly. "Is the dresstoo tight?"

"No, no, my lady, " said Mary, sharply; "the gownd's all right. " Andthen she was quiet a little. 

But she began again; and then Lady Bassett whispered Sir Charles, "Ithink she wants to sit forward: _may_ I?"

"Certainly not. I'll change with her. Here, Mary, try this side. Weshall have more room in the landau; it is double, with wide seats. "

Mary was gratified, and amused herself looking out of the window. Indeed, she was quiet for nearly half an hour. At the expiration ofthat period the fit took her again. She beckoned haughtily for baby, "which did come at her command, " as the song says. She got tired ofbaby, or something, and handed him back again. 

Presently she was discovered to be crying. 

General consternation! Universal but vague consolation!

Lady Bassett looked an inquiry at Mrs. Millar. Mrs. Millar looked backassent. Lady Bassett assumed the command, and took off Mary's shawl. 

_"Yes, "_ said she to Mrs. Millar. "Now, Mary, be good; it _is_ tootight. "

Thus urged, the idiot contracted herself by a mighty effort, while LadyBassett attacked the fastenings, and, with infinite difficulty, theyunhooked three bottom hooks. The fierce burst open that followed, andthe awful chasm, showed what gigantic strength vanity can command, andhow savagely abuse it to maltreat nature. 

Lady Bassett loosened the stays too, and a deep sigh of relief told thetruth, which the lying tongue had denied, as it always does wheneverthe same question is put. 

The shawl was replaced, and comfort gained till they entered the townof Staveleigh. 

Nurse instantly exchanged places with Sir Charles, and took the childagain. He was her banner in all public places. 

When they came up to the inn they were greeted with loud hurrahs. Itwas market-day. The town was full of Sir Charles's tenants and otherfarmers. His return had got wind, and every farmer under fifty hadresolved to ride with him into Huntercombe. 

When five or six, all shouting together, intimated this to Sir Charles, he sent one of his people to order the butchers out to Huntercombe withjoints a score, and then to gallop on with a note to his housekeeperand butler. "For those that ride so far with me must sup with me, " saidhe; a sentiment that was much approved. 

He took Lady Bassett and the women upstairs and rested them about anhour; and then they started for Huntercombe, followed by some thirtyfarmers and a dozen towns-people, who had a mind for a lark and to supat Huntercombe Hall for once. 

The ride was delightful; the carriage bowled swiftly along over asmooth road, with often turf at the side; and that enabled the youngfarmers to canter alongside without dusting the carriage party. Everyman on horseback they overtook joined them; some they met turned backwith them, and these were rewarded with loud cheers. Every eye in thecarriage glittered, and every cheek was more or less flushed by thisuproarious sympathy so gallantly shown, and the very thunder of so manyhorses' feet, each carrying a friend, was very exciting and glorious. Why, before they got to the village they had fourscore horsemen attheir backs. 

As they got close to the village Mary Gosport held out her arms foryoung master: this was not the time to forego her importance. 

The church-bells rang out a clashing peal, the cavalcade clattered intothe village. Everybody was out to cheer, and at sight of baby thewomen's voices were as loud as the men's. Old pensioners of the housewere out bareheaded; one, with hair white as snow, was down on hisknees praying a blessing on them. 

Lady Bassett began to cry softly; Sir Charles, a little pale, but firmas a rock; both bowing right and left, like royal personages; and wellthey might; every house in the village belonged to them but one. 

On approaching that one Mary Gosport turned her head round, and shot a. Glance round out of the tail of her eye. Ay, there was Richard Bassett, pale and gloomy, half-hid behind a tree at his gate: but Hate's quickeye discerned him: at the moment of passing she suddenly lifted thechild high, and showed it him, pretending to show it to the crowd: buther eye told the tale; for, with that act of fierce hatred and cunningtriumph, those black orbs shot a colored gleam like a furiousleopardess's. 

A roar of cheers burst from the crowd at that inspired gesture of awoman, whose face and eyes seemed on fire: Lady Bassett turned pale. 

The next moment they passed their own gate, and dashed up to the hallsteps of Huntercombe. 

Sir Charles sent Lady Bassett to her room for the night. She walkedthrough a row of ducking servants, bowing and smiling like a gentlegoddess. 

Mary Gosport, afraid to march in a long dress with the child, for fearof accidents, handed him superbly to Millar and strutted haughtilyafter her mistress, nodding patronage. Her follower, the meek Millar, stopped often to show the heir right and left, with simple genialityand kindness. 

Sir Charles stood on the hall steps, and invited all to come in andtake pot-luck. 

Already spits were turning before great fires; a rump of beef, legs ofpork, and pease-puddings boiling in one copper; turkeys and fowls inanother; joints and pies baking in the great brick ovens; barrels ofbeer on tap, and magnums of champagne and port marching steadily upfrom the cellars, and forming in line and square upon sideboards andtables. 

Supper was laid in the hall, the dining-room, the drawing-room, and thegreat kitchen. 

Poor villagers trickled in: no man or woman was denied; it was openhouse that night, as it had been four hundred years ago. 

CHAPTER XXXII. 

WHEN Sharpe's clerk retired, after serving that writ on Bassett, Bassett went to Wheeler and treated it as a jest. But Wheeler lookedpuzzled, and Bassett himself, on second thoughts, said he should likeadvice of counsel. Accordingly they both went up to London to asolicitor, and obtained an interview with a counsel learned in the law. He heard their story, and said, "The question is, can you convince ajury he was insane at the time?"

"But he can't get into court, " said Bassett. "I won't let him. "

"Oh, the court will make you produce him. "

"But I thought an insane person was civiliter mortuus, and couldn'tsue. "

"So he is; but this man is not insane in law. Shutting up a man oncertificates is merely a preliminary step to a fair trial by his peerswhether he is insane or not. Take the parallel case of a felon. Amagistrate commits him for trial, and generally on better evidence thanmedical certificates; but that does not make the man a felon, ordisentitle him to a trial by his peers; on the contrary, it entitleshim to a trial, and he could get Parliament to interfere if he was notbrought to trial. This plaintiff simply does what, he will say, youought to have done; he tries himself; if he tries you at the same time, that is your fault. If he is insane now, fight. If he is not, I adviseyou to discharge him on the instant, and then compound. "

Wheeler said he was afraid the plaintiff was too vindictive to come toterms. 

"Well, then, you can show you discharged him the moment you had reasonto think he was cured, and you must prove he was insane when youincarcerated him; but I warn you it will be uphill work if he is sanenow; the jury will be apt to go by what they see. "

Bassett and Wheeler retired; the latter did not presume to differ; butBassett was dissatisfied and irritated. 

"That fellow would only see the plaintiff's side, " said he. "The foolforgets there is an Act of Parliament, and that we have complied withits provisions to a T. "

"Then why did you not ask his construction of the Act?" suggestedWheeler. 

"Because I don't want his construction. I've read it, and it is plainenough to anybody but a fool. Well, I have consulted counsel, to pleaseyou; and now I'll go my own way, to please myself. "

He went to Burdoch, and struck a bargain, and Sir Charles was to beshifted to Burdoch's asylum, and nobody allowed to see him there, etc. , etc. ; the old system, in short, than which no better has as yet beendevised for perpetuating, or even causing, mental aberration. 

Rolfe baffled this, as described, and Bassett was literally stunned. Henow saw that Sir Charles had an ally full of resources and resolution. Who could it be? He began to tremble. He complained to the police, andset them to discover who had thus openly and audaciously violated theAct of Parliament, and then he went and threatened Dr. Suaby. 

But Rolfe and Sir Charles, who loved Suaby as he deserved, had providedagainst that; they had not let the doctor into their secret. Hetherefore said, with perfect truth, that he had no hand in the matter, and that Sir Charles, being bound upon his honor not to escape fromBellevue, would be in the asylum still if Mr. Bassett had not taken himout, and invoked brute force, in the shape of Burdoch. "Well, sir, "said he, "it seems they have shown you two can play at that game. " Andso bade him good afternoon very civilly. 

Bassett went home sickened. He remained sullen and torpid for a day ortwo; then he wrote to Burdoch to send to London and try and recaptureSir Charles. 

But next day he revoked his instructions, for he got a letter from theCommissioners of Lunacy, announcing the authoritative discharge of SirCharles, on the strong representation of Dr. Suaby and other competentpersons. 

That settled the matter, and the poor cousin had kept the rich cousinthree months at his own expense, with no solid advantage, but theprospect of a lawsuit. 

Sharpe, spurred by Rolfe, gave him no breathing time. With the utmostexpedition the Declaration in Bassett _v. _ Bassett followed the writ. 

It was short, simple, and in three counts. 

"For violently seizing and confining the plaintiff in a certain place, on a false pretense that he was insane. 

"For detaining him in spite of evidence that he was not insane. 

"For endeavoring to remove him to another place, with a certainsinister motive there specified. 

"By which several acts the plaintiff had suffered in his health and hisworldly affairs, and had endured great agony of mind. "

And the plaintiff claimed damages, ten thousand pounds. 

Bassett sent over for his friend Wheeler, and showed him the newdocument with no little consternation. 

But their discussion of it was speedily interrupted by the clashing oftriumphant bells and distant shouting. 

They ran out to see what it was. Bassett, half suspecting, hung back;but Mary Gosport's keen eye detected him, and she held up the heir tohim, with hate and triumph blazing in her face. 

He crept into his own house and sank into a chair foudroye. 

Wheeler, however, roused him to a necessary effort, and next day theytook the Declaration to counsel, to settle their defense in due form. 

"What is this?" said the learned gentleman. "Three counts! Why, Iadvised you to discharge him at once. "

"Yes, " said Wheeler, "and excellent advice it was. But my client--"

"Preferred to go his own road. And now I am to cure the error I didwhat I could to prevent. "

"I dare say, sir, it is not the first time in your experience. "

"Not by a great many. Clients, in general, have a great contempt forthe notion that prevention is better than cure. "

"He can't hurt me, " said Bassett, impatiently. "He was separatelyexamined by two doctors, and all the provisions of the statute exactlycomplied with. "

"But that is no defense to this plaint. The statute forbids you toimprison an insane person without certain precautions; but it does notgive you a right, under any circumstances, to imprison a sane man. Thatwas decided in Butcher _v. _Butcher. The defense you rely on waspleaded as a second plea, and the plaintiff demurred to it directly. The question was argued before the full court, and the judges, led bythe first lawyer of the age, decided unanimously that the provisions ofthe statute did not affect sane Englishmen and their rights under thecommon law. They ordered the plea to be struck off the record, and thecase was reduced to a simple issue of sane or insane. Butcher _v. _Butcher governs all these cases. Can you prove him insane? If not, youhad better compound on any terms. In Butcher's case the jury gave 3, 000pounds, and the plaintiff was a man of very inferior position to SirCharles Bassett. Besides, the defendant, Butcher, had not persistedagainst evidence, as you have. They will award 5, 000 pounds at least inthis case. "

He took down a volume of reports, and showed them the case he hadcited; and, on reading the unanimous decision of the judges, and thelearning by which they were supported, Wheeler said at once: "Mr. Bassett, we might as well try to knock down St. Paul's with our headsas to go against this decision. "

They then settled to put in a single plea, that Sir Charles was insaneat the time of his capture. 

This done, to gain time, Wheeler called on Sharpe, and, after severalconferences, got the case compounded by an apology, a solemnretractation in writing, and the payment of four thousand pounds; hiscounsel assured him his client was very lucky to get off so cheap. 

Bassett paid the money, with the assistance of his wife's father: butit was a sickener; it broke his spirit, and even injured his health forsome time. 

Sir Charles improved the village with the money, and gave a copy-holdtenement to each of the men Bassett had got imprisoned. So they andtheir sons and their grandsons lived rent free--no, now I think of it, they had to pay four pence a year to the Lord of the Manor. 

Defeated at every point, and at last punished severely, Richard Bassettfell into a deep dejection and solitary brooding of a sort verydangerous to the reason. He would not go out-of-doors to give hisenemies a triumph. He used to sit by the fire and mutter, "Blow uponblow, blow upon blow. My poor boy will never be lord of Huntercombenow!" and so on. 

Wheeler pitied him, but could not rouse him. At last a person for whosenarrow attainments and simplicity he had a profound, though, to do himjustice, a civil contempt, ventured to his rescue. Mrs. Bassett wentcrying to her father, and told him she feared the worst if Richard'smind could not be diverted from the Huntercombe estate and his hatredof Sir Charles and Lady Bassett, which had been the great misfortune ofher life and of his own, but nothing would ever eradicate it. Richardhad great abilities; was a linguist, a wonderful accountant; could herdear father find him some profitable employment to divert his thoughts?

"What! all in a moment?" said the old man. "Then I shall have to _buy_it; and if I go on like this I shall not have much to leave you. "

Having delivered this objection, he went up to London, and, having manyfriends in the City, and laying himself open to proposals, he got scentat last of a new insurance company that proposed also to deal inreversions, especially to entailed estates. By prompt purchase ofshares in Bassett's name, and introducing Bassett himself, who, byspecial study, had a vast acquaintance with entailed estates, and agenius for arithmetical calculation, he managed somehow to get him intothe direction, with a stipend, and a commission on all business hemight introduce to the office. 

Bassett yielded sullenly, and now divided his time between London andthe country. 

Wheeler worked with him on a share of commission, and they made somemoney between them. 

After the bitter lesson he had received Bassett vowed to himself henever would attack Sir Charles again unless he was sure of victory. Forall this he hated him and Lady Bassett worse than ever, hated them tothe death. 

He never moved a finger down at Huntercombe, nor said a word; but inLondon he employed a private inquirer to find out where Lady Bassetthad lived at the time of her confinement, and whether any clergyman hadvisited her. 

The private inquirer could find out nothing, and Bassett, comparing hisadvertisements with his performance, dismissed him for a humbug. 

But the office brought him into contact with a great many medical men, one after another. He used to say to each stranger, with an insidioussmile, "I think you once attended my cousin--Lady Bassett. "

CHAPTER XXXIII. 

SIR CHARLES and Lady Bassett, relieved of their cousin's active enmity, led a quiet life, and one that no longer furnished striking incidents. 

But dramatic incident is not everything: character and feeling showthemselves in things that will not make pictures. Now it was preciselyduring this reposeful period that three personages of this storyexhibited fresh traits of feeling, and also of character. 

To begin with Sir Charles Bassett. He came back from the asylum muchaltered in body and mind. Stopping his cigars had improved his stomach;working in the garden had increased his muscular power, and his cheekswere healthy, and a little sunburned, instead of sallow. His mind wasalso improved: contemplation of insane persons had set him by a naturalrecoil to study self-control. He had returned a philosopher. No smallthing could irritate him now. So far his character was elevated. 

Lady Bassett was much the same as before, except a certainrestlessness. She wanted to be told every day, or twice a day, that herhusband was happy; and, although he was visibly so, yet, as he wasquiet over it, she used to be always asking him if he was happy. Thisthe reader must interpret as he pleases. 

Mary Gosport gave herself airs. Respectful to her master and mistress, but not so tolerant of chaff in the kitchen as she used to be. Made anexample of one girl, who threw a doubt on her marriage. Complained toLady Bassett, affected to fret, and the girl was dismissed. 

She turned singer. She had always sung psalms in church, but never aprofane note in the house. Now she took to singing over her nursling;she had a voice of prodigious power and mellowness, and, provided shewas not asked, would sing lullabies and nursery rhymes from anothercounty that ravished the hearer. Horsemen have been known to stop inthe road to hear her sing through an open window of Huntercombe, twohundred yards off. 

Old Mr. Meyrick, a farmer well-to-do, fascinated by Mary Gosport'ssinging, asked her to be his housekeeper when she should have donenursing her charge. 

She laughed in his face. 

A fanatic who was staying with Sir Charles Bassett offered her threeyears' education in Do, Ra, Mi, Fa, preparatory to singing at theopera. 

Declined without thanks. 

Mr. Drake, after hovering shyly, at last found courage to reproach herfor deserting him and marrying a sailor. 

"Teach you not to shilly-shally, " said she. "Beauty won't go a-begging. Mind you look sharper next time. "

This dialogue, being held in the kitchen, gave the women some amusementat the young farmer's expense. 

One day Mr. Richard Bassett, from motives of pure affection no doubt, not curiosity, desired mightily to inspect Mr. Bassett, aged eightmonths and two days. 

So, in his usual wily way, he wrote to Mrs. Gosport, asking her, forold acquaintance' sake, to meet him in the meadow at the end of thelawn. This meadow belonged to Sir Charles, but Richard Bassett had aright of way through it, and could step into it by a postern, as Marycould by an iron gate. 

He asked her to come at eleven o'clock, because at that hour heobserved she walked on the lawn with her charge. 

Mary Gosport came to the tryst, but without Mr. Bassett. 

Richard was very polite; she cold, taciturn, observant. 

At last he said, "But where's the little heir?"

She flew at him directly. "It is him you wanted, not me. Did you thinkI'd bring him here--for you to kill him?"

"Come, I say. "

"Ay, you'd kill him if you had a chance. But you never shall. Or if youdidn't kill him, you'd cast the evil-eye on him, for you are well knownto have the evil-eye. No; he shall outlive thee and thine, and be lordof these here manors when thou is gone to hell, thou villain. "

Mr. Richard Bassett turned pale, but did the wisest thing he could--puthis hands in his pockets, and walked into his own premises, followed, however, by Mary Gosport, who stormed at him till he shut his posternin her face. 

She stood there trembling for a little while, then walked away, crying. 

But having a mind like running water, she was soon seated on a gardenchair, singing over her nursling like a mavis: she had delivered him toMillar while she went to speak her mind to her old lover. 

As for Richard Bassett, he was theory-bitten, and so turned every thingone way. To be sure, as long as the woman's glaring eyes and facedistorted by passion were before him, he interpreted her words simply;but when he thought the matter over he said to himself, "The evil-eye!That is all bosh; the girl is in Lady Bassett's secrets; and I am notto see young master: some day I shall know the reason why. "

Sir Charles Bassett now belonged to the tribe of clucking cocks quiteas much as his cousin had ever done; only Sir Charles had the goodtaste to confine his clucks to his own first-floor. Here, to be sure, he richly indemnified himself for his self-denial abroad. He sat forhours at a time watching the boy on the ground at his knee, or in hisnurse's arms. 

And while he watched the infant with undisguised delight, Lady Bassettwould watch _him_ with a sort of furtive and timid complacency. 

Yet at times she suffered from twinges of jealousy--a new complaintwith her. 

I think I have mentioned that Sir Charles, at first, was annoyed atseeing his son and heir nursed by a woman of low condition. Well, hegot over that feeling by degrees, and, as soon as he did get over it, his sentiments took quite an opposite turn. A woman for whom he didvery little, in his opinion--since what, in Heaven's name, were aservant's wages?--he saw that woman do something great for him; saw hernourish his son and heir from her own veins; the child had no othernurture; yet the father saw him bloom and thrive, and growsurprisingly. 

A weak observer, or a less enthusiastic parent, might have overlookedall this; but Sir Charles had naturally an observant eye and ananalytical mind, and this had been suddenly but effectually developedby the asylum and his correspondence with Rolfe. 

He watched the nurse, then, and her maternal acts with a curious andgrateful eye, and a certain reverence for her power. 

He observed, too, that his child reacted on the woman: she had neversung in the house before; now she sang ravishingly--sang, in low, mellow, yet sonorous notes, some ditties that had lulled mediaevalbarons in their cradles. 

And what had made her vocal made her beautiful at times. 

Before, she had appeared to him a handsome girl, with the hardish lookof the lower classes; but now, when she sat in a sunny window, andlowered her black lashes on her nursling, with the mixed and delicioussmile of an exuberant nurse relieving and relieved, she was soft, poetical, sculptorial, maternal, womanly. 

This species of contemplation, though half philosophical, halfpaternal, and quite innocent, gave Lady Bassett some severe pangs. 

She hid them, however; only she bided her time, and then suggested thepropriety of weaning baby. 

But Mrs. Gosport got Sir Charles's ear, and told him what magnificentchildren they reared in her village by not weaning infants till theywere eighteen months old or so. 

By this means, and by crying to Lady Bassett, and representing herdesolate condition with a husband at sea, she obtained a reprieve, coupled, however, with a good-humored assurance from Sir Charles thatshe was the greatest baby of the two. 

When the inevitable hour approached that was to dethrone her she tookto reading the papers, and one day she read of a disastrous wreck, the_Carbrea Castle_--only seven saved out of a crew of twenty-three. Sheread the details carefully, and two days afterward she received aletter written by a shipmate of Mr. Gosport's, in a handwriting notvery unlike her own, relating the sad wreck of the _Carbrea Castle, _and the loss of several good sailors, James Gosport for one. 

Then the house was filled with the wailing and weeping of the bereavedwidow; and at last came consolers and raised doubts; but then somebodyremembered to have seen the loss of that very ship in the paper. Thepaper was found, and the fatal truth was at once established. 

Upon this Mr. Bassett was weaned as quickly as possible, and the widowclothed in black at Lady Bassett's expense, and everything in reasondone to pet her and console her. 

But she cried bitterly, and said she would throw herself into the seaand follow her husband. 

Huntercombe was nowhere near the coast. 

At last, however, she relented, and concluded to remain on earth asdry-nurse to Mr. Bassett. 

Sir Charles did not approve this: it seemed unreasonable to turn awet-nurse into a dry-nurse when that office was already occupied by aperson her senior and more experienced. 

Lady Bassett agreed with him, but shrugged her shoulders and said, "Twonurses will not hurt, and I suspect it will not be for long. Mary doesnot feel her husband's loss one bit. "

"Surely you are mistaken. She howls loud enough. "

"Too loud--much, " said Lady Bassett, dryly. 

Her perspicuity was not deceived. In a very short time Mr. Meyrick, unable to get her for his housekeeper, offered her marriage. 

"What!" said she, "and James Gosport not dead a month?"

"Say the word now, and take your own time, " said he. 

"Well, I might do worse, " said she. 

About six weeks after this Drake came about her, and in tender tones ofconsolation suggested that it is much better for a pretty girl to marryone who plows the land than one who plows the sea. 

"That is true, " said Mary, with a sigh; "I have found it to my sorrow. "

After this Drake played a bit with her, and then relented, and oneevening offered her marriage, expecting her to jump eagerly at hisoffer. 

"You be too late, young man, " said she, coolly; "I'm bespoke. "

"Doan't ye say that! How can ye be bespoke? Why, t'other hain't beendead four months yet. "

"What o' that? This one spoke for me within a week. Why, our banns areto be cried to-morrow; come to church and hear 'em; that will learn yenot to shilly-shally so next time. "

"Next time!" cried Drake, half blubbering; then, with a sudden roar, "what, be you coming to market again, arter this?"

"Like enough: he is a deal older than I be. 'Tis Mr. Meyrick, if yemust know. "

Now Mr. Meyrick was well-to-do, and so Drake was taken aback. 

"Mr. Meyrick!" said he, and turned suddenly respectful. 

But presently a view of a rich widow flitted before his eye. 

"Well, " said he, "you shan't throw it in my teeth again as I speak toolate. I ask you now, and no time lost. "

"What! am I to stop my banns, and jilt Farmer Meyrick for _thee?"_

"Nay, nay. But I mean I'll marry you, if you'll marry me, as soon asever the breath is out of that dall'd old hunks's body. "

"Well, well, Will Drake, " said Mary, gravely, "if I do outlive thisone--and you bain't married long afore--and if you keeps in the samemind as you be now--and lets me know it in good time--I'll see aboutit. "

She gave a flounce that made her petticoats whisk like a mare's tail, and off to the kitchen, where she related the dialogue with anappropriate reflection, the company containing several of either sex. "Dilly-Dally and Shilly-Shally, they belongs to us as women be. I hateand despise a man as can't make up his mind in half a minnut. "

So the widow Gosport became Mrs. Meyrick, and lived in a farmhouse notquite a mile from the Hall. 

She used often to come to the Hall, and take a peep at her lamb: thiswas the name she gave Mr. Bassett long after he had ceased to be achild. 

About four years after the triumphant return to Huntercombe, LadyBassett conceived a sudden coldness toward the little boy, though hewas universally admired. 

She concealed this sentiment from Sir Charles, but not from the femaleservants: and, from one to another, at last it came round to SirCharles. He disbelieved it utterly at first; but, the hint having beengiven him, he paid attention, and discovered there was, at all events, some truth in it. 

He awaited his opportunity and remonstrated: "My dear Bella, am Imistaken, or do I really observe a falling off in your tenderness foryour child?"

Lady Bassett looked this way and that, as if she meditated flight, butat last she resigned herself, and said, "Yes, dear Charles; my heart isquite cold to him. "

"Good Heavens, Bella! But why? Is not this the same little angel thatcame to our help in trouble, that comforted me even before his birth, when my mind was morbid, to say the least?"

"I suppose he is the same, " said she, in a tone impossible to convey bydescription of mine. 

"That is a strange answer. "

"If he is, _I_ am changed. " And this she said doggedly and unlikeherself. 

"What!" said Sir Charles, very gravely, and with a sort of awe: "can awoman withdraw her affection from her child, her innocent child? If so, my turn may come next. "

"Oh, Charles! Charles!" and the tears began to well. 

"Why, who can be secure after this? What is so stable as a mother'slove? If that is not rooted too deep for gusts of caprice to blow itaway, in Heaven's name, what is?"

No answer to that but tears. 

Sir Charles looked at her very long, attentively, and seriously, andsaid not another syllable. 

But his dropping so suddenly a subject of this importance was rathersuspicious, and Lady Bassett was too shrewd not to see that. 

They watched each other. 

But with this difference: Sir Charles could not conceal his anxiety, whereas the lady appeared quite tranquil. 

One day Sir Charles said, cheerfully, "Who do you think dines hereto-morrow, and stays all night? Dr. Suaby. "

"By invitation, dear?" asked Lady Bassett, quietly. 

Sir Charles colored a little, and said, quietly, "Yes. "

Lady Bassett made no remark, and it was impossible to tell by her facewhether the visit was agreeable or not. 

Some time afterward, however, she said, "Whom shall I ask to meet Dr. Suaby?"

"Nobody, for Heaven's sake!"

"Will not that be dull for him?"

"I hope not. "

"You will have plenty to say to him, eh, darling?"

"We never yet lacked topics. Whether or no, his is a mind I choose todrink neat. "

"Drink him neat?"

"Undiluted with rural minds. "

"Oh!"

She uttered that monosyllable very dryly, and said no more. 

Dr. Suaby came next day, and dined with them, and Lady Bassett wascharming; but rather earlier than usual she said, "Now I am sure youand Dr. Suaby must have many things to talk about, " and retired, casting back an arch, and almost a cunning smile. 

The door closed on her, the smile fled, and a somber look of care andsuffering took its place. 

Sir Charles entered at once on what was next his heart, told Dr. Suabyhe was in some anxiety, and asked him if he had observed anything inLady Bassett. 

"Nothing new, " said Dr. Suaby; "charming as ever. "

Then Sir Charles confided to Dr. Suaby, in terms of deep feeling andanxiety, what I have coldly told the reader. 

Dr. Suaby looked a little grave, and took time to think before hespoke. 

At last he delivered an opinion, of which this is the substance, thoughnot the exact words. 

"It is sudden and unnatural, and I cannot say it does not partake ofmental aberration. If the patient was a man I should fear the mostserious results; but here we have to take into account the patient'ssex, her nature, and her present condition. Lady Bassett has alwaysappeared to me a very remarkable woman. She has no mediocrity inanything; understanding keen, perception wonderfully swift, heart largeand sensitive, nerves high strung, sensibilities acute. A person of hersex, tuned so high as this, is always subject, more or less, tohysteria. It is controlled by her intelligence and spirit; but she isnow, for the time being, in a physical condition that has oftenderanged less sensitive women than she is. I believe this about the boyto be a hysterical delusion, which will pass away when her next childis born. That is to say, she will probably ignore her first-born, andeverything else, for a time; but these caprices, springing in realityfrom the body rather than the mind, cannot endure forever. When she hasseveral grown-up children the first-born will be the favorite. It comesto that at last, my good friend. "

"These are the words of wisdom, " said Sir Charles; "God bless you forthem!"

After a while he said, "Then what you advise is simply--patience?"

"No, I don't say that. With such a large house as this, and yourresources, you might easily separate them before the delusion grows anyfarther. Why risk a calamity?"

"A calamity?" and Sir Charles began to tremble. 

"She is only cold to the child as yet. She might go farther, and fancyshe hated it. _Obsta principiis:_ that is my motto. Not that I reallythink, for a moment, the child is in danger. Lady Bassett has mind tocontrol her nerves with; but why run the shadow of a chance?"

"I will not run the shadow of a chance, " said Sir Charles, resolutely;"let us come upstairs: my decision is taken. "

The very next day Sir Charles called on Mrs. Meyrick, and asked if hecould come to any arrangement with her to lodge Mr. Bassett and hisnurse under her roof. "The boy wants change of air, " said he. 

Mrs. Meyrick jumped at the proposal, but declined all terms. "No, " saidshe, "the child I have suckled shall never pay me for his lodging. Whyshould he, sir, when I'd pay _you_ to let him come, if I wasn't afeardof offending you?"

Sir Charles was touched at this, and, being a gentleman of tact, said, "You are very good: well, then, I must remain your debtor for thepresent. "

He then took his leave, but she walked with him a few yards, just asfar as the wicket, gate that separated her little front garden from thehigh-road. 

"I hope, " said she, "my lady will come and see me when my lamb is withme; a sight of her would be good for sore eyes. She have never beenhere but once, and then she did not get out of her carriage. "

"Humph!" said Sir Charles, apologetically; "she seldom goes out now;you understand. "

"Oh, I've heard, sir; and I do put up my prayers for her; for my ladyhas been a good friend to me, sir, and if you will believe me, I oftensets here and longs for a sight of her, and her sweet eyes, and herhair like sunshine, that I've had in my hand so often. Well, sir, Ihope it will be a girl this time, a little girl with golden hair;that's what I wants this time. They'll be the prettiest pair inEngland. "

"With all my heart, " said Sir Charles; "girl or boy, I don't carewhich; but I'd give a few thousands if it was here, and the mothersafe. "

He hurried away, ashamed of having uttered the feelings of his heart toa farmer's wife. To avoid discussion, he sent Mrs. Millar and the boyoff all in a hurry, and then told Lady Bassett what he had done. 

She appeared much distressed at that, and asked what she had done. 

He soothed her, and said she was not to blarne at all; and she must notblame him either. He had done it for the best. 

"After all, you are the master, " said she, submissively. 

"I am, " said he, "and men will be tyrants, you know. "

Then she flung her arm round her tyrant's neck, and there was an end ofthe discussion. 

One day he inquired for her, and heard, to his no small satisfaction, she had driven to Mrs. Meyrick's, with a box of things for Mr. Bassett. She stayed at the farmhouse all day, and Sir Charles felt sure he haddone the right thing. 

Mrs. Meyrick found out to her cost the difference between a nurslingand a rampageous little boy. 

Her lamb, as she called him, was now a young monkey, vigorous, active, restless, and, unfortunately, as strong on his pins as most boys ofsix. It took two women to look after him, and smart ones too, soswiftly did he dash off into some mischief or other. At last Mrs. Meyrick simplified matters in some degree by locking the large gate, and even the small wicket, and ordering all the farm people andmilkmaids to keep an eye on him, and bring him straight to her if heshould stray, for he seemed to hate in-doors. Never was such a boy. 

Nevertheless, such as had not the care of him admired the child for hisbeauty and his assurance. He seemed to regard the whole human race asone family, of which he was the rising head. The moment he caught sightof a human being he dashed at it and into conversation by one unbrokenmovement. 

Now children in general are too apt to hide their intellectualtreasures from strangers by shyness. 

One day this ready converser was standing on the steps of the house, when a gentleman came to the wicket gate, and looked over into thegarden. 

Young master darted to the gate directly, and getting his foot on thelowest bar and his hands on the spikes, gave tongue. 

"Who are you? _I'm_ Mr. Bassett. I don't live here; I'm only staying. My home is Huncom Hall. I'm to have it for myself when papa dies. Ididn't know dat till I come here. How old are you? I'm half pastfour--"

A loud scream, a swift rustle, and Mr. Bassett was clutched up by Mrs. Meyrick, who snatched him away with a wild glance of terror anddefiance, and bore him swiftly into the house, with words ringing inher ears that cost Mr. Bassett dear, he being the only person she couldpunish. She sat down on a bench, flung young master across her knee ina minute, and bestowed such a smacking on him as far transcended hiswildest dreams of the weight, power, and pertinacity of the human arm. 

The words Richard Bassett had shot her flying with were these:

"Too late! I've SEEN THE PARSON'S BRAT. "

Richard Bassett mounted his horse and rode over to Wheeler, for hecould no longer wheedle the man of law over to Highmore, and I willvery briefly state why. 

1st. About three years ago an old lady, one of his few clients, lefthim three thousand pounds, just reward of a very little law and a vastdeal of gossip. 

2d. The head solicitor of the place got old and wanted a partner. Wheeler bought himself in, and thenceforth took his share of a goodbusiness, and by his energy enlarged it, though he never could foundone for himself. 

3d. He married a wife. 

4th. She was a pretty woman, and blessed with jealousy of a just andimpartial nature: she was equally jealous of women, men, books, business--anything that took her husband from her. 

No more sleeping out at Highmore; no more protracted potations; no morebachelor tricks for Wheeler. He still valued his old client andwelcomed him; but the venue was changed, so to speak. 

Richard Bassett was kept waiting in the outer office; but when he didget in he easily prevailed on Wheeler to send the next client or two tohis partner, and give him a full hearing. 

Then he opened his business. "Well, " said he, "I've seen him at last!"

"Seen him? seen whom?"

"The boy they have set up to rob my boy of the estate. I've seen him, Wheeler, seen him close; and HE'S AS BLACK AS MY HAT. "

CHAPTER XXXIV. 

WHEELER, instead of being thunder-stricken, said quietly, "Oh, is he?Well?"

"Sir Charles is lighter than I am: Lady Bassett has a skin like satin, and red hair. "

"Red! say auburn gilt. I never saw such lovely hair. "

"Well, " said Richard, impatiently, "then the boy has eyes like sloes, and a brown skin, like an Italian, and black hair almost; it will bequite. "

"Well, " said Wheeler, "it is not so very uncommon for a dark child tobe born of fair parents, or _vice versa. _ I once saw an urchin that waslike neither father nor mother, but the image of his father'sgrandfather, that died eighty years before he was born. They used tohold him up to the portrait. "

Said Bassett, "Will you admit that it is uncommon?"

"Not so uncommon as for a high-bred lady, living in the country, andadored by her husband, to trifle with her marriage vow, for that iswhat you are driving at. "

"Then we have to decide between two improbabilities: will you grant methat, Mr. Wheeler?"

"Yes. "

"Then suppose I can prove fact upon fact, and coincidence uponcoincidence, all tending one way! Are you so prejudiced that nothingwill convince you?"

"No. But it will take a great deal: that lady's face is full of purity, and she fought us like one who loved her husband. "

_"Fronti nulla fides:_ and as for her fighting, her infidelity was theweapon she defeated us with. Will you hear me?"

"Yes, yes; but pray stick to facts, and not conjectures. "

"Then don't interrupt me with childish arguments:

_"Fact 1. _--Both reputed parents fair; the boy as black as the ace ofspades. 

_"Fact 2. _--A handsome young fellow was always buzzing about herladyship, and he was a parson, and ladies are remarkably fond ofparsons. 

_"Fact 3. _--This parson was of Italian breed, dark, like the boy. 

_"Fact 4. _--This dark young man left Huntercombe one week, and my ladyleft it the next, and they were both in the city of Bath at one time. 

_"Fact 5. _--The lady went from Bath to London. The dark young man wentfrom Bath to London. "

"None of this is new to me, " said Wheeler, quietly. 

"No; but it is the rule, in estimating coincidences, that each freshone multiplies the value of the others. Now the boy looking so Italianis a new coincidence, and so is what I am going to tell you--at last Ihave found the medical man who attended Lady Bassett in London. "

"Ah!"

"Yes, sir; and I have learned _Fact 6. _--Her ladyship rented a house, but hired no servants, and engaged no nurse. She had no attendant but alady's maid, no servant but a sort of charwoman. 

_"Fact 7. _--She dismissed this doctor unusually soon, and gave him avery large fee. 

_"Fact 8. _--She concealed her address from her husband. "

"Oh! can you prove that?"

"Certainly. Sir Charles came up to town, and had to hunt for her, cameto this very medical man, and asked for the address his wife had notgiven him; but lo! when he got there the bird was flown. 

_"Fact 9. _--Following the same system of concealment, my lady levantedfrom London within ten days of her confinement. 

"Now put all these coincidences together. Don't you see that she had alover, and that he was about her in London and other places? Stop!_Fact 10. _--Those two were married for years, and had no child but thisequivocal one; and now four years and a half have passed, during allwhich time they have had none, and the young parson has been abroadduring that period. "

Wheeler was staggered and perplexed by this artful array ofcoincidences. 

"Now advise me, " said Bassett. 

"It is not so easy. Of course if Sir Charles was to die, you couldclaim the estate, and give them a great deal of pain and annoyance; butthe burden of proof would always rest on you. My advice is not tobreathe a syllable of this; but get a good detective, and push yourinquiries a little further among house agents, and the women they putinto houses; find that charwoman, and see if you can pick up anythingmore. "

"Do you know such a thing as an able detective?"

"I know one that will work if I instruct him. "

"Instruct him, then. "

"I will. "

CHAPTER XXXV. 

LADY BASSETT, as her time of trial drew near, became despondent. 

She spoke of the future, and tried to pierce it; and in all theselittle loving speculations and anxieties there was no longer anymention of herself. 

This meant that she feared her husband was about to lose her. I put thefear in the very form it took in that gentle breast. 

Possessed with this dread, so natural to her situation, she set herhouse in order, and left her little legacies of clothes and jewels, without the help of a lawyer; for Sir Charles, she knew, would respecther lightest wish. 

To him she left her all, except these trifles, and, above all--amanuscript book. It was the history of her wedded life. Not the bareoutward history; but such a record of a sensitive woman's heart as nomale writer's pen can approach. 

It was the nature of her face and her tongue to conceal; but here, onthis paper, she laid bare her heart; here her very subtlety operated, not to hide, but to dissect herself and her motives. 

But oh, what it cost her to pen this faithful record of her love, hertrials, her doubts, her perplexities, her agonies, her temptations, andher crime! Often she laid down the pen, and hid her face in her hands. Often the scalding tears ran down that scarlet face. Often she writhedat her desk, and wrote on, sighing and moaning. Yet she persevered tothe end. It was the grave that gave her the power. "When he readsthis, " she said, "I shall be in my tomb. Men make excuses for the dead. My Charles will forgive me when I am gone. He will know I loved him todesperation. "

It took her many days to write; it was quite a thick quarto; so muchmay a woman feel in a year or two; and, need I say that, to the readerof that volume, the mystery of her conduct was all made clear asdaylight; clearer far, as regards the revelation of mind and feeling, than I, dealer in broad facts, shall ever make it, for want of awoman's mental microscope and delicate brush. 

And when this record was finished, she wrapped it in paper, and sealedit with many seals, and wrote on it, "Only for my husband's eye. From her who loved him not wisely, But toowell. "

And she took other means that even the superscription should never beseen of any other eye but his. It was some little comfort to her, whenthe book was written. 

She never prayed to live. But she used to pray, fervently, piteously, that her child might live, and be a comfort and joy to his father. 

The person employed by Wheeler discovered the house agent, and thewoman he had employed. 

But these added nothing to the evidence Bassett had collected. 

At last, however, this woman, under the influence of a promised reward, discovered a person who was likely to know more about the matter--viz. , the woman who was in the house with Lady Bassett at the very time. 

But this woman scented gold directly: so she held mysterious language;declined to say a word to the officer; but intimated that she knew agreat deal, and that the matter was, in truth, well worth looking into, and she could tell some strange tales, if it was worth her while. 

This information was sent to Bassett; he replied that the woman onlywanted money for her intelligence, and he did not blame her; he wouldsee her next time he went to town, and felt sure she would complete hischain of evidence. This put Richard Bassett into extravagant spirits. He danced his little boy on his knee, and said, "I'll run this littlehorse against the parson's brat; five to one, and no takers. "

Indeed, his exultation was so loud and extravagant that it jarred ongentle Mrs. Bassett. As for Jessie, the Scotch servant, she shook herhead, and said the master was fey. 

In the morning he started for London, still so exuberant and excitedthat the Scotch woman implored her mistress not to let him go; therewould be an accident on the railway, or something. But Mrs. Bassettknew her husband too well to interfere with his journeys. 

Before he drove off he demanded his little boy. 

"He must kiss me, " said he, "for I'm going to work for him. D'ye hearthat, Jane? This day makes him heir of Huntercombe and Bassett. "

The nurse brought word that Master Bassett was not very well thismorning. 

"Let us look at him, " said Bassett. 

He got out of his gig, and went to the nursery. He found his little boyhad a dry cough, with a little flushing. 

"It is not much, " said he; "but I'll send the doctor over from thetown. "

He did so, and himself proceeded up to London. 

The doctor came, and finding the boy labored in breathing, administereda full dose of ipecacuanha. This relieved the child for the time; butabout four in the afternoon he was distressed again, and began to coughwith a peculiar grating sound. 

Then there was a cry of dismay--"The croup!" The doctor was gone for, and a letter posted to Richard Bassett, urging him to come backdirectly. 

The doctor tried everything, even mercury, but could not check thefatal discharge; it stiffened into a still more fatal membrane. 

When Bassett returned next afternoon, in great alarm, he found the poorchild thrusting its fingers into its mouth, in a vain attempt to freethe deadly obstruction. 

A warm bath and strong emetics were now administered, and great reliefobtained. The patient even ate and drank, and asked leave to get up andplay with a new toy he had. But, as often happens in this disorder, asevere relapse soon came, with a spasm of the glottis so violent andprolonged that the patient at last resigned the struggle. Then painceased forever; the heavenly smile came; the breath went; and nothingwas left in the little white bed but a fair piece of tinted clay, thatmust return to the dust, and carry thither all the pride, the hopes, the boasts of the stricken father, who had schemed, and planned, andcounted without Him in whose hands are the issues of life and death. 

As for the child himself, his lot was a happy one, if we could but seewhat the world is really worth. He was always a bright child, thatnever cried, nor complained: his first trouble was his last; one day'spain, then bliss eternal: he never got poisoned by his father's spiritof hate, but loved and was beloved during his little lifetime; and, dying, he passed from his Noah's ark to an inheritance a thousand timesricher than Huntercombe, Bassett, and all his cousin's lands. 

The little grave was dug, the bell tolled, and a man bowed double withgrief saw his child and his ambition laid in the dust. 

Lady Bassett heard the bell tolled, and spoke but two words: "Poorwoman!"

She might well say so. Mrs. Bassett was in the same condition asherself, yet this heavy blow must fall on her. 

As for Richard Bassett, he sat at home, bowed down and stupid withgrief. 

Wheeler came one day to console him; but, at the sight of him, refrained from idle words. He sat down by him for an hour in silence. Then he got up and said, "Good-by. "

"Thank you, old friend, for not insulting me, " said Bassett, in abroken voice. 

Wheeler took his hand, and turned away his head, and so went away, witha tear in his eye. 

A fortnight after this he came again, and found Bassett in the sameattitude, but not in the same leaden stupor. On the contrary, he was ina state of tremor; he had lost, under the late blow, the sanguine mindthat used to carry him through everything. 

The doctor was upstairs, and his wife's fate trembled in the balance. 

"Stay by me, " said he, "for all my nerve is gone. I'm afraid I shalllose her; for I have just begun to value her; and that is how God dealswith his creatures--the merciful God, as they call him. "

Wheeler thought it rather hard God Almighty should be blamed becauseDick Bassett had taken eight years to find out his wife's merit; but heforbore to say so. He said kindly that he would stay. 

Now while they sat in trying suspense the church-bells struck up amerry peal. 

Bassett started violently and his eyes gave a strange glare. "That'sthe other!" said he; for he had heard about Lady Bassett by this time. 

Then he turned pale. "They ring for him: then they are sure to toll forme. "

This foreboding was natural enough in a man so blinded by egotism as tofancy that all creation, and the Creator himself, must take a side inBassett _v. _ Bassett. 

Nevertheless, events did not justify that foreboding. The bells hadscarcely done ringing for the happy event at Huntercombe, when joyfulfeet were heard running on the stairs; joyful voices clashed togetherin the passage, and in came a female servant with joyful tidings. Mrs. Bassett was safe, and the child in the world. "The loveliest littlegirl you ever saw!"

"A girl!" cried Richard Bassett with contemptuous amazement. Even hismelancholy forebodings had not gone that length. "And what have theygot at Huntercombe?"

"Oh, it is a boy, sir, there. "

"Of course. "

The ringers heard, and sent one of their number to ask him if theyshould ring. 

"What for?" asked Bassett with a nasty glittering eye; and then withsudden fury he seized a large piece of wood from the basket to fling athis insulter. "I'll teach you to come and mock me. "

The ringer vanished, ducking. 

"Gently, " said Wheeler, "gently. "

Bassett chucked the wood back into the basket, and sat down gloomily, saying, "Then how dare he come and talk about ringing bells for a girl?To think that I should have all this fright, and my wife all thistrouble--for a girl!"

It was no time to talk of business then; but about a fortnightafterward Wheeler said, "I took the detective off, to save youexpense. "

"Quite right, " said Bassett, wearily. 

"I gave you the woman's address; so the matter is in your hands now, Iconsider. "

"Yes, " said Bassett, wearily; "Move no further in it. "

"Certainly not; and, frankly, I should be glad to see you abandon it. "

"I _have_ abandoned it. Why should I stir the mud now? I and mine arethrown out forever; the only question is, shall a son of Sir Charles orthe parson's son inherit? I'm for the wrongful heir. Ay, " he cried, starting up, and beating the air with his fists in sudden fury, "sincethe right Bassetts are never to have it, let the wrong Bassetts bethrown out, at all events; I'm on my back, but Sir Charles is no betteroff; a bastard will succeed him, thanks to that cursed woman whodefeated _me. "_

This turn took Wheeler by surprise. It also gave him real pain. "Bassett, " said he, "I pity you. What sort of a life has yours been forthe last eight years? Yet, when there's no fuel left for war andhatred, you blow the embers. You are incurable. "

"I am, " said Richard. "I'll hate those two with my last breath andcurse them in my last prayer. "

CHAPTER XXXVI. 

LADY BASSETT'S forebodings, like most of our insights into the future, were confuted by the event. 

She became the happy mother of a flaxen-haired boy. She insisted onnursing him herself; and the experienced persons who attended herraised no objection. 

In connection with this she gave Sir Charles a peck, not very severe, but sudden, and remarkable as the only one on record. 

He was contemplating her and her nursling with the deepest affection, and happened to say, "My own Bella, what delight it gives me to seeyou!"

"Yes, " said she, "we will have only one mother this time, will we, mydarling? and it shall be Me. " Then suddenly, turning her head like asnake, "Oh, I saw the looks you gave that woman!"

This was the famous peck; administered in return for a look that he hadbestowed on Mary Gosport not more than five years ago. 

Sir Charles would, doubtless, have bled to death on the spot, buteither he had never been aware how he looked, or time and business hadobliterated the impression, for he was unaffectedly puzzled, and said, "What woman do you mean, dear?"

"No matter, darling, " said Lady Bassett, who had already repented herdire severity: "all I say is that a nurse is a rival I could not endurenow; and another thing, I do believe those wet-nurses give theirdisposition to the child: it is dreadful to think of. "

"Well, if so, baby is safe. He will be the most amiable boy inEngland. "

"He shall be more amiable than I am--scolding my husband of husbands;"and she leaned toward him, baby and all, for a kiss from his lips. 

We say at school "Seniores priores"--let favor go by seniority; butwhere babies adorn the scene, it is "juniores priores" with that sex towhich the very young are confided. 

To this rule, as might be expected, Lady Bassett furnished noexception; she was absorbed in baby, and trusted Mr. Bassett a gooddeal to his attendant, who bore an excellent character for care andattention. 

Now Mr. Bassett was strong on his pins and in his will, and hisnurse-maid, after all, was young; so he used to take his walks nearlyevery day to Mrs. Meyrick's: she petted him enough, and spoiled him inevery way, while the nurse-maid was flirting with the farm-servants outof sight. 

Sir Charles Bassett was devoted to the boy, and used always to have himto his study in the morning, and to the drawing-room after dinner, whenthe party was small, and that happened much oftener now thanheretofore; but at other hours he did not look after him, being abusiness man, and considering him at that age to be under his mother'scare. 

One day the only guest was Mr. Rolfe; he was staying in the house forthree days, upon a condition suggested by himself--viz. , that he mightenjoy his friends' society in peace and comfort, and not be set to rollthe stone of conversation up some young lady's back, and obtainmonosyllables in reply, faintly lisped amid a clatter of fourteenknives and forks. As he would not leave his writing-table on any milderterms, they took him on these. 

After dinner in came Mr. Bassett, erect, and a proud nurse with littleCompton, just able to hold his nurse's gown and toddle. 

Rolfe did not care for small children; he just glanced at the angelic, fair-haired infant, but his admiring gaze rested on the elder boy. 

"Why, what is here--an Oriental prince?"

The boy ran to him directly. "Who are you?"

"Rolfe the writer. Who are you--the Gipsy King?"

"No; but I am very fond of gypsies. I'm _Mister_ Bassett; and when papadies I shall be Sir Charles Bassett. "

Sir Charles laughed at this with paternal fatuity, especially as theboy's name happened to be Reginald Francis, after his grandfather. 

Rolfe smiled satirically, for these little speeches from children didmuch to reconcile him to his lot. 

"Meantime, " said he, "let us feed off him; for it may be forty yearsbefore we can dance over his grave. First let us see what is theunwholesomest thing on the table. "

He rose, and to the infinite delight of Mr. Bassett, and even of MasterCompton, who pointed and crowed from his mother's lap, he got up on hischair, and put on a pair of spectacles to look. 

"Eureka!" said he; "behold that dish by Lady Bassett; those are_marrons glaces;_ fetch them here, and let us go in for a fit of thegout at once. "

"Gout! what's that?" inquired Mr. Bassett. 

"Don't ask me. "

"You don't know. 

"Not know! What, didn't I tell you I was Rolfe the writer? Writers knoweverything. That is what makes them so modest. "

Mr. Bassett was now unnaturally silent for five minutes, munchingchestnuts; this enabled his guests to converse; but as soon as he hadcleared his plate, he cut right across the conversation, with thatsavage contempt for all topics but his own which characterizesgentlemen of his age, and says he to Rolfe, "You know everything? Thenwhat's a parson's brat?"

"Well, that's the one thing I don't know, " said Rolfe; "but a brat Itake to be a boy who interrupts ladies and gentlemen with nonsense whenthey are talking sense. "

"I am very much obliged to you, Mr. Rolfe, " said Lady Bassett. "Thatremark was very much needed. "

Then she called Reginald to her, and lectured him, _sotto voce, _ to thesame tune. 

"You old bachelors are rather hard, " said Sir Charles, not very wellpleased. 

"We are obliged to be; you parents are so soft. After all, it is nowonder. What a superb boy it is!--Here is nurse. I'm so sorry. Now weshall be cabined, cribbed, confined to rational conversation, and Ishall not be expected to--(good-night, little flaxen angel; good-by, handsome and loquacious demon; kiss and be friends)--expected to know, all in a minute, what is a parson's brat. By-the-by, talking ofparsons, what has become of Angelo?"

"He has been away a good many years. Consumption, I hear. "

"He was a fine-built fellow too; was he not, Lady Bassett?"

"I don't know; but he was beautifully strong. I think I see him nowcarrying dear Charles in his arms all down the garden. "

"Ah, you see he was raised in a university that does not do things byhalves, but trains both body and mind, as they did at Athens; for theunion of study and athletic sports is spoken of as a novelty, but it isonly a return to antiquity. "

Here letters were brought by the second post. Sir Charles glanced athis, and sent them to his study. Lady Bassett had but one. She said, _"May_ I?" to both gentlemen, and then opened it. 

"How strange!" said she. "It is from Mr. Angelo: just a line to say heis coming home quite cured. "

She began this composedly, but blushed afterward--blushed quite red. 

_"May_ I?" said she, and tossed it delicately half-way to Rolfe. Hehanded it to Sir Charles. 

Some remarks were then made about the coincidence, and nothing furtherpassed worth recording at that time. 

Next day Lady Bassett, with instinctive curiosity, asked MasterReginald how he came to put such a question as that to Mr. Rolfe. 

"Because I wanted to know. "

"But what put such words into your head? I never heard a gentleman saysuch words; and you must never say them again, Reginald. "

"Tell me what it means, and I won't, " said he. 

"Oh, " said Lady Bassett, "since you bargain with me, sir, I mustbargain with you. Tell me first where you ever heard such words. "

"When I was staying at nurse's. Ah, that was jolly. "

"You like that better than being here?"

"Yes. "

"I am sorry for that. Well, dear, did nurse say that? Surely not?"

"Oh, no; it was the man. "

"What man?"

"Why, the man that came to the gate one morning, and talked to me, andI talked to him, and that nasty nurse ran out and caught us, andcarried me in, and gave me such a hiding, and all for nothing. "

"A hiding! What words the poor child picks up! But I don't understandwhy nurse should beat _you. "_

"For speaking to the man. She said he was a bad man, and she would killme if ever I spoke to him again. "

"Oh, it was a bad man, and said bad words--to somebody he wasquarreling with?"

"No, he said them to nurse because she took me away. "

"What _did_ he say, Reginald?" asked Lady Bassett, becoming very graveand thoughtful all at once. 

"He said, 'That's too late; I've seen the parson's brat. '"

"Oh!"

"And I've asked nurse again and again what it meant, but she won't tellme. She only says the man is a liar, and I am not to say it again; andso I never did say it again--for a long time; but last night, whenRolfe the writer said he knew everything, it struck my head--what isthe matter, mamma?"

"Nothing; nothing. "

"You look so white. Are you ill, mamma?" and he went to put his armsround her, which was a mighty rare thing with him. 

She trembled a good deal, and did not either embrace him or repel him. She only trembled. 

After some time she recovered herself enough to say, in a voice andwith a manner that impressed itself at once on this sharp boy:"Reginald, your nurse was quite right. Understand this: the man wasyour enemy--and mine; the words he said you must not say again. Itwould be like taking up dirt and flinging some on your own face andsome on mine. "

"I won't do that, " said the boy, firmly. "Are you afraid of the manthat you look so white?"

"A man with a woman's tongue--who can help fearing?"

"Don't you be afraid; as soon as I'm big enough, I'll kill him. "

Lady Bassett looked with surprise at the child, he uttered this resolvewith such a steady resolution. 

She drew him to her, and kissed him on the forehead. 

"No, Reginald, " said she; "we must not shed blood; it is as wicked tokill our enemies as to kill any one else. But never speak to him, nevereven listen to him; if he tries to speak to you, run away from him, anddon't let him--he is our enemy. "

That same day she went to Mrs. Meyrick, to examine her. But she foundthe boy had told her all there was to tell. 

Mrs. Meyrick, whose affection for her was not diminished, was downrightvexed. "Dear me!" said she; "I did think I had kept that from vexing ofyou. To think of the dear child hiding it for nigh two years, and thento blurt it out like that! Nobody heard him I hope?"

"Others heard; but--"

"Didn't heed; the Lord be praised for that. "

"Mary, " said Lady Bassett, solemnly, "I am not equal to another battlewith Mr. Richard Bassett; and such a battle! Better tell all, and die. "

"Don't think of it, " said Mary. "You're safe from Richard Bassett now. Times are changed since he came spying to my gate. His own boy is gone. You have got two. He'll lie still if you do. But if you tell your tale, he must hear on't, and he'll tell his. For God's sake, my lady, keepclose. It is the curse of women that they can't just hold theirtongues, and see how things turn. And is this a time to spill goodliquor? Look at Sir Charles! why, he is another man; he have got fleshon his bones now, and color into his cheeks, and 'twas you and I made aman of him. It is my belief you'd never have had this other littleangel but for us having sense and courage to see what _must_ be done. Knock down our own work, and send him wild again, and give that RichardBassett a handle? You'll never be so mad. "

Lady Bassett replied. The other answered; and so powerfully that LadyBassett yielded, and went home sick at heart, but helpless, and in asea of doubt. 

Mr. Angelo did not call. Sir Charles asked Lady Bassett if he hadcalled on her. 

She said "No. "

"That is odd, " said Sir Charles. "Perhaps he thinks we ought to welcomehim home. Write and ask him to dinner. "

"Yes, dear. Or you can write. "

"Very well, I will. No, I will call. "

Sir Charles called, and welcomed him home, and asked him to dinner. Angelo received him rather stiffly at first, but accepted hisinvitation. 

He came, looking a good deal older and graver, but almost as handsomeas ever; only somewhat changed in mind. He had become a zealousclergyman, and his soul appeared to be in his work. He was distant andvery respectful to Lady Bassett; I might say obsequious. Seemed almostafraid of her at first. 

That wore off in a few months; but he was never quite so much at hisease with her as he had been before he left some years ago. 

And so did time roll on. 

Every morning and every night Lady Bassett used to look wistfully atSir Charles, and say--

"Are you happy, dear? Are you sure you are happy?"

And he used always to say, and with truth, that he was the happiest manin England, thanks to her. 

Then she used to relax the wild and wistful look with which she askedthe question, and give a sort of sigh, half content, half resignation. 

In due course another fine boy came, and filled the royal office ofbaby in his turn. 

But my story does not follow him. 

Reginald was over ten years old, and Compton nearly six. They were asdifferent in character as complexion--both remarkable boys. 

Reginald, Sir Charles's favorite, was a wonderful boy for riding, running, talking; and had a downright genius for melody; he whistled tothe admiration of the village, and latterly he practiced the fiddle inwoods and under hedges, being aided and abetted therein by a gypsy boywhom he loved, and who, indeed, provided the instrument. 

He rode with Sir Charles, and rather liked him; his brother he nevernoticed, except to tease him. Lady Bassett he admired, and almost lovedher while she was in the act of playing him undeniable melodies. But heliked his nurse Meyrick better, on the whole; she flattered him more, and was more uniformly subservient. 

With these two exceptions he despised the whole race of women, andaffected male society only, especially of grooms, stable-boys, andgypsies; these last welcomed him to their tents, and almost prostratedthemselves before him, so dazzled were they by his beauty and hiscolor. It is believed they suspected him of having gypsy blood in hisveins. They let him into their tents, and even into some of theirsecrets, and he promised them they should have it all their own way assoon as he was Sir Reginald; he had outgrown his original theory thathe was to be Sir Charles on his father's death. 

He hated in-doors; when fixed by command to a book, would beg hard tobe allowed to take it into the sun; and at night would open his windowand poke his black head out to wash in the moonshine, as he said. 

He despised ladies and gentlemen, said they were all affected fools, and gave imitations of all his father's guests to prove it; and so keenwas this child of nature's eye for affectation that very often hisdisapproving parents were obliged to confess the imp had seen with hisfresh eye defects custom had made them overlook, or the solid goodqualities that lay beneath had overbalanced. 

Now all this may appear amusing and eccentric, and so on, to strangers;but after the first hundred laughs or so with which paternal indulgencedismisses the faults of childhood, Sir Charles became very grave. 

The boy was his darling and his pride. He was ambitious for him. Heearnestly desired to solve for him a problem which is as impossible assquaring the circle, viz. , how to transmit our experience to ourchildren. The years and the health he had wasted before he knew BellaBruce, these he resolved his successor should not waste. He lookedhigher for this beautiful boy than for himself. He had fully resolvedto be member for the county one day; but he did not care about it forhimself; it was only to pave the way for his successor; that SirReginald, after a long career in the Commons, might find his way intothe House of Peers, and so obtain dignity in exchange for antiquity;for, to tell the truth, the ancestors of four-fifths of the BritishHouse of Peers had been hewers of wood and drawers of water at a timewhen these Bassetts had already been gentlemen of distinction forcenturies. 

All this love and this vicarious ambition were now mortified daily. Some fathers could do wonders for a brilliant boy, and with him; theyexpect him, and a dull boy appears; that is a bitter pill; but this wasworse. Reginald was a sharp boy; he could do anything; fasten him to abook for twenty minutes, he would learn as much as most boys in anhour; but there was no keeping him to it, unless you strapped him ornailed him, for he had the will of a mule, and the suppleness of an eelto carry out his will. And then his tastes--low as his features wererefined; he was a sort of moral dung-fork; picked up all the slang ofthe stable and scattered it in the dining-room and drawing-room; andonce or twice he stole out of his comfortable room at night, and sleptin a gypsy's tent with his arm round a gypsy boy, unsullied from hiscradle by soap. 

At last Sir Charles could no longer reply to his wife at night as hehad done for this ten years past. He was obliged to confess that therewas one cloud upon his happiness. "Dear Reginald grieves me, and makesme dread the future; for if the child is father to the man, there is abitter disappointment in store for us. He is like no other boy; he islike no human creature I ever saw. At his age, and long after, I was afool; I was a fool till I knew you; but surely I was a gentleman. Icannot see myself again--in my first-born. "

CHAPTER XXXVII. 

LADY BASSETT was paralyzed for a minute or two by this speech. At lastshe replied by asking a question--rather a curious one. "Who nursedyou, Charles?"

"What, when I was a baby? How can I tell? Yes, by-the-by, it was mymother nursed me--so I was told. "

"And your mother was a Le Compton. This poor boy was nursed by aservant. Oh, she has some good qualities, and is certainly devoted tous--to this day her face brightens at sight of me--but she isessentially vulgar; and do you remember, Charles, I wished to wean himearly; but I was overruled, and the poor child drew his nature fromthat woman for nearly eighteen months; it is a thing unheard ofnowadays. "

"Well, but surely it is from our parents we draw our nature. "

"No; I think it is from our nurses. If Compton or Alec ever turn outlike Reginald, blame nobody but their nurse, and that is Me. "

Sir Charles smiled faintly at this piece of feminine logic, and askedher what he should do. 

She said she was quite unable to advise. Mr. Rolfe was coming to seethem soon; perhaps he might be able to suggest something. 

Sir Charles said he would consult him; but he was clear on onething--the boy must be sent from Huntercombe, and so separated from allhis present acquaintances. 

Mr. Rolfe came, and the distressed father opened his heart to him instrict confidence respecting Reginald. 

Rolfe listened and sympathized, and knit his brow, and asked time toconsider what he had heard, and also to study the boy for himself. 

He angled for him next day accordingly. A little table was taken out onthe lawn, and presently Mr. Rolfe issued forth in a uniform suit ofdark blue flannel and a sombrero hat, and set to work writing a novelin the sun. 

Reginald in due course descried this figure, and it smacked so of thatBohemia to which his own soul belonged that he was attracted thereby, but made his approaches stealthily, like a little cat. 

Presently a fiddle went off behind a tree, so close that the novelistleaped out of his seat with an eldrich screech; for he had long agoforgotten all about Mr. Reginald, and, when he got heated in this kindof composition, any sudden sound seemed to his tense nerves and boilingbrain about ten times as loud as it really was. 

Having relieved himself with a yell, he sat down with the mien of amartyr expecting tortures; but he was most agreeably disappointed; thelittle monster played an English melody, and played it in tune. Thisdone, he whistled a quick tune, and played a slow second to it inperfect harmony; this done, he whistled the second part and played thequick treble--a very simple feat, but still ingenious for a boy, andnew to his hearer. 

"Bravo! bravo!" cried Rolfe, with all his heart, Mr. Reginald emerged, radiant with vanity. "You are like me, Mr. Writer, " said he; "you don't like to be cooped up in-doors. "

"I wish I could play the fiddle like you, my fine fellow. "

"Ah, you can't do that all in a minute; see the time I have been atit. "

"Ah, to be sure, I forgot your antiquity. "

"And it isn't the time only; it's giving your mind to it, old chap. "

"What, you don't give your mind to your books, then, as you do to yourfiddle, _young gentleman?"_

"Not such a flat. Why, lookee here, governor, if you go and give yourmind to a thing you don't like, it's always time wasted, because someother chap, that does like it, will beat you, and what's the useworking for to be beat?"

"'For' is redundant, " objected Rolfe. 

"But if you stick hard to the things you like, you do 'em downrightwell. But old people are such fools, they always drive you the wrongway. They make the gals play music six hours a day, and you might aswell set the hen bullfinches to pipe. Look at the gals as come here, how they rattle up and down the piano, and can't make it sing a morsel. Why, they _couldn't_ rattle like that, if they'd music in their skins, d--n 'em; and they drive me to those stupid books, because I'm all formusic and moonshine. Can you keep a secret?"

"As the tomb. "

"Well, then, I can do plenty of things well, besides fiddling; I canset a wire with any poacher in the parish. I have caught plenty of ourold man's hares in my time; and it takes a workman to set a wire as itshould be. Show me a wire, and I'll tell you whether it was Hudson, orWhitbeck, or Squinting Jack, or who it was that set it. I know alltheir work that walks by moonlight hereabouts. "

"This is criticism; a science; I prefer art; play me another tune, mybold Bohemian. "

"Ah, I thought I should catch ye with my fiddle. You're not such a muffas the others, old 'un, not by a long chalk. Hang me if I won't give ye'Ireland's music, ' and I've sworn never to waste that on a fool. "

He played the old Irish air so simply and tunably that Rolfe leanedback in his chair, with half closed eyes, in soft voluptuous ecstasy. 

The youngster watched him with his coal-black eye. 

"I like you, " said he, "better than I thought I should, a precioussight. "

"Highly flattered. "

"Come with me, and hear my nurse sing it. "

"What, and leave my novel?"

"Oh, bother your novel. "

"And so I will. That will be tit for tat; it has bothered me. Lead on, Bohemian bold. "

The boy took him, over hedge and ditch, the short-cut to Meyrick'sfarm; and caught Mrs. Meyrick, and said she must sing "Ireland's music"to Rolfe the writer. 

Mrs. Meyrick apologized for her dress, and affected shyness aboutsinging: Mr. Reginald stared at first, then let her know that, if shewas going to be affected like the girls that came to the Hall, heshould hate her, as he did them, and this he confirmed with a naughtyword. 

Thus threatened, she came to book, and sang Ireland's melody in a low, rich, sonorous voice; Reginald played a second; the harmony was soperfect and strong that certain glass candelabra on the mantel-piecerang loudly, and the drops vibrated. Then he made her sing the second, and he took the treble with his violin; and he wound up by throwing ina third part himself, a sort of countertenor, his own voice being muchhigher than the woman's. 

The tears stood in Rolfe's eyes. "Well, " said he, "you have got thesoul of music, you two. I could listen to you 'From morn till noon, from noon till dewy eve. '"

As they returned to Huntercombe, this mercurial youth went off at atangent, and Rolfe saw him no more. 

He wrote in peace, and walked about between the heats. 

Just before dinner-time the screams of women were heard hard by, andthe writer hurried to the place in time to see Mr. Basset hanging bythe shoulder from the branch of a tree, about twenty feet from theground. 

Rolfe hallooed, as he ran, to the women, to fetch blankets to catchhim, and got under the tree, determined to try and catch him in hisarms, if necessary; but he encouraged the boy to hold on. 

"All right, governor, " said the boy, in a quavering voice. 

It was very near the kitchen; maids and men poured out with blankets;eight people held one, under Rolfe's direction, and down came Mr. Bassett in a semicircle, and bounded up again off the blanket, like anIndia-rubber ball. 

His quick mind recovered courage the moment he touched wool. 

"Crikey! that's jolly, " said he; "give me another toss or two. "

"Oh no! no!" said a good-natured maid. "Take an' put him to bed rightoff, poor dear. "

"Hold your tongue, ye bitch, " said young hopeful; "if ye don't toss me, I'll turn ye all off, as soon as ever the old un kicks the bucket. "

Thus menaced, they thought it prudent to toss him; but, at the thirdtoss, he yelled out, "Oh! oh! oh! I'm all wet; it's blood! I'm dead!"

Then they examined, and found his arm was severely lacerated by an oldnail that had been driven into the tree, and it had torn the flesh inhis fall: he was covered with blood, the sight of which quenched hismanly spirit, and he began to howl. 

"Old linen rag, warm water, and a bottle of champagne, " shouted Rolfe:the servants flew. 

Rolfe dressed and bandaged the wound for him, and then he felt faint:the champagne soon set that right; and then he wanted to get drunk, alleging, as a reason, that he had not been drunk for this two months. 

Sir Charles was told of the accident, and was distressed by it, andalso by the cause. 

"Rolfe, " said he, sorrowfully, "there is a ring-dove's nest on thattree: she and hers have built there in peace and safety for a hundredyears, and cooed about the place. My unhappy boy was climbing the treeto take the young, after solemnly promising me he never would: that isthe bitter truth. What shall I do with the young barbarian?"

He sighed, and Lady Bassett echoed the sigh. 

Said Rolfe, "The young barbarian, as you call him, has disarmed me: heplays the fiddle like a civilized angel. "

"Oh, Mr. Rolfe!"

"What, you his mother, and not found that out yet? Oh yes, he has aheaven-born genius for music. "

Rolfe then related the musical feats of the urchin. 

Sir Charles begged to observe that this talent would go a very littleway toward fitting him to succeed his father and keep up the credit ofan ancient family. 

"Dear Charles, Mr. Rolfe knows that; but it is like him to make thebest of things, to encourage us. But what do you think of him, on thewhole, Mr. Rolfe? has Sir Charles more to hope or to fear?"

"Give me another day or two to study him, " said Rolfe. 

That night there was a loud alarm. Mr. Bassett was running about theveranda in his night-dress. 

They caught him and got him to bed, and Rolfe said it was fever; and, with the assistance of Sir Charles and a footman, laid him between twotowels steeped in tepid water, then drew blankets tight over him, and, in short, packed him. 

"Ah!" said he, complacently; "I say, give me a drink of moonshine, oldchap. "

"I'll give you a bucketful, " said Rolfe; then, with the servant's help, took his little bed and put it close to the window; the moonlightstreamed in on the boy's face, his great black eyes glittered in it. Hewas diabolically beautiful. "Kiss me, moonshine, " said he; "I like towash in you. "

Next day he was, apparently, quite well, and certainly ripe for freshmischief. Rolfe studied him, and, the evening before he went, gave SirCharles and Lady Bassett his opinion, but not with his usual alacrity;a weight seemed to hang on him, and, more than once, his voicetrembled. 

"I shall tell you, " said he, "what I see--what I foresee--and then, with great diffidence, what I advise. 

"I see--what naturalists call a reversion in race, a boy who resemblesin color and features neither of his parents, and, indeed, bears littleresemblance to any of the races that have inhabited England sincehistory was written. He suggests rather some Oriental type. "

Sir Charles turned round in his chair, with a sigh, and said, "We areto have a romance, it seems. "

Lady Bassett stared with all her eyes, and began to change color. 

The theorist continued, with perfect composure, "I don't undertake toaccount for it with any precision. How can I? Perhaps there is Moorishblood in your family, and here it has revived; you look incredulous, but there are plenty of examples, ay, and stronger than this: everychild that is born resembles some progenitor; how then do you accountfor Julia Pastrana, a young lady who dined with me last week, and sangme 'Ah perdona, ' rather feebly, in the evening? Bust and figure likeany other lady, hand exquisite, arms neatly turned, but with long, silky hair from the elbow to the wrist. Face, ugh! forehead made ofblack leather, eyes all pupil, nose an excrescence, chin pure monkey, face all covered with hair; briefly, a type extinct ten thousand yearsbefore Adam, yet it could revive at this time of day. Compared with LaPastrana, and many much weaker examples of antiquity revived, that Ihave seen, your Mauritanian son is no great marvel, after all. "

"This is a _little_ too far-fetched, " said Sir Charles, satirically;"Bella's father was a very dark man, and it is a tradition in ourfamily that all the Bassetts were as black as ink till they marriedwith you Rolfes, in the year 1684. "

"Oho!" said Rolfe, "is it so? See how discussion brings out things. "

"And then, " said Lady Bassett, "Charles dear, tell Mr. Rolfe what Ithink. "

"Ay, do, " said Rolfe; "that will be a new form of circumlocution. "

Sir Charles complied, with a smile. "Lady Bassett's theory is, thatchildren derive their nature quite as much from their wet-nurses asfrom their parents, and she thinks the faults we deplore in Reginaldare to be traced to his nurse; by-the-by, she is a dark woman too. "

"Well, " said Rolfe, "there's a good deal of truth in that, as far asregards the disposition. But I never heard color so accounted for; yetwhy not? It has been proved that the very bones of young animals can becolored pink, by feeding them on milk so colored. "

"There!" said Lady Bassett. 

"But no nurse could give your son a color which is not her own. I haveseen the woman; she is only a dark Englishwoman. Her arms wereembrowned by exposure, but her forehead was not brown. Mr. Reginald isquite another thing. The skin of his body, the white of his eye, thepupil, all look like a reversion to some Oriental type; and, mark thecoincidence, he has mental peculiarities that point toward the East. "

Sir Charles lost patience. "On the contrary, " said he, "he talks andfeels just like an English snob, and makes me miserable. "

"Oh, as to that, he has picked up vulgar phrases at that farm, and inyour stables; but he never picked up his musical genius in stables andfarms, far less his poetry. "

"What poetry?"

"What poetry? Why, did not you hear him? Was it not poetical of awounded, fevered boy to beg to be laid by the window, and to say 'Letme drink the moonshine?' Take down your Homer, and read a thousandlines haphazard, and see whether you stumble over a thought morepoetical than that. But criticism does not exist: whatever the deadsaid was good; whatever the living say is little; as if the dead were arace apart, and had never been the living, and the living would neverbe the dead. "

Heaven knows where he was running to now, but Sir Charles stopped himby conceding that point. "Well you are right: poor child, it waspoetical, " and the father's pride predominated, for a moment, overevery other sentiment. 

"Yes; but where did it come from? That looks to me a typical idea; Imean an idea derived, not from his luxurious parents, dwellers incurtained mansions, but from some out-door and remote ancestor; perhapsfrom the Oriental tribe that first colonized Britain; they worshipedthe sun and the moon, no doubt; or perhaps, after all, it only camefrom some wandering tribe that passed their lives between the twolights of heaven, and never set foot in a human dwelling. "

"This, " said Sir Charles, "is a flattering speculation, but so wild andromantic that I fear it will lead us to no practical result. I thoughtyou undertook to advise me. What advice can you build on these cobwebsof your busy brain?"

"Excuse me, my practical friend, " said Rolfe. "I opened my discourse inthree heads. What I see--what I foresee--and what, with diffidence, Iadvise. Pray don't disturb my methods, or I am done for; never disturban artist's form. I have told you what I see. What I foresee is this:you will have to cut off the entail with Reginald's consent, when he isof age, and make the Saxon boy Compton your successor. Cutting offentails runs in families, like everything else; your grandfather didit, and so will you. You should put by a few thousands every year, thatyou may be able to do this without injustice either to your Oriental oryour Saxon son. "

"Never!" shouted Sir Charles: then, in a broken voice, "He is myfirst-born, and my idol; his coming into the world rescued me out of amorbid condition: he healed my one great grief. Bar the entail, and puthis younger brother in his place--never!"

Mr. Rolfe bowed his head politely, and left the subject, which, indeed, could be carried no farther without serious offense. 

"And now for my advice. The question is, how to educate this strangeboy. One thing is clear; it is no use trying the humdrum plan anylonger; it has been tried, and failed. I should adapt his education tohis nature. Education is made as stiff and unyielding as a board; butit need not be. I should abolish that spectacled tutor of yours atonce, and get a tutor, young, enterprising, manly, and supple, whowould obey orders; and the order should be to observe the boy's nature, and teach accordingly. Why need men teach in a chair, and boys learn ina chair? The Athenians studied not in chairs. The Peripatetics, astheir name imports, hunted knowledge afoot; those who sought truth inthe groves of Academus were not seated at that work. Then let the tutorwalk with him, and talk with him by sunlight and moonlight, relatingold history, and commenting on each new thing that is done, or wordspoken, and improve every occasion. Why, I myself would give a guinea aday to walk with William White about the kindly aspects and woodedslopes of Selborne, or with Karr about his garden. Cut Latin and Greekclean out of the scheme. They are mere cancers to those who can neverexcel in them. Teach him not dead languages, but living facts. Have himin your justice-room for half an hour a day, and give him your owncomments on what he has heard there. Let his tutor take him to allQuarter Sessions and Assizes, and stick to him like diaculum, especially out-of-doors; order him never to be admitted to thestable-yard; dismiss every biped there that lets him come. Don't lethim visit his nurse so often, and never without his tutor; it was shewho taught him to look forward to your decease; that is just like thesecommon women. Such a tutor as I have described will deserve 500 poundsa year. Give it him; and dismiss him if he plays humdrum and doesn'tearn it. Dismiss half a dozen, if necessary, till you get a fellow witha grain or two of genius for tuition. When the boy is seventeen, whatwith his Oriental precocity, and this system of education, he will knowthe world as well as a Saxon boy of twenty-one, and that is not sayingmuch. Then, if his nature is still as wild, get him a large tract inAustralia; cattle to breed, kangaroos to shoot, swift horses to threadthe bush and gallop mighty tracts; he will not shirk business, if itavoids the repulsive form of sitting down in-doors, and offers itselfin combination with riding, hunting, galloping, cracking of rifles, andof colonial whips as loud as rifles, and drinking sunshine andmoonshine in that mellow clime, beneath the Southern Cross and thespangled firmament of stars unknown to us. "

His own eyes sparkled like hot coals at this Bohemian picture. 

Then he sighed and returned to civilization. "But, " said he, "be readywith eighty thousand pounds for him, that he may enjoy his own way andjoin you in barring the entail. I forgot, I must say no more on thatsubject; I see it is as offensive--as it is inevitable. Cassandra hasspoken wisely, and, I see, in vain. God bless you both--good-night. "

And he rolled out of the room with a certain clumsy importance. 

Sir Charles treated all this advice with a polite forbearance while hewas in the room, but on his departure delivered a sage reflection. 

"Strange, " said he, "that a man so valuable in any great emergencyshould be so extravagant and eccentric in the ordinary affairs of life. I might as well drive to Bellevue House and consult the first gentlemanI met there. "

Lady Bassett did not reply immediately, and Sir Charles observed thather face was very red and her hands trembled. 

"Why, Bella, " said he, "has all that rhodomontade upset you?"

Lady Bassett looked frightened at his noticing her agitation, and saidthat Mr. Rolfe always overpowered her. "He is so large, and soconfident, and throws such new light on things. "

"New light! Wild eccentricity always does that; but it is the light ofJack-o'-lantern. On a great question, so near my heart as this, give methe steady light of common sense, not the wayward coruscations of afiery imagination. Bella dear, I shall send the boy to a good school, and so cut off at one blow all the low associations that have causedthe mischief. "

"You know what is best, dear, " said Lady Bassett; "you are wiser thanany of us. "

In the morning she got hold of Mr. Rolfe, and asked him if he could puther in the way of getting more than three per cent for her money_without risk. _

"Only one, " said. Rolfe. "London freeholds in rising situations let tosubstantial tenants. I can get you five per cent that way, if you arealways ready to buy. The thing does not offer every day. "

"I have twenty thousand pounds to dispose of so, " said Lady Bassett. 

"Very well, " said Rolfe. "I'll look out for you, but Oldfield mustexamine titles and do the actual business. The best of that investmentis, it is always improving; no ups and downs. Come, " thought he, "Cassandra has not spoken quite in vain. "

Sir Charles acted on his judgment, and in due course sent Mr. Bassettto a school at some distance, kept by a clergyman, who had the creditin that county of exercising sharp supervision and strict discipline. 

Sir Charles made no secret of the boy's eccentricities. Mr. Beechersaid he had one or two steady boys who assisted him in such cases. 

Sir Charles thought that a very good idea; it was like putting a wildcolt into the break with a steady horse. 

He missed the boy sadly at first, but comforted himself with theconviction that he had parted with him for his good: that consoled himsomewhat. 

The younger children of Sir Charles and Lady Bassett were educatedentirely by their mother, and taught as none but a loving lady canteach. 

Compton, with whom we have to do, never knew the thorns with which thepath of letters is apt to be strewn. A mistress of the great art ofpleasing made knowledge from the first a primrose path to him. Sparkling all over with intelligence, she impregnated her boy with it. She made herself his favorite companion; she would not keep herdistance. She stole and coaxed knowledge and goodness into his heartand mind with rare and loving cunning. 

She taught him English and French and Latin on the Hamiltonian plan, and stored his young mind with history and biography, and read to him, and conversed with him on everything as they read it. 

She taught him to speak the truth, and to be honorable and just. 

She taught him to be polite, and even formal, rather than free-and-easyand rude. She taught him to be a man. He must not be what brave boyscalled a molly-coddle: like most womanly women, she had a venerationfor man, and she gave him her own high idea of the manly character. 

Natural ability, and habitual contact with a mind so attractive and sorich, gave this intelligent boy many good ideas beyond his age. 

When he was six years old, Lady Bassett made him pass his word of honorthat he would never go into the stable-yard; and even then he was farenough advanced to keep his word religiously. 

In return for this she let him taste some sweets of liberty, and wasnot always after him. She was profound enough to see that withoutliberty a noble character cannot be formed; and she husbanded the curb. 

One day he represented to her that, in the meadow next their lawn, weregreat stripes of yellow, which were possibly cowslips; of course theymight be only buttercups, but he hoped better things of them; hefurther reported that there was an iron gate between him and thisparadise: he could get over it if not objectionable; but he thought itsafest to ask her what she thought of the matter; was that iron gateintended to keep little boys from the cowslips, because, if so, it wasa misfortune to which he must resign himself. Still, it _was_ amisfortune. All this, of course, in the simple language of boyhood. 

Then Lady Bassett smiled, and said, "Suppose I were to lend you a keyof that iron gate?"

"Oh, mamma!"

"I have a great mind to. "

"Then you will, you will. "

"Does that follow?"

"Yes: whenever you say you think you'll do something kind, or you havea great mind to do it, you know you always do it; and that is one thingI do like you for, mamma--you are better than your word. "

"Better than my word? Where does the child learn these things?"

"La, mamma, papa says that often. "

"Oh, that accounts for it. I like the phrase very much. I wish I couldthink I deserved it. At any rate, I will be as good as my word foronce; you shall have a key of the gate. "

The boy clapped his hands with delight. The key was sent for, and, meantime, she told him one reason why she had trusted him with it wasbecause he had been as good as his word about the stable. 

The key was brought, and she held it up half playfully, and said, "There, sir, I deliver you this upon conditions: you must only use itwhen the weather is quite dry, because the grass in the meadow islonger, and will be wet. Do you promise?"

"Yes, mamma. "

"And you must always lock the gate when you come back, and bring thekey to one place--let me see--the drawer in the hall table, the onewith marble on it; for you know a place for every thing is our rule. Onthese conditions, I hereby deliver you this magic key, with the rightof egress and ingress. "

"Egress and ingress?"

"Egress and ingress. "

"Is that foreign for cowslips, mamma--and oxlips?"

"Ha! ha! the child's head is full of cowslips. There is the dictionary;look out Egress, and afterward look out Ingress. "

When he had added these two words to his little vocabulary, his motherasked him if he would be good enough to tell her why he did not caremuch about all the beautiful flowers in the garden, and was so excitedabout cowslips, which appeared to her a flower of no great beauty, andthe smell rather sickly, begging his pardon. 

This question posed him dreadfully: he looked at her in a sort of comicdistress, and then sat gravely down all in a heap, about a yard off, tothink. 

Finally he turned to her with a wry face, and said, "Why _do_ I, mamma?"

She smiled deliciously. "No, no, sir, " said she. "How can I get insideyour little head and tell what is there? There must be a reason, Isuppose; and you know you and I are never satisfied till we get at thereason of a thing. But there is no hurry, dear. I give you a week tofind it out. Now, run and open the gate--stay, are there any cows inthat field?"

"Sometimes, mamma; but they have no horns, you know. "

"Upon your word?"

"Upon my honor. I am not fond of them with horns, myself. "

"Then run away, darling. But you must come and hunt me up, and tell mehow you enjoyed yourself, because that makes me happy, you know. "

This is mawkish; but it will serve to show on what terms the woman andboy were. 

On second thoughts, I recall that apology, and defy creation. "THEMAWKISH" is a branch of literature, a great and popular one, and I haveneglected it savagely. 

Master Compton opened the iron gate, and the world was all before himwhere to choose. 

He chose one of those yellow stripes that had so attracted him. Horror!it was all buttercups and deil a cowslip. 

Nevertheless, pursuing his researches, he found plenty of thatdelightful flower scattered about the meadow in thinner patches; and hegathered a double handful and dirtied his knees. 

Returning, thus laden, from his first excursion, he was accosted by afluty voice. 

"Little boy!"

He looked up, and saw a girl standing on the lower bar of a littlewooden gate painted white, looking over. 

_"Please_ bring me my ball, " said she, pathetically. 

Compton looked about; and saw a soft ball of many colors lying near. 

He put down his cowslips gravely, and, brought her the ball. He gave ither with a blush, because she was a strange girl; and she blushed alittle, because he did. 

He returned to his cowslips. 

"Little boy!" said the voice, "please bring me my ball again. "

He brought it her, with undisturbed politeness. She was giggling; helaughed too, at that. 

"You did it on purpose that time, " said he, solemnly. 

"La! you don't think I'd be so wicked, " said she. 

Compton shook his head doubtfully, and, considering the interview at anend turned to go, when instantly the ball knocked his hat off, andnothing of the malefactress was visible but a black eye sparkling withfun and mischief, and a bit of forehead wedged against the angle of thewall. 

This being a challenge, Compton said, "Now you come out after that, andstand a shot, like a man. "

The invitation to be masculine did not tempt her a bit; the only thingshe put out was her hand, and that she drew in, with a laugh, themoment he threw at it. 

At this juncture a voice cried, "Ruperta! what are you doing there?"

Ruperta made a rapid signal with her hand to Compton, implying that hewas to run away; and she herself walked demurely toward the person whohad called her. 

It was three days before Compton saw her again, and then she beckonedhim royally to her. 

"Little boy, " said she, "talk to me. "

Compton looked at her a little confounded, and did not reply. 

"Stand on this gate, like me, and talk, " said she. 

He obeyed the first part of this mandate, and stood on the lower bar ofthe little gate; so their two figures made a V, when they hung back, and a tenpenny nail when they came forward and met, and this motionthey continued through the dialogue; and it was a pity the littlewretches could not keep still, and send for my friend the EnglishTitian: for, when their heads were in position, it was indeed a prettypicture of childish and flower-like beauty and contrast; the boy fair, blue-eyed, and with exquisite golden hair; the girl black-eyed, black-browed, and with eyelashes of incredible length and beauty, and acheek brownish, but tinted, and so glowing with health and vigor that, pricked with a needle, it seemed ready to squirt carnation right intoyour eye. 

She dazzled Master Compton so that he could do nothing but look at her. 

"Well?" said she, smiling. 

"Well, " replied he, pretending her "well" was not an interrogatory, buta concise statement, and that he had discharged the whole duty of manby according a prompt and cheerful consent. 

"You begin, " said the lady. 

"No, you. "

"What for?"

"Because--I think--you are the cleverest. "

"Good little boy! Well, then, I will. Who are you?"

"I am Compton. Who are you, please?"

"I am Ruperta. "

"I never heard that name before. "

"No more did I. I think they measured me for it: you live in the greathouse there, don't you?"

"Yes, Ruperta. "

"Well, then, I live in the little house. It is not very little either. It's Highmore. I saw you in church one day; is that lady with the hairyour mamma?"

"Yes, Ruperta. "

"She is beautiful. "

"Isn't she?"

"But mine is so good. "

"Mine is very good, too, Ruperta. Wonderfully good. "

"I like you, Compton--a little. "

"I like you a good deal, Ruperta. "

"La, do you? I wonder at that: you are like a cherub, and I am such ablack thing. "

"But that is why I like you. Reginald is darker than you, and oh, sobeautiful!"

"Hum!--he is a very bad boy. "

"No, he is not. "

"Don't tell stories, child; he is. I know all about him. A wicked, vulgar, bad boy. "

"He is not, " cried Compton, almost sniveling; but he altered his mind, and fired up. "You are a naughty, story-telling girl, to say that. "

"Bless _me!"_ said Ruperta, coloring high, and tossing her headhaughtily. 

"I don't like you _now, _ Ruperta, " said Compton, with all the decentcalmness of a settled conviction. 

"You don't!" screamed Ruperta. "Then go about your business directly, and don't never come here again! Scolding _me!_ How dare you?--oh! oh!oh!" and the little lady went off slowly, with her finger in her eye;and Master Compton looked rather rueful, as we all do when thischarming sex has recourse to what may be called "liquid reasoning. " Ihave known the most solid reasons unable to resist it. 

However, "mens conscia recti, " and, above all, the cowslips, enabledCompton to resist, and he troubled his head no more about her that day. 

But he looked out for her the next day, and she did not come; and thatrather disappointed him. 

The next day was wet, and he did not go into the meadow, being on honornot to do so. 

The fourth day was lovely, and he spent a long time in the meadow, inhopes: he saw her for a moment at the gate; but she speedily retired. 

He was disappointed. 

However, he collected a good store of cowslips, and then came home. 

As he passed the door out popped Ruperta from some secret ambush, andsaid, "Well?"

CHAPTER XXXVIII. 

"WELL, " replied Compton. 

"Are you better, dear?"

"I'm very well, thank you, " said the boy. 

"In your mind, I mean. You were cross last time, you know. "

Compton remembered his mother's lessons about manly behavior, and said, in a jaunty way, "Well, I s'pose I was a little cross. "

Now the other cunning little thing had come to apologize, if there wasno other way to recover her admirer. But, on this confession, she said, "Oh, if you are sorry for it, I forgive you. You may come and talk. "

Then Compton came and stood on the gate, and they held a longconversation; and, having quarreled last time, parted now with ratherviolent expressions of attachment. 

After that they made friends and laid their little hearts bare to eachother; and it soon appeared that Compton had learned more, but Rupertahad thought more for herself, and was sorely puzzled about many things, and of a vastly inquisitive mind. "Why, " said she, "is good thing's sohard, and had things so nice and easy? It would be much better if goodthings were nice and bad ones nasty. That is the way I'd have it, if Icould make things. "

Mr. Compton shook his head and said many things were very hard tounderstand, and even his mamma sometimes could not make out all thethings. 

"Nor mine neither; I puzzle her dreadful. I can't help that; thingsshouldn't come and puzzle me, and then I shouldn't puzzle her. Shall Itell you my puzzles? and perhaps you can answer them because you are aboy. I can't think why it is wicked for me to dig in my little gardenon a Sunday, and it isn't wicked for Jessie to cook and Sarah to makethe beds. Can't think why mamma told papa not to be cross, and, when Itold her not to be cross, she put me in a dark cupboard all among thedreadful mice, till I screamed so she took me out and kissed me andgave me pie. Can't think why papa called Sally 'Something' for spillingthe ink over his papers, and when I called the gardener the very samefor robbing my flowers, all their hands and eyes went up, and they saidI was a shocking girl. Can't think why papa giggled the next moment, ifI was a shocking girl: it is all puzzle--puzzle--puzzle. "

One day she said, "Can you tell me where all the bad people are buried?for that puzzles me dreadful. "

Compton was posed at first, but said at last he thought they wereburied in the churchyard, along with the good ones. 

"Oh, indeed!" said she, with an air of pity. "Pray, have you ever beenin the churchyard, and read the writings on the stones?"

"No. "

"Then I have. I have read every single word; and there are none butgood people buried _there, _ not one. " She added, rather pathetically, "You should not answer me without thinking, as if things were easy, instead of so hard. Well, one comfort, there are not many wicked peoplehereabouts; they live in towns; so I suppose they are buried in thegarden, poor things, or put in the water with a stone. "

Compton had no more plausible theory ready, and declined to commithimself to Ruperta's; so that topic fell to the ground. 

One day he found her perched as usual, but with her bright little faceoverclouded. 

By this time the intelligent boy was fond enough of her to notice herface. "What's the matter, Perta?"

"Ruperta. The matter? Puzzled again! It is very serious this time. "

"Tell me, Ruperta. "

"No, dear. "

"Please. "

The young lady fixed her eyes on him, and said, with a prettysolemnity, "Let us play at catechism. "

"I don't know that game. "

"The governess asks questions, and the good little boy answers. That'scatechism. I'm the governess. "

"Then I'm the good little boy. "

"Yes, dear; and so now look me full in the face. "

"There--you're very pretty, Ruperta. "

"Don't be giddy; I'm hideous; so behave, and answer all my questions. Oh, I'm so unhappy. Answer me, is young people, or old people, goodest?"

"You should say best, dear. Good, better, best. Why, old people, to besure--much. "

"So I thought; and that is why I am so puzzled. Then your papa and mineare much betterer--will that do?--than we are?"

"Of course they are. "

"There he goes! Such a child for answering slap bang I never. "

"I'm not a child. I'm older than you are, Ruperta. "

"That's a story. "

"Well, then, I'm as old; for Mary says we were born the same day--thesame hour--the same minute. "

"La! we are twins. "

She paused, however, on this discovery, and soon found reason to doubther hasty conclusion. "No such thing, " said she: "they tell me thebells were ringing for you being found, and then I was found--tocatechism you. "

"There! then you see I _am_ older than you, Ruperta. "

"Yes, dear, " said Ruperta, very gravely; "I'm younger in my body, butolder in my head. "

This matter being settled so that neither party could complain, sinceantiquity was evenly distributed, the catechizing recommenced. 

"Do you believe in 'Let dogs delight?'"

"I don't know. "

"What!" screamed Ruperta. "Oh, you wicked boy! Why, it comes next afterthe Bible. "

"Then I do believe it, " said Compton, who, to tell the truth, had beenmerely puzzled by the verb, and was not afflicted with any doubt thatthe composition referred to was a divine oracle. 

"Good boy!" said Ruperta, patronizingly. "Well, then, this is whatpuzzles me; your papa and mine don't believe in 'Dogs delight. ' Theyhave been quarreling this twelve years and more, and mean to go on, inspite of mamma. She _is_ good. Didn't you know that your papa and mineare great enemies?"

"No, Ruperta. Oh, what a pity!"

"Don't, Compton, don't: there, you have made me cry. "

He set himself to console her. 

She consented to be consoled. 

But she said, with a sigh, "What becomes of old people being betterthan young ones, now? Are you and I bears and lions? Do we scratch outeach other's eyes? It is all puzzle, puzzle, puzzle. I wish I was dead!Nurse says, when I'm dead I shall understand it all. But I don't know;I saw a dead cat once, and she didn't seem to know as much as before;puzzle, puzzle. Compton, do you think they are puzzled in heaven?"

"No. "

"Then the sooner we both go there, the better. "

"Yes, but not just now. "

"Why not?"

"Because of the cowslips. "

"Here's a boy! What, would you rather be among the cowslips than theangels? and think of the diamonds and pearls that heaven is pavedwith. "

"But _you_ mightn't be there. "

"What! Am I a wicked girl, then--wickeder than you, that is a boy?"

"Oh no, no, no; but see how big it is up there;" they cast their eyesup, and, taking the blue vault for creation, were impressed with itsimmensity. "I know where to find you here, but up there you might beever so far off me. "

"La! so I might. Well, then, we had better keep quiet. I suppose weshall get wiser as we get older. But Compton, I'm so sorry your papaand mine are bears and lions. Why doesn't the clergyman scold them?"

"Nobody dare scold my papa, " said Compton, proudly. Then, afterreflection, "Perhaps, when we are older, we may persuade them to makefriends. I think it is very stupid to quarrel; don't you?"

"As stupid as an owl. "

"You and I had a quarrel once, Ruperta. "

"Yes, you misbehaved. "

"No, no; you were cross. "

"Story! Well, never mind: we _did_ quarrel. And you were miserabledirectly. "

"Not so very, " said Compton, tossing his head. 

"I _was, _ then, " said Ruperta, with unguarded candor. 

"So was I. "

"Good boy! Kiss me, dear. "

"There--and there--and there--and--"

"That will do. I want to talk, Compton. "

"Yes, dear. "

"I'm not very sure, but I rather think I'm in love with you--a little, little bit, you know. "

"And I'm sure I'm in love with you, Ruperta. "

"Over head an' ears?"

"Yes. "

"Then I love you to distraction. Bother the gate! If it wasn't forthat, I could run in the meadow with you; and marry you perhaps, and sogather cowslips together for ever and ever. "

"Let us open it. "

"You can't. "

"Let us try. "

"I have. It won't be opened. "

"Let _me_ try. Some gates want to be lifted up a little, and then theywill open. There, I told you so. "

The gate came open. 

Ruperta uttered an exclamation of delight, and then drew back. 

"I'm afraid, Compton, " said she, "papa would be angry. "

She wanted Compton to tempt her; but that young gentleman, having astrong sense of filial duty, omitted so to do. 

When she saw he would not persuade her, she dispensed. "Come along, "said she, "if it is only for five minutes. "

She took his hand, and away they scampered. He showed her the cowslips, the violets, and all the treasures of the meadow; but it was all hurry, and skurry, and excitement; no time to look at anything above half aminute, for fear of being found out: and so, at last, back to the gate, beaming with stolen pleasure, glowing and sparkling with heat andexcitement. 

The cunning thing made him replace the gate, and then, after saying shemust go for about an hour, marched demurely back to the house. 

After one or two of these hasty trips, impunity gave her a sense ofsecurity, and, the weather getting warm, she used to sit in the meadowwith her beau and weave wreaths of cowslips, and place them in herblack hair, and for Comp-ton she made coronets of bluebells, andadorned his golden head. 

And sometimes, for a little while, she would nestle to him, and leanher head, with all the feminine grace of a mature woman, on hisshoulder. 

Said she, "A boy's shoulder does very nice for a girl to put her noseon. "

One day the aspiring girl asked him what was that forest. 

"That is Bassett's wood. "

"I will go there with you some day, when papa is out. "

"I'm afraid that is too far for you, " said Compton. 

"Nothing is too far for me, " replied the ardent girl. "Why, how far isit?"

"More than half a mile. "

"Is it very big?"

"Immense. "

"Belong to the queen?"

"No, to papa. "

"Oh!"

And here my reader may well ask what was Lady Bassett about, or didCompton, with all his excellent teaching, conceal all this from hismother and his friend. 

On the contrary, he went open-mouthed to her and told her he had seensuch a pretty little girl, and gave her a brief account of theirconversation. 

Lady Bassett was startled at first, and greatly perplexed. She told himhe must on no account go to her; if he spoke to her, it must be onpapa's ground. She even made him pledge his honor to that. 

More than that she did not like to say. She thought it unnecessary andundesirable to transmit to another generation the unhappy feud by whichshe had suffered so much, and was even then suffering. Moreover, shewas as much afraid of Richard Bassett as ever. If he chose to tell hisgirl not to speak to Compton, he might. She was resolved not to go outof her way to affront him, through his daughter. Besides, that mightwound Mrs. Bassett, if it got round to her ears; and, although she hadnever spoken to Mrs. Bassett, yet their eyes had met in church, andalways with a pacific expression. Indeed, Lady Bassett felt sure shehad read in that meek woman's face a regret that they were not friends, and could not be friends, because of their husbands. Lady Bassett, then, for these reasons, would not forbid Compton to be kind to Rupertain moderation. 

Whether she would have remained as neutral had she known how far theseyoung things were going, is quite another matter; but Compton'snarratives to her were, naturally enough, very tame compared with thereality, and she never dreamed that two seven-year-olds could form anattachment so warm, as these little plagues were doing. 

And, to conclude, about the time when Mr. Compton first opened the gatefor his inamorata, Lady Bassett's mind was diverted, in some degree, even from her beloved boy Compton, by a new trouble, and a host ofpassions it excited in her own heart. 

A thunder-clap fell on Sir Charles Bassett, in the form of a letterfrom Reginald's tutor, informing him that Reginald and another lad hadbeen caught wiring hares in a wood at some distance and were now incustody. 

Sir Charles mounted his horse and rode to the place, leaving LadyBassett a prey to great anxiety and bitter remorse. 

Sir Charles came back in two days, with the galling news that his sonand heir was in prison for a month, all his exertions having onlyprevailed to get the case summarily dealt with. 

Reginald's companion, a young gypsy, aged seventeen, had got threemonths, it being assumed that he was the tempter: the reverse was thecase, though. 

When Sir Charles told Lady Bassett all this, with a face of agony, anda broken voice, her heart almost burst: she threw every otherconsideration to the winds. 

"Charles, " she cried, "I can't bear it: I can't see your heart wrungany more, and your affections blighted. Tear that young viper out ofyour breast: don't go on wasting your heart's blood on a stranger; HEIS NOT YOUR SON. "

CHAPTER XXXIX. 

AT this monstrous declaration, from the very lips of the man's wife, there was a dead silence, Sir Charles being struck dumb, and LadyBassett herself terrified at the sound of the words she had uttered. 

After a terrible pause, Sir Charles fixed his eyes on her, with anawful look, and said, very slowly, "Will--you--have--the--goodness--to--say that again? but first think what you are saying. "

This made Lady Bassett shake in every limb; indeed the very flesh ofher body quivered. Yet she persisted, but in a tone that of itselfshowed how fast her courage was oozing. She faltered out, almostinaudibly, "I say you must waste no more love on him--he is not yourson. "

Sir Charles looked at her to see if she was in her senses: it was notthe first time he had suspected her of being deranged on this onesubject. But no: she was pale as death, she was cringing, wincing, quivering, and her eyes roving to and fro; a picture not of frenzy, butof guilt unhardened. 

He began to tremble in his turn, and was so horror-stricken andagitated that he could hardly speak. "Am I dreaming?" he gasped. 

Lady Bassett saw the storm she had raised, and would have given theworld to recall her words. 

"Whose is he, then?" asked Sir Charles, in a voice scarcely human. 

"I don't know, " said Lady Bassett doggedly. 

"Then how dare you say that he isn't mine?"

"Kill me, Charles, " cried she, passionately; "but don't look at me soand speak to me so. Why I say he is not yours, is he like you either inface or mind?"

"And he is like--whom?"

Lady Bassett had lost all her courage by this time: she whimpered out, "Like nobody except the gypsies. "

"Bella, this is a subject which will part you and me for life unless wecan agree upon it--"

No reply, in words, from Lady Bassett. 

"So please let us understand each other. Your son is not my son. Isthat what you look me in the face and tell me?"

"Charles, I never said _that. _ How could he be my son, and not beyours?"

And she raised her eyes, and looked him full in the face: nor fear norcringing now: the woman was majestic. 

Sir Charles was a little alarmed in his turn; for his wife's soft eyesflamed battle for the first time in her life. 

"Now you talk sense, " said he; "if he is yours, he is mine; and, as heis certainly yours, this is a very foolish conversation, which must notbe renewed, otherwise--"

"I shall be insulted by my own husband?"

"I think it very probable. And, as I do not choose you to be insulted, nor to think yourself insulted, I forbid you ever to recur to thissubject. "

"I will obey, Charles; but let me say one word first. When I was alonein London, and hardly sensible, might not this child have been imposedupon me and you? I'm sure he was. "

"By whom?"

"How can I tell? I was alone--that woman in the house had a badface--the gypsies do these things, I've heard. "

"The gypsies! And why not the fairies?" said Sir Charles, contemptuously. "Is that all you have to suggest--before we close thesubject forever?"

"Yes, " said Lady Bassett sorrowfully. "I see you take me for amad-woman; but time will show. Oh that I could persuade you to detachyour affections from that boy--he will break your heart else--and restthem on the children that resemble us in mind and features. "

"These partialities are allowed to mothers; but a father must be just. Reginald is my first-born; he came to me from Heaven at a time when Iwas under a bitter trial, and from the day he was born till this day Ihave been a happy man. It is not often a father owes so much to a sonas I do to my darling boy. He is dear to my heart in spite of hisfaults; and now I pity him, as well as love him, since it seems he hasonly one parent, poor little fellow!"

Lady Bassett opened her mouth to reply, but could not. She raised herhands in mute despair, then quietly covered her face with them, andsoon the tears trickled through her white fingers. 

Sir Charles looked at her, and was touched at her silent grief. 

"My darling wife, " said he, "I think this is the only thing you and Icannot agree upon. Why not be wise as well as loving, and avoid it. "

"I will never seek it again, " sobbed Lady Bassett. "But oh, " she cried, with sudden wildness, "something tells me it will meet me, and followme, and rob me of my husband. Well, when that day comes, I shall knowhow to die. "

And with this she burst away from him, like some creature who has beenstung past endurance. 

Sir Charles often meditated on this strange scene: turn it how he couldhe came back to the same conclusion, that she must have anhallucination on this subject. He said to himself, "If Bella reallybelieved the boy was a changeling, she would act upon her conviction, she would urge me to take some steps to recover our true child, whomthe gypsies or the fairies have taken, and given us poor dear Reginaldinstead. "

But still the conversation, and her strange looks of terror, laydormant in his mind: both were too remarkable to be ever forgotten. Such things lie like certain seeds, awaiting only fresh accidents tospring into life. 

The month rolled away, and the day came for Reginald's liberation. Adogcart was sent for him, and the heir of the Bassetts emerged from acounty jail, and uttered a whoop of delight; he insisted on driving, and went home at a rattling pace. 

He was in high spirits till he got in sight of Huntercombe Hall; andthen it suddenly occurred to his mercurial mind that he should probablynot be received with an ovation, petty larceny being a novelty in thatancient house whose representative he was. 

When he did get there he found the whole family in such a state ofcommotion that his return was hardly noticed at all. 

Master Compton's dinner hour was two P. M. , and yet, at three o'clock ofthis day, he did not come in. 

This was reported to Lady Bassett, and it gave her some little anxiety;for she suspected he might possibly be in the company of RupertaBassett; and, although she did not herself much object to that, sheobjected very much to have it talked about and made a fuss. So she wentherself to the end of the lawn, and out into the meadow, that a servantmight not find the young people together, if her suspicion was correct. 

She went into the meadow and called "Compton! Compton!" as loud as shecould, but there was no reply. 

Then she came in, and began to be alarmed, and sent servants about inall directions. 

But two hours elapsed, and there were no tidings. The thing lookedserious. 

She sent out grooms well mounted to scour the country. One of thesefell in with Sir Charles, who thereupon came home and found his wife ina pitiable state. She was sitting in an armchair, trembling and cryinghysterically. 

She caught his hand directly, and grasped it like a vise. 

"It is Richard Bassett!" she cried. "He knows how to wound and kill me. He has stolen our child. "

Sir Charles hurried out, and, soon after that, Reginald arrived, andstood awe-struck at her deplorable condition. 

Sir Charles came back heated and anxious, kissed Reginald, told him inthree words his brother was missing, and then informed Lady Bassettthat he had learned something very extraordinary; Richard Bassett'slittle girl had also disappeared, and his people were out looking afterher. 

"Ah, they are together, " cried Lady Bassett. 

"Together? a son of mine consorting with that viper's brood!"

"What does that poor child know? Oh, find him for me, if you love thatdear child's mother!'"

Sir Charles hurried out directly, but was met at the door by a servant, who blurted out, "The men have dragged the fish-ponds, Sir Charles, andthey want to know if they shall drag the brook. "

"Hold your tongue, idiot!" cried Sir Charles, and thrust him out; butthe wiseacre had not spoken in vain. Lady Bassett moaned, and went intoworse hysterics, with nobody near her but Reginald. 

That worthy, never having seen a lady in hysterics, and not beinghardened at all points, uttered a sympathetic howl, and flung his armsround her neck. "Oh! oh! oh! Don't cry, mamma. "

Lady Bassett shuddered at his touch, but did not repel him. 

"I'll find him for you, " said the boy, "if you will leave off crying. "

She stared in his face a moment, and then went on as before. 

"Mamma, " said he, getting impatient, "do listen to me. I'll find himeasy enough, if you will only listen. "

"You! you!" and she stared wildly at him. 

"Ay, I know a sight more than the fools about here. I'm a poacher. Justyou put me on to his track. I'll soon run into him, if he is aboveground. "

"A child like you!" cried Lady Bassett; "how can you do that?" and shebegan to wring her hands again. 

"I'll show you, " said the boy, getting very impatient, "if you willjust leave off crying like a great baby, and come to any place you likewhere he has been to-day and left a mark--"

"Ah!" cried Lady Bassett. 

"I'm a poacher, " repeated Reginald, quite proudly; "you forget that. "

"Come with me, " cried Lady Bassett, starting up. She whipped on herbonnet, and ran with him down the lawn. 

"There, Reginald, " said she, panting, "I think my darling was here thisafternoon; yes, yes, he must; for he had a key of the door, and it isopen. "

"All right, " said Reginald; "come into the field. "

He ran about like a dog hunting, and soon found marks among thecowslips. 

"Somebody has been gathering a nosegay here to-day, " said he; "now, mamma, there's only two ways put of this field--let us go straight tothat gate; that is the likeliest. "

Near the gate was some clay, and Reginald showed her several prints ofsmall feet. 

"Look, " said he, "here's the track of two--one's a gal; how I know, here's a sole to this shoe no wider nor a knife. Come on. "

In the next field he was baffled for a long time; but at last he founda place in a dead hedge where they had gone through. 

"See, " said he, "these twigs are fresh broken, and here's a bit of thegal's frock. Oh! won't she catch it?":

"Oh, you brave, clever boy!" cried Lady Bassett. 

"Come on!" shouted the urchin. 

He hunted like a beagle, and saw like a bird, with his savage, glittering eye. He was on fire with the ardor of the chase; and, not todwell too long on what has been so often and so well written by others, in about an hour and a half he brought the anxious, palpitating, butnow hopeful mother, to the neighborhood of Bassett's wood. Here hetrusted to his own instinct. "They have gone into the wood, " said he, "and I don't blame 'em. I found my way here long before his age. I say, don't you tell; I've snared plenty of the governor's hares in thatwood. "

He got to the edge of the wood and ran down the side. At last he foundthe marks of small feet on a low bank, and, darting over it, discoveredthe fainter traces on some decaying leaves inside the wood. 

"There, " said he; "now it is just as if you had got them in yourpocket, for they'll never find their way out of this wood. Bless yourheart, why _I_ used to get lost in it at first. "

"Lost in the wood!" cried Lady Bassett; "but he will die of fear, or beeaten by wild beasts; and it is getting so dark. "

"What about that? Night or day is all one to me. What will you give meif I find him before midnight?"

"Anything I've got in the world. "

"Give me a sovereign?"

"A thousand!"

"Give me a kiss?"

"A hundred!"

"Then I'll tell you what I'll do--I don't mind a little trouble, tostop your crying, mamma, because you are the right sort. I'll get thevillage out, and we will tread the wood with torches, an' all for themas can't see by night; I can see all one; and you shall have your kidhome to supper. You see, there's a heavy dew, and he is not like me, that would rather sleep in this wood than the best bed in London city;a night in a wood would about settle his hash. So here goes. I can runa mile in six minutes and a half. "

With these words, the strange boy was off like an arrow from a bow. 

Lady Bassett, exhausted by anxiety and excitement, was glad to sitdown; her trembling heart would not let her leave the place that shenow began to hope contained her child. She sat down and waitedpatiently. 

The sun set, the moon rose, the stars glittered; the infinite leavesstood out dark and solid, as if cut out of black marble; all was dismalsilence and dread suspense to the solitary watcher. 

Yet the lady of Huntercombe Hall sat on, sick at heart, but patient, beneath that solemn sky. 

She shuddered a little as the cold dews gathered on her, for she was awoman nursed in luxury's lap; but she never moved. 

The silence was dismal. Had that wild boy forgotten his promise, orwere there no parents in the village, that their feet lagged so?

It was nearly ten o'clock, when her keen ears, strained to the utmost, discovered a faint buzzing of voices; but where she could not tell. 

The sounds increased and increased, and then there was a temporarysilence; and after that a faint hallooing in the wood to her right. Thewood was five hundred acres, and the bulk of it lay in front and to herleft. 

The hallooing got louder and louder; the whole wood seemed to echo; herheart beat high; lights glimmered nearer and nearer, hares and rabbitspattered by and startled her, and pheasants thundered off their roostswith an incredible noise, owls flitted, and bats innumerable, disturbedand terrified by the glaring lights and loud resounding halloos. 

Nearer, nearer came the sounds, till at last a line of men and boys, full fifty carrying torches and lanterns, came up, and lighted up thedew-spangled leaves, and made the mother's heart leap with joyful hopeat succor so powerful. 

Oh, she could have kissed the stout village blacksmith, whose deepsonorous lungs rang close to her. Never had any man's voice sounded toher so like a god's as this stout blacksmith's "hilloop! hilloop!"close and loud in her ear, and those at the end of the line hallooed"hillo-op; hillo-op!" like an echo; and so they passed on, through bushand brier, till their voices died away in the distance. 

A boy detached himself from the line, and ran to Lady Bassett with atraveling rug. It was Reginald. 

"You put on this, " said he. He shook it, and, standing on tiptoe, putit over her shoulders. 

"Thank you, dear, " said she. "Where is papa?"

"Oh, he is in the line, and the Highmore swell and all. "

"Mr. Richard Bassett?"

"Air, his kid is out on the loose, as well as ours. "

"Oh, Reginald, if they should quarrel!"

"Why, our governor can lick him, can't he?"

CHAPTER XL. 

"OH, don't talk so. I wouldn't for all the world they should quarrel. "

"Well, we have got enough fellows to part them if they do. "

"Dear Reginald, you have been so good to me, and you are so clever;speak to some of the men, and let there be no more quarreling betweenpapa and that man. "

"All right, " said the boy. 

"On second thoughts take me to papa; I'll be by his side, and then theycannot. "

"You want to walk through the wood? that is a good joke. Why, it islike walking through a river, and the young wood slapping your eyes, for you can't see every twig by this light, and the leaves spongingyour face and shoulders: and the briers would soon strip your gown intoribbons, and make your little ankles bleed. No, you are a lady; youstay where you are, and let us men work it. We shan't find him yetawhile. I must get near the governor. When we find my lord, I'll give awhistle you could hear a mile off. "

"Oh, Reginald, are you sure he is in the wood?"

"I'd bet my head to a chany orange. You might as well ask me, when Itrack a badger to his hole, and no signs of his going out again, whether old long-claws is there. I wish I was as sure of never goingback to school as I am of finding that little lot. The only thing Idon't like is, the young muff's not giving us a halloo back. But, anyway, I'll find 'em, _alive or dead. "_

And, with this pleasing assurance, the little imp scudded off, leavingthe mother glued to the spot with terror. 

For full an hour more the torches gleamed, though fainter and fainter;and so full was the wood of echoes, that the voices, though distant, seemed to halloo all round the agonized mother. 

But presently there was a continuous yell, quite different from theisolated shouts, a distant but unmistakable howl of victory that made abolt of ice shoot down her back, and then her heart to glow like fire. 

It was followed by a keen whistle. 

She fell on her knees and thanked God for her boy. 

In the middle of this wood was a shallow excavation, an old chalk-pit, unused for many years. It was never deep, and had been half filled upwith dead leaves; these, once blown into the hollow, or dropped fromthe trees, had accumulated. 

The very middle of the line struck on this place, and Moss, the oldkeeper, who was near the center, had no sooner cast his eyes into itthan he halted, and uttered a stentorian halloo well known tosportsmen--"SEE HO!"

A dead halt, a low murmur, and in a very few seconds the line was acircle, and all the torches that had not expired held high in a flamingring over the prettiest little sight that wood had ever presented. 

The old keeper had not given tongue on conjecture, like some youthfulhound. In a little hollow of leaves, which the boy had scraped out, layMaster Compton and Miss Ruperta, on their little backs, each with anarm round the other's neck, enjoying the sweet sound sleep of infancy, which neither the horror of their situation--babes in the wood--nor theshouts of fifty people had in the smallest degree disturbed; to besure, they had undergone great fatigue. 

Young master wore a coronet of bluebells on his golden bead, young missa wreath of cowslips on her ebon locks. The pair were flowers, cherubs, children--everything that stands for young, tender, and lovely. 

The honest villagers gaped, and roared in chorus, and held high theirtorches, and gazed with reverential delight. Not for them was it tofinger the little gentlefolks, but only to devour them with admiringeyes. 

Indeed, the picture was carried home to many a humble hearth, and isspoken of to this day in Huntercombe village. 

But the pale and anxious fathers were in no state to see pictures--theyonly saw their children Sir Charles and Richard Bassett came round withthe general rush, saw, and dashed into the pit. 

Strange to say, neither knew the other was there. Each seized hischild, and tore it away from the contact of the other child, as if froma viper; in which natural but harsh act they saw each other for thefirst time, and their eyes gleamed in a moment with hate and defianceover their loving children. 

Here was a picture of a different kind, and if the melancholy Jaques, or any other gentleman with a foible for thinking in a wood; had beenthere, methinks he had moralized very prettily on the hideousness ofhate and the beauty of the sentiment it had interrupted so fiercely. But it escaped this sort of comment for about eight years. Well, allthis woke the bairns; the lights dazzled them, the people scared them. Each hid a little face on the paternal shoulder. 

The fathers, like wild beasts, each carrying off a lamb, withdrew, glaring at each other; but the very next moment the stronger and bettersentiment prevailed, and they kissed and blessed their restoredtreasures, and forgot their enemies for a time. 

Sir Charles's party followed him, and supped at Huntercombe, every manJack of them. 

Reginald, who had delivered a terrific cat-call, now ran off to LadyBassett. There she was, still on her knees. 

"Found! found!" he shouted. 

She clasped him in her arms and wept for joy. 

"My eyes!" said he, "what a one you are to cry! You come home; you'llcatch your death o' cold. "

"No, no; take me to my child at once. "

"Can't be done; the governor has carried him off through the wood; andI ain't a going to let you travel the wood. You come with me; we'll gothe short cut, and be home as soon as them. "

She complied, though trembling all over. 

On the way he told her where the children had been discovered, and inwhat attitude. 

"Little darlings!" said she. "But he has frightened his poor mother, and nearly broken her heart. Oh!"

"If you cry any more, mamma--Shut up, I tell you!"

_"Must_ I? Oh!"

"Yes, or you'll catch pepper. "

Then he pulled her along, gabbling all the time. "Those two swellsdidn't quarrel after all, you see. "

"Thank Heaven!"

"But they looked at each other like hobelixes, and pulled the kids awaylike pison. Ha! ha! I say, the young 'uns ain't of the same mind as theold 'uns. I say, though, our Compton is not a bad sort; I'm blowed ifhe hadn't taken off his tippet to put round his gal. I say, don't youthink that little chap has begun rather early? Why, _I_ didn't troublemy head about the gals till I was eleven years old. "

Lady Bassett was too much agitated to discuss these delicate littlequestions just then. 

She replied as irrelevantly as ever a lady did. "Oh, you good, brave, clever boy!" said she. 

Then she stopped a moment to kiss him heartily. "I shall never forgetthis night, dear. I shall always make excuses for you. Oh, shall wenever get home?"

"We shall be home as soon as they will, " said Reginald. "Come on. "

He gabbled to her the whole way; but the reader has probably had enoughof his millclack. 

Lady Bassett reached home, and had just ordered a large fire inCompton's bedroom, when Sir Charles came in, bringing the boy. 

The lady ran out screaming, and went down on her knees, with her armsout, as only a mother can stretch them to her child. 

There was not a word of scolding that night. He had made her suffer;but what of that? She had no egotism; she was a true mother. Her boyhad been lost, and was found; and she was the happiest soul increation. 

But the fathers of these babes in the wood were both intenselymortified, and took measures to keep those little lovers apart infuture. Richard Bassett locked up his gate: Sir Charles padlocked his;and they both told their wives they really must be more vigilant. Thepoor children, being in disgrace, did not venture to remonstrate! Butthey used often to think of each other, and took a liking to theBritish Sunday; for then they saw each other in church. 

By-and-by even that consolation ceased. Ruperta was sent to school, andpassed her holidays at the sea-side. 

To return to Reginald, he was compelled to change his clothes thatevening, but was allowed to sit up, and, when the heads of the housewere a little calmer, became the hero of the night. 

Sir Charles, gazing on him with parental pride, said, "Reginald, youhave begun a new life to-day, and begun it well. Let us forget thepast, and start fresh to-day, with the love and gratitude of both yourparents. "

The boy hung his head and said nothing in reply. 

Lady Bassett came to his assistance. "He will; he will. Don't say aword about the past. He is a good, brave, beautiful boy, and I adorehim. "

"And I like you, mamma, " said Reginald graciously. 

From that day the boy had a champion in Lady Bassett; and Heaven knows, she had no sinecure; poor Reginald's virtues were too eccentric tobalance his faults for long together. His parents could not have achild lost in a wood every day; but good taste and propriety can beoffended every hour when one is so young, active, and savage as MasterReginald. 

He was up at five, and doing wrong all day. 

Hours in the stables, learning to talk horsey, and smell dunghilly. 

Hours in the village, gossiping and romping. 

In good company, an owl. 

In bad, or low company, a cricket, a nightingale, a magpie. 

He was seen at a neighboring fair, playing the fiddle in a booth todancing yokels, and receiving their pence. 

He was caught by Moss wiring hairs in Bassett's wood, within twentyyards of the place where he had found the babes in the wood so nobly. 

Remonstrated with tenderly and solemnly, he informed Sir Charles thatpoaching was a thing he could not live without, and he modestly askedto have Bassett's wood given him to poach in, offering, as aconsideration, to keep all other poachers out: as a greater inducement, he represented that he should not require a house, but only a coarsesheet to stretch across an old saw-pit, and a pair of blankets forwinter use--one under, one over. 

Sir Charles was often sad, sometimes indignant. 

Lady Bassett excused each enormity with pathetic ingenuity; excused, but suffered, and indeed pined visibly, for all this time he wastormenting her as few women in her position have been tormented. Herlife was a struggle of contesting emotions; she was wounded, harassed, perplexed, and so miserable, she would have welcomed death, that herhusband might read that Manuscript and cease to suffer, and she escapethe shame of confessing, and of living after it. 

In one word, she was expiating. 

Neither the excuses she made nor the misery she suffered escaped SirCharles. 

He said to her at last, "My own Bella, this unhappy boy is killing you. Dear as he is to me, you are dearer. I must send him away again. "

"He saved our darling, " said she, faintly, but she could say no more. He had exhausted excuse. 

Sir Charles made inquiries everywhere, and at last his attention wasdrawn to the following advertisement in the _Times:_

UNMANAGEABLE, Backward, or other BOYS, carefully TRAINED, and EDUCATED, by a married rector. Home comforts. Moderate terms. Address Dr. Beecher, Fennymore, Cambridgeshire. 

He wrote to this gentleman, and the correspondence was encouraging. "These scapegraces, " said the artist in tuition, "are like crab-trees;abominable till you graft them, and then they bear the best fruit. "

While the letters were passing, came a climax. Reckless Reginald couldkeep no bounds intact: his inward definition of a boundary was "a thingyou should go a good way out of your way rather than not overleap. "

Accordingly, he was often on Highmore farm at night, and even inHighmore garden; the boundary wall tempted him so. 

One light but windy night, when everybody that could put his head undercover, and keep it there, did, reckless Reginald was out enjoying thefresh breezes; he mounted the boundary wall of Highmore like a cat, tosee what amusement might offer. Thus perched, he speedily discovered abright light in Highmore dining-room. 

He dropped from the wall directly, and stole softly over the grass andpeered in at the window. 

He saw a table with a powerful lamp on it; on that table, and gleamingin that light, were several silver vessels of rare size andworkmanship, and Mr. Bassett, with his coat off, and a green baizeapron on, was cleaning one of these with brush and leather. He hadalready cleaned the others, for they glittered prodigiously. 

Reginald's black eye gloated and glittered at this unexpected displayof wealth in so dazzling a form. 

But this was nothing to the revelation in store. When Mr. Bassett haddone with that piece of plate he went to the paneled wall, and opened adoor so nicely adapted to the panels, that a stranger would hardly havediscovered it. Yet it was an enormous door, and, being opened, revealeda still larger closet, lined with green velvet and fitted with shelvesfrom floor to ceiling. 

Here shone, in all their glory, the old plate of two good families:that is to say, half the old plate of the Bassetts, and all the oldplate of the Goodwyns, from whom came Highmore to Richard Bassettthrough his mother Ruperta Goodwyn, so named after her grandmother; sonamed after her aunt; so named after her godmother; so named after herfather, Prince Rupert, cavalier, chemist, glass-blower, etc. , etc. 

The wall seemed ablaze with suns and moons, for many of the chasedgoblets, plates, and dishes were silver-gilt: none of your filmyelectro-plate, but gold laid on thick, by the old mercurial process, indays when they that wrought in precious metals were honest--for want ofknowing how to cheat. 

Glued to the pane, gloating on this constellation of gold suns andsilver moons, and trembling with Bohemian excitement, reckless Reginaldheard not a stealthy step upon the grass behind him. 

He had trusted to a fact in optics, forgetting the doctrine of shadows. 

The Scotch servant saw from a pantry window the shadow of a capprojected on the grass, with a face, and part of a body. She steppedout, and got upon the grass. 

Finding it was only a boy, she was brave as well as cunning; and, owingto the wind and his absorption, stole on him unheard, and pinned himwith her strong hands by both his shoulders. 

Young Hopeful uttered a screech of dismay, and administered a back kickthat made Jessie limp for two days, and scream very lustily for thepresent. 

Mr. Bassett, at this dialogue of yells, dropped a coffee-pot with acrash and a tinkle, and ran out directly, and secured young Hopeful, who thereupon began to quake and remonstrate. 

"I was only taking a look, " said he. "Where's the harm of that?"

"You were trespassing, sir, " said Richard Bassett. 

"What is the harm of that, governor? You can come over all our place, for what I care. "

"Thank you. I prefer to keep to my own place. "

"Well, I don't. I say, old chap, don't hit me. 'Twas I put 'em all onthe scent of your kid, you know. "

"So I have heard. Well, then, this makes us quits. "

"Don't it? You ain't such a bad sort, after all. "

"Only mind, Mr. Bassett, if I catch you prying here again, that will bea fresh account, and I shall open it with a horsewhip. "

He then gave him a little push, and the boy fled like the wind. When hewas gone, Richard Bassett became rather uneasy. He had hithertoconcealed, even from his own family, the great wealth his humble homecontained. His secret was now public. Reginald had no end of lowcompanions. If burglars got scent of this, it might be very awkward. Atlast he hit upon a defense. He got one of those hooks ending in a screwwhich are used for pictures, and screwed it into the inside of thecupboard door near the top. To this he fastened a long piece of catgut, and carried it through the floor. His bed was just above the cupboarddoor, and he attached the gut to a bell by his bedside. By this meansnobody could open that cupboard without ringing in his ears. 

Jessie told Tom, Tom told Maria and Harriet; Harriet and Maria toldeverybody; somebody told Sir Charles. He was deeply mortified. 

"You young idiot!" said he, "would nothing less than this serve yourturn? must you go and lower me and yourself by giving just offense tomy one enemy?--the man I hate and despise, and who is always on thewatch to injure or affront me. Oh, who would be a father! There, packup your things; you will go to school next morning at eight o'clock. "

Mr. Reginald packed accordingly, but that did not occupy long; so hesallied forth, and, taking for granted that it was Richard Bassett whohad been so mean as to tell, he purchased some paint and brushes and arope, and languished until midnight. 

But when that magic hour came he was brisk as a bee, let himself downfrom his veranda, and stole to Richard Bassett's front door, andinscribed thereon, in large and glaring letters, "JERRY SNEAK, ESQ. , Tell-Tale Tit. "

He then returned home much calmed and comforted, climbed up his ropeand into his room, and there slept sweetly, as one who had dischargedhis duty to his neighbor and society in general. 

In the morning, however, he was very active, hurried the grooms, andwas off before the appointed time. 

Sir Charles came down to breakfast, and lo! young Hopeful gone, withoutthe awkward ceremony of leave-taking. 

Sir Charles found, as usual, many delicacies on his table, and amongthem one rarer to him than ortolan, pin-tail, or wild turkey (in whichlast my soul delights); for he found a letter from Richard Bassett, Esq. 

"SIR--Some nights since we caught your successor that is to be, at mydining-room window, prying into my private affairs. Having the honor ofour family at heart, I was about to administer a little wholesomecorrection, when he reminded me he had been instrumental in trackingMiss Bassett, and thereby rescuing her: upon this I was, naturally, mollified, and sent him about his business, hoping to have seen thelast of him at Highmore. 

"This morning my door is covered with opprobrious epithets, and as Mr. Bassett bought paint and brushes at the shop yesterday afternoon, it isdoubtless to him I am indebted for them. 

"I make no comments; I simply record the facts, and put them down toyour credit, and your son's. 

"Your obedient servant, "RICHARD BASSETT. "

Lady Bassett did not come down to breakfast that morning; so SirCharles digested this dish in solitude. 

He was furious with Reginald; but as Richard Bassett's remonstrance wasintended to insult him, he wrote back as follows:

"SIR--I am deeply grieved that a son of mine should descend to look inat your windows, or to write anything whatever upon your door; and Iwill take care it shall never recur. 

"Yours obediently, "CHARLES DYKE BASSETT. "

This little correspondence was salutary; it fanned the coals of hatredbetween the cousins. 

Reckless Reginald soon found he had caught a Tartar in his new master. 

That gentleman punished him severely for every breach of discipline. The study was a cool dark room, with one window looking north, and thatwindow barred. Here he locked up the erratic youth for hours at a time, upon the slightest escapade. 

Reginald wrote a honeyed letter to Sir Charles, bewailing his lot, andpraying to be removed. 

Sir Charles replied sternly, and sent him a copy of Mr. RichardBassett's letter. He wrote to Mr. Beecher at the same time, expressinghis full approval. 

Thus disciplined, the boy began to change; he became moody, sullen, silent, and even sleepy. This was the less wonderful, that he generallyescaped at night to a gypsy camp, and courted a gypsy girl, who wasnearly as handsome as himself, besides being older, and far moreknowing. 

His tongue went like a mill, and the whole tribe soon knew all abouthim and his parents. 

One morning the servants got up supernaturally early, to wash. Mr. Reginald was detected stealing back to his roost, and reported to themaster. 

Mr. Beecher had him up directly, locked him into the study alone, putthe other students into the drawing-room, and erected bars to hisbedroom window. 

A few days of this, and he pined like a bird in a cage. 

A few more, and his gypsy girl came fortune-telling to the servants, and wormed out the truth. 

Then she came at night under his window, and made him a signal. He toldher his hard case, and told her also a resolution he had come to. Sheinformed the tribe. The tribe consulted. A keen saw was flung up tohim; in two nights he was through the bars; the third he was free, andjoined his sable friends. 

They struck their tents, and decamped with horses, asses, tents, andbaggage, and were many miles away by daybreak, without troublingturnpikes. 

The boy left not a line behind him, and Mr. Beecher half hoped he mightcome back; still he sent to the nearest station, and telegraphed toHuntercombe. 

Sir Charles mounted a fleet horse, and rode off at once intoCambridgeshire. He set inquiries on foot, and learned that the boy hadbeen seen consorting with a tribe of gypsies. He heard, also, thatthese were rather high gypsies, many of them foreigners; and that theydealt in horses, and had a farrier; and that one or two of the girlswere handsome, and also singers. 

Sir Charles telegraphed for detectives from London; wrote to the mayorsof towns; advertised, with full description and large reward, andbrought such pressure to bear upon the Egyptians, that the band beginto fear: they consulted, and took measures for their own security; nonetoo soon, for, they being encamped on Grey's Common in Oxfordshire, SirCharles and the rural police rode into the camp and demanded youngHopeful. 

They were equal to the occasion; at first they knew nothing of thematter, and, with injured innocence, invited a full inspection. 

The invitation was accepted. 

Then, all of a sudden, one of the women affected to be struck with anidea. "It is the young gentleman who wanted to join us inCambridgeshire. "

Then all their throats opened at once. "Yes, gentleman, there was alovely young gentleman wanted to come with us; but we wouldn't havehim. What could we do with him?"

Sir Charles left them under surveillance, and continued his researches, telegraphing Lady Bassett twice every day. 

A dark stranger came into Huntercombe village, no longer young, butstill a striking figure: had once, no doubt, been superlativelyhandsome. Even now, his long hair was black and his eye could glitter:but his life had impregnated his noble features with hardness andmeanness; his large black eye was restless, keen, and servile: anexcellent figure for a painter, though; born in Spain, he was notafraid of color, had a red cap on his snaky black hair, and a stripedwaistcoat. 

He inquired for Mr. Meyrick's farm. 

He soon found his way thither, and asked for Mrs. Meyrick. 

The female servant who opened the door ran her eye up and down him, andsaid, bruskly, "What do you want with her, my man? because she isbusy. "

"Oh, she will see me, miss. "

Softened by the "miss, " the girl laughed, and said, "What makes youthink that, my man?"

"Give her this, miss, " said the gypsy, "and she will come to me. "

He held her out a dirty crumpled piece of paper. 

Sally, whose hands were wet from the tub, whipped her hand under thecorner of her checkered apron, and so took the note with a finger andthumb operating through the linen. By this means she avoided twoevils--her fingers did not wet the letter, and the letter did not dirtyher fingers. 

She took it into the kitchen to her mistress, whose arms were deep in awash-tub. 

Mrs. Meyrick had played the fine lady at first starting, and for sixmonths would not put her hand to anything. But those twin cajolers ofthe female heart, Dignity and Laziness, made her so utterly wretched, that she returned to her old habits of work, only she combined with itthe sweets of domination. 

Sally came in and said, "It's an old gypsy, which he have brought youthis. "

Mrs. Meyrick instantly wiped the soapsuds from her brown but shapelyarms, and, whipping a wet hand under her apron, took the note just asSally had. It contained these words only:

"NURSE--The old Romance will tell you all about me. 

"REGINALD. "

She had no sooner read it than she took her sleeves down, and whippedher shawl off a peg and put it on, and took off her apron--and all foran old gypsy. No stranger must take her for anything but a lady. 

Thus embellished in a turn of the hand, she went hastily to the door. 

She and the gypsy both started at sight of each other, and Mrs. Meyrickscreamed. 

"Why, what brings you here, old man?" said she, panting. The gypsyanswered with oily sweetness, "The little gentleman sent me, my dear. Why, you look like a queen. "

"Hush!" said Mrs. Meyrick. --"Come in here. "

She made the old gypsy sit down, and she sat close to him. 

"Speak low, daddy, " said she, "and tell me all about my boy, mybeautiful boy. "

The old gypsy told Mrs. Meyrick the wrongs of Reginald that had drivenhim to this; and she fell to crying and lamenting, and inveighingagainst all concerned--schoolmaster, Sir Charles, Lady Bassett, and thegypsies. Them the old man defended, and assured her the young gentlemanwas in good hands, and would be made a little king of, all the morethat Keturah had told them there was gypsy blood in him. 

Mrs. Meyrick resented this loudly, and then returned to her grief. 

When she had indulged that grief for a long time, she felt a naturaldesire to quarrel with somebody, and she actually put on her bonnet, and was going to the Hall to give Lady Bassett a bit of her mind, forshe said that lady had never shown the feelings of a woman for thelamb. 

But she thought better of it, and postponed the visit. "I shall be sureto say something I shall be sorry for after, " said she; so she sat downagain, and returned to her grief. 

Nor could she ever shake it off as thoroughly as she had done any othertrouble in her life. 

Months after this, she said to Sally, with a burst of tears, "I nevernursed but one, and I shall never nurse another; and now he is acrossthe seas. "

She kept the old gypsy at the farm; or, to speak more correctly, shemade the farm his headquarters. She assigned him the only bedroom hewould accept, viz. , a cattle-shed, open on one side. She used often tohave him into her room when she was alone; she gave him some of herhusband's clothes, and made him wear a decent hat; by these means sheeffaced, in some degree, his nationality, and then she compelled herservants to call him "the foreign gent. "

The foreign gent was very apt to disappear in fine weather, but rainsoon drove him back to her fireside, and hunger to her flesh-pots. 

On the very day the foreign gent came to Meyrick's farm Lady Bassetthad a letter by post from Reginald. 

"DEAR MAMMA--I am gone with the gypsies across the water. I am sorry toleave you. You are the right sort: but they tormented me so with theirbooks and their dark rooms. It is very unfortunate to be a boy. When Iam a man, I shall be too old to be tormented, and then I will comeback. 

"Your dutiful son, "REGINALD. "

Lady Bassett telegraphed Sir Charles, and he returned to Huntercombe, looking old, sad, and worn. 

Lady Bassett set herself to comfort and cheer him, and this was hergentle office for many a long month. 

She was the more fit for it, that her own health and spirits revivedthe moment Reginald left the country with his friends the gypsies; thecolor crept back to her cheek, her spirits revived, and she looked ashandsome, and almost as young, as when she married. She tastedtranquillity. Year after year went by without any news of Reginald, andthe hope grew that he would never cross her threshold again, andCompton be Sir Charles's heir without any more trouble. 

CHAPTER XLI. 

OUR story now makes a bold skip. Compton Bassett was fourteen yearsold, a youth highly cultivated in mind and trained in body, but notvery tall, and rather effeminate looking, because he was so fair andhis skin so white. 

For all that, he was one of the bowlers in the Wolcombe Eleven, whosecricket-ground was the very meadow in which he had erst gatheredcowslips with Ruperta Bassett; and he had a canoe, which he carried toadjacent streams, however narrow, and paddled it with singular skilland vigor. A neighboring miller, suffering under drought, was heard tosay, "There ain't water enough to float a duck; nought can swim but thedab-chicks and Muster Bassett. "

He was also a pedestrian, and got his father to take long walks withhim, and leave the horses to eat their oats in peace. 

In these walks young master botanized and geologized his own father, and Sir Charles gave him a little politics, history, and Englishpoetry, in return. He had a tutor fresh from Oxford for the classics. 

One day, returning with his father from a walk, they met a young ladywalking toward them from the village; she was tall, and a superbbrunette. 

Now it was rather a rare thing to see a lady walking through thatvillage, so both Sir Charles and his son looked keenly at her as shecame toward them. 

Compton turned crimson, and raised his hat to her rather awkwardly. 

Sir Charles, who did not know the lady from Eve, saluted her, nevertheless, and with infinite grace; for Sir Charles, in his youth, had lived with some of the elite of French society, and those gentlemenbow to the person whom their companion bows to. Sir Charles hadimported this excellent trait of politeness, and always practiced it, though not the custom in England, the more the pity. 

As soon as the young lady had passed and was out of hearing, SirCharles said to Compton, "Who is that lovely girl? Why, how the boy isblushing!"

"Oh, papa!"

"Well, what is the matter?"

"Don't you see? It is herself come back from school. "

"I have no doubt it is herself, and not her sister, but who isherself?"

"Ruperta Bassett. "

"Richard Bassett's daughter! impossible. That young lady looksseventeen or eighteen years of age. "

"Yes, but it is Ruperta. There's nobody like her. Papa!"

"Well?"

"I suppose I may speak to her now. "

"What for?"

"She is so beautiful. "

"That she really is. And therefore I advise you to have nothing to sayto her. You are not children now, you know. Were you to renew thatintimacy, you might be tempted to fall in love with her. I don't sayyou would be so mad, for you are a sensible boy; but still, after thatlittle business in the wood--"

"But suppose I did fall in love with her?"

"Then that would be a great misfortune. Don't you know that her fatheris my enemy? If you were to make any advances to that young lady, hewould seize the opportunity to affront you, and me through you. "

This silenced Compton, for he was an obedient youth. 

But in the evening he got to his mother and coaxed her to take hispart. 

Now Lady Bassett felt the truth of all her husband had said; but shehad a positive wish the young people should be on friendly terms, atall events; she wanted the family feud to die with the generation ithad afflicted. She promised, therefore, to speak to Sir Charles; and sogreat was her influence that she actually obtained terms for Compton:he might speak to Miss Bassett, if he would realize the wholesituation, and be very discreet, and not revive that absurd familiarityinto which, their childhood had been betrayed. 

She communicated this to him, and warned him at the same time that eventhis concession had been granted somewhat reluctantly, and inconsideration of his invariable good conduct; it would be immediatelywithdrawn upon the slightest indiscretion. 

"Oh, I will be discretion itself, " said Compton; but the warmth withwhich he kissed his mother gave her some doubts. However, she wasprepared to risk something. She had her own views in this matter. 

When he had got this limited permission, Master Compton was not muchnearer the mark; for he was not to call on the young lady, and she didnot often walk in the village. 

But he often thought of her, her loving, sprightly ways seven yearsago, and the blaze of beauty with which she had returned. 

At last, one Sunday afternoon, she came to church alone. When thecongregation dispersed, he followed her, and came up with her, but hisheart beat violently. 

"Miss Bassett!" said he, timidly. 

She stopped, and turned her eyes on him; he blushed up to the temples. She blushed too, but not quite so much. 

"I am afraid you don't remember me, " said the boy, sadly. 

"Yes, I do, sir, " said Ruperta, shyly. 

"How you are grown!"

"Yes, sir. "

"You are taller than I am, and more beautiful than ever. "

No answer, but a blush. 

"You are not angry with me for speaking to you?"

"No, sir. "

"I wouldn't offend you. "

"I am not offended. Only--"

"Oh, Miss Bassett, of course I know you will never be--we shall neverbe--like we used. "

A very deep blush, and dead silence. 

"You are a grown-up young lady, and I am only a boy still, somehow. Butit _would_ have been hard if I might not even speak to you. Would itnot?"

"Yes, " said the young lady, but after some hesitation, and only in awhisper. 

"I wonder where you walk to. I have never seen you out but once. "

No reply to this little feeler. 

Then, at last, Compton was discouraged, partly by her beauty and size, partly by her taciturnity. 

He was silent in return, and so, in a state of mutual constraint, theyreached the gate of Highmore. 

"Good-by, " said Compton reluctantly. 

"Good-by. "

"Won't you shake hands?"

She blushed, and put out her hand halfway. He took it and shook it, andso they parted. 

Compton said to his mother disconsolately, "Mamma, it is all over. Ihave seen her, and spoken to her; but she has gone off dreadfully. "

"Why, what is the matter?"

"She is all changed. She is so stupid and dignified got to be. She hasnot a word to say to a fellow. "

"Perhaps she is more reserved; that is natural. She is a young ladynow. "

"Then it is a great pity she did not stay as she was. Oh, the brightlittle darling! Who'd think she could ever turn into a great, stupid, dignified thing? She is as tall as you, mamma. "

"Indeed! She has made use of her time. Well, dear, don't take _toomuch_ notice of her, and then you will find she will not be nearly soshy. "

"Too much notice! I shall never speak to her again--perhaps. "

"I would not be violent, one way or the other. Why not treat her likeany other acquaintance?"

Next Sunday afternoon she came to church alone. 

In spite of his resolution, Mr. Compton tried her a second time. Horror! she was all monosyllables and blushes again. 

Compton began to find it too up-hill. At last, when they reachedHighmore gate, he lost his patience, and said, "I see how it is. I havelost my sweet playmate forever. Good-by, Ruperta; I won't trouble youany more. " And he held out his hand to the young lady for a finalfarewell. 

Ruperta whipped both her hands behind her back like a school-girl, andthen, recovering her dignity, cast one swift glance of gentle reproach, then suddenly assuming vast stateliness, marched into Highmore like themother of a family. These three changes of manner she effected all inless than two seconds. 

Poor Compton went away sorely puzzled by this female kaleidoscope, butnot a little alarmed and concerned at having mortally offended so muchfeminine dignity. 

After that he did not venture to accost her for some time, but he casta few sheep's-eyes at her in church. 

Now Ruperta had told her mother all; and her mother had not forbiddenher to speak to Compton, but had insisted on reserve and discretion. 

She now told her mother she thought he would not speak to her any more, she had snubbed him so. 

"Dear me!" said Mrs. Bassett, "why did you do that? Can you not bepolite and nothing more?"

"No, mamma. "

"Why not? He is very amiable. Everybody says so. "

"He is. But I keep remembering what a forward girl I was, and I amafraid he has not forgotten it either, and that makes me hate the poorlittle fellow; no, not hate him; but keep him off. I dare say he thinksme a cross, ill-tempered thing; and I _am_ very unkind to him, but Ican't help it. "

"Never mind, " said Mrs. Bassett; "that is much better than to be tooforward. Papa would never forgive that. "

By-and-by there was a cricket-match in the farmer's meadow, Highcombeand Huntercombe eleven against the town of Staveleigh. All clubs likedto play at Huntercombe, because Sir Charles found the tents and thedinner, and the young farmers drank his champagne to their hearts'content. 

Ruperta took her maid and went to see the match. They found it goingagainst Huntercombe. The score as follows--

Staveleigh. First innings, a hundred and forty-eight runs. 

Huntercombe eighty-eight. 

Staveleigh. Second innings, sixty runs, and only one wicket down; andJohnson and Wright, two of their best men, well in, and masters of thebowling. 

This being communicated to Ruperta, she became excited, and her soul inthe game. 

The batters went on knocking the balls about, and scored thirteen morebefore the young lady's eyes. 

"Oh, dear!" said she, "what is that boy about? Why doesn't he bowl?They pretend he is a capital bowler. "

At this time Compton was standing long-field on, only farther from thewicket than usual. 

Johnson, at the wicket bowled to, being a hard but not very scientifichitter, lifted a half volley ball right over the bowler's head, a hitfor four, but a skyscraper. Compton started the moment he hit, and, running with prodigious velocity, caught the ball descending, within afew yards of Ruperta; but, to get at it, he was obliged to throwhimself forward into the air; he rolled upon the grass, but held theball in sight all the while. 

Mr. Johnson was out, and loud acclamations rent the sky. 

Compton rose, and saw Ruperta clapping her hands close by. 

She left off and blushed, directly he saw her. He blushed too, andtouched his cap to her, with an air half manly, half sheepish, but didnot speak to her. 

This was the last ball of the over, and, as the ball was now to bedelivered from the other wicket, Compton took the place of long-leg. 

The third ball was overpitched to leg, and Wright, who, like mostcountry players, hit freely to leg, turned half, and caught this ballexactly right, and sent it whizzing for five. 

But the very force of the stroke was fatal to him; the ball went atfirst bound right into Compton's hands, who instantly flung it back, like a catapult, at Wright's wicket. 

Wright, having hit for five, and being unable to see what had become ofthe ball, started to run, as a matter of course. 

But the other batsman, seeing the ball go right into long-leg's handslike a bullet, cried, "Back!"

Wright turned, and would have got back to his wicket if the ball hadrequired handling by the wicket-keeper; but, by a mixture of skill withluck, it came right at the wicket. Seeing which, the wicket-keeper veryjudiciously let it alone, and it carried off the bails just half asecond before Mr. Wright grounded his bat. 

"How's that, umpire?" cried the wicket-keeper. 

"Out!" said the Staveleigh umpire, who judged at that end. 

Up went the ball into the air, amid great excitement of the natives. 

Ruperta, carried away by the general enthusiasm, nodded all sparklingto Compton, and that made his heart beat and his soul aspire. So nextover he claimed his rights, and took the ball. Luck still befriendedhim: he bowled four wickets in twelve overs; the wicket-keeper stumpeda fifth: the rest were "the tail, " and disposed of for a few runs, andthe total was no more than Huntercombe's first innings. 

Our hero then took the bat, and made forty-seven runs before he wasdisposed of, five wickets down for a hundred and ten runs. The matchwas not won yet, nor sure to be; but the situation was reversed. 

On going out, he was loudly applauded; and Ruperta naturally felt proudof her admirer. 

Being now free, he came to her irresolutely with some iced champagne. 

Ruperta declined, with thanks; but he looked so imploringly that shesipped a little, and said, warmly, "I hope we shall win: and, if we do, I know whom we shall have to thank. "

"And so do I: you, Miss Bassett. "

"Me? Why, what have _I_ done in the matter?"

"You brought us luck, for one thing. You put us on our mettle. Staveleigh shall never beat _me, _ with you looking on. "

Ruperta blushed a little, for the boy's eyes beamed with fire. 

"If I believed that, " said she, "I should hire myself out at the nextmatch, and charge twelve pairs of gloves. "

"You may believe it, then; ask anybody whether our luck did not changethe moment you came. "

"Then I am afraid it will go now, for I am going. "

"You will lose us the match if you do, " said Compton. 

"I can't help it: now you are out, it is rather insipid. There, you seeI can pay compliments as well as you. "

Then she made a graceful inclination and moved away. 

Compton felt his heart ache at parting. He took a thought and ranquickly to a certain part of the field. 

Ruperta and her attendant walked very slowly homeward. 

Compton caught them just at their own gate. "Cousin!" said he, imploringly, and held her out a nosegay of cowslips only. 

At that the memories rushed back on her, and the girl seemed literallyto melt. She gave him one look full of womanly sensibility and winningtenderness, and said, softly, "Thank you, cousin. "

Compton went away on wings: the ice was broken. 

But the next time he met her it had frozen again apparently: to be sureshe was alone; and young ladies will be bolder when they have anotherperson of their own sex with them. 

Mr. Angelo called on Sir Charles Bassett to complain of a seriousgrievance. 

Mr. Angelo had become zealous and eloquent, but what are eloquence andzeal against sex? A handsome woman had preached for ten minutes upon alittle mound outside the village, and had announced she should say afew parting words next Sunday evening at six o'clock. 

Mr. Angelo complained of this to Lady Bassett. 

Lady Bassett referred him to Sir Charles. 

Mr. Angelo asked that magistrate to enforce the law againstconventicles. 

Sir Charles said he thought the Act did not apply. 

"Well, but, " said Angelo, "it is on your ground she is going topreach. "

"I am the proprietor, but the tenant is the owner in law. He could warn_me_ off his ground. I have no power. "

"I fear you have no inclination, " said Angelo, nettled. 

"Not much, to tell the truth, " replied Sir Charles coolly. "Does itmatter so very much _who_ sows the good seed, or whether it is flungabroad from a pulpit or a grassy knoll?"

"That is begging the question, Sir Charles. Why assume that it is goodseed? it is more likely to be tares than wheat in this case. "

"And is not that begging the question? Well, I will make it my businessto know: and if she preaches sedition, or heresy, or bad morals, I willstrain my power a little to silence her. More than that I really cannotpromise you. The day is gone by for intolerance. "

"Intolerance is a bad thing; but the absence of all conviction isworse, and that is what we are coming to. "

"Not quite that: but the nation has tasted liberty; and now every manassumes to do what is right in his own eyes. "

"That mean's what is wrong in his neighbor's. "

Sir Charles thought this neat, and laughed good-humoredly: he asked therector to dine on Sunday at half-past seven. "I shall know more aboutit by that time, " said he. 

They dined early on Sunday, at Highmore, and Ruperta took her maid fora walk in the afternoon, and came back in time to hear the femalepreacher. 

Half the village was there already, and presently the preacher walkedto her station. 

To Ruperta's surprise, she was a lady, richly dressed, tall andhandsome, but with features rather too commanding. She had a glove onher left hand, and a little Bible in her right hand, which was large, but white, and finely formed. 

She delivered a short prayer, and opened her text:

"Walk honestly; not in strife and envying. "

Just as the text was given out, Ruperta's maid pinched her, and theyoung lady, looking up, saw her father coming to see what was thematter. Maid was for hiding, but Ruperta made a wry face, blushed, andstood her ground. "How can he scold me, when he comes himself?" shewhispered. 

During the sermon, of which, short as it was, I can only afford to givethe outline, in crept Compton Bassett, and got within three or four ofRuperta. 

Finally Sir Charles Bassett came up, in accordance with his promise toAngelo. 

The perfect preacher deals in generalities, but strikes them home witha few personalities. 

Most clerical preachers deal only in generalities, and that isineffective, especially to uncultivated minds. 

Mrs. Marsh, as might be expected from her sex, went a little too muchthe other way. 

After a few sensible words, pointing out the misery in houses, and theharm done to the soul, by a quarrelsome spirit, she lamented there wastoo much of it in Huntercombe: with this opening she went intopersonalities: reminded them of the fight between two farm servantslast week, one of whom was laid up at that moment in consequence. "And, " said she, "even when it does not come to fighting, it poisonsyour lives and offends your Redeemer. "

Then she went into the causes, and she said Drunkenness and Detractionwere the chief causes of strife and contention. 

She dealt briefly but dramatically with Drunkenness, and then lashedDetraction, as follows:

"Every class has its vices, and Detraction is the vice of the poor. Youare ever so much vainer than your betters: you are eaten up withvanity, and never give your neighbor a good word. I have been in thirtyhouses, and in not one of those houses has any poor man or poor womanspoken one honest word in praise of a neighbor. So do not flatteryourselves this is a Christian village, for it is not. The only excuseto be made for you, and I fear it is not one that God will accept onHis judgment-day, is that your betters set you a bad example instead ofa good one. The two principal people in this village are kinsfolk, yetenemies, and have been enemies for twenty years. That's a nice examplefor two Christian gentlemen to set to poor people, who, they may besure, will copy their sins, if they copy nothing else. 

"They go to church regularly, and believe in the Bible, and yet theydefy both Church and Bible. 

"Now I should like to ask those gentlemen a question. How do they meanto manage in Heaven? When the baronet comes to that happy place, whereall is love, will the squire walk out? Or do they think to quarrelthere, and so get turned out, both of them? I don't wonder at yoursmiling; but it is a serious consideration, for all that. The soul ofman is immortal: and what is the soul? it is not a substantial thing, like the body; it is a bundle of thoughts and feelings: the thoughts wedie with in this world, we shall wake up with them in the next. Yethere are two Christians loading their immortal souls with immortalhate. What a waste of feeling, if it must all be flung off togetherwith the body, lest it drag the souls of both down to bottomlessperdition. 

"And what do they gain in this world?--irritation, ill-health, andmisery. It is a fact that no man ever reached a great old age who hatedhis neighbor; still less a _good_ old age; for, if men would lookhonestly into their own hearts, they would own that to hate is to bemiserable. 

"I believe no men commit a sin for many years without some specialwarnings; and to neglect these, is one sin more added to their account. Such a warning, or rather, I should say, such a pleading of Divinelove, those two gentlemen have had. Do you remember, about eight yearsago, two children were lost on one day, out of different houses in thisvillage?" (A murmur from the crowd. )

"Perhaps some of you here present were instrumental, under God, infinding that pretty pair. " (A louder murmur. )

"Oh, don't be afraid to answer me. Preaching is only a way of speaking;and I'm only a woman that is speaking to you for your good. Tell me--weare not in church, tied up by stait-laced rules to keep men and womenfrom getting within arm's-length of one another's souls--tell me, whosaw those two lost children?"

"I, I, I, I, I, " roared several voices in reply. 

"Is it true, as a good woman tells me, that the innocent darlings hadeach an arm round the other's neck?"

"Ay. "

"And little coronets of flowers, to match their hair?" (That was thegirl's doing. )

"Ay. "

"And the little boy had played the man, and taken off his tippet to putround the little lady?"

"Ay!" with a burst of enthusiasm from the assembled rustics. 

"I think I see them myself; and the torches lighting up the dewy leavesoverhead, and that Divine picture of innocent love. Well, which was theprettiest sight, and the fittest for heaven--the hatred of the parents, or the affection of the children?

"And now mark what a weapon hatred is, in the Devil's hands. There areonly two people in this parish on whom that sight was wasted; and thosetwo being gentlemen, and men of education, would have been moreaffected by it than humble folk, if Hell had not been in their hearts, for Hate comes from Hell, and takes men down to the place it comesfrom. 

"Do you, then, shun, in that one thing, the example of your betters:and I hope those children will shun it too. A father is to be treatedwith great veneration, but above all is our Heavenly Father and Hislaw; and that law, what is it?--what has it been this eighteen hundredyears and more? Why, Love. 

"Would you be happy in this world, and fit your souls to dwellhereafter even in the meanest of the many mansions prepared above, you_must, _ above all things, be charitable. You must not run your neighbordown behind his back, or God will hate you: you must not wound him tohis face, or God will hate you. You must overlook a fault or two, andsee a man's bright side, and then God will love you. If you won't dothat much for your neighbor, why, in Heaven's name, should God overlooka multitude of sins in you?

"Nothing goes to heaven surer than Charity, and nothing is so fit tosit in heaven. St. Paul had many things to be proud of and to praise inhimself--things that the world is more apt to admire than Christiancharity, the sweetest, but humblest of all the Christian graces: St. Paul, I say, was a bulwark of learning, an anchor of faith, a rock ofconstancy, a thunder-bolt of zeal: yet see how he bestows the palm. 

"'Knowledge puffeth up: but charity edifieth. Though I speak with thetongues of men and of angels, and have not charity, I am become assounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal. And though I have the gift ofprophecy, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge; and though Ihave all faith, so that I could remove mountains, and have not charity, I am nothing. And though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, andthough I give my body to be burned, and have not charity, it profitethme nothing. Charity suffereth long, and is kind; charity envieth not;charity vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up, doth not behave itselfunseemly, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh noevil; rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth; bearethall things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth allthings. Charity never faileth; but prophecies--they shall fail;tongues--they shall cease; knowledge--it shall vanish away. And nowabideth Faith, Hope, Charity, these three; but the greatest of these ischarity. '"

The fair orator delivered these words with such fire, such feeling, such trumpet tones and heartfelt eloquence, that for the first timethose immortal words sounded in these village ears true oracles of God. 

Then, without pause, she went on. "So let us lift our hearts in earnestprayer to God that, in this world of thorns, and tempers, and trials, and troubles, and cares, He will give us the best cure for all--thegreat sweetener of this mortal life--the sure forerunner of Heaven--Hismost excellent gift of charity. " Then, in one generous burst, sheprayed for love divine, and there was many a sigh and many a tear, andat the close an "Amen!" such as, alas! we shall never, I fear, hearburst from a hundred bosoms where men repeat beautiful but stale wordsand call it prayer. 

The preacher retired, but the people still lingered spell-bound, andthen arose that buzz which shows that the words have gone home. 

As for Richard Bassett, he had turned on his heel, indignant, as soonas the preacher's admonitions came his way. 

Sir Charles Bassett stood his ground rather longer, being steeled bythe conviction that the quarrel was none of his seeking. Moreover, hewas not aware what a good friend this woman had been to him, nor what agood wife she had been to Marsh this seventeen years. His mind, therefore, made a clear leap from Rhoda Somerset, the vixen of HydePark and Mayfair, to this preacher, and he could not help smiling; thanwhich a worse frame for receiving unpalatable truths can hardly beconceived. And so the elders were obdurate. But Compton and Ruperta hadno armor of old age, egotism, or prejudice to turn the darts of honesteloquence. They listened, as to the voice of an angel; they gazed, ason the face of an angel; and when those silvery accents ceased, theyturned toward each other and came toward each other, with the sweetenthusiasm that became their years. "Oh, Cousin Ruperta!" quaveredCompton. '"Oh, Cousin Compton!" cried Ruperta, the tears trickling downher lovely cheeks. 

They could not say any more for ever so long. 

Ruperta spoke first. She gave a final gulp, and said, "I will go andspeak to her, and thank her. "

"Oh, Miss Ruperta, we shall be too late for tea, " suggested the maid. 

"Tea!" said Ruperta. "Our souls are before our tea! I must speak toher, or else my heart will choke me and kill me. I will go--and so willCompton. "

"Oh, yes!" said Compton. 

And they hurried after the preacher. 

They came up with her flushed and panting; and now it was Compton'sturn to be shy--the lady was so tall and stately too. 

But Ruperta was not much afraid of anything in petticoats. "Oh, madam, "said she, "if you please, may we speak to you?"

Mrs. Marsh turned round, and her somewhat aquiline features softenedinstantly at the two specimens of beauty and innocence that had runafter her. 

"Certainly, my young friends;" and she smiled maternally on them. Shehad children of her own. 

"Who do you think we are? We are the two naughty children you preachedabout so beautifully. "

"What! _you_ the babes in the wood?"

"Yes, madam. It was a long, long while ago, and we are fifteen now--arewe not, Cousin Compton?"

"Yes, madam. "

"And we are both so unhappy at our parents' quarreling. At least I am. "

"And so am I. "

"And we came to thank you. Didn't we, Compton?"

"Yes, Ruperta. "

"And to ask your advice. How are we to make our parents be friends? Oldpeople will not be advised by young ones. They look down on us so; itis dreadful. "

"My dear young lady, " said Mrs. Marsh, "I will try and answer you: butlet me sit down a minute; for, after preaching, I am apt to feel alittle exhausted. Now, sit beside me, and give me each a hand, if youplease. 

"Well, my dears, I have been teaching you a lesson; and now you teachme one, and that is, how much easier it is to preach reconciliation andcharity than it is to practice it under certain circumstances. However, my advice to you is first to pray to God for wisdom in this thing, andthen to watch every opportunity. Dissuade your parents from everyunkind act: don't be afraid to speak--with the word of God at yourback. I know that you have no easy task before you. Sir Charles Bassettand Mr. Bassett were both among my hearers, and both turned their backson me, and went away unsoftened; they would not give me a chance; wouldnot hear me to an end, and I am not a wordy preacher neither. "

Here an interruption occurred. Ruperta, so shy and cold with Compton, flung her arms round Mrs. Marsh's neck, with the tears in her eyes, andkissed her eagerly. 

"Yes, my dear, " said Mrs. Marsh, after kissing her in turn, "I _was_ alittle mortified. But that was very weak and foolish. I am sorry, fortheir own sakes, they would not stay; it was the word of God: but theysaw only the unworthy instrument. Well, then, my dears, you _have_ ahard task; but you must work upon your mothers, and win them tocharity. "

"Ah! that will be easy enough. My mother has never approved thisunhappy quarrel. "

"No more has mine. "

"Is it so? Then you must try and get the two ladies to speak to eachother. But something tells me that a way will be opened. Have patience;have faith; and do not mind a check or two; but persevere, rememberingthat 'blessed are the peace-makers. '"

She then rose, and they took leave of her. 

"Give me a kiss, children, " said she. "You have done me a world ofgood. My own heart often flags on the road, and you have warmed andcomforted it. God bless you!"

And so they parted. 

Compton and Ruperta walked homeward. Ruperta was very thoughtful, andCompton could only get monosyllables out of her. This discouraged, andat last vexed him. 

"What have I done, " said he, "that you will speak to anybody but me?"

"Don't be cross, child, " said she; "but answer me a question. Did youput your tippet round me in that wood?"

"I suppose so. "

"Oh, then you don't remember doing it, eh?"

"No; that I don't. "

"Then what makes you think you did?"

"Because they say so. Because I must have been such an awful cad if Ididn't. And I was always much fonder of you than you were of me. Mytippet! I'd give my head sooner than any harm should come to you, Ruperta!"

Ruperta made no reply, but, being now at Highmore, she put out her handto him, and turned her head away. He kissed her hand devotedly, and sothey parted. 

Compton told Lady Bassett all that happened, and Ruperta told Mrs. Bassett. 

Those ladies readily promised to be on the side of peace, but theyfeared it could only be the work of time, and said so. 

By-and-by Compton got impatient, and told Ruperta he had thought of away to compel their fathers to be friends. "I am afraid you won't likethe idea at _first, "_ said he; "but the more you think of it, the moreyou will see it is the surest way of all. "

"Well, but what is it?"

"You must let me marry you. "

Ruperta stared, and began to blush crimson. 

"Will you, cousin?"

"Of course not, child. The idea!"

"Oh, Ruperta, " cried the boy in dismay, "surely you don't mean to marryanybody else but me!"

"Would that make you very unhappy, then?"

"You know it would, wretched for my life. "

"I should not like to do that. But I disapprove of early marriages. Imean to wait till I'm nineteen; and that is three years nearly. "

"It is a fearful time; but if you will promise not to marry anybodyelse, I suppose I shall live through it. "

Ruperta, though she made light of Compton's offer, was very proud of it(it was her first). She told her mother directly. 

Mrs. Bassett sighed, and said that was too blessed a thing ever tohappen. 

"Why not?" said Ruperta. 

"How could it, " said Mrs. Bassett, "with everybody against it but poorlittle me!"

"Compton assures me that Lady Bassett wishes it. "

"Indeed! But Sir Charles and papa, Ruperta?"

"Oh, Compton must talk Sir Charles over, and I will persuade papa. I'llbegin this evening, when he comes home from London. "

Accordingly, as he was sitting alone in the dining-room sipping hisglass of port, Ruperta slipped away from her mother's side and foundhim. 

His face brightened at the sight of her; for he was extremely fond andproud of this girl, for whom he would not have the bells rung when shewas born. 

She came and hung round his neck a little, and kissed him, and saidsoftly, "Dear papa, I have something to tell you. I have had aproposal. "

Richard Bassett stared. 

"What, of marriage?"

Ruperta nodded archly. 

"To a child like you? Scandalous! No, for, after all, you look nineteenor twenty. And who is the highwayman that thinks to rob me of myprecious girl?"

"Well, papa, whoever he is, he will have to wait three years, and so Itold him. It is my cousin Compton. "

"What!" cried Richard Bassett, so loudly that the girl started backdismayed. "That little monkey have the impudence to offer marriage tomy daughter? Surely, Ruperta, you have offered him no encouragement?"

"N--no. "

"Your mother promised me nothing but common civility should passbetween you and that young gentleman. "

"She promised for me, but she could not promise for him--poor littlefellow!"

"Marry a son of the man who has robbed and insulted your father!"

"Oh, papa! is it so? Are you sure you did not begin?"

"If you can think that, it is useless to say more. I thoughtill-fortune had done its worst; but no; blow upon blow, and wound uponwound. Don't spare me, child. Nobody else has, and why should you?Marry my enemy's son, his younger son, and break your father's heart. "

At this, what could a sensitive girl of sixteen do but burst outcrying, and promise, round her father's neck, never to marry any onewhom he disliked. 

When she had made this promise, her father fondled and petted her, andhis tenderness consoled her, for she was not passionately in love withher cousin. 

Yet she cried a good deal over the letter in which she communicatedthis to Compton. 

He lay in wait for her; but she baffled him for three weeks. 

After that she relaxed her vigilance, for she had no real wish to avoidhim, and was curious to see whether she had cured him. 

He met her; and his conduct took her by surprise. He was pale, andlooked very wretched. 

He said solemnly, "Were you jesting with me when you promised to marryno one but me?"

"No, Compton. But you know I could never marry you without papa'sconsent. "

"Of course not; but, what I fear, he might wish you to marry somebodyelse. "

"Then I should refuse. I will never break my word to you, cousin. I amnot in love with you, you are too young for that--but somehow I feel Icould not make you unhappy. Can't you trust my word? You might. I comeof the same people as you. Why do you look so pale?--we are veryunhappy. "

Then the tears began to steal down her cheeks; and Compton's soonfollowed. 

Compton consulted his mother. She told him, with a sigh, she waspowerless. Sir Charles might yield to her, but she had no power toinfluence Mr. Bassett at present. "The time may come, " said she. Shecould not take a very serious view of this amour, except with regard toits pacific results. So Mr. Bassett's opposition chilled her in thematter. 

While things were so, something occurred that drove all these minorthings out of her distracted heart. 

One summer evening, as she and Sir Charles and Compton sat at dinner, aservant came in to say there was a stranger at the door, and he calledhimself Bassett. 

"What is he like?" said Lady Bassett, turning pale. 

"He looks like a foreigner, my lady. He says he is Mr. Bassett, "repeated the man, with a scandalized air. 

Sir Charles got up directly, and hurried to the hall door. Comptonfollowed to the door only and looked. 

Sure enough it was Reginald, full-grown, and bold, as handsome as ever, and darker than ever. 

In that moment his misconduct in running away never occurred either toSir Charles or Compton; all was eager and tremulous welcome. The hallrang with joy. They almost carried him into the dining-room. 

The first thing they saw was a train of violet-colored velvet, halfhidden by the table. 

Compton ran forward with a cry of dismay. 

It was Lady Bassett, in a dead swoon, her face as white as her neck andarms, and these as white and smooth as satin. 

CHAPTER XLII. 

LADY BASSETT was carried to her room, and did not reappear. She kepther own apartments, and her health declined so rapidly that Sir Charlessent for Dr. Willis. He prescribed for the body, but the disease lay inthe mind. Martyr to an inward struggle, she pined visibly, and herbeautiful eyes began to shine like stars, preternaturally large. Shewas in a frightful condition: she longed to tell the truth and end itall; but then she must lose her adored husband's respect, and perhapshis love; and she had not the courage. She saw no way out of it but todie and leave her confession; and, as she felt that the agony of hersoul was killing her by degrees, she drew a somber resignation fromthat. 

She declined to see Reginald. She could not bear the sight of him. 

Compton came to her many times a day, with a face full of concern, andeven terror. But she would not talk to him of herself. 

He brought her all the news he heard, having no other way to cheer her. 

One day he told her there were robbers about. Two farmhouses had beenrobbed, a thing not known in these parts for many years. 

Lady Bassett shuddered, but said nothing. 

But by-and-by her beloved son came to her in distress with a grief ofhis own. 

Ruperta Bassett was now the beauty of the county, and it seems Mr. Rutland had danced with her at her first ball, and been violentlysmitten with her; he had called more than once at Highmore, and hisattentions were directly encouraged by Mr. Bassett. Now Mr. Rutland washeir to a peerage, and also to considerable estates in the county. 

Compton was sick at heart, and, being young, saw his life about to beblighted; so now he was pale and woe-begone, and told her the sad newswith such deep sighs, and imploring, tearful eyes, that all the motherrose in arms. "Ah!" said she, "they say to themselves that I am down, and cannot fight for my child; but I would fight for him on the edge ofthe grave. Let me think all by myself, dear. Come back to me in anhour. I shall do something. Your mother is a very cunning woman--forthose she loves. "

Compton kissed her gown--a favorite action of his, for he worshipedher--and went away. 

The invalid laid her hollow cheek upon her wasted hand, and thoughtwith all her might. By degrees her extraordinary brain developed atwofold plan of action; and she proceeded to execute the first part, being the least difficult, though even that was not easy, and brought avivid blush to her wasted cheek. 

She wrote to Mrs. Bassett. 

"MADAM--I am very ill, and life is uncertain. Something tells me you, like me, regret the unhappy feud between our houses. If this is so, itwould be a consolation to me to take you by the hand and exchange a fewwords, as we already have a few kind looks. 

"Yours respectfully, "BELLA BASSETT. "

She showed this letter to Compton, and told him he might send a servantwith it to Highmore at once. 

"Oh, mamma!" said he, "I never thought you would do that: how good youare! You couldn't ask Ruperta, could you? Just in a little postscript, you know. "

Lady Bassett shook her head. 

"That would not be wise, my dear. Let me hook that fish for you, notfrighten her away. "

Great was the astonishment at Highmore when a blazing footman knockedat the door and handed Jessie the letter with assumed nonchalance, thenstalked away, concealing with professional art his own astonishment atwhat he had done. 

It was no business of Jessie's to take letters into the drawing-room;she would have deposited any other letter on the hall table; but shebrought this one in, and, standing at the door, exclaimed, "Here aletter fr' Huntercombe!"

Richard Bassett, Mrs. Bassett, and Ruperta, all turned upon her withone accord. 

"From where?"

"Fr' Huntercombe itsel'. Et isna for you, nor for you, missy. Et's forthe mesterress. "

She marched proudly up to Mrs. Bassett and laid the letter down on thetable; then drew back a step or two, and, being Scotch, coolly waitedto hear the contents. Richard Basset, being English, told her she neednot stay. 

Mrs. Bassett cast a bewildered look at her husband and daughter, thenopened the letter quietly; read it quietly; and, having read it, tookout her handkerchief and began to cry quietly. 

Ruperta cried, "Oh, mamma!" and in a moment had one long arm round hermother's neck, while the other hand seized the letter, and she read italoud, cheek to cheek; but, before she got to an end, her mother'stears infected her, and she must whimper too. 

"Here are a couple of geese, " said Richard Bassett. "Can't you write acivil reply to a civil letter without sniveling? I'll answer the letterfor you. "

"No!" said Mrs. Bassett. 

Richard was amazed: Ruperta ditto. 

The little woman had never dealt in "Noes, " least of all to herhusband; and besides this was such a plump "No. " It came out of hermouth like a marble. 

I think the sound surprised even herself a little, for she proceeded tojustify it at once. "I have been a better wife than a Christian thismany years. But there's a limit. And, Richard, I should never havemarried you if you had told me we were to be at war all our lives withour next neighbor, that everybody respects. To live in the country, andnot speak to our only neighbor, that is a life I never would have leftmy father's house for. Not that I complain: if you have been bitter tothem, you have always been good and kind to me; and I hope I have donemy best to deserve it; but when a sick lady, and perhaps dying, holdsout her hand to me---write her one of your cold-blooded letters! That IWON'T. Reply? my reply will be just putting on my bonnet and going toher this afternoon. It is Passion-week, too; and that's not a week toplay the heathen. Poor lady! I've seen in her sweet eyes this manyyears that she would gladly be friends with me; and she never passed meclose but she bowed to me, in church or out, even when we were atdaggers drawn. She is a lady, a real lady, every inch. But it is notthat altogether. No, if a sick woman called me to her bedside thisweek, I'd go, whether she wrote from Huntercombe Hall or the pooresthouse in the place; else how could I hope my Saviour would come to _my_bedside at my last hour?"

This honest burst, from a meek lady who never talked nonsense, to besure, but seldom went into eloquence, staggered Richard Bassett, andenraptured Ruperta so, that she flung both arms round her mother'sneck, and cried, "Oh, mamma! I always thought you were the best womanin England, and now I know it. "

"Well, well, well, " said Richard, kindly enough; then to Ruperta, "DidI ever say she was not the best woman in England? So you need not setup your throats neck and neck at me, like two geese at a fox. Unfortunately, she is the simplest woman in England, as well as thebest, and she is going to visit the cunningest. That Lady Bassett willturn our mother inside out in no time. I wish you would go with her;you are a shrewd girl. "

"My daughter will not go till she is asked, " said Mrs. Bassett, firmly. 

"In that case, " said Richard, dryly, "let us hope the Lord will protectyou, since it is for love of Him you go into a she-fox's den. "

No reply was vouchsafed to this aspiration, the words being the wordsof faith, but the voice the voice of skepticism. 

Mrs. Bassett put on her bonnet, and went to Huntercombe Hall. 

After a very short delay she was ushered upstairs, to the room whereLady Bassett was lying on a sofa. 

Lady Bassett heard her coming, and rose to receive her. 

She made Mrs. Bassett a court courtesy so graceful and profound that itrather frightened the little woman. Seeing which, Lady Bassett changedher style, and came forward, extending both hands with admirable grace, and gentle amity, not overdone. 

Mrs. Bassett gave her both hands, and they looked full at each other insilence, till the eyes of both ladies began to fill. 

"You would have come--like this--years ago--at a word?" faltered LadyBassett. 

"Yes, " gulped Mrs. Bassett. 

Then there was another long pause. 

"Oh, Lady Bassett, what a life! It is a wonder it has not killed usboth. "

"It will kill one of us. "

"Not if I can help it. "

"God bless you for saying so! Dear madam, sit by me, and let me holdthe hand I might have had years ago, if I had had the courage. "

"Why should you take the blame?" said Mrs. Bassett. "We have both beengood wives: too obedient, perhaps. But to have to choose between ahusband's commands and God's law, that is a terrible thing for any poorwoman. "

"It is, indeed. "

Then there was another silence, and an awkward pause. Mrs. Bassettbroke it, with some hesitation. "I hope, Lady Bassett, your presentillness is not in any way--I hope you do not fear anything more from myhusband?"

"Oh, Mrs. Bassett! how can I help fearing it--especially if we provokehim? Mr. Reginald Bassett has returned, and you know he once gave yourhusband cause for just resentment. "

"Well, but he is older now, and has more sense. Even if he should, Ruperta and I must try and keep the peace. "

"Ruperta! I wish I had asked you to bring her with you. But I feared toask too much at once. "

"I'll send her to you to-morrow, Lady Bassett. "

"No, bring her. "

"Then tell me your hour. "

"Yes, and I will send somebody out of the way. I want you both tomyself. "

While this conversation was going on at Huntercombe, Richard Bassett, being left alone with his daughter, proceeded to work with his usualskill upon her young mind. 

He reminded her of Mr. Rutland's prospects, and said he hoped to seeher a countess, and the loveliest jewel of the Peerage. 

He then told her Mr. Rutland was coming to stay a day or two next week, and requested her to receive him graciously. 

She promised that at once. 

"That, " said he, "will be a much better match for you than the youngerson of Sir Charles Bassett. However, my girl is too proud to go into afamily where she is not welcome. "

"Much too proud for that, " said Ruperta. 

He left her smarting under that suggestion. 

While he was smoking his cigar in the garden, Mrs. Bassett came home. She was in raptures with Lady Bassett, and told her daughter all thathad passed; and, in conclusion, that she had promised Lady Bassett totake her to Huntercombe to-morrow. 

"Me, dear!" cried Ruperta; "why, what can she want of me?"

"All I know is, her ladyship wishes very much to see you. In myopinion, you will be _very_ welcome to poor Lady Bassett. "

"Is she very ill?"

Mrs. Bassett shook her head. "She is much changed. She says she shouldbe better if we were all at peace; but I don't know. "

"Oh, mamma, I wish it was to-morrow. "

They went to Huntercombe next day; and, ill as she was, Lady Bassettreceived them charmingly. She was startled by Ruperta's beauty andwomanly appearance, but too well bred to show it, or say it all in amoment. She spoke to the mother first; but presently took occasion toturn to the daughter, and to say, "May I hope, Miss Bassett, that youare on the side of peace, like your dear mother and myself?"

"I am, " said Ruperta, firmly; "I always was--especially after thatbeautiful sermon, you know, mamma. "

Says the proud mother, "You might tell Lady Bassett you think it isyour mission to reunite your father and Sir Charles. "

"Mamma!" said Ruperta, reproachfully. That was to stop her mouth. "Ifyou tell all the wild things I say to you, her ladyship will think mevery presumptuous. "

"No, no, " said Lady Bassett, "enthusiasm is not presumption. Enthusiasmis beautiful, and the brightest flower of youth. "

"I am glad you think so, Lady Bassett; for people who have noenthusiasm seem very hard and mean to me. "

"And so they are, " said Lady Bassett warmly. 

But I have no time to record the full details of the conversation. Ican only present the general result. Lady Bassett thought Ruperta abeautiful and noble girl, that any house might be proud to adopt; andRuperta was charmed by Lady Bassett's exquisite manners, and touchedand interested by her pale yet still beautiful face and eyes. They madefriends; but it was not till the third visit, when many kind things hadpassed between them, that Lady Bassett ventured on the subject she hadat heart. "My dear, " said she to Ruperta, "when I first saw you, Iwondered at my son Compton's audacity in loving a young lady so muchmore advanced than himself; but now I must be frank with you; I thinkthe poor boy's audacity was only a proper courage. He has all mysympathy, and, if he is not quite indifferent to you, let me just putin my word, and say there is not a young lady in the world I could bearfor my daughter-in-law, now I have seen and talked with you, my dear. "

"Thank you, Lady Bassett, " said Mrs. Bassett; "and, since you have saidso much, let me speak my mind. So long as your son is attached to mydaughter, I could never welcome any other son-in-law. I HAVE GOT THETIPPET. "

Lady Bassett looked at Ruperta, for an explanation. Ruperta onlyblushed, and looked uncomfortable. She hated all allusion to the featsof her childhood. 

Mrs. Bassett saw Lady Bassett's look of perplexity, and said, eagerly, "You never missed it? All the better. I thought I would keep it, for apeacemaker partly. "

"My dear friend, " said Lady Bassett, "you are speaking riddles to me;what tippet?"

"The tippet your son took off his own shoulders, and put it round mygirl, that terrible night they were lost in the wood. Forgive mekeeping it, Lady Bassett--I know I was little better than a thief; butit was only a tippet to you, and to me it was much more. Ah! LadyBassett, I have loved your darling boy ever since; you can't wonder, you are a mother;" and, turning suddenly on Ruperta, "why do you keepsaying he is only a boy? If he was man enough to do that at seven yearsof age, he must have a manly heart. No; I couldn't bear the sight ofany other son-in-law; and when you are a mother you'll understand manythings, and, for one, you'll--under--stand--why I'm so--fool--ish;seeing the sweet boy's mother ready--to cry--too--oh! oh! oh!"

Lady Bassett held out her arms to her, and the mothers had a sweet crytogether in each other's arms. 

Ruperta's eyes were wet at this; but she told her mother she ought notto agitate Lady Bassett, and she so ill. 

"And that is true, my good, sensible girl, " said Mrs. Bassett; "but ithas lain in my heart these nine years, and I could not keep it tomyself any longer. But you are a beauty and a spoiled child, and so Isuppose you think nothing of his giving you his tippet to keep youwarm. "

"Don't say that, mamma, " said Ruperta, reproachfully. "I spoke to dearCompton about it not long ago. He had forgotten all about it, even. "

"All the more to his credit; but don't you ever forget it, my owngirl. "

"I never will, mamma. "

By degrees the three became so unreserved that Ruperta was gently urgedto declare her real sentiments. 

By this time the young beauty was quite cured of her fear lest sheshould be an unwelcome daughter-in-law; but there was an obstacle inher own mind. She was a frank, courageous girl; but this appeal triedher hard. 

She blushed, fixed her eyes steadily on the ground, and said, prettyfirmly and very slowly, "I had always a great affection for my cousinCompton; and so I have now. But I am not in love with him. He is but aboy; now I--"

A glance at the large mirror, and a superb smile of beauty andconscious womanhood, completed the sentence. 

"He will get older every day, " said Mrs. Bassett. 

"And so shall I. "

"But you will not look older, and he will. You have come to your fullgrowth. He hasn't. "

"I agree with the dear girl, " said Lady Bassett, adroitly. "Compton, with his fair hair, looks so young, it would be ridiculous at present. But it is possible to be engaged, and wait a proper time for marriage;what I fear is, lest you should be tempted by some other offer. Tospeak plainly, I hear that Mr. Rutland pays his addresses to you, andvisits at Highmore. "

"Yes, he has been there twice. "

"He is welcome to your father; and his prospects are dazzling; and heis not a boy, for he has long mustaches. "

"I am not dazzled by his mustaches, and still less by his prospects, "said the fair young beauty. 

"You are an extraordinary girl. "

"That she is, " said Mrs. Bassett. "Her father has no more power overher than I have. "

"Oh, mamma! am I a disobedient girl, then?"

"No, no. Only in this one thing, I see you will go your own way. "

Lady Bassett put in her word. "Well, but this one thing is thehappiness or misery of her whole life. I cannot blame her for lookingwell before she leaps. "

A grateful look from Ruperta's glorious eyes repaid the speaker. 

"But, " said Lady Bassett, tenderly, "it is something to have twomothers when you marry, instead of one; and you would have two, mylove; I would try and live for you. "

This touched Ruperta to the heart; she curled round Lady Bassett'sneck, and they kissed each other like mother and daughter. 

"This is too great a temptation, " said Ruperta. "Yes; I _will_ engagemyself to Cousin Compton, if papa's consent can be obtained. Withouthis consent I could not marry any one. "

"Nobody can obtain it, if you cannot, " said Mrs. Bassett. 

Ruperta shook her head. "Mark my words, mamma, it will take me years togain it. Papa is as obstinate as a mule. To be sure, I am as obstinateas fifty. "

"It shall not take years, nor yet months, " said Lady Bassett. "I know_Mr. Bassett's_ objection, and I will remove it, cost me what it may. "

This speech surprised the other two ladies so, they made no reply. 

Said Lady Bassett firmly, "Do you pledge yourself to me, if I canobtain Mr. Bassett's consent?"

"I do, " said Ruperta. "But--"

"You think my power with your father must be smaller than yours. I hopeto show you you are mistaken. "

The ladies rose to go: Lady Bassett took leave of them thus: "Good-by, my most valued friend, and sister in sorrow; good-by, my deardaughter. "

At the gate of Huntercombe, whom should they meet but Compton Bassett, looking very pale and unhappy. 

He was upon honor not to speak to Ruperta; but he gazed on her with awistful and terrified look that was very touching. She gave him a softpitying smile in return, that drove him almost wild with hope. 

That night Richard Bassett sat in his chair, gloomy. 

When his wife and daughter spoke to him in their soft accents, hereturned short, surly answers. Evidently a storm was brewing. 

At last it burst. He had heard of Ruperta's repeated visits toHuntercombe Hall. "You are not dealing fairly with me, you two, " saidhe. "I allowed you to go once to see a woman that says she is very ill;but I warned you she was the cunningest woman in creation, and wouldmake a fool of you both; and now I find you are always going. This willnot do. She is netting two simple birds that I have the care of. Now, listen to me; I forbid you two ever to set foot in that house again. Doyou hear me?"

"We hear you, papa, " said Mrs. Bassett, quietly; "we must be deaf, ifwe did not. "

Ruperta kept her countenance with difficulty. 

"It is not a request, it is a command. "

Mrs. Bassett for once in her life fired up. "And a most tyrannicalone, " said she. 

Ruperta put her hand before her mother's mouth, then turned to herfather. 

"There was no need to express your wish so harshly, papa. We shallobey. "

Then she whispered her mother, "And Mr. Rutland shall pay for it. "

Mrs. Bassett communicated this behest to Lady Bassett in a letter. 

Then Lady Bassett summoned all her courage, and sent for her sonCompton. "Compton, " said she, "I must speak to Reginald. Can you findhim?"

"Oh yes, I can find him. I am sorry to say anybody can find him at thistime of day. "

"Why, where is he?"

"I hardly like to tell you. "

"Do you think his peculiarities have escaped me?"

"At the public-house. "

"Ask him to come to me. "

Compton went to the public-house, and there, to his no small disgust, found Mr. Reginald Bassett playing the fiddle, and four people, men andwomen, dancing to the sound, while one or two more smoked and lookedon. 

Compton restrained himself till the end of that dance, and then steppedup to Reginald and whispered him, "Mamma wants to see you directly. "

"Tell her I'm busy. "

"I shall tell her nothing of the kind. You know she is very ill, andhas not seen you yet; and now she wants to. So come along at once, likea good fellow. "

"Youngster, " said Reginald, "it is a rule with me never to leave ayoung woman for an old one. "

"Not for your mother?"

"No, nor my grandmother either. "

"Then you were born without a heart. But you shall come, whether youlike it or not--though I have to drag you there by the throat. "

"Learn to spell 'able' first. "

"I'll spell it on your head, if you don't come. "

"Oh, that is the game, young un, is it?"

"Yes. "

"Well, don't let us have a shindy on the bricks; there is a nice littlepaddock outside. Come out there and I'll give you a lesson. "

"Thank you; I don't feel inclined to assist you in degrading ourfamily. "

"Chaps that are afraid to fight shouldn't threaten. Come now, the firstknock-down blow shall settle it. If I win, you stay here and dance withus. If you win, I go to the old woman. "

Compton consented, somewhat reluctantly; but to do him justice, hisreluctance arose entirely from his sense of relationship, and not fromany fear of his senior. 

The young gentlemen took off their coats, and proceeded to spar withoutany further ceremony. 

Reginald, whose agility was greater than his courage, danced about onthe tips of his toes, and succeeded in planting a tap or two onCompton's cheek. 

Compton smarted under these, and presently, in following hisantagonist, who fought like a shadow, he saw Ruperta and her motherlooking horror-stricken over the palings. 

Infuriated with Reginald for this exposure, he rushed in at him, received a severe cut over the eye, but dealt him with his mightyAnglo-Saxon arm a full straightforward smasher on the forehead, whichknocked him head over heels like a nine-pin. 

That active young man picked himself up wondrous slowly; rheumatismseemed to have suddenly seized his well-oiled joints; he then addressedhis antagonist, in his most ingratiating tones--"All right, sir, " saidhe. "You are the best man. I'll go to the old lady this minute. "

"I'll see you go, " said Compton, sternly; "and mind I can run as wellas hit: so none of your gypsy tricks with me. "

Then he came sheepishly to the palings and said, "It is not my fault, Miss Bassett; he would not come to mamma without, and she wants tospeak to him. "

"Oh! he is hurt! he is wounded!" cried Ruperta. "Come here to me. "

He came to her, and she pressed her white handkerchief tenderly on hiseyebrow; it was bleeding a little. 

"Well, are you coming?" said Reginald, ironically, "or do _you_ likeyoung women better than old ones?"

Compton instantly drew back a little, made two steps, laid his hand onthe palings, vaulted over, and followed Reginald. 

"That's your _boy, "_ said Mrs. Bassett. 

Ruperta made no reply, but began to gulp. 

"What is the matter, darling?"

"The fighting--the blood"--said Ruperta, sobbing. 

Mrs. Bassett drew her on one side, and soon soothed her. 

When their gentle bosoms got over their agitation, they rather enjoyedthe thing, especially Ruperta: she detested Reginald for his character, and for having insulted her father. 

All of a sudden, she cried out, "He has taken my handkerchief. How darehe?" And she affected anger. 

"Never mind, dear, " said Mrs. Bassett, coolly, "we have got histippet. "

CHAPTER XLIII. 

COULD any one have looked through the keyhole at Lady Bassett waitingfor Reginald, he would have seen, by the very movements of her body, the terrible agitation of the mind. She rose--she sat down--she walkedabout with wild energy--she dropped on the sofa, and appeared to giveit up as impossible; but ere long that deadly languor gave way toimpatient restlessness again. 

At last her quick ear heard a footstep in the corridor, accompanied byno rustle of petticoats, and yet the footstep was not Compton's. 

Instantly she glanced with momentary terror toward the door. 

There was a tap. 

She sat down, and said, with a tone from which all agitation wasinstantly banished, "Come in. "

The door opened, and the swarthy Reginald, diabolically handsome, withhis black snaky curls, entered the room. 

She rose from her chair, and fixed her great eyes on him, as if shewould read him soul and body before she ventured to speak. 

"Here I am, mamma: sorry to see you look so ill. "

"Thank you, my dear, " said Lady Bassett, without relaxing for a momentthat searching gaze. 

She said, still covering him with her eye, "Would you cure me if youcould?"

To appreciate this opening, and Lady Bassett's sweet engaging manner, you must understand that this young man was, in her eyes, a sort ofblack snake. Her flesh crept, with fear and repugnance, at the sight ofhim. Yet that is how she received him, being a mother defending herfavorite son. 

"Of course I would, " said Reginald. "Just you tell me how. "

Excellent words. But the lady's calm infallible eye saw a cunningtwinkle in those black twinkling orbs. Young as he was, he was on hisguard, and waiting for her. Nor was this surprising: Reginald, naturally intelligent, had accumulated a large stock of low cunning inhis travels and adventures with the gypsies, a smooth and cunningpeople. Lady Bassett's fainting upon his return, his exclusion from herroom, and one or two minor circumstances, had set him thinking. 

The moment she saw that look, Lady Bassett, with swift tact, glidedaway from the line she had intended to open, and, after merely thankinghim, and saying, "I believe you, dear, " though she did not believe him, she resumed, in a very impressive tone, "You see me worse than everto-day, because my mind is in great trouble. The time is come when Imust tell you a secret, which will cause you a bitter disappointment. Why I send for you is, to see whether I cannot do something for you tomake you happy, in spite of that cruel disappointment. "

Not a word from Reginald. 

"Mr. Bassett--forgive me, if you can--for I am the most miserable womanin England--you are not the heir to this place; you are not Sir CharlesBassett's son. "

"What!" shouted the young man. 

Her fortitude gave way for a moment. She shook her head, inconfirmation of what she had said, and hid her burning face andscalding tears in her white and wasted hands. 

There was a long silence. 

Reginald was asking himself if this could be true, or was it a maneuverto put her favorite Compton over his head. 

Lady Bassett looked up, and saw this paltry suspicion in his face. Shedried her tears directly, and went to a bureau, unlocked it, andproduced the manuscript confession she had prepared for her husband. 

She bade Reginald observe the superscription and the date. 

When he had done so, she took her scissors and opened it for him. 

"Read what I wrote to my beloved husband at a time when I expected soonto appear before my Judge. "

She then sank upon the sofa, and lay there like a log; only, from timeto time, during the long reading, tears trickled from her eyes. 

Reginald read the whole story, and saw the facts must be true: morethan that, being young, and a man, he could not entirely resist thecharm of a narrative in which a lady told at full the love, the grief, the terror, the sufferings, of her heart, and the terrible temptationunder which she had gone astray. 

He laid it down at last, and drew a long breath. 

"It's a devil of a job for _me, "_ said he; "but I can't blame you. Yousold that Dick Bassett, and I hate him. But what is to become of _me?"_

"What I offer you is a life in which you will be happier than you evercould be at Huntercombe. I mean to buy you vast pasture-fields inAustralia, and cattle to feed. Those noble pastures will be boundedonly by wild forests and hills. You will have swift horses to ride overyour own domain, or to gallop hundreds of miles at a stretch, if youlike. No confinement there; no fences and boundaries; all as free asair. No monotony: one week you can dig for gold, another you can rideamong your flocks, another you can hunt. All this in a climate sodelightful that you can lie all night in the open air, without ablanket, under a new firmament of stars, not one of which illumines thedull nights of Europe. "

The bait was too tempting. "Well, you _are_ the right sort, " criedReginald. 

But presently he began to doubt. "But all that will cost a lot ofmoney. "

"It will, but I have a great deal of money. "

Reginald thought, and said, suspiciously, "I don't know why you shoulddo all this for me. "

"Do you not? What! when I have brought you into this family, andencouraged you in such vast expectations, could I, in honor and commonhumanity, let you fall into poverty and neglect? No. I have manythousand pounds, all my own, and you will have them all, and perhapswaste them all; but it will take you some time, because, while you arewasting, I shall be saving more for you. "

Then there was a pause, each waiting for the other. 

Then Lady Bassett said, quietly, and with great apparent composure, "Ofcourse there is a condition attached to all this. "

"What is that?"

"I must receive from you a written paper, signed by yourself and byMrs. Meyrick, acknowledging that you are not Sir Charles's son, butdistinctly pledging yourself to keep the secret so long as I continueto furnish you with the means of living. You hesitate. Is it not fair?"

"Well, it looks fair; but it is an awkward thing, signing a paper ofthat sort. "

"You doubt me, sir; you think that, because I have told one greatfalsehood, from good but erring motives, I may break faith with you. Donot insult me with these doubts, sir. Try and understand that there areladies and gentlemen in the world, though you prefer gypsies. Have youforgotten that night when you laid me under so deep a debt, and I toldyou I never would forget it? From that day was I not always yourfriend? was I not always the one to make excuses for you?"

Reginald assented to that. 

"Then trust me. I pledge you my honor that I am this day the bestfriend you ever had, or ever can have. Refuse to sign that paper, and Ishall soon be in my grave, leaving behind me my confession, and otherevidence, on which you will be dismissed from this house with ignominy, and without a farthing; for your best friend will be dead, and you willhave killed her. "

He looked at her full: he said, with a shade of compunction, "I am nota gentleman, but you are a lady. I'll trust you. I'll sign anything youlike. "

"That confidence becomes you, " said Lady Bassett; "and now I have noobjection to show you I deserve it. Here is a letter to Mr. Rolfe, bywhich you may learn I have already placed three thousand pounds to hisaccount, to be laid out by him for your benefit in Australia, where hehas many confidential friends; and this is a check for five hundredpounds I drew in your favor yesterday. Do me the favor to take it. "

He did her that favor with sparkling eyes. 

"Now here is the paper I wish you to sign; but your signature will beof little value to me without Mary Meyrick's. "

"Oh, she will sign it directly: I have only to tell her. "

"Are you sure? Men can be brought to take a dispassionate view of theirown interest, but women are not so wise. Take it, and try her. If sherefuses, bring her to me _directly. _ Do you understand? Otherwise, inone fatal hour, her tongue will ruin _you, _ and destroy me. "

Impressed with these words, Reginald hurried to Mrs. Meyrick, and toldher, in an off-hand way, she must sign that paper directly. 

She looked at it and turned very white, but went on her guard directly. 

"Sign such a wicked lie as that!" said she. "That I never will. You_are_ his son, and Huntercombe shall be yours. She is an unnaturalmother. "

"Gammon!" said Reginald. "You might as well say a fox is the son of agander. Come now; I am not going to let you cut my throat with yourtongue. Sign at once, or else come to her this moment and tell her so. "

"That I will, " said Mary Meyrick, "and give her my mind. "

This doughty resolution was a little shaken when she cast eyes uponLady Bassett, and saw how wan and worn she looked. 

She moderated her violence, and said, sullenly, "Sorry to gainsay_you, _ my lady, and you so ill, but this is a paper I never can sign. It would rob him of Huntercombe. I'd sooner cut my hand off at thewrist. "

"Nonsense, Mary!" said Lady Bassett, contemptuously. 

She then proceeded to reason with her, but it was no use. Mary wouldnot listen to reason, and defied her at last in a loud voice. 

"Very well, " said Lady Bassett. "Then since you will not do it my way, it shall be done another way. I shall put my confession in SirCharles's hands, and insist on his dismissing him from the house, andyou from your farm. It will kill me, and the money I intended forReginald I shall leave to Compton. "

"These are idle words, my lady. You daren't. "

"I dare anything when once I make up my mind to die. "

She rang the bell. 

Mary Meyrick affected contempt. 

A servant came to the door. 

"Request Sir Charles to come to me immediately. "

CHAPTER XLIV. 

"DON'T you be a fool, " said Reginald to his nurse. 

"Sir Charles will send you to prison for it, " said Lady Bassett. 

"For what I done along with you?"

"Oh, he will not punish his wife; he will look out for some othervictim. "

"Sign, you d--d old fool!" cried Reginald, seizing Mary Meyrick roughlyby the arm. 

Strange to say, Lady Bassett interfered, with a sort of majestichorror. She held up her hand, and said, "Do not dare to lay a finger onher!"

Then Mary burst into tears, and said she would sign the paper. 

While she was signing it, Sir Charles's step was heard in the corridor. 

He knocked at the door just as she signed. Reginald had signed already. 

Lady Bassett put the paper into the manuscript book, and the book intothe bureau, and said "Come in, " with an appearance of composure beliedby her beating heart. 

"Here is Mrs. Meyrick, my dear. "

In those few seconds so perfect a liar as Mary Meyrick had quiterecovered herself. 

"If you please, sir, " said she, "I be come to ast if you will give us anew lease, for ourn it is run out. "

"You had better talk to the steward about that. "

"Very well, sir, " and she made her courtesy. 

Reginald remained, not knowing exactly what to do. 

"My dear, " said Lady Bassett, "Reginald has come to bid us good-by. Heis going to visit Mr. Rolfe, and take his advice, if you have noobjection. "

"None whatever; and I hope he will treat it with more respect than hedoes mine. "

Reginald shrugged his shoulders, and was going out, when Lady Bassettsaid, "Won't you kiss me, Reginald, as you are going away?"

He came to her: she kissed him, and whispered in his ear, "Be true tome, as I will be to you. "

Then he left her, and she felt like a dead thing, with exhaustion. Shelay on the sofa, and Sir Charles sat beside her, and made her drink aglass of wine. 

She lay very still that afternoon; but at night she slept: a load wasoff her mind for the present. 

Next day she was so much better she came down to dinner. 

What she now hoped was, that entire separation, coupled with the memoryof the boy's misdeeds, would cure Sir Charles entirely of his affectionfor Reginald; and so that, after about twenty years more of conjugalfidelity, she might find courage to reveal to her husband the fault ofher youth at a time when all its good results remained to help excuseit, and all its bad results had vanished. 

Such was the plan this extraordinary woman conceived, and its successso far had a wonderful effect on her health. 

But a couple of days passed, and she did not hear either from Reginaldor Mr. Rolfe. That made her a little anxious. 

On the third day Compton asked her, with an angry flush on his brow, whether she had not sent Reginald up to London. 

"Yes, dear, " said Lady Bassett. 

"Well, he is not gone, then. "

"Oh!"

"He is living at his nurse's. I saw him talking to an old gypsy thatlives on the farm. "

Lady Bassett groaned, but said nothing. 

"Never mind, mamma, " said Compton. "Your other children must love youall the more. "

This news caused Lady Bassett both anxiety and terror. She divined badfaith and all manner of treachery, none the less terrible for beingvague. 

Down went her health again and her short-lived repose. 

Meantime Reginald, in reality, was staying at the farm on a littlebusiness of his own. 

He had concerted an expedition with the foreign gent, and was waitingfor a dark and gusty night. 

He had undertaken this expedition with mixed motives, spite and greed, especially the latter. He would never have undertaken it with a 500pound check in his pocket; but some minds are so constituted theycannot forego a bad design once formed: so Mr. Reginald persisted, though one great motive existed no longer. 

On this expedition it is now our lot to accompany him. 

The night was favorable, and at about two o'clock Reginald and theforeign gent stood under Richard Bassett's dining-room window, withcrape over their eyes, noses and mouths, and all manner of unlawfulimplements in their pockets. 

The foreign gent prized the shutters open with a little crowbar; hethen, with a glazier's diamond, soon cut out a small pane, inserted acunning hand and opened the window. 

Then Reginald gave him a leg, and he got into the room. 

The agile youth followed him without assistance. 

They lighted a sort of bull's-eye, and poured the concentrated light onthe cupboard door, behind which lay the treasure of glorious old plate. 

Then the foreign gent produced his skeleton keys, and after severalineffective trials, opened the door softly and revealed the glitteringbooty. 

At sight of it the foreign gent could not suppress an ejaculation, butthe younger one clapped his hand before his mouth hurriedly. 

The foreign gent unrolled a sort of green baize apron he had round him;it was, in reality, a bag. 

Into this receptacle the pair conveyed one piece of plate after anotherwith surprising dexterity, rapidity, and noiseless-ness. When it wasfull, they began to fill the deep pockets of their shooting-jackets. 

While thus employed, they heard a rapid footstep, and Richard Bassettopened the door. He was in his trousers and shirt, and had a pistol inhis hand. 

At sight of him Reginald uttered a cry of dismay; the foreign gent blewout the light. 

Richard Bassett, among whose faults want of personal courage was notone, rushed forward and collared Reginald. 

But the foreign gent had raised the crowbar to defend himself, andstruck him a blow on the head that made him stagger back. 

The foreign gent seized this opportunity, and ran at once at the windowand jumped at it. 

If Reginald had been first, he would have gone through like a cat, butthe foreign gent, older, and obstructed by the contents of his pocket, higgled and stuck a few seconds in the window. 

That brief delay was fatal; Richard Bassett leveled his pistoldeliberately at him, fired, and sent a ball through his shoulder; hefell like a log upon the ground outside. 

Richard then leveled another barrel at Reginald, but he howled out forquarter, and was immediately captured, and with the assistance of thebrave Jessie, who now came boldly to her master's aid, his hands weretied behind him and he was made prisoner, with the stolen articles inhis pocket. 

When they were tying him, he whimpered, and said it was only a lark; henever meant to keep anything. He offered a hundred pounds down if theywould let him off. 

But there was no mercy for him. 

Richard Bassett had a candle lighted, and inspected the prisoner. Helifted his crape veil, and said "Oho!"

"You see it was only a lark, " said Reginald, and shook in every limb. 

Richard Bassett smiled grimly, and said nothing. He gave Jessie strictorders to hold her tongue, and she and he between them took Reginaldand locked him up in a small room adjoining the kitchen. 

They then went to look for the other burglar. 

He had emptied his pockets of all the plate, and crawled away. It issupposed he threw away the plate, either to soften Reginald's offense, or in the belief that he had received his death wound, and should notrequire silver vessels where he was going. 

Bassett picked up the articles and brought them in, and told Jessie tolight the fire and make him a cup of coffee. 

He replaced all the plate, except the articles left in Reginald'spocket. 

Then he went upstairs, and told his wife that burglars had broken intothe house, but had taken nothing; she was to give herself no anxiety. He told her no more than this, for his dark and cruel nature hadalready conceived an idea he did not care to communicate to her, onaccount of the strong opposition he foresaw from so good a Christian:besides, of late, since her daughter came home to back her, she hadspoken her mind more than once. 

He kept them then in the dark, and went downstairs again to his coffee. 

He sat and sipped it, and, with it, his coming vengeance. 

All the defeats and mortifications he had endured from Huntercombereturned to his mind; and now, with one masterstroke he would balancethem all. 

Yet he felt a little compunction. 

Active hostilities had ceased for many years. 

Lady Bassett, at all events, had held out the hand to his wife. Theblow he meditated was very cruel: would not his wife and daughter sayit was barbarous? Would not his own heart, the heart of a father, reproach him afterward?

These misgivings, that would have restrained a less obstinate man, irritated Richard Bassett: he went into a rage, and said aloud, "I mustdo it: I will do it, come what may. "

He told Jessie he valued her much: she should have a black silk gownfor her courage and fidelity; but she must not be faithful by halves. She must not breathe one word to any soul in the house that the burglarwas there under lock and key; if she did, he should turn her out of thehouse that moment. 

"Hets!" said the woman, "der ye think I canna haud my whist, when themaister bids me? I'm nae great clasher at ony time, for my pairt. "

At seven o'clock in the morning he sent a note to Sir Charles Bassett, to say that his house had been attacked last night by two armedburglars; he and his people had captured one, and wished to take himbefore a magistrate at once, since his house was not a fit place tohold him secure. He concluded Sir Charles would not refuse him thebenefit of the law, however obnoxious he might be. 

Sir Charles's lips curled with contempt at the man who was not ashamedto put such a doubt on paper. 

However, he wrote back a civil line, to say that of course he was atMr. Bassett's service, and would be in his justice-room at nineo'clock. 

Meantime, Mr. Richard Bassett went for the constable and an assistant;but, even to them, he would not say precisely what he wanted them for. 

His plan was to march an unknown burglar, with his crape on his face, into Sir Charles's study, give his evidence, and then reveal the son tothe father. 

Jessie managed to hold her tongue for an hour or two, and nothingoccurred at Highmore or in Huntercombe to interfere with RichardBassett's barbarous revenge. 

Meantime, however, something remarkable had occurred at the distance ofa mile and a quarter. 

Mrs. Meyrick breakfasted habitually at eight o'clock. 

Reginald did not appear. 

Mrs. Meyrick went to his room, and satisfied herself he had not passedthe night there. 

Then she went to the foreign gent's shed. 

He was not there. 

Then she went out, and called loudly to them both. 

No answer. 

Then she went into the nearest meadow, to see if they were in sight. 

The first thing she saw was the foreign gent staggering toward her. 

"Drunk!" said she, and went to scold him; but, when she got nearer, shesaw at once that something very serious had happened. His dark face wasbloodless and awful, and he could hardly drag his limbs along; indeedthey had failed him a score of times between Highmore and that place. 

Just as she came up with him he sank once more to the ground, andturned up two despairing eyes toward her. 

"Oh, daddy! what is it? Where's Reginald? Whatever have they done toyou?"

"Brandy!" groaned the wounded man. 

She flew into the house, and returned in a moment with a bottle. Sheput it to his lips. 

He revived and told her all, in a few words. 

"The young bloke and I went to crack a crib. I'm shot with a bullet. Hide me in that loose hay there; leave me the bottle, and let nobodycome nigh me. The beak will be after me very soon. "

Then Mrs. Meyrick, being a very strong woman, dragged him to thehaystack, and covered him with loose hay. 

"Now, " said she, trembling, "where's my boy?"

"He's nabbed. "

"Oh!"

"And he'll be lagged, unless you can beg him off. "

Mary Meyrick uttered a piercing scream. 

"You wretch! to tempt my boy to this. And him with five hundred poundsin his pocket, and my lady's favor. Oh, why did we not keep our wordwith her? She was the wisest, and our best friend. But it is all yourdoing; you are the devil that tempted him, you old villain!"

"Don't miscall me, " said the gypsy. 

"Not miscall you, when you have run away, and left them to take my boyto jail! No word is bad enough for you, you villain!"

_"I'm your father--and a dying man, "_ said the old gypsy, calmly, andfolded his hands upon his breast with Oriental composure and decency. 

The woman threw herself on her knees. 

"Forgive me, father--tell me, where is he?"

"Highmore House. "

At that simple word her eyes dilated with wild horror, she uttered aloud scream, and flew into the house. 

In five minutes she was on her way to Highmore. 

She reached that house, knocked hastily at the door, and said she mustsee Mr. Richard Bassett that moment. 

"He is just gone out, " said the maid. 

"Where to?"

The girl knew her, and began to gossip. "Why, to Huntercombe Hall. What! haven't you heard, Mrs. Meyrick? Master caught a robber lastnight. Laws! you should have seen him: he have got crape all over hisface; and master, and the constable, and Mr. Musters, they be all gonewith him to Sir Charles, for to have him committed--the villain! Why, what ails the woman?"

For Mary Meyrick turned her back on the speaker, and rushed away in amoment. 

She went through the kitchen at Huntercombe: she was so well knownthere, nobody objected: she flew up the stairs, and into Lady Bassett'sbedroom. "Oh, my lady! my lady!"

Lady Bassett screamed, at her sudden entrance and wild appearance. 

Mary Meyrick told her all in a few wild words. She wrung her hands witha great fear. 

"It's no time for that, " cried Mary, fiercely. "Come down this moment, and save him. "

"How can I?"

"You must! You shall!" cried the other. "Don't ask me how. Don't sitwringing your hands, woman. If you are not there in five minutes tosave him, I'll tell all. "

"Have mercy on me!" cried Lady Bassett. "I gave him money, I sent himaway. It's not my fault. "

"No matter; he must be saved, or I'll ruin you. I can't stay here: Imust be there, and so must you. "

She rushed down the stairs, and tried to get into the justice-room, butadmission was refused her. 

Then she gave a sort of wild snarl, and ran round to the small roomadjoining the justice-room. Through this she penetrated, and enteredthe justice-room, but not in time to prevent the evidence from beinglaid before Sir Charles. 

What took place in the meantime was briefly this: The prisoner, handcuffed now instead of tied, was introduced between the constableand his assistant; the door was locked, and Sir Charles received Mr. Bassett with a ceremonious bow, seated himself, and begged Mr. Bassettto be seated. 

"Thank you, " said Mr. Bassett, but did not seat himself. He stoodbefore the prisoner and gave his evidence; during which the prisoner'sknees were seen to knock together with terror: he was a young man fitfor folly, but not for felony. 

Said Richard Bassett, "I have a cupboard containing family plate. It isvaluable, and some years ago I passed a piece of catgut from the doorthrough the ceiling to a bell at my bedside. 

"Very late last night the bell sounded. I flung on my trousers, andwent down with a pistol. I caught two burglars in the act of riflingthe cupboard. I went to collar one; he struck me on the head with acrowbar--constable, show the crowbar--I staggered, but recoveredmyself, and fired at one of the burglars: he was just strugglingthrough the window. He fell, and I thought he was dead, but he gotaway. I secured the other, and here he is--just as he was when I tookhim. Constable, search his pockets. "

The constable did so, and produced therefrom several pieces of silverplate stamped with the Bassett arms. 

"My servant here can confirm this, " added Mr. Bassett. 

"It is not necessary here, " said Sir Charles. Then to the criminal, "Have you anything to say?"

"It was only a lark, " quavered the poor wretch. 

"I would not advise you to say that where you are going. "

He then, while writing out the warrant, said, as a matter of course, "Remove his mask. "

The constable lifted it, and started back with a shout of dismay andsurprise: Jessie screamed. 

Sir Charles looked up, and saw in the burglar he was committing fortrial his first-born, the heir to his house and his lands. 

The pen fell from Sir Charles's fingers, and he stared at the wan face, and wild, imploring eyes that stared at him. 

He stared at the lad, and then put his hand to his heart, and thatheart seemed to die within him. 

There was a silence, and a horror fell on all. Even Richard Bassettquailed at what he had done. 

"Ah! cruel man! cruel man!" moaned the broken father. "God judge youfor this--as now I must judge my unhappy son. Mr. Bassett, it matterslittle to you what magistrate commits you, and I must keep my oath. Iam--going--to set you an--example, by signing a warrant--"

"No, no, no!" cried a woman's voice, and Mary Meyrick rushed into theroom. 

Every person there thought he knew Mary Meyrick; yet she was like astranger to them now. There was that in her heart at that awful momentwhich transfigured a handsome but vulgar woman into a superior being. Her cheek was pale, her black eyes large, and her mellow voice had amagic power. "You don't know what you are doing!" she cried. "Go nofarther, or you will all curse the hand that harmed a hair of his head;you, most of all, Richard Bassett. "

Sir Charles, in any other case, would have sent her out of the room;but, in his misery, he caught at the straw. 

"Speak out, woman, " he said, "and save the wretched boy, if you can. Isee no way. "

"There are things it is not fit to speak before all the world. Bidthose men go, and I'll open your eyes that stay. "

Then Richard Bassett foresaw another triumph, so he told the constableand his man they had better retire for a few minutes, "while, " said he, with a sneer, "these wonderful revelations are being made. "

When they were gone, Mary turned to Richard Bassett, and said "Why doyou want him sent to prison?--to spite Sir Charles here, to stab hisheart through his son. "

Sir Charles groaned aloud. 

The woman heard, and thought of many things. She flung herself on herknees, and seized his hand. "Don't you cry, my dear old master; mine isthe only heart shall bleed. HE IS NOT YOUR SON. "

"What!" cried Sir Charles, in a terrible voice. 

"That is no news to me, " said Richard. "He is more like the parson thanSir Charles Bassett. "

"For shame! for shame!" cried Mary Meyrick. "Oh, it becomes you to givefathers to children when you don't know your own flesh and blood! He isYOUR SON, RICHARD BASSETT. "

_"My_ son!" roared Bassett, in utter amazement. 

"Ay. I should know; FOR I AM HIS MOTHER. "

This astounding statement was uttered with all the majesty of truth, and when she said "I am his mother, " the voice turned tender all in amoment. 

They were all paralyzed; and, absorbed in this strange revelation, didnot hear a tottering footstep: a woman, pale as a corpse, and with eyesglaring large, stood among them, all in a moment, as if a ghost hadrisen from the earth. 

It was Lady Bassett. 

At sight of her, Sir Charles awoke from the confusion and amazementinto which Mary had thrown him, and said, "Ah--! Bella, do you hearwhat she says, that he is not our son? What, then, have you agreed withyour servant to deceive your husband?"

Lady Bassett gasped, and tried to speak; but before the words wouldcome, the sight of her corpse-like face and miserable agony moved MaryWells, and she snatched the words out of her mouth. 

"What is the use of questioning _her?_ She knows no more than you do. Idone it all; and done it for the best. My lady's child died; I hid thatfrom her; for I knew it would kill her, and keep you in a mad-house. Idone for the best: I put my live child by her side, and she knew nobetter. As time went on, and the boy so dark, she suspected; but knowit she couldn't till now. My lady, I am his mother, and there standshis cruel father; cruel to me, and cruel to him. But don't you dare toharm him; I've got all your letters, promising me marriage; I'll takethem to your wife and daughter, and they shall know it is your ownflesh and blood you are sending to prison. Oh, I am mad to threatenhim! my darling, speak him fair; he is your father; he may have a bitof nature in his heart somewhere, though I could never find it. "

The young man put his hands together, like an Oriental, and said, "Forgive me, " then sank at Richard Bassett's knees. 

Then Sir Charles, himself much shaken, took his wife's arm and led her, trembling like an aspen leaf, from the room. 

Perhaps the prayers of Reginald and the tears of his mother would alonehave sufficed to soften Richard Bassett, but the threat of exposure tohis wife and daughter did no harm. The three soon came to terms. 

Reginald to be liberated on condition of going to London by the nexttrain, and never setting his foot in that parish again. His mother togo with him, and see him off to Australia. She solemnly pledged herselfnot to reveal the boy's real parentage to any other soul in the world. 

This being settled, Richard Bassett called the constable in, and saidthe young gentleman had satisfied him that it was a practical joke, though a very dangerous one, and he withdrew the charge of felony. 

The constable said he must have Sir Charles's authority for that. 

A message was sent to Sir Charles. He came. The prisoner was released, and Mary Meyrick took his arm sharply, as much as to say, "Out of myhands you go no more. "

Before they left the room, Sir Charles, who was now master of himself, said, with deep feeling, "My poor boy, you can never be a stranger tome. The affection of years cannot be untied in a moment. You see nowhow folly glides into crime, and crime into punishment. Take this toheart, and never again stray from the paths of honor. Lead an honorablelife; and, if you do, write to me as if I was still your father. "

They retired, but Richard Bassett lingered, and hung his head. 

Sir Charles wondered what this inveterate foe could have to say now. 

At last Richard said, half sullenly, yet with a touch of compunction, "Sir Charles, you have been more generous than I was. You have laid meunder an obligation. "

Sir Charles bowed loftily. 

"You would double that obligation if you would prevail on Lady Bassettto keep that old folly of mine secret from my wife and daughter. I amtruly ashamed of it; and, whatever my faults may have been, they loveand respect me. "

"Mr. Bassett, " said Sir Charles, "my son Compton must be told that heis my heir; but no details injurious to you shall transpire: you maycount on absolute secrecy from Lady Bassett and myself. "

"Sir Charles, " said Richard Bassett, faltering for a moment, "I am verymuch obliged to you, and I begin to be sorry we are enemies. Good-morning. "

The agitation and terror of this scene nearly killed Lady Bassett onthe spot. She lay all that day in a state of utter prostration. 

Meantime Sir Charles put this and that together, but said nothing. Hespoke cheerfully and philosophically to his wife--said it had been afearful blow, terrible wrench: but it was all for the best; such a sonas that would have broken his heart before long. 

"Ah, but your wasted affections!" groaned Lady Bassett; and her tearsstreamed at the thought. 

Sir Charles sighed; but said, after a while, "Is affection everentirely wasted? My love for that young fool enlarged my heart. Therewas a time he did me a deal of good. "

But next day, having only herself to think of now, Lady Bassett couldlive no longer under the load of deceit. She told Sir Charles MaryMeyrick had deceived him. "Read this, " she said, "and see what yourmiserable wife has done, who loved you to madness and crime. "

Sir Charles looked at her, and saw in her wasted form and her facethat, if he did read it, he should kill her; so he played the man: herestrained himself by a mighty effort, and said, "My dear, excuse me;but on this matter I have more faith in Mary Meyrick's exactness thanin yours. Besides, I know your heart, and don't care to be told of yourerrors in judgment, no, not even by yourself. Sorry to offend anauthoress; but I decline to read your book, and, more than that, Iforbid you the subject entirely for the next thirty years, at least. Let by-gones be by-gones. "

That eventful morning Mr. Rutland called and proposed to Ruperta. Shedeclined politely, but firmly. 

She told Mrs. Bassett, and Mrs. Bassett told Richard in a nervous way, but his answer surprised her. He said he was very glad of it; Rupertacould do better. 

Mrs. Bassett could not resist the pleasure of telling Lady Bassett. Shewent over on purpose, with her husband's consent. 

Lady Bassett asked to see Ruperta. "By all means, " said RichardBassett, graciously. 

On her return to Highmore, Ruperta asked leave to go to the Hall everyday and nurse Lady Bassett. "They will let her die else, " said she. Richard Bassett assented to that, too. Ruperta, for some weeks, almostlived at the Hall, and in this emergency revealed great qualities. Asthe malevolent small-pox, passing through the gentle cow, comes out thesovereign cow-pox, so, in this gracious nature, her father's vicesturned to their kindred virtues; his obstinacy of purpose shone here anoble constancy; his audacity became candor, and his cunning wisdom. Her intelligence saw at once that Lady Bassett was pining to death, anda weak-minded nurse would be fatal: she was all smiles and brightness, and neglected no means to encourage the patient. 

With this view, she promised to plight her faith to Compton the momentLady Bassett should be restored to health; and so, with hopes andsmiles, and the novelty of a daughter's love, she fought with death forLady Bassett, and at last she won the desperate battle. 

This did Richard Bassett's daughter for her father's late enemy. 

The grateful husband wrote to Bassett, and now acknowledged _his_obligation. 

A civil, mock-modest reply from Richard Bassett. 

From this things went on step by step, till at last Compton andRuperta, at eighteen years of age, were formally betrothed. 

Thus the children's love wore out the father's hate. 

That love, so troubled at the outset, left, by degrees, the region ofromance, and rippled smoothly through green, flowery meadows. 

Ruperta showed her lover one more phase of girlhood; she, who had beena precocious and forward child, and then a shy and silent girl, cameout now a bright and witty young woman, full of vivacity, modesty, andsensibility. Time cured Compton of his one defect. Ruperta stoppedgrowing at fifteen, but Compton went slowly on; caught her atseventeen, and at nineteen had passed her by a head. He won ascholarship at Oxford, he rowed in college races, and at last in theUniversity race on the Thames. 

Ruperta stood, in peerless beauty, dark blue from throat to feet, andsaw his boat astern of his rival, saw it come up with, and creep ahead, amid the roars of the multitude. When she saw her lover, with barecorded arms, as brown as a berry, and set teeth, filling his gloriouspart in that manly struggle within eight yards of her, she confessed hewas not a boy now. 

But Lady Bassett accepted no such evidence: being pestered to let themmarry at twenty years of age, she clogged her consent with onecondition--they must live three years at Huntercombe as man and wife. 

"No boy of twenty, " said she, "can understand a young woman of thatage. I must be in the house to prevent a single misunderstandingbetween my beloved children. "

The young people, who both adored her, voted the condition reasonable. They were married, and a wing of the spacious building allotted tothem. 

For their sakes let us hope that their wedded life, now happilycommenced, will furnish me no materials for another tale: the happiestlives are uneventful. 

The foreign gent recovered his wound, but acquired rheumatism and adislike for midnight expeditions. 

Reginald galloped a year or two over seven hundred miles of colony, sowing his wild oats as he flew, but is now a prosperous squatter, veryfond of sleeping in the open air. England was not big enough for thebold Bohemian. He does very well where he is. 

Old Meyrick died, and left his wife a little estate in the next county. Drake asked her hand at the funeral. She married him in six months, andmigrated to the estate in question; for Sir Charles refused her a leaseof his farm, not choosing to have her near him. 

Her new abode was in the next parish to her sister's. 

La Marsh set herself to convert Mary, and often exhorted her topenitence; she bore this pretty well for some time, being overawed byold reminiscences of sisterly superiority: but at last her vanityrebelled. "Repent! and Repent!" cried she. "Why you be like a cuckoo, all in one song. One would think I had been and robbed a church. 'Tisall very well for you to repent, as led a fastish life at starting:_but I never done nothing as I'm ashamed on. "_

Richard Bassett said one day to Wheeler, "Old fellow, there is not aworse poison than Hate. It has made me old before my time. And whatdoes it all come to? We might just as well have kept quiet; for mygrandson will inherit Huntercombe and Bassett, after all--"

"Thanks to the girl you would not ring the bells for. "

Sir Charles and Lady Bassett lead a peaceful life after all theirtroubles, and renew their youth in their children, of whom Ruperta isone, and as dear as any. 

Yet there is a pensive and humble air about Lady Bassett, which showsshe still expiates her fault, though she knows it will always beignored by him for whose sake she sinned. 

In summing her up, it may be as well to compare this with the unmixedself-complacency of Mrs. Drake. 

You men and women, who judge this Bella Bassett, be firm, and do notlet her amiable qualities or her good intentions blind you in a plainmatter of right and wrong: be charitable, and ask yourselves how oftenin your lives you have seen yourselves, or any other human being, resist a terrible temptation. 

My experience is, that we resist other people's temptations nobly, andsuccumb to our own. 

So let me end with a line of England's gentlest satirist--

"Heaven be merciful to us all, sinners as we be. "

THE END